Authors can share a link to their short stories (less than 2000 words please) or poetry, and it won’t cost you a penny! The deadline is 28th February. Stories or poems can be on any subject, but please keep them reasonably family friendly. On 1st March I will pick a winner and runner up and share the links to the stories on my website, Facebook and Twitter pages. Please ensure that you add the link to your story to February’s submission page and not any previous month, or it may be missed.
I look forward to reading your efforts. The winners can use these laurels to add to their story:
Here’s a little poem to keep you entertained while you think up a lovely story for me:
THE IRONING BOARD BLUES, BY STEVIE TURNER
COPYRIGHT STEVIE TURNER 2019
When I was but twelve years old
My mother said to me,
Somewhere a woman irons shirts
Of the boy you’ll one day marry.
I met the ironer of his shirts
When I was twenty one.
She could hardly bear the sight of me,
When I took away her son.
Ironing his shirts then fell to me,
After we were wed.
His mum threw her iron on the floor
And wished that I was dead.
After seven years of wedded bliss,
I’d had enough of ironing.
He’d never offer to help at all,
My love for him was expiring.
I showed him how to use an iron
He burned his favourite shirt.
He watched with green-eyed envy
As I pressed my cotton skirt.
“You’ll soon get the hang of it”
I said to my erstwhile lover.
He thought a bit, smashed down the iron
And telephoned his mother.
Round she came, that vexatious witch,
That thorn in my backside.
She gave me a glare
While standing there
So angry I’d not yet died.
“Bring me your shirts, you lovely boy
Bring every shirt you’ve got.”
She starts to rant.
“Bring trousers and pants
I’ll do the bloody lot!”
With a gimlet eye I asked her,
“D’you fancy doing my stuff?
I’m never ironing another thing.
I’ve laboured long enough.”
A middle finger was raised to me
And so it’s safe to say,
Mother-in-law won’t be ironing
My skirts and dresses today.