The scribblings of a widower in his sixties who has discovered the therapy of the written word. Join me on my journey from grief to satisfaction and how I eventually got there.
About me
I am a sixty-five-year-old widower, (In 2023). I discovered writing to cope with the grief of losing my wife of thirty-five years to cancer. I began by writing my first short story, The Slow Cooker (Link to the story here).
This was followed by a story about each of the five stages of grief. Here I am, over one hundred and fifty stories later and four novels in progress.
Follow me on my journey, whether you’re a fellow sufferer or just keen on a story.
READ MY NOVELLA; THE PAINTING, FREE!
Read how a young Scotsman falls in love with a woman in his dreams, to discover that she exists when he meets an old Egyptian painter. Read about how their meeting saves the world from nuclear war.
Today’s Story
Sesame Seed: Crow Scene .
…As he spoke, the crow crouched briefly and launched itself, wings spread, towards the window. It landed on the small ledge outside the window and glared at the two men with one of its onyx eyes. Tony was frozen to the spot as the bird almost curtsied and stretched out its neck. The crow opened its beak and let out a loud caw. This routine was repeated twice more before it was gone in an inky flash.
“Corvus Corona,” Tony said without breaking his stare.
“Pardon?”
“The Carrion Crow. Corvus Corona, king of the crows.”
“I see.”
“Associated with death.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yes, death and intelligence. Did you know that if a crow is faced with a pitcher of water that it can’t reach with its beak, it won’t push the pitcher over? Instead, it will fill the pitcher with stones until the water is within reach. Incredible, eh?”
“It certainly is mate. Have you been reading Poe or something?” Alan showed genuine empathy for his friend’s detachment.
“No man, that’s The Raven,” Tony replied, snapping back to full attention, “You know, ‘Never More’. They say if you see three crows at the same time, say, in a tree, it means something bad. In some cultures, death.” Tony let out a sigh and put his head in his hands.
“Nice one, mate. What did I say about that subject?” There was an edge to Alan’s voice, but he steered the conversation back to Tony’s late wife. “Tell me about Marie’s eyes. You mentioned that they drew you in, on your first encounter. How did you two meet, by the way?”
His skill in doing so opened Tony up, and he began his story…
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Read my other stories from past days.