Wednesday's Words on a Friday
On Wednesdays, Delores, from Under The Porch Light, has a meme which she calls
“Words for Wednesday”.
She puts up a selection of six words which we then use in a short story, or a poem.
I’m hopeless at poetry so I always do a story.
It’s a fun challenge…why not join in?
This week's words are:
Here is my story:
Anita stirred the bicarbonate of soda into the boiling syrup mixture and watched it immediately foam almost to the top of the pan. She poured the foamy mixture into the greased tray and set it on the bench to set. Later she would coat the top with, a 50/50 mix of melted milk and dark chocolate, then after dinner Anita with her nieces and nephew would enjoy the crunch of home made honeycomb candy.
Julie, Elaine and George were her sister Margaret's children and would be sleeping over while Margaret was in the hospital having yet another baby. Anita wondered how on earth Margaret coped! She herself had just one baby, Jenny, already a handful at 8 months old.
Well, tonight she'd get a taste of a full house for sure. She'd spent time alone with the kids before, but never all night. Her husband, Mark, wouldn't be home until long after dinner.
Her husband's cousin, Cathy was coming over for dinner as well and bringing her new boyfriend Aiden. They'd met a few weeks ago, when Cathy had been in his cab going to a wedding and had accidentally broken the string of pearls given to her by Grandma Silkie.
She'd gone to the wedding without the necklace, but Aiden had collected all the pearls and brought them to Cathy's house the next day in a little carved wooden box. Cathy and Aiden had gone out for milkshakes and had spent almost every single day together since then.
"I smell a romance..." Anita thought and thought an evening of family dinner and noisy children would be a good testing ground for them. Cathy was part of a very large family, but Aiden was the only child of an only child, raised by his father after his mum died when Aiden was two.
Cathy and Aiden had a few stories to tell tonight, they'd recently spent a weekend with a group of conservationists, putting up fencing along a section of coastline in an attempt to stop the blasts of wind eroding the foreshore any further. They'd picnicked on a clifftop with the group and watched as a couple of surfers foolishly battled the waves, dicing with danger, right near the worst riptide area along that particular beach.
Anita sucked at the blister on her thumb, "should have used the oven mitt" she thought, as she put the still hot syrupy pan in the sink to soak.