Skip to main content

Never Settle

This story has been inspired by: http://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/resources/writing-prompts/


He was gone, finally out of my life. I sat down within my own home that I had fought for the last three years to get from the court. 

The sentences what are you doing? You are forty and going to be single? I was criticised for making the decision to divorce Peter. But I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do. He had slept with somebody else. I just couldn't live with him as he had broken my heart and was it right for me just to forget it and take him back? 

'I am really sorry'.
'Who was she?'
'It isn't anyone you know'
'When?'
'It was at the conference when I was away for five days'.

I couldn't believe what he was saying, another woman after our ten years of marriage. It didn't make any sense. I felt that we had been happy and I had always worked hard within our relationship. But now everything changed from the conversation, he had broken my trust and faith. That's when I decided that I had to walk away, no matter how hard it was going to be. I decided to divorce, he had asked for forgiveness, he said he wouldn't do it again, but for me it wasn't enough.

I just couldn't settle, I didn't want to, so the cup that I had brought in the local shop defined me - Never Settle it said on the front. I was divorced, forty but now looking forward. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Letters of the Past

The letters in his hand were crisp, clean, and pure white and had the age of youth while Sebastian's hands were wrinkled, old and worn out. He smelt the perfume of the letters which were like flowers in the room showing down onto him. He rocked slowly as he held them and whispered 'Lillian' while Beatrice didn't budge and had gone to sleep purring away in his lap.  As the light glistened in the fireplace the colours were reflecting onto the walls of the living room like colours of the rainbow as he thought of Lillian and the past. It was at university where he had met her first, he was himself lost in the corridors, with his shirt half tucked into his trousers, tie askew and hair rough and looking at the board trying to find his class. He heard her voice, 'excuse me' and turned towards her. It was her golden hair that struck him. It shone in the corridor like a gem and it was long. She looked as though she were a mermaid emerging from the sea. He could feel
Post a Comment
Read more

Miranda

OUT NOW Dione the new virtual reality system. The huge billboard poster flickered with the only advert holographic projection . The streets were dark, but the advert illuminated like a candle making it the centre of attraction as though it was the essence of existence, but for the majority it had become. ‘Wow that looks amazing, I have to get it, it’s better than the Miranda system which came out last year’. Said my brother walking with me down the street, drawn to it like a mosquito to the light. He was addicted about getting a new headset every year. He was actually putting the Miranda system on as we spoke, going to the Prehistoric age, immersing himself in another world. Everyone was wearing one, but I didn’t.   This was my world, the future, a world of virtual reality. Headsets in every home, laying on the coffee table instead of books which were no longer existing. No one read anymore. They were a way of escaping the actual reality of the wo
Post a Comment
Read more

The Evil Step Mother’s Point of View - Cinderella

 ‘I hate you, you old bag’ she screamed as she threw the bowl across the room. I had made her favourite dish soup, which I had spent ages cooking in the kitchen. Her father had told me that it was going to be hard to be accepted as her new mother, but this was much harder than I had imaged. ‘Mum we have tried, I offered to give her my new dress’ said Gemma. ‘I said that I would take her to the ball with us’ said Louisa. ‘What can we do? She calls us UGLY sisters, it’s so cruel cried Pamela.    I hugged my three daughters closely, I wanted Cinderalla to accept us as we had with her. But she hated us, calling me a ‘wicked stepmother’ and slamming doors. She would cry and portray us as ogres. With the arrival of the Prince inviting us to go to the ball, I even tried to invite her but she was spoilt and rude. ‘I don’t want to go, you old bag, GET LOST’ she shouted. ‘I will get there myself’ she stormed off as usual to her room. ‘I miss my mum, you married my father for his
Post a Comment
Read more