A Place: A Micro-Story

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Thanks to Fiona M. Jones for her latest submission “A Place’. A charming micro-story about the adventures children find in ordinary places.

Fiona M. Jones is a regular contributor to Mum Life Stories, some of her titles include ‘Mud‘ & ‘Tiny Green Apples‘. She is a part-time teacher, a parent, and a spare-time writer, with work recently published by Folded Word, Buckshot Magazine and Silver Pen.

She is also one of the judges for our Micro-Fiction Competition.

She lives with her husband and 2 sons (aged 15 & 17) in Fife, Scotland, where she works, writes & ministers. You can read more about Fiona here, in her Mum Life Success Story.

You can also follow Fiona on Twitter or Linkedin
Photo Credit: Raghu Nayyar on Unsplash

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A PLACE

“Mummy, we’ve seen a place and we have to go there,” they tell me in that tone of unanswerable firmness which I know they’ve copied from me but still I can’t resist.
A “place” is never an amusement park or a restaurant or any crowded area. It is over hills or under trees, in among rocks through mud beside water. We’re going on a bear hunt, we’re setting out on an Expotition, we’re traversing Middle Earth; and, come what may, we’re not coming back with clean clothes or dry socks.
This particular place is a narrow deep-forested valley below the A92 to Kirkcaldy. Embanked dual carriageway turns briefly to bridge and back again in the blink of an eye, but children’s eyes don’t blink much, and they’ve made their decision.
I parked, awkwardly, in a layby, and we went there.
We followed overgrowing paths among damp greenery and welly-sucking puddles. We found a wooden bridge across the stream, and we walked under the massive concrete struts of the traffic-roaring road. We scrambled up dust and small scree to a half-hidden ledge of ground that made a perfect lookout point, and we defended with imaginary fire-power. And we discovered a fallen tree clutching odd pieces of brickwork, in its newly-bared roots as though it had accidentally swallowed a wall half a century ago.
And I laundered once more the clothes and cleaned the mud off boots, hoping that nothing in life will ever wash away the patterns of early habit—that trees and sky and running water will always remain the backdrop in my children’s minds, giving them peace when life gets turbulent.


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If you’d like to submit a story of your own, please visit our submissions page, or enjoy reading more of our Flash Fiction HERE.

If you’re a writer, why not enter our Micro-Fiction Writing Competition?

Micro Fiction writing competition

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. Fiona M Jones says:

    Thanks for posting it! Oops–I just discovered my typo in my last-but-one paragraph. I should have written, “brickwork in ITS newly-bared roots”. Sorry!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Jo Caddy says:

      Lol, I should have noticed 😆 thanks for pointing it out.

      Like

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