A Collection Of Short Stories

By Dawn Pitts

Dawn began writing short stories early in her career during the time she was entering writing competition nationally, and In-house competitions within the writing group she attended. She achieved recognition in all for genres that consisted of Real-life stories, article writing, poetry and short stories.
This anthology of short stories is the result of her competition work and others of various themes for the reader’s pleasure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dawn Pitts
• Release date: Aug 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370451623

Dawn Pitts

My writing career began in 1999 when I was led to write a children's book. A few years earlier I was working as a Library Assistant in a high school and soon discovered that a number of young teenagers had reading difficulties and that there was no suitable material for them to read. This was the seed that grew a few years later when I was walking regularly in an effort to lose weight when I heard a voice tell me to write a children's book. My reaction was, "No way. I'm not good at that sort of thing and where would I start." Feeling smug I continued home and tried to put the idea out of my mind. A few days later the Reader's Digest arrived in the letterbox and in it was a course for Writing for Children. I almost died."Over the next six months I completed the course and then had the confidence to join a local writing group. Since then I've have had success entering both local and national competitions. I now teach classes as a volunteer and enjoy passing the knowledge on to other authors.I have three adult children and five adult grandchildren.

Book preview

A Collection of Short Stories

By Dawn Pitts

Copyright to Dawn Pitts 2010

Cover by the Author

This book is copyright and apart from any fair dealing for criticism or review under the Copyright Act no part may be reproduced by any process without permission of the author.

Table of Contents

The Blues – The Silent Killer

A Helping Hand

The Way of the Mind

Looking Back, Glimpsing Forward

Clarissa, The House

Then and Now

All Our Life

Mixed Up

Justice of a Different Ilk

Picnic Under Hanging Rock

Angelica

Out of the Darkness

The Escape

Secrets

Uno, Bi and Tri

Danger! Fire

The Dive

Anne’s Worst Weekend

It Was Weird

A Stoker on The HMAS Sydney II

Mystic Sounds at Marble Bar

Sounds in the Night

About Dawn Pitts

Connect With Dawn Pitts

Other books by Dawn Pitts

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my family and to those who encouraged me to write it.

THE BLUES – A SILENT KILLER

How are you Sarah? Mitzi asked her friend examining her face as she replied.

Fine, just fine. You know me. Sarah Halloran replied grinning broadly.

So how was the holiday, did your family come and stay?

Yes, Sarah replied and for a moment Mitzi caught a subtle change in her eyes.

The grandkids came for a while and their parents stayed for a few hours. We have three grand kids now. Jane produced a son last month. He is the first son for twenty years. The first since our Bradley really.

Wow! That must have caused some excitement. I expect he is doted on by the family.

He is, Sarah replied as a glimmer of sadness flashed across the steady gaze of her brown eyes.

Something wrong? Mitzi asked softly sensing Sarah’s tension. ‘Don’t be silly, she chastised herself.’ Sarah is the most together person I know

Just the usual tension when mum and the family get together. You know how the children love the canals where they can catch crabs and blowies to their hearts content. Keeping the fish alive until they are ready to return them to the water, Sarah said.

They sound great kids. I’m in no hurry to go home, why don’t we sit in the shade over there on the park bench and you can tell me all about it.

Oh, it’s nothing really…it’s just that…I feel so horrible all the time. A thick black cloud fills my whole being weighing me down. Down in a deep black hole. It engulfs me and nothing I do seems to shift it.

Sounds pretty bad to me. How long have you felt like this? When did it start?

"When Bradley was born I expect, but I didn’t realize it then. It was called post-baby blues and I, like all other new mothers,’ was told to get over it…and most of us did in a few days. Bradley was only a few months old when I found I was pregnant again...then the pressure was on to produce more male children. I was on the receiving end of many sarcastic remarks about producing like a rabbit and how would I manage Bradley with another child only a year after his birth? Of course none of this made much sense to me and I was unaware of mum’s deep obsession concerning our son.

Mum Halloran, sure has a way with words and she has developed her skill over the years. She really read me the riot act when I told her I was pregnant with Margaret and the resulting pregnancy was most likely to produce a daughter. I thought she would be delighted as the ultrasound told us we were expecting a daughter, a pigeon-pair, so to speak. She was furious and told me that I had no right to have another child and take the limelight away from Bradley. It wasn’t until after Margaret was born that I realized the seriousness of the situation. I was stunned and couldn’t believe that she was serious, but she was. Sad to say, her obsession with Bradley caused us a great deal of anxiety over the years and no matter what we said or did the situation remand the same.

It’s amazing that the children grew to become mature and responsible adults. Now with baby Jacob on the scene, she has begun her manipulative manner with the next generation. Bradley, Fiona and the children were expected down during the holidays, but had to phone us at the last minute to say that they couldn’t come. Poor Lyn has the chicken Pox with a secondary infection. Everybody felt for the poor little girl, but not that manipulative bitch of a mother-in-law. She said that Lyn should have been left with a babysitter so that she could see Jacob. Sarah concluded as the unshed tears fell and she was racked with uncontrollable sobs. I feel as if I am in a great thick suffocating black cloud and I am shaking all over, inside my body just below the surface of my skin. What’s wrong with me?"

Mitzi took her friend in her arms as she comforted her she softly whispered, it’s alright you are emotionally exhausted. Believe me I know exactly how you are feeling. It is the most debilitating feeling I’ve experienced. I’m taking you to the doctor and while you see her I will ring John at work and he can come and pick you up. He’s a good man, your John.

I don’t want to see a doctor…what if they put me in a metal hospital? How embarrassing. I’m sorry Ann, I am just being silly.

Rubbish, how you are feeling is not being silly. It is not your imagination and you are not putting it on. You need help and you need it today. Do you agree?

Sarah nodded her agreement. While Mitzi saw fear mixed with sadness flood her friends eyes.

So that’s how I am, Ann, Sarah said.

Doctor Ann Patrick looked at her long-term patient with concern. I feel that you are on the verge of a nervous breakdown, Sarah. What you have been experiencing albeit for short periods of time over many years is depression. This latest bout has left you on the verge of being extremely ill and some people take their lives or the lives of their loved ones because of it. It is not your imagination and you are not over reacting to the way you feel. I only wish more people had a friend who cares sufficiently to get the help early in the peace. I will prescribe twelve tablets. They are extremely addictive and I recommend that you only take one tablet a day, starting when you arrive home. I suggest that you have your shower, take the tablet and go to bed…

But what about John’s tea?

John can manage to care for himself for a day or two. You are the one who needs some rest and looking after for a change. Okay?

Okay. The way I feel I wouldn’t wish this on even John’s mum. Sarah replied as she gave Ann a weak smile.

Here we are, Sarah. I told you John would pick you up and he is waiting anxiously for you in the foyer. I’ll leave you in his good hands and I will call you tomorrow. Will that be alright? Mitzi asked.

Yes, thank you.

The next day Mitzi listened to the phone ring in Sarah’s kitchen and when the message bank cut in she said, Hi Sarah. I’m just calling to see how you are feeling. John called me from work to say that you slept for fourteen hours ate breakfast and slept again. Good that’s just what you need. I’ll call again soon.

It was a few days before Sarah could call her friend. Hi, Mitzi.

Why Sarah, it’s great to hear from you. How are you feeling?

Fine, just fine. She paused, really I am. I have decided to stop the tablets and only take half a tablet if and when I feel all shaky and wobbly on the insides. You know the only person who is feeling like this is me. Mum certainly isn’t concerned about me and the children take me for granted. I have made a decision and that is never and I mean never will I allow other people to cause me to feel this way again.

Good on you girl. It is the only way to go!

A HELPING HAND

Scribblers Literary Competition 2006

Open Prose – Highly Commended

Can you tell me what happened down there now, Mrs Wilson?

I’ll try, I said shuddering involuntarily then pausing for a while trying to gather my thoughts. I’d been running late for work and my husband had caught the bus half an hour before me. I was in the train reading the paper, wondering how I could save enough money to purchase the tickets for the Olympics in 2012. Deep in thought, I was thinking what events we would go to. Opening and closing ceremonies and…

It’s all right Mrs Wilson, the nurse has bought you a nice cup of tea. Relax for a while before you continue. I’m not going anywhere.

I smiled at this kind man with a bruised and swollen face sitting before me wearing a police uniform. I think you could do with a nice cup of tea, too, I said with a teary-eyed smile. I hoped it was a smile, but with my broken nose and bruised face it could have been a sneer. I’m sorry, but I can’t remember your name…you appear to be familiar, but somehow different. Do you have a twin brother?

It’s Constable Jim Barton, but just call me Jim, Mrs Wilson.

Thank you Jim. I’d feel more comfortable if you called me Jenny. He smiled at me with a questioning expression and nodded his head as he picked up his pencil and held it poised just above the notebook, waiting for me to continue.

"The news headlines were of joy, but over the page were the pictures of violence at the G8 conference in Scotland. I found it difficult to comprehend the two events and as I sat with my eyes closed deep in thought I felt a shudder and the lights flickered in the train and then I heard a whooshing sound like air rushing past…then the screaming began. The carriage lurched and screeched along the side of