ANY writer will tell you that to write a story in just 300 words is much harder to do than it sounds.
This was the challenge Wokingham Writers set its members.
The small, friendly group of novices to experienced authors meets to review and discuss each other’s writing in a supportive and constructive way.
The competition presented an opportunity for them to hone their skills.
Award-winning writer of short stories and historical fiction, Alice Fowler, judged the entries, choosing three, which Wokingham.Today is pleased to publish, one each week.
The first story is by second runner up Linda Fawke.
Linda writes fiction and non-fiction, has published two novels – most recently a non-fiction, light-hearted book about living as a retiree in the French Alps.
She has been published in various magazines including Mslexia and Writing magazine and has had short pieces published by Cranked Anvil and Paragraph Planet.
Granny’s Second Bottom
Granny had her weekly bath at our house.
Her tub was in her kitchen, its cover laden with everything from the parrot’s cage to jars of pickles.
Too much of a palaver to move, she said.
Anyway, she preferred to share a bath with me.
I went in first and she followed, adding a bit more hot water.
I liked to watch her washing, how she lifted each breast and flannelled under it.
Then I would look at my childish body.
One big difference was a line running down her front.
It was uneven and bumpy with puffy skin on each side.
I asked Granny if it was a second bottom.
She said no, it was a scar and I mustn’t be frightened by it.
It was done in hospital by a surgeon and didn’t hurt.
He’d made a big cut to remove something that wasn’t working properly.
Then he’d sewn the skin back together.
She was in hospital for two weeks, getting better.
She smiled as she told me about his careful explanations and kind words; she patted my hand, as he had patted hers.
I was still worried. ‘Will I get a scar like that, Granny?’
‘No, Sweetie, you won’t.’ She hugged me, loving me as only the grandmother of a single granddaughter can.
I had a hysterectomy many years later when Granny and hers were long gone.
My scar was a short, neat line under my belly, which faded to a smile.
The operation was efficient, the hospitalisation short, the information beforehand clear and precise.
Everything went to plan.
But there was no rapport, no kindly gesture, no pat on the hand.
‘Glad you’re doing well,’ was part of the surgeon’s post-op routine script.
Patient care has moved on.
But only in some ways.
Wokingham Writers group meets at Wokingham Library on the third Saturday of each month from 10am until midday.
Membership is free.
For information, email: [email protected], call: 01189 781368, or visit:
