Saturday The 14th is a collection of very short stories, written and published for my mailing list. These four short-short stories take familiar tales and skew them slightly off-centre to show what could have been or what might have happened next.
It was the first item on the list to bear my name, thereby ending the bafflement of some of my unwitting subscribers.
The first story is here. The others may follow, but I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing with all this stuff yet.
The Woodsman At The Door
The woodsman knocked at the door and when the young woman answered, he told her that they must marry.
Having never met him before, the woman was reluctant to say the least.
By way of explanation, the woodsman proudly announced that he had killed the wolf.
“What wolf?” she asked.
He was unspecific, bandying around vague terms like “big” and “bad”.
It was then that the woman noticed the axe in the woodsman’s hand. She was just about to close the door when – eager to prove that he wasn’t just some random stranger – the woodsman asked about her grandmother.
The young woman said that her grandmother was fine. A little under the weather, perhaps, which is why she was going to visit her. She had meant to go yesterday, but had got a little sidetracked with this and that…
“Aha!” the woodsman said. “Your grandmother is not fine! She’s dead!”
The young woman was aghast and, lost in her grief, slammed the door. If she heard the woodsman’s muffled rantings about beds and nighties, she paid no attention to them. So heavy was the weight of her loss that she fell to the floor and, seeking comfort in whatever was close to hand, wrapped herself in her soft scarlet cloak.