Category: Fiction

Someone’s in the kitchen

someone’s in the kitchen. Hope they are making tea, I’m thirsty!  I can hear the cups tinkling on the saucers. The whoosh of the kettle heating. Teaspoon clattering around the sugar bowl.

Must be Mum.  Father is watching a political broadcast in the back room.  I’m only half listening to it as it’s not a party I follow.  Not that I follow any party really.  Hate politics.  All as bad as each other!  Never done us any good have they?!

Sis is upstairs with a friend. I can hear them chattering to each other but can’t make out which boy it’s about this time.  She has a different heartthrob every day it seems.

I wonder if bro got his job he went after. I haven’t seen him for a couple of days now.  He often stays around his mates so it’s nothing new for him to be gone.  I miss him though.  He has great music on when home.  Obviously I can’t play it when he’s not there. Shame really.

Well, I’ve had my half hour playing make believe. Its pouring with rain. I’m soaking now.  I’ve stayed in their garden too long tonight. I need to get to a safe sleeping place before the drunks come out.

Someones in in the kitchen.

Wish it was me.

Dot and Sam

©All Rights Reserved – Isabella Shores


Dot looked around and smiled at her son. His chubby face grinned back, loose hair flopped over one eye making him look like a one eyed pirate.

‘Mum! Listen to me!’

‘I am listening sweetheart.’ Dot laughed. ‘I always listen to you.’

‘Samuel pulled away as most 13 year old boys do from a Mothers hug. He looked so adorable in his school shorts and blazer.

‘I wonder where your father is’ Dot sighed. ‘He is always late these days.’

She walked into the kitchen. ‘Would you like something to eat now?’

Samuel followed her in and gently led her back into the lounge.

‘Mum, Dad is not coming home now’

Dot started, her heart in her throat as she stared at Samuel.

Then she remembered and sank down onto the nearest chair.

Gordon had died recently. His heart had given out they said. She found it hard when she forgot he was not there.

Crying herself to sleep had become a habit.

‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ Came a mans voice from the kitchen.

She looked up to see a middle aged man walk into the room, a questioning look on his face.

‘Who are you?’ She asked looking around for Samuel.

The man smiled sadly, lines wrinkling up around tired eyes as he did so.

‘Its me Mum. Samuel. Your son’

Dot stared at him fighting through the sudden pain of recollection.

Samuel looked at his mum and hated the dementia that had a hold of her.