Sample stories

Here is a selection of short stories I’ve had published.

The Easter Egg Hunt
My Weekly
April 2011
by Diane Parkin

Thomas stood at the garden gate and glanced one last time along the road before dashing in for his tea. Meal times were so much nicer now since they’d moved house. He couldn’t remember the last time his mummy had looked as happy as she did these days. She’d started to cook his favourite meals from scratch again, instead of making do with boring, plastic supermarket food.

Yes, life was so much better now, but he did miss Michael.

Michael was Thomas’s best friend, his only friend in fact. Whenever Thomas felt sad or scared or very lonely, Michael would always make him feel better, chatting away about anything that made the real world disappear. Michael was a nice distraction from all the horrid things that happened, so Thomas didn’t have to think about anything that upset him or made him worry.

Most of the time Michael would tell Thomas adventure stories, stories Thomas also remembered being told a long time before. Stories about pirates or astronauts or cowboys and indians. Sometimes, however, they did touch a little bit on life.

“What will you be when you grow up?” Michael would often ask.

“I’m going to be a gladiator or a soldier or the world’s strongest man so I can keep Mummy safe,” Thomas would reply, drawing on the remembered tales. “What will you be?”

“Maybe an archangel, Gabriel or Michael,” and they would laugh about Michael wanting to be someone with the same name.

Michael could natter on about everything and nothing for hours. They would talk about their favourite football team, pop star, cartoon hero. They would talk about the new boy at school whose mum still made him wear shorts – at the age of six! – and laugh, grateful that their own mums didn’t do that to them. Or they would talk about the exotic, faraway holidays that Michael enjoyed where he’d meet Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves or Sinbad the Sailor or Captain Pugwash. Thomas and his family didn’t have any holidays, so they couldn’t talk about those.

“What’s it like to have a real dad?” Thomas asked Michael one day.

“It’s great. He takes me swimming, or plays cricket with me, or helps me with my reading.”

“I wish I had a real dad,” Thomas sighed. He didn’t want to do anything with his step-dad. Thomas hated his step-dad. But he wished he still had a real dad.

“I bet your real dad never hurt your mum –” Michael had started a few times, but Thomas always managed to change the subject.

“What are Easter eggs like?” Thomas asked Michael the last time he saw him. He’d heard of them and knew that Easter was coming, but he’d never seen an actual Easter egg.

Michael’s eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t you know?” Thomas shrugged and shook his head. “Easter eggs are great. They’re made of chocolate and have other chocolates inside, like Smarties or chocolate buttons. And they’re brightly wrapped in shiny, colourful foil. Have you really never had one?”

“I’ve had chocolate loads of times. Mummy sneaks me some when He isn’t around.”

Thomas watched his friend’s face set as the other boy nodded with determination.

“I’ll get you one,” he said. “You can have one of mine.”

It was Easter now, but there was no sign of Michael. They’d been at the new house for only a couple of weeks, although it seemed like forever to Thomas. He would be starting a new school once the Easter holidays were over. He wondered if Michael would also be at the new school, but then he realised that Michael probably didn’t even know where he was. Thomas and his mummy had crept away one day while He was at work.

“We’re going on a big adventure,” said the kind lady who had come to help them move house. She gave him a smile and a wink and a ruffle of his hair. There had been no time to tell Michael.

“What’s up with you, soldier?” asked Mummy cheerfully. He liked it when she called him soldier.

“Nothing,” he said, tucking into home made fish fingers and proper fried chips.

“No sign of him then?”

“Not yet. But he’ll find us.”

“How do you know?” Mummy passed him the tomato ketchup, but he didn’t want to smother the taste of his delicious food.

“He promised me an Easter egg. He won’t forget.”

Mummy frowned, slightly puzzled, but then she smiled again. That made Thomas so happy. She hadn’t stopped smiling since they’d got here and he’d stopped feeling scared all of the time.

“There’s an Easter egg hunt down at the miners’ welfare centre on Sunday,” she said. “Would you like to go?”

“Yes please,” he replied, happily stuffing his chips between two slices of bread and butter. “Do I get to keep any?”

“Yes, you keep all the ones with your name on.”

“Cool.”

***

Easter Sunday was bright and sunny. When they got to the welfare hall the garden was already teeming with children carrying baskets filled with colourful, shiny Easter eggs. Some of the children were even the same age as Thomas. He never had any friends at his old house, apart from Michael, and he didn’t know where to start or what to do.

Thomas recognised the lady who had helped them move house as she came to greet them.

“You made it, then?” she said to Mummy.

“We did,” replied his mother.

“I got your message,” said the lady, then she ruffled Thomas’s hair just as she had the last time he saw her. “I have someone who wants to meet you,” she said to him as a girl about his own age ran to join them. She had a basket filled with Easter eggs too, and she had an empty one for Thomas.

“This is my little girl, Ellie.”

“You must be Thomas,” said Ellie, handing him the empty basket. “Here.”

“Thanks. How do you know?” he asked.

“Come and see,” she said, dragging him by his free hand.

Nestled in the grass, tucked behind a bench, Thomas could already see the brightly wrapped Easter egg glinting in the sunlight.

“All of the eggs have names on,” Ellie explained. “This one has your name on.”

Thomas reached down and picked up the glorious object. He knew how to read his own name, could read quite well in fact, but he couldn’t quite make out the last word.

“See?” said Ellie. “It says: To Thomas From Michael.”

“Wow,” he said, turning towards his mother who was watching him carefully from the other side of the garden. She was still with Ellie’s mum. She smiled again and gave him a quizzical look, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Who’s Michael?” asked Ellie.

Still with his eyes on his mother he said: “Michael used to be my imaginary friend.” He saw his mum laugh again at something Ellie’s mum had said to her. She looked so young and so happy. Then he turned back to Ellie, his new friend and his first real friend.

“He used to be your imaginary friend?” she asked.

“Yes,” Thomas agreed. “I don’t need him any more.”

THE END

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