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Tom – Fictional Writing
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Everyday Tom gets up from his cold dusty bed imagining she is stillwith him. His tall fragile body weeps with pain as his arthritis kicksin. His gauging ghostly features appear upon the mirror his deep-seteyes, his chalked cheeks and his ratty nose. But yet he remembers thegood old days when people greeted you with love and friendship notdeceit and charisma like they do now.
He pulls on his rugged fifthly clothes and walks through the hallwayfilled with his sentimental war memorably. He goes into his rustickitchen and makes himself some toast with full fat butter spread allover it.
He turns on his ancient wireless and sits on his rugged old armchairthat his father gave to him. He picks up the daily paper and skips tothe back page to check the horse racing odds. He watches the wirelessuntil lunch then he gets up and cooks himself an omelette filled withcrispy bacon and some mouth-watering cheddar cheese. After lunch hepicks up his old anorak and his wooden walking stick, he then goesoutside and waits for the bus in the remote dismal corner in front ofhis house. He gets the bus into town and goes to the bookies to placea bet on the 4th horse of the 8th race. Everyday he follows the samepattern and has never won a penny for the last twenty years but todayseemed different.
The sky was grey as normal and the wind was still blowing against theovergrown trees but he could hear laughter, there were three kidsplaying hop-scotch in the alley by the road, Tom hadn’t heard laughterfor so long he had almost forgotten it ever existed. He and his wifealways use to laugh, they would stare into each other’s eyes and burstout laughing for no apparent reason, but she was gone taken from himwithout even a kiss goodbye. She had gone to work normal and she wason her way home in the car she had entered a major traffic in an
