Competition Entries

Romance - Holiday: It's cold outside.

 The gentle sounds of carols echoed around the family home as the residents inside relaxed after a full day of festivities. The turkey had been a success with enough left over for stuffing sandwiches the next day. The children played with their new toys, somehow still finding energy to dash from room to room whilst the adults groaned and complained about how full they were. Or just how much wine they had drunk.

It was a warm atmosphere. A lazy one with a haze that made any action take much longer than usual. Any loud shouting from the children was followed by a chorus of complaints, though these were all half hearted. No one could summon the effort to stand to follow through with any discipline and after all, it was Christmas. The rules could be relaxed on this day as long as it didn't lead to too much noise.

Whilst the adults occupied the sofas in the living room, the children continued to scramble around the house. There were more bodies in the mid terraced property than there was at any other point of the year. It made it crowded and seats had been brought down from all areas of the house so everyone could relax in the sitting room after their vast feast. All but one, that was.

Standing alone in the dining room was a quiet figure, among the discarded crackers and stray brussel sprouts. His frame had once been tall but the years had weathered him down. His shoulders were hunched over and his skin had buckled around his fingers and features. Even though the fire was ablaze in the neighbouring room he wore a thick jacket over many layers of wool. One hand rested atop a cane whilst the other rested on the mahogany sideboard before him. Children ran past him without noticing or paying him any attention. This suited the old gentleman just fine. Christmas was about spending time with loved ones, but for him one soul was missing from the party.

Reaching his aching limbs forwards, his brittle fingers grasped at a glass bottle on the table. His thinned lips pursed as he clutched it to his chest with such gentleness yet firmness of holding a newborn. Turning on his cane, he began his slow walk around the table and towards the door. But a small boy stopped him in his path.

"Grandad? Where are you going?" Young Biff looked up at his elderly relative with wide, curious eyes. He held his own precious item in his grasp; his brand new car toy. But for a moment he was distracted from this exciting object as concern for Grandad flowed through him.

Grandad regarded the small child. The corners of his mouth lifted and the skin around his eyes bunched, "To share a drink with Grandma." He shook the bottle in his hands, the caramel coloured liquid within sloshing about. The response only seemed to confuse Biff.

"Where is Grandma?"

Grandad chuckled, a rasping sound that crackled in the air, "Somewhere that doesn't serve brandy. Now go play with your toy." Young Biff didn't take much encouragement as soon his attention was back on the bright red car. He yipped and ran off, his loud thumping steps causing his mother to shout a plea for quiet.

But Grandad didn't follow the child and neither did he move through the house to the rest of the family. He made his way to the front door, lifted up a hat from the stand before stepping out into the dimming light of Christmas day.

The cobbled street was cast in red sunlight as it set over the rooftops of the street. Chimneys cast stark silhouettes against the changing sky, which was undisturbed by clouds. It was cold and his breath soon turned to mist, but the crisp smell to the air reminded him of winters past. This street had been his home for close to fifty years and had hardly changed. An old mining town in North England, these homes had been occupied by working class families before the collapse of the industry. But even with the small changes of satellite dishes the history remained in the dark bricks.