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Take a look and if you have any comments, tell me.
http://www.lifestyle.nottinghamshiretimes.co.uk/Reolutions.html
Death by Misadventure.
(1095 Words)
It had been a long standing joke in Enid Wallbanks family for years: mother, they used to say, could never keep a New Years resolution. Enid had always made one or two but they usually came to grief in the first or second week of February - she was going to lose weight, she said; put extra money away each month; get out and about more even take a trip somewhere. But it was all to no avail.
In no time at all she became a confirmed shopaholic again, still watched far too much television, and the tiny salads shed endured since early January were already a thing of the past. And as for all those chocolates shed been given at Christmas well they had to be eaten didnt they?
I dont know why you bother, mother, her daughter used to say.
This year, however, it was going to be different. Enid made just one resolution: she would take a trip abroad. Oh yes, definitely. She would visit her daughter who now lived in Paris. How else could she hold the new grandchildren shed only seen so far on photographs? Yes, thats what shed do, Enid told herself. Shed take a trip to Paris. The holiday, whatsmore, would be free.
To Enids amazement she had won the trip to Paris in a womens magazine. A number of celebrities had had to be matched against the kind of shoes they might wear: and for once in her life Enid Wallbank had got something right.
She decided to go in the spring Paris In Spring Is A Must, said a headline in one of the womens magazines she read - and wrote to her daughter asking her to meet her at the airport.
The thought of seeing her daughter and French son-in-law again, to say nothing of the twins, and in Paris, for heavens sake the most glamorous place she could possibly imagine filled Enid with intense excitement.
There was just one snag: the prospect of flying induced such anxiety in Enid that she almost cancelled the trip long before she was due to go.
It was only the encouragement given to her by some friends that persuaded Enid finally to go at all. After all, didnt they fly abroad every summer, and werent they still in one piece? While some other friends told Enid there was far more chance of being killed on the road than in the air. And anyway, they said, flying to Paris you were in the air for such a short time. Youve got to go Enid, Its the chance of a lifetime. This was true of course; how often she had dreamt of going abroad like all the young ones seemed to do all the time these days.
So bravely suppressing her fears, she went ahead with her plans and bought some new clothes for the trip.
Sitting in the departure lounge at Heathrow, Enid found herself in front of a large poster which illustrated the aircraft in which she would shortly make the journey to Paris. She recognised it at once, for since the flight had been booked, she had spent hours in the public library reading up details about the aircraft, and the sort of routine she could expect once aboard. She knew exactly the number of seats it had, where the toilets were, and what to expect from the cabin staff. She knew the number of engines the plane had, its airspeed and the amount of fuel it could carry. But most importantly, she told herself, she knew by heart what to do in case of an emergency.
It was warm where she sat in the small tea bar, and the sounds around her were softly muted by the thickly piled carpet. She nervously sipped a cup of tea. Staring hypnotically at the picture of the aeroplane, it wasnt long before Enid began to imagine it actually in flight. The great, silver bird, beautifully photographed against an azure sky, shot forward in her imagination, to pierce the fluffy clouds surrounding it. God, she said to herself, lets hope the pilot knows what hes doing. Before long, her head began to nod, her breathing deepened and, with half closed eyes, she began to lose sight of the picture altogether. The unpleasant thoughts that had begun to creep into her head again began gradually very gradually to evaporate
When a muffled bell-like signal announced her flight, Enid knew exactly what to expect. She found herself, surprisingly, already with the other passengers at the appropriate gate. Preceded by a girl with a fixed, welcoming smile and wearing a smart green outfit, they all walked - floated almost - along what seemed to Enid like a never ending tunnel. At the door of the plane they were met by another smiling, green clad figure who floated ahead of them and showed them to their seats. Enid was just behind one of the wings. She could see and count the engines. It presumably had the same number on the other side. She looked around at her fellow passengers all of whom seemed already to be asleep: the silence was uncanny. There was a garbled announcement by the pilot over the planes intercom and with scarcely a sound they were off. The plane, with Enid Wallbank slumped happily in her seat, soared with eerily muted engines up through the heavens
Flight 101 crashed with the loss of all lives just before it arrived in Paris. Wreckage and bodies were scattered for miles.
Enid Wallbanks daughter, waiting in Paris, was inconsolable. The only flight her mother had ever made, she said, and it had to end like this.
It was one of the girls on the tea bar at Heathrow who first noticed Enid Wallbank slumped in an easy chair long after her plane had left. Id better wake her, she thought, the poor dear might miss her flight. It was only when she tried to, however, that the full impact of Enids tragedy became apparent. Enid Wallbank was dead.
Listening to what her friends and family had to say concerning Enids anxiety before she set out on the trip, the coroner came to the conclusion that the massive heart attack Enid had suffered, was possibly brought on by an unfortunate fear of flying.
It was left in the end to Enids daughter to put in words what everyone in Enids family had already begun to think Poor Mother, she wrote ruefully to a family member, she never could keep a New Years resolution.
:-)
:-)
It's just that it came out like those serious stories with a jokey punchline at the end, that you groan because of the obvious line when you read it.
That isn't the response you want, but if you gave that to a random group of people, I would think you would have a few who would react the way I did. One of them could be an editor.
To me Enid is obviously over-anxious, perhaps even a bit obsessive about things. The story was beautifully written, very effective.But possibly because I didn't neccesarily pick up the wry humour, that was why the ending ruined it for me.
Surely as writers we need to be aware of that possibility?
And I hope Neil understands that I was not being intentionally insensitive. If he did feel that then I sincerely apologise, as that was not my intention.
I read it again later, and still had the same reaction. (Obviously with everyone else's views I can see what they are saying now.)
I think we all get unexpected reactions to our work at some time. The reader has totally missed something which we thought was clear. It's happened to me too.
But we have to accept that those comments are based on their reaction to that work, good or bad. We might get upset, understandably, but that is part of being a writer.
I will shut up now before I make this much worse.
We all have to learn to take criticism, and even I have doubts on things I write.
And I'm worried that Neil may have taken my opinion badly, which was why I went to such efforts to explain why I reacted in the way I did.