What a waste!

Today, my shopping was delivered and the young lad said 'Your potatoes are on their date today, do you want me to take them back?'

I looked at the spuds. They were dry, clean, weren't sprouting or mouldy, so I said 'They'll be fine for weeks yet.'

He gave me an odd look and said 'Well OK, if you are alright with eating them after their date.'

I asked him if he would eat them and he said no, he wouldn't because they would be past their date, he would throw them out.

It got me thinking about how much perfectly good food gets thrown away just because of a date printed on the packet.

I was born before best before dates and use by dates were printed on products.

We used our common sense back then. If the bread wasn't mouldy, if the milk smelled OK, then it was fine to use.

Dad grew fruit and veg, and after it was harvested, it was stored in the shed and was used throughout the Winter and into the next year – no best before dates there, either. If it was firm and not mouldy, it got eaten.

These days we are urged to do more to lessen food waste. So why are people still throwing away food that is perfectly good to eat?

Maybe it is time that producers took best before dates off of their food, so that people go back to using their eyes and nose to see if things are still good, rather than relying on a date.

So before you throw away that fruit, veg or bread that is past its best before date, check it, feel it, sniff it. If it looks good, smells good, feels good, then go ahead and eat it, rather than throwing it away.

Make a difference today, both to the planet and your purse.

What can I eat?

Its mid day already,

And time for my lunch.

I want something tasty,

Something to munch.

I go to the kitchen,

Open a door,

I look at the contents,

They seem rather poor.

Maybe some tuna,

I search and I peek.

Oh darn, I remember,

I ate it last week!

A sandwich perhaps,

I pull out the bread!

Oh, its gone all green.

That won't get me fed.

I sigh and I moan,

Thinking of food,

My tummy is rumbling,

I'm in a bad mood.

Potatoes, now there's an idea.

I grab one and scrub,

I'll bake in its jacket,

It'll be nice tasty grub.

In the microwave,

For a minute or two,

Beep, beep it is done,

Fully cooked through.

What shall I add?

To make it taste great,

Some cheese and tomato,

I throw on the plate.

Yum, now that's very tasty,

Not a bad meal,

I eat every scrap,

Even the peel.

My tummy is happy,

Couldn't eat another bite.

Back to work now,

I've poems to write.

The Cube

'Ah, this is the life', said Zack, stretching his arm across Carly's shoulder as they sat on the sofa.

Never in their wildest dreams did they expect to be living the high life – literally. Zack had landed a high powered job and the penthouse flat in the skyscraper in the city had seemed the perfect place for them. The stunning views of the city and the sea beyond through the large window, were just to die for!

'Fancy a cuppa?' Asked Zack, standing up and stretching. He turned towards the kitchen, glancing through the window at the view. 'What the hell,' he cried 'Is that!!!'

Carly turned, looking at Zack quizzically. He was staring, pointing out of the window. Her gaze switched to the window and her eyes opened wide in fear and amazement!

Together they walked to the window and looked out at the city. There, suspended in the air was a glittering black cube. Huge, and ominous. They stared. 'What is it?' Whispered Carly, terrified of what she was seeing. 'I have no idea', replied Zack, shaking his head in confusion.

'You don't think it could be, like, aliens, do you?' Said Carly quietly. Zack turned to her and laughed. 'Don't be silly. If it was an alien invasion, the army would be out there, shooting them down. It's probably some publicity stunt or something.'

'I've got to get this on film', said Zack running through to the bedroom to find his camcorder. He came back, camcorder in one hand, tripod in the other. 'I want to watch this', he said, so I'm going to set the camera going on the tripod, then I won't get distracted.'

He set up the camcorder peering through the viewfinder to get just the right angle. Yes, yes, that's right. I can see the cube in the sky, above the city and I can see us watching it. Perfect shot.

He ran back to Carly, and they stood, watching the mysterious cube. Zack shivered. 'Are you cold?' asked Carly. 'No, I don't know, I just felt a bit weird there.' 'I know what you mean', she replied, I feel a little weird myself.' She smiled weakly at Zack and held his hand tightly.

They stood, unmoving, losing track of time, as the cube continued to hover, sparkling as the sun glinted off of its surface.

Without warning, the cube blinked out of existence. Zack and Carly, startled, turned to look at each other. 'Well that was a bit weird', said Zack. How could it just wink out like that? It doesn't make sense!'

'I'm going to go and put the kettle on and make something to eat', Said Carly. I feel really hungry and thirsty for some reason!

She headed towards the kitchen, shaking her head, trying to shake the odd muzziness from it. 'Zack! The clock! This can't be right, it says its three o'clock. How can that be so? We started watching the cube at eleven! Maybe the batteries are gone. We were only watching it for about half an hour, surely?'

Zack looked at his watch. 'Carly', he said slowly, my watch says its three as well!'

They looked at each other, scared and confused, not understanding what had happened, why they had lost nearly four hours of the day.

'Let's see what the camera says' Said Zack, crossing the room and flipping out the screen. 'Yep, it has been recording for four hours! This is just so bizarre.

They plugged the camcorder into the TV and sat down to watch the footage. For a while, it was just them, the cube and the view. Nothing more. Zack fast forwarded the film, watching for the moment that the cube disappeared, hoping he could catch the exact frame.

Suddenly Carly screamed! There on the screen something had winked into existence inside the room – two somethings!

Two beings, grey, with strangely large heads, angled forward on their skinny bodies. Long, spindly arms reached out, one towards Carly, one towards Zack. Why hadn't the seen them, why hadn't they felt them. This just couldn't be happening.

The creatures talked with each other, in a series of clicks, their heads tilting as they did. They touched the couple, measuring and observing. On the screen, Zack and Carly stood motionless, in some sort of stupor, totally unaware of what was happening.

The creatures injected the couple in their necks, took some blood, watched them, looking into ears, eyes and mouth. Talking to each other, as though they were comparing notes.

One of them stopped! Its head snapped around, it had heard something! It turned and spoke to the other. Both turned and looked at the camera, a look of absolute anger on their reptilian faces. And disappeared!

On the screen, Carly and Zack moved sluggishly, as though they were sleepwalkers. Slowly they turned to look at each other, and then out of the window again. The cube had gone! They appeared to snap awake suddenly.

'Well that was a bit weird', said Zack. How could it just wink out like that? It doesn't make sense!'

Carly and Zack sat on the sofa in silence, watching, not believing what they had just seen. Zack rubbed his neck, thinking that it must have all been a dream, that it could not just have happened.

'Zack, your neck!' exclaimed Carly. There, just where he had been idly rubbing, was a small, red puncture mark! He glanced at Carly's neck. Yes, she had one too, just where the creatures on the screen had injected them.

They looked at each other in horror as the truth of what had just happened became clear!

Get knitting!

I'm going to be a Grandma,

Yes its true!

Shall I knit pink?

Or maybe with blue.

I haven't knitted,

For many a year,

But I'll give it a go,

For clothes are so dear.

I pick up the needles,

Get out the book,

What shall I knit?

I'll give it a look.

Ah that one looks simple,

I knit my first row,

But soon I've gone wrong!

Confound it, oh blow!

I unravel the wool,

Try it once more.

Oh no, not again,

This is becoming a bore!

I will persevere,

I'll soon get it right,

I'll try oh so hard,

With all of my might.

Hooray, It's gone right!

I'm now going good,

Maybe after the cardy,

I'll knit it a hood.

A few weeks have gone by,

And I've re-learned the craft.

I've a pile of clothing,

It was worth all the graft.

When the baby is born,

It will have lots of nice bits,

And I'll be a Granny,

A Granny who knits!

The Changeling - Chapter one

The Changeling

A short story in instalments

By Serendipity Says

Chapter one

John sighed as he fell onto the sofa. Never in his life had he felt so drained! He reached for his cup of tea and idly flicked through the photo album that he had found in the cupboard.

He smiled as he looked at himself playing on the beach, aged around 4. His Mother holding his hand as he jumped over the little waves.

Ah, he used to love those holidays. Being an only child had its advantages – no siblings to vie for Mum's attention!

It had been a tough few months. His beloved Mum had passed away around ten years ago, her body ravaged by the cancer which had taken her life.

And then, his Dad! Suddenly and without warning he had passed away from a massive heart attack!

John looked around at the home in which he had spent his childhood.

And a strange childhood it had been in many ways. Mum and Dad had never encouraged him to make friends, never liked him to go out and play.

They had home schooled him, so apart from routine medical appointments, he didn't really spend much time away from the house until he had started work.

Now his parents were gone! It felt bitter sweet. He missed them so much, after all, they had been his life! But he also felt free. He could live his own life now, do what he wanted. Make friends, maybe even meet a nice girl and settle down.

Between looking after Mum and working, he had never felt the need to settle down. But now, in his early 50's maybe it was time to change that at last.

This won't do, he thought, I still have this rambling old house to deal with!

With no family, it had fallen to John to pick through the house, looking for anything important, sifting through the 'stuff' that had accumulated through the years.

He hauled himself out of the sofa. What next! He thought. There's the attic. He had looked through most of the house, but had left the attic. He hadn't been up there for years. Goodness knows what rubbish he would find up there!

He climbed the ladder and flicked on the torch and looked around in surprise. It was clear! There was hardly anything there! He stepped out onto the floor and scanned around. Nothing. Nothing at all! He had expected clutter everywhere.

He flashed his torch this way and that. The light fell onto a small box, tucked right under the eaves at the front. John picked his way across, treading carefully, as the flooring looked rotten.

Finally he reached the box. It was tied with a blue ribbon, dusty with age. What could be inside? Old photos or documents?

He untied the bow and took off the lid. A pile of newspaper clippings fell out. He shone the torch on them, looking at the headlines.

Toddler missing, screamed one, abduction, kidnapping! One after one he read the clippings. As he got further into the box, the clippings got shorter. The half pages became paragraphs, the paragraphs became a few sentences. It was as though the newspapers had given up, lost interest.

Who was this toddler, had he ever been found? Why had his parents kept the clippings?

At the bottom of the box, he found a grainy photograph of a young boy. He shone the torch on it, trying to see the photo more clearly in the darkness of the attic.

The child looked familiar somehow, as though he had seen him before. Then realisation dawned and he dropped the box!

This photo was going to change his life for ever! His life as he knew it tumbled, like the newspapers tumbling from the box on his lap, his mind reeled. What did this mean? Could it be true?

The Changeling - Chapter Two

The Changeling

Chapter two

John gathered up the clippings and the photo, putting them back into the box and made his way shakily down the ladder, into the brightness of the house.

He went downstairs, clutching the box tightly and put it down carefully on the kitchen table.

He sat and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. He could hardly believe what he had seen. Surely, he had been mistaken, it just couldn't be true. It didn't make any sense!

He looked again at the box and thought about the contents. No, no, this just isn't right, he said to himself, rising and pacing back and forth across the tiled kitchen floor.

With a sudden movement, he grabbed the box, bolted for the back door, and ran into the garden.

'Fresh air, yes, that's what I need. Got to clear my head, can't think straight', he murmured to himself.

He walked across the overgrown garden to the bench under the apple tree. It was always Mum's favourite spot. He had lost count of the times that she had read to him on that bench over the years.

The tree had been planted when he had been small. It had grown strong and tall over the years. The bench had been Mum's idea. 'I just like to be here', she had said. 'It's my special place, this tree holds so many memories.'

When she had been ill, she had asked for her ashes to be scattered around its base. 'I want to be a part of it for ever.' She had said.

He sat down and gazed up through the spreading branches. The fruit was just starting to set, little miniature fruits, promising a bumper crop to come. This tree had always done well. Each year the apples swelled, ripe and juicy, filling its branches.

John looked down at the box, almost frightened to open it again, to see if what he had seen was true. He knew that it was impossible, but he had been so sure! The jolt had been enough to make the world spin!

With trembling hands, he once more opened the lid and gazed at the contents. He shuffled through the clippings, looking for the photo.

Yes there it was, he looked at it again. Yes, yes, he had been right!

He looked at the grainy photo of the missing child. And his own eyes looked straight back at him!

The Changeling - Chapter Three

The Changeling

Chapter Three

John stared at the photo. But how could this be? Maybe this little boy just looked like him. But then, why would his parents have kept the clippings, why did they hide the box away for all of these years?

His mind ran through infinite possibilities, each more far fetched than the last. There has to be an simple explanation, there just has to be!

He looked closer at the face gazing back at him from the photo. Then he gasped! Through the graininess of the photo, he had spotted something that proved without a doubt that the boy in the photo was him!

The boy's face was tilted upwards, the eyes and mouth smiling. He looked so happy. And there, just on the jawline, faint but there, was the birthmark!

John idly rubbed his chin, as he stared at the boy, feeling the slight roughness of the mark on his own skin

He put down the picture and began to look at the clippings, reading each in turn.

'Henry Maxwell, aged 3, disappeared from a local park this morning'

'There are still no clues as to the whereabouts of Henry Maxwell, aged 3, who disappeared last week from a local park'

'Local lad, Henry Maxwell, aged 3, thought to have been kidnapped'

'Henry Maxwell, aged 3, now believed dead!'

The clippings spanned around a year before they stopped. Henry had never been found, he had just disappeared, with no clues, no leads, no sightings.

John felt sick! But he couldn't be Henry Maxwell! There were photos of him as a baby, giggling in his parents arms. His earliest memories were here, in this house, with his parents!

He put the box down and stumbled back to the house. 'I'll find the photos of me as a baby, I am NOT Henry Maxwell! I am John Thompson!

He opened the sideboard in the lounge and pulled out the old album and flicked through the pages, his mouth dry and his heart pounding.

He looked: Him smiling up at his parents from his pushchair, him running in the garden, him on the beach. Picture after picture of him! A picture of him aged around 2, cuddling a teddy with a ribbon tied around its neck.

But then he stopped. His hand resting on the page. He looked closely, hardly believing his own eyes. No, this can't be right! The baby in the pictures, there's something missing, something not quite right!

Picture after picture was the same. He flicked through the album. Desperately seeking out the truth.

This child had no birthmark!!!

This child was not him!!

What was happening? The world that he had known began to crash around him. Who was he? Was he John Thompson, or was he Henry Maxwell?

The Changeling - Chapter Four

The Changeling

Chapter Four

John reached for the phone and hesitantly rang the number.

'Hello, police, I think I have some information on the missing boy called Henry Maxwell!'

He listened to the tapping of the officer as he typed the information into his computer.

'Sir,' The officer finally said in a bored voice. 'He went missing 50 years ago! This case has been closed for many years. What new information do you think you can have?'

John swallowed nervously. 'I think,' He said, his voice trembling, 'That I may be Henry Maxwell!'

There was silence from the other end of the line. Then a puzzled voice said 'Sir, can you hold just a minute, I need to speak to one of my colleagues.'

John waited, nervously drumming his fingers on the table. Minutes went by, still there was no sound from the other end of the telephone.

Ten minutes went by! Then an official sounding voice asked 'Sir, why do you think that you are Henry Maxwell?'

John nervously told the man what he had found, and what he suspected.

'Sir, I think that I need to come and speak to you!' The man said curtly.

John put down the phone. 'What have I got myself into,' He muttered, sitting down heavily, feeling as though his legs would no longer hold him.

Presently, he heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive. Falteringly, he got up and answered the door to a large, burly man carrying a briefcase. The man held out his hand. 'I'm Detective Inspector Manning, from the missing persons department. I believe that you have some important information about the case of little Henry Maxwell.'

John nodded and invited the man into the house. 'Would you like a cup of tea, while we talk, John asked nervously.

'Yes please Sir, that would be very nice!'

John went through to the kitchen and presently brought back two steaming cups, handing one to the Inspector and hugging the other in his own hands, as though its warmth could somehow make him feel better.

He sat down opposite the man, pointing to the box and the photo album on the table.

'You see', said John, the missing boy has the same birthmark as me! The baby in the earlier pictures doesn't, and then when I reach around 3, the birthmark appears in the photos. I just can't explain it! Am I really Henry Maxwell?'

The Inspector looked at the photos and the newspaper clippings, taking his time to check them thoroughly, occasionally glancing up at John with a surprised look.

Finally, he put down the documents and turned to look at John, he shook his head, puzzled!

It would appear that you are indeed Henry Maxwell', He agreed. 'But, if you are Henry Maxwell, then who is the boy in the early photos?'

'I think we are going to have to go through this house with a fine tooth comb to try to try find the truth of the matter.'

'But we will find out the truth Sir, you mark my words!

The Changeling - Chapter Five

The changeling

Chapter 5

John cringed as the sound of protesting wood filled the house.

A team of men wearing white coveralls had arrived early that morning, along with Detective Inspector Manning.

'What are you looking for, exactly,' asked John, feeling as though both him and his home where being violated. 'Why are your men pulling up floorboards?'

'Well Sir,' Replied Manning, 'It is our belief that we are looking for the remains of a child!'

'Surely you can't be accusing my parents of murder! They were the kindest, most loving people that you could imagine. There is no way that they would murder a child. It just doesn't make sense!' Exclaimed John.

'There have been some developments.' Replied the Detective Inspector. 'We have reason to believe that the child, named John Thompson, died at the hands of another.'

'Why would you even think that!' Shouted John. 'They protected me, they would never have harmed me! I don't believe you!'

'Sir,' the Inspector said gently. 'There was a report made to the police back then, John Thompson had been admitted to hospital on numerous occasions with unexplained injuries. It was suspected at the time that his parents were responsible. An investigation was ongoing, but the injuries stopped, and the child seemed well, so the investigation was halted.'

'We now have reason to believe that the child died at the hands of his parents and that you were abducted and raised in his place!'

'Why, why would they murder their own child! Why would they take me? It makes no sense at all!'

'We don't quite understand either Sir, which is why we need to do such a thorough investigation of the property now.'

John walked across to the window and gazed out at the garden. The garden that his Mother had loved so much.

More white coveralled men were scouring the flowerbeds and lawns. One was dragging a device across the garden, peering at a screen.

'What's that machine for?' Asked John.

'That is a ground penetrating radar, it looks for anomalies under the ground' replied the Inspector.

'Anomalies? What do you mean? Bodies? You think there's a body out there?' John asked in a surprised voice.

'As I said, we're just being thorough' replied the Inspector.

John sat down, wishing that he had never made the phone call, wishing that he had never found the box, wishing that his world could go back to the way it was just a few days ago.

'We've found something!' called one of the men from the garden. 'There's something under this apple tree! We're going to have to dig it up – its entangled in the roots of the tree!'

'NO!!' John screamed frantically. 'No, you are not digging up my Mother's tree! I don't care what it is that you think that you've found!'

Gentle arms held him back as he tried to stop the men. 'Now then Sir, this has to be done. Calm yourself.'

'My mother planted that tree when I was little, it grew with me, you can't destroy it, you just can't!'

But at that moment, the sound of a chain saw rent the air. Within minutes, the job was done and the tree lay in a tangled, broken heap on the lawn.

Men swarmed into the area, gently teasing and clearing the roots from the ground, digging down to find their 'anomaly'.

'Sir, we've found something!' The Inspector hurriedly made his way into the garden and across to where the apple tree had so recently stood proud and strong.

He looked down into the hole that the men had so carefully dug. Peeking out of the soil was a skull! A human skull. A skull the size of a 3 year old child!

The Changeling - Chapter Six

The Changeling

Chapter Six

After the bones had been taken away for analysis, the house became strangely silent.

There had been a few days of frenzied activity, checking the house and gardens for more evidence.

An item had been found with the bones – a metal box. The forensics team had said that it was almost as though the child had been holding it in its arms. John didn't know what the box had contained. He guessed that he would find out one day.

Like he guessed he would find out who he really was!

Blood had been taken for genetic analysis, to find out if he truly was Henry or not. He still couldn't get his head around what had happened. Still didn't know who he really was.

His childhood had been a little strange, but still, his parents loved him. Wrapped him up in cotton wool almost. They just didn't have it within them to kill their own child.

But even if they did, why would they take another Mother's son?

There were so many unanswered questions, so many uncertainties.

The newspapers had been full of the story of the skeleton in the garden, guessing as to its identity and what had caused the child's death. After a while, the newspapers lost interest in the story and stopped reporting on it.

The weeks passed and John began to feel calmer and stronger. He went back to work. To start with, his colleagues wanted to know all of the gory details, but as they only knew as much as John, they soon became bored and stopped asking.

**********

One month on, the phone rang. 'Hello, John Thompson speaking'

'Hello Sir, Chief Inspector Manning here, I have some news. May I come to see you?'

John and the Inspector sat in the lounge drinking tea. 'Well, Mr Thompson, we have some results to share with you. But maybe I should call you Mr Maxwell now, as the genetic testing has confirmed that is who you are.

I am pleased to say that your parents are still alive and would love to see you. Your Mother has always said that she believed you to be alive and well and she has finally been proved right!'

'The bones have been examined and they do appear to be those of John Thompson. The bones show numerous fractures, which coincide with John's hospital records'

'But how did he die?'

'I'm afraid that he met a violent end. His skull was badly fractured, and there is no doubt that that is how he died. As so much time has passed, there is really no way of knowing what caused the injury, but we suspect foul play. The coroner still has more tests to carry out, which will hopefully shed more light on the matter.'

'There is one more thing that I would like to share with you Sir,'

The inspector pulled the small metal box out of his bag. 'We found this buried alongside the body, and wondered if you knew anything about it.

He handed John the box. It was a small tin, the sort that used to contain biscuits. He opened it, and nestled carefully within it was a teddy bear. John looked at it in surprise.

'I've seen this bear somewhere before,' He said, trying to place where.

He got up and walked to the sideboard, taking out the photo album and flicking through the pages.

'Yes, here it is, he said – there's a picture of me, I mean him, holding the bear, but in the picture it has a ribbon around its neck. But the ribbon is missing now.

He looked at the bear, puzzled. Something was niggling at the back of his mind. The ribbon! Yes! The ribbon!

'Inspector, I know where that ribbon is! It was tied around the box with the newspaper clippings in!'

Sadly he realised that this small fact showed with certainty that his parents really did have something to do with this child's death, that they did bury him, along with his beloved teddy.

Why, why did his parents steal him, and why did John die. He would probably never know the truth now!

The Changeling - Chapter Seven

The Changeling

Chapter Seven

**********

50 years earlier

Maggie and Den Thompson sat beside their son's hospital bed, trying to calm the fractious toddler.

'I wanna go home!' John sobbed. 'I want my teddy!'

'It's OK darling, we're just waiting for the doctor to visit and then we can go home!' Said his Mother soothingly.

'Wanna go NOW!' Shouted John.

A soft knock came at the door. 'Come in' Said Den.

A white coated doctor entered the room. He walked up to John and tousled his hair. 'And how is my favourite patient today?' He asked, smiling.

'Arm better. Wanna go home!' Said John, looking petulantly at the doctor.

'OK, OK.' Chuckled the doctor. 'You can go home. I just need to talk to Mum and Dad a minute, then you can go. But mind you, don't go running riot and falling over with that sling on!. I don't want you back here again.'

The Doctor turned to Mr and Mrs Thompson. 'Can we step outside and speak for a moment please?'

John's parents nodded and followed the Doctor, looking at each other anxiously.

'Is John OK?' Asked Maggie. 'I thought you said it was only a small fracture and that it would heal on its own with the sling in a few weeks.'

'Yes, yes, that's right,' Said the Doctor, 'But there's something else I want to talk about.'

He ushered Maggie and Den along the corridor and into a small office.

'Please, sit down.' he said. 'I want to discuss John's injuries.'

Den and Maggie looked at the Doctor, who sat across from them behind a mahogany desk.

'It was just an accident,' Said Maggie. 'He fell off the swing, he's always falling and hurting himself. He's an active lad.'

'I've looked through his notes, he's had quite a few accidents and fractures in the last year hasn't he.'

'As I said, he's an active lad', said Maggie, looking confused.

The Doctor rested his hands on the desk, leaning towards the couple. 'Well, I'm sorry to say that his numerous injuries have flagged him up as a possible victim of abuse, and we have had to report the matter to social services. John will be put on a watch, and if there are further injuries, then will have to take the matter further and involve the police!'

'What are you trying to say! Are you saying that we would hurt our son!' Den shouted at the Doctor.

'We would never hurt him. How dare you accuse us of that! We love him, I don't understand how you could think that! We're taking our son home. We're taking him home right now!'

Den and Maggie stood up, and marched out of the room, back to their son.

'Come on John, we're going home, right now!' Said Den hurriedly.

Maggie helped John to get dressed, being careful of his broken arm, the boy looked from his Mum to his Dad and back, confused.

'Mummy, why you cry? Daddy, why you angry? John is a good boy!'

'I'm sorry John', Said Maggie, drying her tears. 'You are a good boy. Mummy and Daddy are a bit sad, but it isn't about you.'

John hugged his Mother with his good arm. 'Smile Mummy and Daddy', he said, looking uncertainly at them.

Den gathered his son into his arms and the family walked out of the hospital, back to their family home.

The Changeling - Chapter Eight

The Changeling

Chapter Eight

For the next few weeks, Den and Maggie didn't let John out of their sight. His arm began to heal and he was soon back to his normal, active self.

'I still can't understand why the Doctor thought that we could ever hurt him.' Maggie said, smiling at her son, as he sat on the floor, playing with his cars, making brum, brum noises.

'I know', replied Den. 'We just can't let him have another accident. They would probably take him away from us and the police would investigate.'

'But surely they wouldn't say that we had hurt him? They can't send us to jail, we've done nothing wrong! Said Maggie, tears in her eyes.

'It is a worry,' Said Den. 'We can't prove that we didn't hurt him! This is a nightmare. Anyway, it's a lovely day, shall we all go for a little walk.'

'John,' Said his Dad gently, 'Do you want to go for a walk?'

'Park, park,' Replied John happily.

'Go upstairs and get your coat then, and we'll be off,' Said Den, smiling.

John left his cars and pattered across the room in his bare feet and, with his favourite car still in his hands, he ran up the stairs.

Den and Maggie smiled at each other, happy that John was happy!

'Coming down in minute,' shouted John.

Maggie climbed the stairs, smiling, to help John get ready.

John ran along the landing towards her. Too late, Maggie saw the toy car at the top of the stairs.

'JOHN' She screamed as her son's foot stepped onto the car.

In slow motion John slipped and fell. He toppled backwards, the back of his head hitting the ground with a sickening thud. He slid and tumbled like a rag doll down the stairs, caught by Maggie half way down.

'John, John,' she screamed.

John looked up at his mother, his eyes wide and afraid. She hugged him tightly. 'Its OK baby, its OK, Mummy's got you!'

She carried John to the sofa and sat with him on her lap.

'Maggie, we need to call an ambulance, he's badly hurt,' Den said in a shocked voice, looking down at the pale, quiet face of his son.

John's eyes closed and he made a strange, gurgling sound. He became limp and still in his Mother's arms.

'JOHN, JOHN,' Maggie screamed! 'No, dear God no,' She shook her son, willing him to open his eyes and smile up at her. But John would never open his eyes again!

'I'm going to call an ambulance,' Den said shakily, sitting down beside his wife. 'We need help.'

Maggie looked down at the lifeless body of her son and back at Den, confused, devastated, numb.

Minutes passed, Den sat next to his wife. 'We have to phone,' He said quietly.

Maggie looked up, her eyes full of tears. 'We'll go to jail,' She sobbed, we can't! I can't go to jail!

'But we have to do SOMETHING!' said Den.

'Let me just have some time with him, please,' Whispered Maggie.

They sat, cradling John. The hours passed. The room began to grow dark around them.

Maggie turned to Den, her eyes blank. 'John's tired, I think I should put him to bed.'

'But Maggie,' Pleaded Den. 'He's dead, look, he's gone cold and stiff. We need to get help, it's not to late!'

'No, no, you're wrong!, Shouted Maggie. 'He's just sleeping! I'm putting him to bed'

Maggie carried her son's lifeless body upstairs and gently put him to bed. 'Sleep well John,' She murmured. 'See you in the morning.' She leaned down and kissed him tenderly on the forehead.

She walked along the hall to her own bedroom climbed into bed, curled into a foetal position and fell asleep. Den lay down next to his wife cuddling her and cried himself to sleep.

The Changeling - Chapter Nine

The Changeling

Chapter Nine

Den awoke suddenly, the bright morning sunlight streamed into the room. He lay, and the events of yesterday crashed down upon him.

Singing! He could hear singing!

Down in the kitchen, Maggie bustled around, making breakfast. He pulled back the covers and walked downstairs, glancing at the still closed door of his Son's room.

'Ah, morning darling, it's a beautiful day.' She kissed him on the cheek, smiling and happy.

'We've run out of milk, I'll just nip down to the shop. I'll be back in a bit.'

Den stood, numb and confused and watched Maggie walk out.

**********

Maggie took a short cut through the park. What a lovely day, she thought, and sat down on a bench to enjoy the sunshine for a while. She felt strange today. Her head felt fuzzy, confused, but she didn't know why. Maybe a sit down would help.

**********

'Come along Henry, get a wiggle on,' called Jenny. 'Let's go for a little walk while Granny gets breakfast ready.' Henry smiled up at his Mother.

'Like park,' He said.

'OK, the park it is then,' Said Jenny, laughing.

Hand in hand they walked down to the park.

'Jenny? Jenny, is that you?' Called a voice.

Jenny looked around at the grey haired lady walking towards her through the park.

'It's Mrs King isn't it,' Jenny said, smiling.

'Yes, that's right dear, I haven't seen you in this neck of the woods for years, visiting your Mum?'

'Yes,' Said Jenny. 'My husband is away on business, so I thought we'd come down for a visit.' She smiled down at Henry. 'It's much nicer here than in smelly old London isn't it.'

Henry smiled up at his Mother. 'Like Park!' He said.

Jenny smiled at Mrs King. 'He's such a lovely boy.'

The two women carried on chatting, catching up on old times.

Neither noticed Henry slip away, nobody say him run across the park, chasing a squirrel with glee.

**********

Maggie sat on the bench, feeling a little better. A small noise beside her made her turn. A blonde haired boy sat down beside her.

'Me chase squirrel,' Said Henry, smiling up at Maggie.

'John?' Said Maggie in surprise. 'How did you get here on your own? Where's Daddy?'

'Daddy at work!' Replied the little boy.

'Well, it was very naughty of you to walk here on your own. Come along, let's go home.'

Maggie took the boy's small hand in her own, stood up and walked towards home.

The Changeling - Epilogue

The Changeling

Epilogue

POST MORTEM EXAMINATION

NAME OF THE DECEASED:

John Thompson

AGE:

3 years

REPORT:

The remains are that of a 3 year old child, identified via medical records as John Thompson.

The bones show signs of numerous fractures, spanning from birth until the time of death.

There is a partially healed fracture of the left humerus and several other fresh long bone fractures, which occurred either at or shortly before death.

There is a fresh basilar skull fracture, which is likely to have been the cause of death.

Examination of the bones reveals that they are fragile and show signs of the disease Osteogenesis Imperfecta. Genetic analysis of the remains confirms this diagnosis.

CAUSE OF DEATH:

Death was most likely caused by the basilar skull fracture, caused by Osteogenesis Imperfecta.

VERDICT:

Accidental death precipitated by pre-existing brittle bone disease. No foul play is suspected.



**********

THE END

**********

What is fear?

What is Fear?

Is it facing death?

Is it jumping out of a plane?

Is it ousting a spider from the house?

The truth is, fear can be dealing with all or any of these things and many more.

Fear is different for everyone, it comes in many different disguises.

Bravery is facing your fears and conquering them.

Bravery is learning how strong you are, how you are able to face your fears.

It doesn't matter if this fear seems large or small – facing it is what is important.

For me, my greatest fear is facing the dentist. I feel like I want to run away, I feel sick! I sweat, my legs feel weak.

But I know that I must face my fear, I must do what scares me – I must have courage!

I know that once the ordeal is over, I will feel great.

Conquering that fear, being courageous makes me feel good about myself.

I know that the next time, I will still be afraid, but I know that I can do it and each time gets just a little easier.

Whatever your fear, big or small, rational or not, face it.

Use that inner courage that you have, that strength that is within.

Take small steps, pushing yourself a little more each time.

Learn to control that fear bit by bit, be strong.

Be brave, conquer your fears, and grow.

I want to win an Easter egg!

I want to win an Easter egg!

I'm not asking much.

I just love all chocolate,

When it comes to the crunch.

I usually win one,

Some years there's two,

Delicious and creamy,

I might share it with you!

There's so many comps,

To win tasty things,

Eggs, chicks or bunnies,

Such pleasure it brings.

Cadbury or Lindt,

Dark, milk or white,

I'm trying to win,

With all of my might!

Facebook and Twitter,

Seem to have lots,

I'll enter so carefully,

Hope they're not won by bots!

Easter is near,

Just another few days!

I'm getting quite desperate,

In so many ways!

I'm writing short ditties,

Counting up chicks,

Oh please let me win,

Choccie's my fix!

But still, If I don't win,

When Easter is done,

I'll buy it half price,

Though it's not so much fun.

But to all of my readers,

I wish to you all,

Easter good wishes,

Please have a ball.

The Wedding day!

I suppose it's time to get up she thought, stretching herself lazily. She pulled back the covers and walked across the room to open the curtains.

Sunshine! Bright, bright sunshine with not a cloud in the sky! A perfect day.

Yes, a perfect day to get married!

A chorus of groans sounded behind her as the light hit the sleeping faces of her three bridesmaids.

'Come on girls, get up! Today is the day!'

The girls looked at each other and grinned. They flung back their covers and ran, smiling, out onto the balcony, looking out at the perfect view of the lake and gardens from their hotel room.

They dressed quickly and went downstairs for their breakfast, nervous and excited about the day ahead.

After breakfast, it was back to the room, to start preparations. How busy it was. Hairdressers and a photographer joined them, and soon the room was buzzing with excitement.

Deliveries appeared: flowers and balloons.

Make up was applied. Everyone looked beautiful!

Soon it was time for 'The dress'. The bride wriggled herself into it, and with a bridesmaid's help it was on!

The time flew by, and soon it was time for the ceremony itself.

Tall and proud, her father walked beside her. The groom turned, his eyes glistening as he saw her.

Words of love and commitment where spoken, nerves causing both bride and groom to stutter over their lines.

Rings where exchanged and joy of joy, they fitted perfectly.

Out into the sunshine, confetti flies, photographs are taken.

Dinner: Oh such a beautiful meal. The cake is cut. She feeds him a slice, everyone smiles.

Everyone is full and happy. They all go outside, playing garden games in the sunshine.

Soon it is time for the evening reception. Dancing, lights, fun and food.

All too soon it is over! Time for bed. Tomorrow will be their first day as man and wife.

Congratulations to my beautiful daughter and her handsome new husband.

Just one more week!

My daughter's getting married,

I've told you before,

I'm doing an update,

I hope it won't bore!

The wedding's near,

Just one more week!

The dress is perfect,

I've had a sneak peek.

Daughter's excited,

And oh, so am I

I hope on the day,

I really don't cry!

The flowers are ordered,

Colours are mellow.

Roses and daisies,

In orange and yellow.

The food is ordered,

Soup and chicken,

All of our lips,

We will be licking!

The disco is booked,

Lots of music and light,

Fun and balloons,

It'll be a delight!

Lots of family and friends,

Will come for the day,

Some will stay over,

If they live far away.

The day will be perfect,

Even if there's rain!

It won't make our happiness,

Run down the drain!

And after the wedding,

They're going away!

Flying off on honeymoon,

In the sun they will play!

And when they come home,

There'll be hugs and some kisses,

And they'll settle right down,

As Mr and Mrs.

Fear!

Ella looked up at the clock for the tenth time in as many minutes. Why was the time turning so slowly?

She paced up and down the room, the dryness in her mouth worsening by the second. She felt dizzy, sick to her stomach and her legs didn't quite belong to her.

But she had to do this. It was for the best!

She felt in her pocket, checking that the device was still there – she knew that it would be, but she had to check. Without it, the mission just wouldn't work!

Time! She said to herself. She pulled on her jacket and left the house.

It was a nice day, sunny, with just a little breeze. That would make things harder. More people! People liked sunshine. Still it must be done!

Head held high, she walked into the busy town centre, cleaving her way between the shoppers. Look at them, laughing and joking, not a care in the world. They had no idea what was about to happen. No idea of what Ella had planned.

On she strode, taking no notice of the crowds of people, ploughing her way through them, making resolutely for her destination.

The building loomed closer, tall and imposing. She would soon be there, soon the mission would be over, she would have done what she had planned.

She was there! She pushed through the heavy double doors into the lobby. She stopped, looking around at the throngs of people milling about. Children crying, being comforted by their parents, elderly people sitting in uncomfortable chairs, stoically waiting for their fate.

She turned and headed down the crowded corridor towards the lifts.

Ella pressed the button. “Come on, come” on she muttered to herself, jabbing the button over and over in the vain hope that it would make its arrival quicker somehow.

At last! The lift arrived, its doors opening smoothly. She stepped into its cool blue interior and jabbed the button for the top floor.

The doors closed and the lift swiftly ascended. Once more, she checked to make sure that the device was safely in her pocket. Of course it was. Where else would it be!

She felt the fear rising, almost but not quite, overcoming her. Bile rose in her throat, threatening to break free, her legs ceased to listen to her commands, the blood roared in her ears!

The doors opened. This is it, she thought, leaving the quietness of the lift for the noise and bustle of the foyer. She glanced at the clock facing her, ticking away the seconds. Right on time!

She strode forward, pushing through the doors at the far end of the corridor.

A face, smiling greeted her. How dare she smile! Didn't she know what was going to happen? How unpleasant it was going to be?

We're ready for you now Ella.

She walked into the small, cell like room, the smell making her fear escalate even further.

There, sitting facing away from her, tapping at a computer, was her Nemesis.

Ah, Ella, there you are! Lets get this done.

Ella pulled the device from her pocket.

“Ah, brought your music, I see”, said the dentist. “What are you going to listen to today?”

“Some classical would be relaxing”, said Ella, her hands trembling as she chose the album.

Finally, she had plucked up the courage, at last, she was here. She didn't know what was worse. The fear of the dentist, or the fear of being around crowds of people!

No longer would that wisdom tooth taunt her, giving her pain – within a short time, it would be fixed!

She settled into the chair, making herself as comfortable as possible in the circumstances, put her ear-buds in and waited!