ACME
03-08-2013, 06:26 PM
Our short story takes us into the chilling
world of a young woman and her daughter
who live in fear. Jenny Evans from Britain
will read “Five things — or six?” by writer Ann Oliver
///////////
Remember = You can listen to the story from the file
in the following link
http://www.mediafire.com/download/5mff3fjfcbp1mm1/five_things_or_six.rar
Miriam walked through the supermarket. Holding
her hand was a little girl, her daughter Carrie.
Four years old, Carrie was a pretty, lively
thing. The child’s favourite pastime was pointing
out colours — loudly.
“Blue!” she would cry, and to Miriam’s horror,
Bert, her husband, would turn round and shout
at Carrie to keep quiet. To Miriam, though, this
pastime was a pure joy. Guiding her little girl
down the aisle, she pointed to the bright plastic
bottles of shower gel and shampoo.
“Yellow! Pink!” Carrie sang. Luckily, Bert was
somewhere else in the shop, probably looking
at magazines (the ones with the motorcycles
on them — and the topless girls) or deciding
which brand of toothpaste was the least expensive.
That, Miriam knew, would be the brand he
would choose for her and Carrie to use. He
might take a better brand for himself — for his
use only.
Happily, mother and daughter explored the
colours in the make-up aisle — purple, orange
— and, oh, red! Together they made their way
to the cash desk. Standing before it was Bert.
Tapping one foot, he gave his two females a
look that was meant to inspire fear. It did the
job. Mother and daughter looked at the floor
and awaited his instructions.
“Can we get on with it, then?” Bert asked. It was
less a question than an accusation. Miriam
knew what she was expected to do. From her
shopping basket, she brought out the five
items that she very much hoped to buy: 1) a
stick of deodorant; 2 & 3) two brown hair clips
for Carrie; 4) a roll of plastic rubbish bags —
they had been out of them for a week now, and
Miriam had no more creative ways to collect
kitchen waste.
She needed the bags. She had thought long
and hard about it, and although she felt that
Bert might say they were a waste of money, she
decided she needed to have them. Surely he
had noticed the trail of dirt that leaked from
the improvised bags every time she went to
the rubbish?
The fifth and final item was also the least
expensive: a little plastic container of shower
gel. It was square and bright green. Carrie
wanted it. The little girl had looked at it as
though it were the lost emerald from a fairy
tale. “Green! Green! So green!” she had said.
Carrie had to have it — and Miriam had to have
it for her. Hoping that the rubbish bags would
distract Bert, Miriam placed this final item on
the cash desk. Surely, at 35 pence, Bert would
let this pass.
“What’s this? Have you gone completely mad?”
he raged.
“It’s just shower gel — for Carrie. She really
would love to have it,” Miriam replied. “It’s so
cheap, Bert.”
“Nonsense, woman! Waste of money! Put it
back!”
Bert practised his nastiest look as he watched
his fool of a wife pick up the shower gel and
move away. She disappeared into the back of
the shop, looking for where she’d found it. She
would put it back, just as he said.
Carrie stayed at the cash desk and watched her
father watching her mother.
Bert then turned and spoke to the cashier as if
nothing were amiss: “These four things, please
— oh, and give me a packet of Marlboros. The
gold pack. No, no, better give me two.”
I hope you enjoyed it
My Regards
:smile (101):
world of a young woman and her daughter
who live in fear. Jenny Evans from Britain
will read “Five things — or six?” by writer Ann Oliver
///////////
Remember = You can listen to the story from the file
in the following link
http://www.mediafire.com/download/5mff3fjfcbp1mm1/five_things_or_six.rar
Miriam walked through the supermarket. Holding
her hand was a little girl, her daughter Carrie.
Four years old, Carrie was a pretty, lively
thing. The child’s favourite pastime was pointing
out colours — loudly.
“Blue!” she would cry, and to Miriam’s horror,
Bert, her husband, would turn round and shout
at Carrie to keep quiet. To Miriam, though, this
pastime was a pure joy. Guiding her little girl
down the aisle, she pointed to the bright plastic
bottles of shower gel and shampoo.
“Yellow! Pink!” Carrie sang. Luckily, Bert was
somewhere else in the shop, probably looking
at magazines (the ones with the motorcycles
on them — and the topless girls) or deciding
which brand of toothpaste was the least expensive.
That, Miriam knew, would be the brand he
would choose for her and Carrie to use. He
might take a better brand for himself — for his
use only.
Happily, mother and daughter explored the
colours in the make-up aisle — purple, orange
— and, oh, red! Together they made their way
to the cash desk. Standing before it was Bert.
Tapping one foot, he gave his two females a
look that was meant to inspire fear. It did the
job. Mother and daughter looked at the floor
and awaited his instructions.
“Can we get on with it, then?” Bert asked. It was
less a question than an accusation. Miriam
knew what she was expected to do. From her
shopping basket, she brought out the five
items that she very much hoped to buy: 1) a
stick of deodorant; 2 & 3) two brown hair clips
for Carrie; 4) a roll of plastic rubbish bags —
they had been out of them for a week now, and
Miriam had no more creative ways to collect
kitchen waste.
She needed the bags. She had thought long
and hard about it, and although she felt that
Bert might say they were a waste of money, she
decided she needed to have them. Surely he
had noticed the trail of dirt that leaked from
the improvised bags every time she went to
the rubbish?
The fifth and final item was also the least
expensive: a little plastic container of shower
gel. It was square and bright green. Carrie
wanted it. The little girl had looked at it as
though it were the lost emerald from a fairy
tale. “Green! Green! So green!” she had said.
Carrie had to have it — and Miriam had to have
it for her. Hoping that the rubbish bags would
distract Bert, Miriam placed this final item on
the cash desk. Surely, at 35 pence, Bert would
let this pass.
“What’s this? Have you gone completely mad?”
he raged.
“It’s just shower gel — for Carrie. She really
would love to have it,” Miriam replied. “It’s so
cheap, Bert.”
“Nonsense, woman! Waste of money! Put it
back!”
Bert practised his nastiest look as he watched
his fool of a wife pick up the shower gel and
move away. She disappeared into the back of
the shop, looking for where she’d found it. She
would put it back, just as he said.
Carrie stayed at the cash desk and watched her
father watching her mother.
Bert then turned and spoke to the cashier as if
nothing were amiss: “These four things, please
— oh, and give me a packet of Marlboros. The
gold pack. No, no, better give me two.”
I hope you enjoyed it
My Regards
:smile (101):