© 2016 by Catriona McKeown  Proudly created with Wix.com

Free to read online, please enjoy Catriona's published

Short Stories

Remembering Rosemary Carter 

Inspired by the painting, "Under The Arches, Mangles Bay” by artist Rosemary Singleton, this short story is about an elderly woman who finds herself sitting on the beach with no idea of where she is. But at least she remembers one thing: she doesn't remember things well.

     The most important thing Rosemary Carter remembered, was that she had a problem remembering things. The fact she remembered this wasn’t something she appreciated as much as she should have, for there were times when it may well have saved her life. After all, not remembering why one walked into the room rarely causes more than mere inconvenience. But forgetting one’s name, or place of residence, is something quite different altogether.

     Sitting on a beach as Rosemary found herself to be one particular day, it was as though she had woken from a strange dream and didn’t know how she had gotten there. A large rimmed white hat flapped above her eyes and white sandals wrapped around her feet highlighting what she considered to be over-sized ankles. She scoffed at herself; she was wearing the shoes of an old woman, just like her mother...   Click here to read more

It's all in the Getting Up
Learning to forgive yourself is part of the healing process, no matter what your age, or the depth of your loss.

 

     Twigs jabbed and sliced, every scratch reminding him what he’d just done. His mind, a slush pool of murmurings, memories and misconceptions gone awry, fueled by the fire racing through his chest.       

     Bursting from the scrub, he took four strides before allowing his legs to give way.

     Slate, hiding under a thin layer of sand, stole his breath: an unpleasant collision of stone and bone. But not even the pain the beach inflicted had distracted him. He was still thinking of only one thing.

     She had said yes.

     As his breath returned, he braced himself to...  Click here to read more

Burnt Papers

 

Three children become distraught when they discover the death of their class-mate may have been their doing. 

 

     The children stood looking at the burnt papers in front of them. Small pieces of the ash were picked up by the southerly that swirled and danced at their feet. Ryan, hands shoved so far into his pockets they almost reached his knees, kicked at it a little. Claire glared at him.

     “Well,” said Harriet. “I guess that’s it, then.”
     “Guess so,” Ryan said, extracting a hand long enough to wipe his nose. The red curls on the top of his head made him look much younger than 
thirteen; or maybe it was the freckles.

     Harriet bent down and poked at the remaining paper. “It looks pretty much gone; I can’t see any of the writing. That’s what matters, right?”
      They stood and looked at their feet, at the burnt paper, at the dirt surrounding it. Anything but each other.

     A kookaburra laughed from a nearby tree; none of them looked for it. He could laugh all he wanted, but it wouldn’t bring Andrew Peterson back. Nothing...  Click here to read more

Another Orbit Around The Sun

Kira makes another trip to her family home, only to realise how important it is that she stop  visiting  her parents. 

 

     Kira Andrews had never been one for surprises. She didn’t like to give them, didn’t like to receive them. They were inconvenient, both for the giver who was trying to keep the secret and the receiver who was bound to have their plans complicated by the surprise. As Kira stood at the door to her parents’ house, the icy wind wrapping around her as she jiggled up and down to try to stay warm, she braced herself. Today would be a double-whammy, she was sure of it.

     The door swung open and a burst of warm air rushed from inside to greet her. Her mother, with a long flowing orange tie-dyed dress and a welcoming smile, beckoned her inside...  Click here to read more