Saturday, November 28, 2009

The Shed

This shed was a refuge. It was here I did my stuff, I created. Music, art and literature. From dawn till dusk I did whatever my instincts told me. An artist must trust his instincts. Must act on them. Must do.

My family left me to my own devices. My wife worked at home, in her upstairs studio. She wrote film and television soundtracks. You may have seen her name. It may have registered. Sarah Malcolm. My sweet Sarah.

My children were gifted, too. Ross was going to be a successful musician. He had a magnificent command of a multitude of instruments. And Lucy's calling was to write. She was a precocious child who wrote her first story at the age of four. Our children were beautiful with full brown eyes and long dark hair.

Last Saturday evening, they all died in an horrific supernatural maelstrom of evil that engulfed the house.

Fortunately for me, I was in the shed at the time.

13 comments:

  1. It gripped me till the end.

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  2. You brought it on yourself by mentioning Bill Withers in your previous post, I'm afraid

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  3. Have those tablets kicked in again Geoff? Or was it the Brie and Cranberry Sandwich?

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  4. Thank goodness for the shed; better than an hotel.

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  5. Bob - Now you know why I didn't join in with National Novel Writing Month. I never get past the first page.

    UberGrumpy - Someone's got to mention the poor bloke.

    Rog - It's Christmas!

    Arabella - All the comforts of home.

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  6. Now this is what I call a short story.
    And with a moral.

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  7. 'I have yet to confront old Mrs Malcolm, whom I had locked in the cellar for some trivial misdemeanour at Scrabble. Her cries for help are growing more faint by the hour. What should I do?'

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  8. Excuse me butting in, Christopher, but you should let her out, apologise profusely and offer a cup of tea and a curly-wurly. 'Qi' is a valid word, I checked.

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  9. That's a decent short story.
    Punks Not Dad have a song called "In Me Shed" to view on YouTube. I'm sure you'll love the sentiment in the ditty.

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  10. It was 'Zo' that just made me see red, UG. (Please excuse us, Geoff et al., while we have this private conversation: just talk among yourselves) Tea and a curly-wurly? Just what I would have proposed, but you tell me Lord Pearson got there first.

    (And I was commenting through Geoff's persona. I am a kind and thoughtful person and would not dream of locking my mother-in-law in the cellar.)

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  11. Kaz - I can't do 'em any longer. I like to have a moral.

    Christopher - Mrs Malcolm happened to be very talented in her own right. It's just that the world never knew.

    UberGrumpy - Too late. I'm afraid she's gorn.

    Istvanski - The shed is a haven of tranquility. Or in our case it's where we keep the lawnmower.

    Christopher - "Take my mother-in-law..." Etc.

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  12. Whilst I read your lovely morality play I had Talking Heads playing as the soundtrack...
    All wet hey you might need a raincoat
    Shakedown dreams walking in broad daylight
    Three hun-dred six-ty five de-grees
    Burning down the house


    Now it all seems to make sense. This allegorical nugget beautifully illustrates the logic of the protagonist's decision to choose a shedly life over one of evil.

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  13. David Byrne does everything in his shed.

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