Flash Fiction Friday
A tiny story to read
Hi, welcome to my latest post featuring one of my flash fictions.
Each Flash Fiction Friday post will also include the inspiration for the story and a prompt to get you writing too.
With love,
Peeling Away All The New Layers
Compelled to leave as soon as she’d put the phone down, Stephanie had driven through the night. Leaving Ryan sleeping, knowing he’d be angry when he woke, but she had to go. She couldn’t worry about him now anyway. For once, he’d have to deal with her putting herself first. If coming back here could be called that. Walking up the hill to the tiny chapel, the sun peeping over the hills behind her, her breath billowed, enshrouding her in a frosty mist. If only Diane had died in the summer. If Stephanie had to be back here after all this time, she’d rather it had been in the warm weather. But Diane never did like to make things nice for anyone.
“Don’t call her that,” Stacey said last night when she’d called.
“It’s her name.”
“She’s our mum … was our mum.”
Freezing it might be, but at least it would be quiet. No tourists at this time of year. Or maybe that was all different now that Verity lived here. Stephanie glanced back at her, towering over the harbour entrance with her bronze sword held high. She looked normal from this side; it was her other side that caused so much controversy, the hidden one facing out to sea. As if she could only reveal her true nature to the elements. Although why everyone, mainly men, were so upset by her insides, and the baby she carried, being on show, Stephanie just couldn’t fathom. Maybe because it’s the English way to keep everything at a surface level. Or maybe because it shows that women are the true creators, that without them there’d be nothing.
Stephanie paused at the chapel door. They’d spent so much time in here as kids, sheltering from the wind and rain when they didn’t want to go home. Or couldn’t. This was the first place where Stephanie had taken proper photos, the ones that made her believe she could make a career with her camera. The sunlight through the windows illuminating the altar, the dust in the air. Everything else shrouded in shadow. She’d been so excited when she’d had the film developed and seen what she’d captured. Not that it had led anywhere in the end.
The door creaked as she pushed it open and the familiar smell of wood and old paper surrounded her. Would the carving of her and Stacey’s initials still be here? The two letters entwined. Like they’d thought they too always would be. Through the gloom she saw a man sit up on one of the pews near the front, rubbing sleep from his eyes. A dog growled next to him. What were they doing here? She backed out, letting the door swing shut behind her.
Pink clouds scudded across the sky and the wind blew her hair across her face as she looked down at the waves crashing on the rocks below. Hopefully the man and his dog would leave now she’d woken them up. She could have the quiet time she needed to find the courage to go back to that house and see Stacey for the first time since she’d left. Sixteen years ago. How had all that time passed?
The chapel door creaked then she felt something touching her legs. A scruffy little brown and white dog was sniffing at her jeans. It looked up at her, then sat on her foot. She smiled, crouched and held her hand for it to sniff. The dog gave it a quick lick.
“Sorry. He’s just very friendly,” a gruff voice said.
Stephanie turned. The man, in crumpled army fatigues, gave a wary smile. A real soldier or pretend? His hair and beard were scruffy too, and brown and white just like his dog.
“Well, I’m not.” She’d meant it to sound jokey but could hear the harshness as soon as the words were formed.
“We’ll leave you be then. Jerry.” He patted his leg and the dog trotted straight to him. They disappeared around the first bend of the steep winding path back down to the harbour. Seconds after they did, she heard the patter of paws and expected Jerry to reappear. Instead, a whole posse of dogs did, followed by two women, a man and four kids. What was everyone doing up here so early? Nobody ever used to come here.
The kids ran straight into the chapel while the adults came and stood alongside her, clutching coffee shop cups and chattering loudly to each other as if she wasn’t even there. Stephanie headed down the path. Clearly she wasn’t going to get any time alone. But she couldn’t go back to the house yet. She wasn’t ready. Wasn’t sure she could go at all despite the midnight dash to get here.
The man who’d been in the chapel had stopped just ahead of her at the bottom of the hill. The dog was sniffing the weeds growing round the bottom of the sea wall but ran over when he spotted her, jumping up and putting both paws on her shins. She ruffled his head.
“Jerry. Down.”
“It’s alright. Sorry about what I said. I am friendly really.” She didn’t know why, but she really needed him to know that she wasn’t that snappy, standoffish person. She just wasn’t feeling quite herself at the moment. Being back here was peeling away all the new layers she’d swaddled herself in since leaving.
The man nodded but didn’t really look at her. He patted his leg again and then he and Jerry marched off in the direction of town. She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to talk to her.
Stephanie wandered on to the pier overlooking the harbour. The tide was creeping in. She watched it slowly lift the stranded boats until they were bobbing gently in the shallow water. Waiting until it was deep enough so they could depart again.
A fisherman climbing onto his boat waved at her. In greeting or farewell, she couldn’t tell.
This story was originally published in Virtual Zine, which has since closed down, in 2019. It is the opening chapter to my novella-in-flash, Pressure Drop.
The inspiration came from knowing that my protagonist had to return to her hometown to face the past and the sister she left behind, and figure out who she is now that her mother has died and her memories might not be as black and white as she thought they were.
I’d love to know what you think of it so please do let me know in the comments! The picture above shows the harbour and chapel where this story is set.
Writing Prompt: Write a scene or story where a character is returning to a place they once knew well for the first time in a long time. What’s drawing them back? Do they want to go or is every fibre of their being fighting against it?
I loved this line in your piece: “Being back here was peeling away all the new layers she’d swaddled herself in since leaving.” Really captures that rawness of being back somewhere familiar after time away.
I knew in an instant that was Ilfracombe from the image - but I think I would have recognised it just from the writing as well, it was so vivid! I live in East Devon but visit Ilfracombe at least once a year for walking the SW Coast Path and a bit of r&r... it's one of my absolute favourite places. I've climbed to the top of Capstone Hill and up to the chapel more times than I can remember, and this lovely story captured it so well, right down to the weeds at the bottom of the wall and the sun coming out from behind the hill. I've petted so many dogs round there too, I clearly remember meeting an ex show whippet called Ella and chatting to her mum on the winding path up to the chapel ❤️
Thank you, thank you, thank you for such a beautiful description of the pink clouds, the smell of the chapel and that sea wind. It's lovely to read something by someone who also knows it well :)