Tuesday 19 December 2017

The Litter in Glitter by Linda Flynn

Linda Flynn has had two humorous novels published: Hate at First Bite for 7 – 9 year olds and My Dad’s a Drag, for teenagers. Both won Best First Chapter in The Writers’ Billboard competition.

She has six educational books with the Heinemann Fiction Project. In addition she has written for a number of newspapers and magazines, including theatre reviews and several articles on dogs.

 Her short stories with Bridge House include: four adult stories, To Take Flight, in the Going Places anthology, I knew it in the Bath in Something Hidden, Snowdrop in the anthology, Snowflakes, All That Glitters... in the Christmas 2016 anthology,  Baubles, as well as The Wild Ones, for teenagers in Devils, Demons and Werewolves. Two children’s short stories: The Secret Messenger and Timid Tim were included in Hippo-Dee-Doo-Dah.

In November 2016, Linda also had a satirical short story, Wake Up Call, published in the CafeLit best of anthology and Poppy a Puppy for Remembrance was placed with Cafe Lit in April 2016. Both of these were published in The Best of Café Lit 2017.

Linda’s website is: www.lindaflynn.com

A flicker of light glinted through brooding grey clouds as Rose pulled the rumbling bins behind her. The park. A perfect start to her day, somewhere peaceful, with only the stirring of bird song.

      She speared up the litter, careful to straighten her back to avoid a stooping ache.
      A bin spewed out some half eaten sandwiches, broken pieces of blue plastic, a baby’s dummy and some broken glass. Lucky that she had found this litter before a child had stepped in it, or fatally a puppy had run off with a small object in its mouth.
      Rose gazed upwards through the web of branches of an old oak tree and pulled down a flapping plastic bag.
      The yellowing sky opened its spot light on the park as it slowly awakened. A blackbird hopped upon a twig, the gate creaked open and a swish of bike tyres sped along the path.
      Bruised clouds bunched together again as she completed her circuit. As she neared the groaning traffic, the air became clogged with fumes and her bins filled quickly. After the first drop off point she had to cover both sides of the High Street. In her regulation fluorescent yellow jacket and grey waterproof trousers with the luminous stripe, she felt fairly anonymous, sure that people would look through her. Even so, she felt a flutter of fear at recognition.
      In the take-away quarters, she scraped up some old rice and dog’s mess, but had to leave some chewing gum which would need to be blasted off the pavement. Shattered pieces of glass lay in pools, winking in the remaining rays of the sun.
      Rose looked at the purple clouds and pulled up her hood. Leaflets fluttered in the rising breeze and she struggled to capture them. One escaped and slumped soggily in an oily puddle. She paused when she saw the crimson heading of, “St Benedict’s Art College.” In her gloved hand she read, “On 1st April at 19.00 talented students will be holding an Art Presentation on stage to an audience, instead of at a roam around exhibition. The local media and companies have been invited.” Details of obtaining tickets followed as Rose pummelled the limp leaflet into her glove.

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