A light-hearted piece, written for a writing challenge on the theme of 'new beginnings'.

Herman’s New Beginning

Herman sat and looked out at the rain.  He shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position then sighed.  He was stuck in a rut and despite the new year and his good intentions to do something about the current rut he was in, Herman just couldn’t summon up any motivation.
            
The caravan he lived in was no longer accommodating his needs and it was long past looking its best.  The thing with caravans was that they depreciated over time through general wear and tear and Herman had put his through a lot.  He had travelled far and wide in his but now it was kaput!  He liked that word…kaput, but he didn’t like what it meant, particularly for him at that moment in time.  It leaked and it looked horrible with green slime growing up on the outside.  In fact, the green was even creeping inside, due to the aforementioned leak problem.
            
He sighed again and stuck his head out to see if the rain was showing any signs of stopping.  A great drop of water plopped down on his head from the tree that bent over his caravan.  He took a sharp intake of breath at the sudden coldness then thought, actually that was quite pleasant, once the shock of it had worn off.   He also couldn’t see much from his current location.  You see, Herman had had a slight accident in his caravan on an uneven part of the track, and the whole thing went tumbling down a slope into the damn rut he was now stuck in and had been for days.  No one passed by so his calls for help went unheeded.
           
The rut was now beginning to fill up with water…sloppy, brown, muddy water.  Every time Herman tried to crawl up and out of the space, he just slid back down again.  So frustrating.  He was wet, muddy and cold and very unhappy.
            
Suddenly a loud obnoxious noise came from down the track above him.  Herman’s spirit lifted.  Could it be help?  As the object making the noise, that sounded like a huge metallic grating monster, grew closer the noise became unbearable.
           
‘Oh!’ Herman cried out, shaking his head in distress then something wonderful happened.
            
As the great thundering object passed by his position, a wave of water came washing over Herman and soon he found himself propelled out of the muddy rut and quickly tumbling then tumbling some more, all the way down the slope.
            
‘Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh,’ said Herman as he went head over heels, rolling down the slope.
            
On the way down a great weight lifted from his shoulders and he was suddenly caravanless.  It was gone, just like that, obliterated into pieces until there was only Herman left.
            
He landed at the bottom of the slope and for a moment he didn’t move.  He caught his breath then looked around.  The sun in the sky began to break through the clouds and the rain pattered to a stop.  He looked up the slope and saw the scattered debris of his caravan strewn down the whole side of the slope.
            
Now what?
           
Herman turned and saw the sea!  He caught his breath again, this time in wonder.  So that was where the sea had gone, he thought.  How he missed it so.
            
He gathered himself together and hurried across the duney land, loving the feel of the soft powdery sand beneath him.  And then there it was!  Herman gasped!  It was beautiful in pastel pink, an entirely brand new caravan, and it was empty!  He looked to his left and to his right…then ran.
            
Before anyone else could claim the abandoned real estate, Herman gathered it to himself and squeeeeeezed quickly inside.
           
‘Ooh,’ he said once he it was positioned just right.  It was quite roomy inside.  It was perfect.
           
Herman trundled off across the sand and finally into the sea.

©Caz Eddy 2020 

The Woman in The Fog

For years she searched for peace, and for years it eluded her.  The woman wasn’t even sure if she would know what peace was, when or if she ever found it.  She just knew it was something that she wanted.  She tried to imagine it in different forms.  Was peace an afternoon sitting in a chair reading a book?  Was peace a full night of sleep with no dreams?  Was peace possible while surrounded by others?
           
All her life the woman spent her time in the company of others.  Firstly, her siblings; a shared bedroom where she found a vague sense of peace only in the middle of the night when her sister was asleep.  But it wasn’t a true peace.  The years passed by full of sibling rivalry, and the constant battle of space invasion.  Being the oldest child of the family filled her hours with babysitting duties so her parents could enjoy peace.  Next came best friends and boyfriends, all requiring her time and her involvement…mentally, physically.   Then came love and as amazing as that was, it was not peace, more like a cyclone.  Marriage came with a wedding full of people and noise, thankfully just for a day.  Then there was a dog, and babies arrived, two of them and peace diminished to being just a word and nothing more.  She was needed to ensure the peace for others.
           
One day the woman woke up and found that everyone had gone.  The babies were out there in the world looking after their own babies now.  The love she married was still in her life, but he didn’t need her as much these days and he wasn’t there in the house right now.  He had discovered his own peace and kept it without her because his peace was not the same as the peace she yearned for.  The cyclone of love had calmed to a light comfortable breeze and suddenly she felt the word ‘peace’ growing bigger in her mind.        
           
She got up and looked out of the window.  The house she lived in stood across the road from a long pebble beach.  The day outside was thick white with no sky, no sea, and even the houses opposite had vanished.  She caught her breath and felt drawn to be in the outside.
           
The woman wrapped up and put the latest dog on a lead and stepped out of the house.  The woman and the dog made their way across the road.  Their breath added to the white that hung in the air.  The world parted before them as they went but only just enough to see ahead for a very short distance.  She didn’t know what was in front of her, and when she checked behind, she no longer could see what had been.  Every step she took felt like an adventure.  The safety of the house was out of sight and only instinct could take her back to it now.  She let the dog off the lead and he quickly found interesting smells, but he stuck close to her side, suspicious of the thick white day.  The pebbles beneath her feet were hard and rounded by their millennia on the earth and in the sea.  They clacked and shifted beneath her as she made her way over them.  The slope down to the tideline was short but steep and her feet sunk deep as the pebbles cascaded along with her until she came to the place where the landed levelled and the sea spilled into the scene.  She stood for a moment staring out over the place where she knew the sea existed as a big entity full of power and emotion but today it was small and like glass.  If she threw a stone, would it shatter the sea?  Somewhere out in the thick white world a muffled foghorn moaned with mournful unease, as if to say, ‘don’t forget me’.
           
For the woman, the word peace began to anchor.  No one knew she was here; no one could see her, and she could see no one else.  She could scream loudly if she wanted.  Someone might hear her, but they’d never know it was her.
           
The dog barked!  The usually sharp sound came out like a puff of cotton wool.  She turned her head and glimpsed a shadow shifting in and out of view.  The dog’s tail wagged and in an instant, he took off, bounding away until the white swallowed him whole along with the shadow she had seen.  She called his name, but he didn’t return.  The peace she had almost grasped began to ribbon out of reach as responsibility for the dog overtook her own need.  She hurried forward after the wayward animal.  She could see him and the shadow ahead, weaving in and out of the thick day that felt like a steamed up mirror that refused to stay clear.  She thought she heard a voice calling, but the sound wasn’t very strong and seemed more like a sound stuck somewhere in the past.  Every time the dog and the shadow became almost substantial, she would call the dog’s name again, and always they dematerialised.  It was like trying to catch up with the end of a rainbow.
           
She stopped.  Her quick movements had agitated the thick white and it now split into tendrils, snaking towards her, offering its peaceful embrace once again and this time she succumbed.  The dog would be fine because the shadow had been familiar.

©Caz Eddy 2020