Claire Tennant

“ADD A LITTLE FLOUR” by Claire Tennant

The hall was a hive of activity. Several ladies were in the kitchen slicing and buttering bread, making salads, watching the two ovens like hawks. At first, there seemed very little to offer, and the committee wondered if it would have to organise take away, but no, the word had got around and the people associated with the parish or those who had been touched by the ministry arrived each contributing their thanks.     The committee watched on; it had all been worth it.     Twelve weeks ear...

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“RED SKY IN THE MORNING” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #99

It was a red sky morning; I was deeply disturbed, but could not identify the reason why. Looking out of the window, I stared at the black images against the red; fence posts, a palm tree or two, and the old church still in use but not what the ‘moderns’ would want; too bad for them. The silhouette of the fine old building was enough to calm me a little, despite the frustration inside. At least it, the red sky, was not a bushfire warning. We had enough on our plates, without the devastation of fire. I remembered them of old.&nb...

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“ALL SET ” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #98

Content warning: domestic abuse    The bright sun shone through the bedroom window. Jean awoke, She heard the front door slam, knowing it was someone she once trusted leaving the premises; staggering, swearing his way out the house, down the path, across the road in search of the bottle. He would call it sauce but was stronger than ketchup and less prestigious than the Houses of Parliament. He would be away all day and return at night in the same filthy mood.  Gritting her teeth, she sat up, ignoring the pain but noticing...

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“THE MUSIC BOX” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #97

It was two o clock in the morning. Jock looked out of the window, tears threatening; knowing that his wife’s death was imminent. Seeing only the bright city lights in the distance, and hearing the wind whistling, swaying the branches of the tress at the park across the road, the shock was setting in. He was going to be alone. After fifty years with the love of his life she was slipping away; her breath raspy, her face as white as the snow in winter, her skin clammy. “Jock, is …that…you?” oh she sounded so tired. “Aye Marilyn, I’m here l...

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“THE PEARL BEYOND THE SAND” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #96

Caution suicidal thoughts but happy endings: It was another dismal day and Jake was annoyed. He stood watching the seashore aware of the turmoil inside him; realising that with every wave broken at the water’s edge, his breathing was slower. Huh! who was he kidding? It was the cigarette periodically between his lips and mostly between his fingers! It was the only thing keeping him warm and stress-free. Even in this, he was confused. Another job interview was over another waste of time. No one wanted a broken has been of...

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“THE FACTS IN THE CASE...” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #95

In writing this I am fully aware that the tale is no Perry Mason epic; neither is it John Deed. It is simply a fantasy about good and if I may say so evil intent, where honesty wins. It had been another trying morning. The session was adjourned. At least it gave some folk some time for a quick refresh, regroup and coffee. For James Higgins also known as Jim, it gave him the opportunity to refer to information that would help him and his colleagues make a decision. It was a little walk down the corridor to his office, but the nece...

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“Melodies of Yesteryear” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #92

There was a noise of chattering and cup clinking outside, but the family was asked into the office where refreshments were served. Options would be discussed, all had not gone to plan “Mrs Hutton.” said Ron Barclay “how do you wish us to handle this?” “I am really not sure Mr Barclay besides; the piano belongs to Neil. It was his grandfather’s, and was bequeathed to Neil’s family.” “Neil, do you have any ideas that might become solutions? Ron Barclay was well known for his gentlemanly manner. “No, not really, I just think that to sell o...

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“GOODBYES WERE ALWAYS HARD” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #91

It was autumn, the riot of colour could not be ignored; however, seasons alter in your personal life too. I was aware of a heaviness in my heart as I travelled up the road, to my destination. Visiting my aunt was usually a pleasure, but there was little joy expected on this trip. Even the car did not want to go, as indicated, by its stalling and refusing to budge.  After a little coaxing and cursing from me, sluggishly it spluttered, then as though making a mighty effort, it sprang to life however reluctantly. Good old Shirley...

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“NUMBER TWENTY FOUR” by Claire Tennant

Intro: To understand this little tale, I use the lyrics from an old song, Try To Remember written by Tom Jones as part of the musical The Fantastiks. ‘Try to remember the kind of September When life was slow and oh, so mellow. Try to remember the kind of September When grass was green and grain so yellow. Try to remember the kind of September When you were a young and callow fellow, Try to remember and if you remember then follow.’ “Try to Remember”, the song from the ‘sixties’ was on the radio. As Jean walked into the kitchen she s...

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“TALL TALES AND FAIRY TALES” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #88

Intro: Fiona Brice had cause to remember one particular day in her childhood one weekend she willingly helped her mother clear Grandma’s house, in readiness for auction. On the kitchen table, there was a large white box, without a label or pictures, to identify its contents. Still, she was puzzled, and Mum happily obliged her need “That’s for you I think, Fi,” Mum said, as she made them their mid-morning coffee. Curiosity got the better of Fiona. Opening the box lid she saw them, slightly faded with age but most definitely the...

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“APRIL IS FOR FOOLS” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #87

Charlie was always a mischief-maker by heart, it gave him immense pleasure to see his “prey” squirm. His younger siblings were always good for a laugh; as neither of them were wise enough yet to figure out who the instigator or the practical joker was. It was usually Charlie, of course. At the grand age of ten, Charlie looked forward to April Fool’s Day immensely. The thing was he had to remember that he was the fool if he yelled ‘April Fool’ after midday. Charlie had decided that this time he would have it all in control. It still...

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“NUMBER FORTY FIVE MEMORY LANE” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #86

Jenny sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, for a change. She was always too busy to take the time to read, choosing instead to listen to the radio while she drove, or watch a news broadcast on television in the evening. Her irritation was more evident these days where media speculation took over from reporting the facts. Perhaps it was the school teacher in her, she thought impishly. She glanced up from the newspaper and looked out at the pocket handkerchief sized garden of the home she shared with Hank; the love o...

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“THE CITY CALLED HOME” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #85

The thing about this city is, it is home; home to many people, including immigrants; who, having left their shores for a life in the lucky country, worked hard to make a place for themselves and their families; and their families, in turn, never looked back.  In the sixties, when we came, life was tough, the immigrants were tougher, the children learned to be, and laughed and cried together or apart, which strengthened them, and their resolve, to push forward regardless of opposition. Ah, it was the sixties though, and, well, ...

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“THE MASKED BANSHEE” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #84

Intro: There was a general hubbub of excitement as the community group, “The Ladybugs” congregated together as best they could, considering the social distancing rules. It was hard not to hug someone you had only seen via Zoom for months on end. Harder still to maintain the mandatory mask-wearing, as though it was the height of fashion; though I suspect most of us wear masks every day of our lives. If that were not the case hatred would not be rampant, the offence would not be taken so easily, and forgiveness would be worn as a garment ...

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“TO STAND UP AND BE COUNTED” by Claire Tennant

Submitted to Contest #83

TW: suicidal ideation The sun was shining, the warmth of it enveloped me like a blanket as though keeping out the winter chill, yet the chill remained nonetheless. I took a deep breath and dived from the pier. I did not notice the chill of the water, so intent was I on my task. Slowly the rhythm of the butterfly stroke (not to mention the determined jaw), ensured that all else on my mind was controlled and I could feel the action regulate my breathing. There, away from the holidaymakers, I swam with more energy than I’d h...

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