Day 13: Waiting for Susan by Jeanne Davies

What gave you the idea for your Snowflakes story? I met a surreal little girl whilst walking my dogs; she looked so pale and delicate, just like a snowdrop.

How would you describe your normal style of writing?
I'm guilty of using too much description.

Have you published other material?
Bridge House published "Whiteout" in the "Something Hidden" anthology. I won the 2013 Earlyworks Press Flash Fiction Competition with "Stagnight" and they've taken 3 more for their 2015 Anthology. WADARS have just taken 4 poems (my first to be published) for their 2015 anthology.

Do you have a writing routine?
Writing inspiration definitely comes from walking my dog in the countryside.

Tell something quirky about you.
I believe in angels ... not always adorned with wings.

Extract from Waiting for Susan 

At some point deep within the night, snow had fallen serenely, icing the meadows in a soft blanket of white and plunging the country into a blissful muffled silence; a world in suspended animation.

The dogs went wild as we began our walk and soon discovered this cold intangible substance invigorating to roll in. The beech hedge whispered in the breeze as we skirted the lonely cemetery. All the graves lay hidden by the fall, apart from one in the far corner where the floral arrangements had not yet decayed. Draped with snow, the lichen-covered obelisks loomed like bed heads for those sleeping there; a stark reminder of how temporary life is.

A small solitary figure, barely visible under a fountain of half naked willow branches, stood by the church gate. She was about seven or eight with long fair hair cascading to her shoulders and fanning into a shimmering curtain, which cut across her green coat. One of the dogs charged towards her with hackles raised and broke into a bark. The girl’s face, as waxen as a cream camellia, quickly fell into a worried grimace.

 “Don’t worry, she won’t hurt you!” I shouted, quickly whistling Tabitha back to my side.

The child managed a weak smile but her young face appeared sad and care worn. She looked anxiously behind her as though she was waiting for someone.

 “Are you OK?” I asked.

 “Yes … thank you,” she said nervously, like a moth caught out in the daylight.

I felt reluctant to leave her there alone but the dogs were impatient to reach open countryside. We scurried along beside ice laden streams, where clusters of primroses hid shyly along the banks. The dogs knew she was following before I did. I looked back and smiled at her; she drew her satchel nervously over her shoulder and nodded.

Eventually the girl set out along a parallel path leading to Copse Farm. She walked quickly, occasionally breaking into a run but continually looking back to ensure we were in view. I was worried when she stumbled and dropped her satchel into a ditch; but then she waved and continued her journey. As the dogs bounced into the snowy meadow, I saw the child disappearing into a small cluster of farm cottages.

   

About the author

Though being fairly new to fiction writing (having spent most of her life writing words for others), Jeanne Davies continues to gain publishing success for her short stories. Over the past year she has had three flash fiction stories published in anthologies. She lives a country life with her husband and dogs in Sussex.

Sharp as Lemons 

Wadars-Animal-Rescue Charity 

Something Hidden