Arm Chair
The Grandlings sit one on each arm of your favourite chair,
You tell stories and sing songs.
Squeaky childhood voices learning and playing and imagining.
The world the whole world is open to their amazing minds.
Author: Victoria Norton
Victoria Norton is a middle-aged mother and grandmother living in New South Wales, Australia who has worked for 25 years as a mental health nurse. She is pursuing her BA in Creative Writing at Southern Cross University. She has a published a collection of short stories, purple. emerald. gold., as well as a children’s picture book, Who Ate the Cake?, available from Amazon.com.
Dandelions
Little globs of sunshine and happiness,
Like spittle from a sucker punching laugh
Pepper my lawn,
The subtle romance of busy bees
And cabbage butterflies hovering in zig zags
As they drink of the joyful yellow juices.
Poetic Pause
Today is the third installment of SFB’s new feature, Poetic Pause. We hope you enjoy our excursion into the world of poetry. Today’s poems come from regular contributor Victoria Norton. &&&&&&&&&& Melaleuca by Victoria Norton Melaleuca, Melaleuca, Melaleuca Rolls off my tongue and reverberates in my mind all day. I give the word to you now…
Watershed
A misty, whispering spray settles on my face. I breathe in and out deeply, and open my mouth wide, then wider still. I taste the water on my tongue. I keep my face turned towards the spray until my mouth is full. As I gulp and swallow I taste tea-tree and pine needles, essential oils…
It Should Have Been Me
Stella was judgmental and righteous from the very beginning. The man was here for the job interview and as she greeted him at the door he moved in close to her body. He made eye contact in that certain way that you connect with a man at the pub on a Saturday night when you…
War Wounds
The accident with Harry’s old grey Fergie tractor might have gone unnoticed in the small village but for the earwigging of a certain Widow Jessop. The population of Helensville was the hub of her gossiping life. Harry was a hero of sorts, even though he’d only saved himself and the collie dog. May Jessop, hospital…
Doppelgänger
It was an unexpected knock, followed so swiftly by a second and a third that it became one loud, long reverberation. It woke Renée Mallory from her doze on the couch. Jittery anxiety gripped her as she sat up. Am I dreaming? The sound repeated once, twice, thrice! The security door juddered … bang, bang,…
Still Grief
Silk flowers, grey with time, lay in a small silver box lined with tissue. Shaky fingers played with the petals’ fragile edges. The silk and paper now broken down, perished from time itself. ‘Your vows exchanged, your hands now joined. Congratulations.’ If she could hold his hands again, would she? They were twenty when they…
The Cockie's Mother and the Hired Hand
I see you there, old woman, in the grey shade of the veranda. I hear your sleepy breath. I’m curious as to what it would take to wake you – a prod or a word. I’ll roll a quick durry while I’m here in the cool. That rattan chair fits you like a second skin,…
The Story of Little Blue Bear
The image above is by Mark Turnauckas via Creative Commons His name is blueteddy. All one word, lower case letters, like an email address. This has been his name always, well for 53 years, and the spelling is more to do with myself as a little girl learning to write, than anything clever. I feel…
Ice Melt
Photo by Anderson Mancini via Creative Commons On that bitter winter’s morning, Alice watched as the first shaft of sunlight warmed an icicle that weighed down the head of a pure white tulip. As the ice melted the drips gathered in a pool. It made a reservoir for later in the day, on the promise…
All About the Blood
(Image by Mattia Belletti via Creative Commons) This home visit was all about the blood. A life was at stake. There’s always some fear associated with going to a new address for the first time, especially in the dark. As I parked near the driveway I could tell I’d need to stay on my toes…
Brown Boxes
(Image above by Cristiano Betta found via Creative Commons) It was a childhood memory shared in my garden, under the palms. Full on summer created the lovely breeze only a lakeside home could indulge in. We each held a glass of chardonnay, and watched my children in the pool. ‘You know Darl, I don’t remember…
Night Flight
(The image above is by Susanne Nilson found via Creative Commons) The more Jill tried to grasp it, the harder it was to get hold of. Transforming into flight took a precision touch, and the lift-off was never guaranteed. She knew it would be complicated tonight. There was no moon and the wind was already…
Blue
Below is the first official post of our new regular contributor Victoria Norton. Welcome her by sharing her work! (The image above by found via Creative Commons) I took the folder of treasured photographs from under my pillow. It was held together by a sticky rubber band which broke as I opened the pack. Examining…
The Headland
The following story is a guest post by Victoria June Norton. If you enjoy the story, check out her book “Purple, Emerald, Gold” on Amazon. (the image above by angrylambie1 via Creative Commons) I have a secret place. It’s a short walk from the clearing where I park my car, in a scrubby spot overlooking the lake. I…
Beatrice Fed the Ducks on Monday
The following story is a guest post by Victoria June Norton. If you enjoy the story, check out her book “Purple, Emerald, Gold” on Amazon. (The image above is by Katdaned found via Creative Commons) Beatrice Ellington fed the ducks on Monday. Not with bread torn from a loaf gone stale – she knew that would…