Tip toeing down the stairs
Times where hard, Marg had tried to care for her children since Derek had been crippled in the accident at the cotton mill. He had lost a eye and arm when he had was trapped between a iron shaft and a drive belt. Now no one would employ him. He had tried to look after their children whilst Marg worked. They seemed to be managing, untill she had slipped and fallen on ice covered stairs, after spending a hard days picking coal at the mine head.
There was nothing left in the kitty. They had sold everything of value, even the children’s shoes. Tomorrow the landlord would call for the rent. Marg decided that it was time to flit. She thanked heavens the gas light no longer worked, no one would see them leave. She hoped that tomorrow the workhouse would take them in. Yet she knew it might not as they where offcomers. If they had to walk back to their own parish in Scotland, she knew they would perish.
Really, really disturbing and sad story. Why some people face so much difficulty? May god help them.
What lovely feedback, thank you,
A Dickensian tale for a wet Autumn day Michael. Nicely done.
Thank you for such high praise, being like Dickensian will always do it for me
A sorrowful story indeed. Their feelings of hopelessness was palpable through your words.
I thank you Keith for your kind feedback, hopelessness was indeed the feeling that I wanted to put across.
A joyless tale of mishap and tragedy.
Well told, Michael.
Joyless indeed, I guess tragedy is one of the oldest forms of story telling.
Bleak and depressing. Nicely done Michael.
We’ll told Michael. It’s beautifully warm and sunny here, but you had me feeling cold and damp.
Sorry about the chilly story, hope you soon warm up.