Sociological Short Story

  • A Box of Cards

     Aunt Ada was an epileptic. She had worked at a stocking factory since she was fourteen but at seventeen she began to have 'fits’. Her work mates petitioned the boss to sack her. He was reluctant to do this for she was the best stocking mender he had, however he had to yield in the end.

  • A Day To Remember.

    'We're going to the seaside,' Aunt Meg said.

  • Accidental Meeting

    A funny thing happened to me the other day -funny peculiar that is not funny ha, ha.

    I know you won't believe me. I can hardly believe it myself.

    Well to cut a long story short, yes I know that's a cliché but you will have to forgive me I have to tell things in my own way or not at all.

  • An Angel in the Pantry

    Rachael wasn't the only one to seek refuge in 'The Pantry' there was only one unoccupied table. Next week the small coffee shop would close. Like many other businesses it had suffered from the awful summer.

    "May I join you?"

  • Faithless Wife

    An old man with corrugated brow stood gazing sadly at the little red brick Victorian terrace. Six back to back houses in a row, each with its own coal house and lav. at the bottom of the yard. Here he had brought his bride; here his children had been born.

  • First Born

    For Meg there was only one consolation to nine months of feeling only half alive. At least she could stay on her own side of the bed even if she couldn't sleep.

  • Lost Worlds

    Mrs Tribble stood quite still on the almost empty pavement, addressing the indifferent world about her, while the cars swished past throwing up cascades from the gutters and late shoppers hurried by.

  • Maggie's trouble

    November fog crawled round the window pane waiting to choke any who ventured out into the damp acrid streets. Inside Rambert terrace the walls wept as nappies hung like defeated flags on the fireguard.

    Maggie, sat with her first born son on her knee. The door opened and voice called,

    "It's only me."

  • Miss Pringle

    In the beginning Miss Pringle had the best of motives for Miss Pringle was undoubtedly a good woman. From the top of her felt hat to her black laced shoes she exuded respectability.

  • On The Down Escalator.

    My stomach tightens as the smell of chalk and polish hits me. Why am I here? I should at home walking Kate, watching her chase the water fowl her pom-pom blowing in the wind.

  • Planned Conception

    "I take it you were expecting me."

    Doctor Peter Triar felt as if he had been cast overboard without a life belt. Had he expected to be faced with the indomitable woman before him it was doubtful whether he would have entered the surgery that day.

  • Pupil Power

    Janet took deep breaths to try to settle the fluttering in her chest. It didn’t work and her stomach churned as she walked down the long corridor with its smell of dust, disinfectant and polish. The first day of a new term and a class she only knew by reputation.

  • Should I Stop?

    The women sat knitting or mending stockings with fine hooks. Jeanette left the other children to watch fascinated

  • Someone should do something.

    Mrs. Tribble stood pensively for a moment before the gas stove, then turned to the living room to add matches to the shopping list that sat on the sideboard under the one eared china dog, she put on her striped woolly hat and threadbare coat, took the key from the hook on the wall and left the house.

  • Temptation

    "It’s a lovely day," John my ever patient husband said peering round the dining room door. "Couldn't you leave it and come to the park with us?"

  • Tempting Morsel

    "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." Oscar Wilde said. I am sure he was right. Take Dave and me. I fancied him from the word go. He was 6'2, blonde with a crew 4 hair cut, a perfect foil for my 5'4 and long dark hair. He was all man, firm pecs a tight bottom and footballer's knees. The latter because he played every weekend for his home team which didn't give me much of a look in - until last weekend.

  • The Doll

    "Is any thing wrong?" Dora Marchant asked her friend who had sat through the Community Meeting with a glazed look in her eyes and a worried frown on her forehead.

  • The Long Dark Night

    The rhythmic thumping has always been there - familiar and strangely comforting. My space is diminishing. I stretch out and touch the walls. How long have I been here?

  • The Scent of Gardenias

    'I don't want to meet him.'

  • The Telephone Rings by N. Regret

    Laugh, I could have died when I overheard this woman on the bus. She said some woman had rung her husband only it was his elder brother she wanted.

Organisation

Joan Mary Fulford
Fulord Consulting Ltd
West Bridgford
Nottingham NG2 5GF

CONTACT

Clifford W Fulford
162 Edward Road
West Bridgford
Nottingham, NG2 5GF


Send e-mailclifford@fulford.net
Telephone: 07923 572 8612

ABOUT

Top