All Sorts of Short Stories

By Susan Farrell

Choosing a book to read or perhaps discovering an enthralling short story to enjoy to pass the time is akin to standing in a candy store and choosing just one candy? Contained within these pages is a collection of tales of love, fear, achievement and adventure. I invite you to dip into this treasure trove of stories and to lose yourself in the adventures hidden within.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Farrell
• Release date: Aug 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201282899

Susan Farrell

My name is Susan Farrell. I am a widow living in St Michael’s on Sea on the South Coast of Kwa Zulu Natal. I enjoy working in my garden, taking walks along the beach hunting for sea shells and interacting with my treasured friends from church. I have been a published author and poet for many years, appearing in publications such as the Star newspapers’ Poet’s Corner, Farmer’s Weekly, Joy Magazine, the Flash Fiction magazine in San Francisco and presently, I publish articles in the South Coast Herald newspaper. I regularly post articles on my Facebook Page, while I also write a daily motivational blog entitled Prayer Warriors Unified. These specific short stories arose from participating in a monthly writer’s forum where wordsmiths from all walks of life gather to hone their literary skills. I wish you joy, health and happiness as you turn these pages!

Book preview

I dedicate this collection of short stories to my creator, for you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful. I know that full well your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

All Sorts of Short Stories

The author’s intellectual property rights are protected by international Copyright law. You are licensed to use this digital copy strictly for your personal enjoyment only: it must not be redistributed or offered for sale in any form.

Table of Contents

AN UNEXPECTED INHERITANCE

BORN TO FIGHT 

TICKET TO RIDE 

DANGER ON THE HIGH SEAS

EMERGENCY FLIGHT

RESTITUTION

THE CHASE

CHIMES

THE FLYING CHAMBER POT

THE STAIRCASE

AN UNEXPECTED INHERITANCE

Sally's dad Benjamin had slipped peacefully beyond the borders of this world and into the next.  Even though she and her father had drifted apart after the death of her mother, his passing had evoked memories of their once strong bond while she was growing up, and she felt a pang of regret that she hadn't spent more time with him in his later years.

As Benjamin's sole heir, Sally had spent the last forty-eight hours making the tedious rounds to attorneys, banks, the funeral parlour and the administrative offices of the Retirement Village where he had spent the last five years of his life.

According to everyone that Sally had spoken to thus far, her father had been a well-respected lively man, who had contributed wholeheartedly to the well-being of his fellow residents with his cheery nature and great baritone singing voice.

Sally had been introduced to a silver-haired sparrow-like lady called Shirley, who, by all accounts, had been her father's line dancing partner for years and over a strong cup of sweet tea, accompanied by a rather stale slice of fruit cake, the gentle soul had regaled Sally with tales of pretty frocks, patent leather shoes, jolly music and the precious companionship of her recently departed father.

The administrator of the Retirement Village had asked Sally to pick out one of her father's suits and deliver it to the funeral parlour to dress him in for his final journey through the white-hot flames of the crematorium the following day.

Tightly clutching the key given to her for this purpose, Sally hesitantly walked along the shiny tiled grey painted corridor to room number 17. Inserting the Yale key into the lock and taking a deep steadying breath, she turned the door handle and entered her father's final dwelling place.

A shiver tickled her spine. The built-in cupboard containing his clothing was standing ajar. The Retirement Village staff had thoughtfully been in to tidy his bed and to open the gauzy curtain fluttering at the window overlooking his handkerchief-sized garden, to allow the bright sunlight to stream in. It dispelled the gloom of what might have been an unbearable and deeply emotional experience for Sally.

Cautiously, Sally moved