Another short story using Shafali’s beautiful pen and ink drawings as a prompt. Please visit her site to see her wonderful drawings.
It was exactly one week since Jane Meadows had moved into the ground floor flat of a lovely old Victorian house, and six more days before she had to go back to work. During the past week she had steadily worked through the pile of packing boxes, which held all her earthly possessions, and found every item a place in her new home. It was time to tackle the garden, or forest as she termed it which, she had been delighted to learn, belonged to the downstairs flat – her flat. No-one else had access to it so it was hers to do with as she liked.
Stepping out of the French doors, which led from her sitting room to the outside world, she stood and surveyed the rest of her territory. The grass was at least three feet high in places whilst there was a massive laurel bush which had run rampant over the years and taken over most of the end of the garden. This would certainly have to come out as it blocked the light which, in turn, failed to reach the lovely sitting room. Jane had plans for her garden: a patio where she could sit of an evening sipping a glass of wine or two, a border round the edges of the garden, a small fish pond and eventually a summer house where she was planning to write her novel when the muse eventually spoke to her. But first she had to clear the site. Jane, not one for standing around looking at work which needed to be done, had already organised a team to help her. Her two brothers, Jeff and Kevin, were due to arrive in the next ten minutes and she’d decided that they could make a start on the laurel bush. Read more