Saturday, September 01, 2007

Fraser's Short Story

I am very proud of this story which was written by my youngest son Fraser. While working for the Herald Newspaper on work experience here in Glasgow, he was asked to submit a short story with the possibility of publication in the Saturday ABC magazine of the Herald. He duly did in a day and so impressed were they that they indeed did publish his story. This along with some book reviews he did, and which were published also, added up to a great week at this national newspaper.

The Letter

By Fraser Parry, 15, Hyndland Secondary School

James sat staring, wide-eyed, at the letter on the table. Shards of glass lay scattered around it, and through the recently formed hole in the window, James could clearly hear the noises from the street outside. It was 9.22 on a Saturday morning. Moments ago thing had been perfectly normal; he had awoken at around 9.15, and had been sitting in his dining room while the Saturday morning train of thought chugged around his brain.
“What should I have for breakfast? Should I shower before or after I eat? Am I going out at all today? What time?”

It had been around this moment that someone had thrown a wooden block, carved into the shape of the letter H, through James’s window. Now some extra carriages had tagged themselves onto his thought train. “Who threw this? What does it mean? Why did they throw it at me? Will I have to pay to repair the damage? Gingerly brushing off some window fragments, James picked the recently airborne character and examined it. It was hardly a piece of master craftsmanship, the edges were coarse, the lengths were uneven and the crossbar was disproportionately thin. Afraid of getting a splinter, he placed it back on the table.

Suddenly noticing a strong draught, James looked up. Outside the street was busy with cars, but there was only one pedestrian. A young boy with short blond hair was standing there, holding the top a large burlap sack and looking straight at James. James jumped up, quickly grabbed a pair of jeans from the radiator, threw them on over the underwear he had slept in and ran out onto the street. Seeing this, the young boy turned and fled, leaving the sack behind him. James walked over, carefully lifted the lip of the sack and peered inside. It was filled with an alphabet of poorly made letters, James looked up “Hey! Hold it!”

But by now it was too late. The boy was already disappearing around the corner and running out of James's life for ever.

Published 28th July 2007

With thanks to the Herald Newspaper especially Barclay McBain an Rosemary Goring