"Well done, Heather, this is what life is about - capturing the moment. This reflection is part of the unique you, Heather, precious. Your story came from the heart and the climax threw me totally, as I did not expect it. Well done, for having the courage to read it! We put ourselves on the line when we write - all the best, Heather." Di Perkins - 3 November 2014
This quote came from an unexpected compliment from a published author, no less, about a short fiction story that I read to a group of writers at a writers' meeting, at which Di Perkins was a guest speaker.
However, as an established author, I was disappointed at how my story appeared when it was later published in the Creative Writers' Group Anthology "Scribbles from the Suburbs" in November 2015. Not only was the entire book badly edited, by the group members themselves, the proof copy was not double checked before it went to print. Not even the date of publication is correct in the book, which amongst other notable errors, was not picked up until it was too late. Therefore, I have re-transcribed my short fiction story below, which includes many of the proper italic 'thought' sentences, which are missing from my original version....
The Secret Pact
(Heather Golding)
It's been a long time since Johnnie's seen Frankie - too long in fact. He's missed her before, "But this time," he says, to no one in particular, "it will be different!" Today is special, grins Johnnie. This time nothing is going to go wrong, he thought, reassuringly.
As he walks through the familiar streets of the old township of Havenview where he lived his childhood and a brief part of his young adult life - before I was sent away to live with my uncle in the country! Johnnie remembers with bitter resentment. He remembers also the one main thing he had to leave behind - his young childhood sweetheart, Frankie.
Johnnie recognises the large sandpit at the end of the playground where he and Frankie used to play when they were young, as young as five. I remember it seemed a hell of a lot bigger back then, he thought.
As his eyes continue to search for more familiar memories of Frankie, Johnnie suddenly spies the old wooden bench in the park where they sat all those years ago. They would often sit together in the early moonlit evenings, alone and away from the prying eyes of many of the town's local gossips.
In an attempt to relive that time he had with Frankie, Johnnie decides to sit his tired body on the seat. Kicking off his well-worn riding boots, he leans his broad back against the upright bench.
The memories of his time with Frankie instantly come flooding back. "I'll wait for you," Johnnie remembers whispering softly into Frankie's feminie ear. Flashbacks of that special moment they shared together are clear in his mind.
Frankie turned her head to acknowledge Johnnie's whispered promise; he remembers how her sad face lit up at the sound of his voice. He also remembers how Frankie's brunette shoulder-length hair would hide her saddened face. Tears often filled her hazel eyes, causing them to well up and run slowly down her beautiful olive-toned cheeks.
Johnnie sighs, just as he had done before, as he remembers taking Frankie's left hand and gently squeezing her small fingers inside his large, masculine right hand. He remembers how Frankie had studied his hand then admired the sun-tanned complexion of his equally-tanned arm, which blended nicely with his brown eyes and dark hair.
And he especially remembers the moment when she had noticed the small yet rather striking tattoo on his upper right arm. It was a simple love-heart, which bore her name along the shaft of the arrow that pierced through to the other side of the blood-red coloured heart. Frankie had slowly lifted her lips close to the tattoo and without saying a word - she kissed it gently, he fondly remembers as he glances down at her name tattooed across his right forearm.
Still deep in thought about the girl he had left behind, so long ago, Johnnie immediately sits bolt upright and reminds himself why he has returned to his old childhood town. He remembers the secret pact, which they had made if they should ever meet again. We shall go away in style! Johnnie reminds himself, as he slips his riding boots back on his sufficiently rested feet.
Meanwhile Frankie has also been thinking about and planning for the day when Johnnie would return. She remembers back to the time, in her early teens, how they would share their dreams and ideas. She remembers the day he had been forced to leave high school at the tender age of fourteen, while she had continued her schooling and holidays without him. She had always been sent away to her Grandparents estate in the country during the winter and then to summer camp during the warmer months. I will always hate what our parents did to try to keep us apart! she reminds herself with bitter resentment. Sadly she also remembers clearly the day Johnnie had been forcefully taken away from her for the last time.
For several moments, Frankie continues to stare out of the huge bay window of her upstairs bedroom where she often sat and fondly thought of the brief times she had spent with Johnnie; his rough-around-the-edges physique, yet sweet image still clearly vivid in her mind. As time passes, she glances down at her pretty be-jewelled wrist watch - a birthday gift from her parents and notices, with some surprise, that the time has slipped away more than she has realised . "Oh!" she suddenly gasps. I guess I should be getting myself prepared, Frankie reminds herself, as she glances across at the small gift box sitting on her dresser.
Johnnie continues on his way and slowly walks through the familiar Town Square past the Town Hall. Without stopping however, he glances quickly toward the already chipped and dull paintwork, which he remembers having been freshly painted several years ago for Havenview's 100th anniversary celebration. I will see Frankie again one day, he remembers saying to himself when last time he'd been here. "And today is the day!" he says out loud to no-one in particular, as he picks up his pace and walks a little faster towards his destiny.
Johnnie notices some of the changes, which have taken place in his absence, but I'll never forget Frankie's house, he says to himself as he approaches the front entrance of the gravelled pathway, which leads up to the well-hidden house splendidly surrounded by tall trees and neatly trimmed shrubs.
He reaches the wrought-iron gate and hesitates for a moment as a nervous knot tightens in his stomach. He swallows his fear and tries to remain calm. To reassure himself, he unzips the black vinyl document case he's carrying under his left arm. He slides his right hand through the opening and caresses Frankie's birthday present.
He draws in a deep breath and straightening his broad shoulders, he opens the well-oiled gate. Slowly he walks along the gravelled path with each step crashing loudly in his head as the loose pebbles give way underneath his heavy-footed riding boots.
Johnnie approaches the house and sees an open curtain in an upstairs window, quickly being closed. "Ah yes!" he whispers gently, Frankie has seen me, he says to himself.
A quick glance through a side window of the closed and empty garage confirms Johnnie's thoughts: Frankie is alone. "It's now or never!" he says out loud to no one in particular, once again.
We made a promise - a secret pact, he reminds himself as he approaches the front door. But before Johnnie could reach the shiny brass knocker, the door opens slowly and Frankie is standing in the entrance - her left hand is resting on the doorknob as her right hand is held firmly behind her back.
For a brief moment Frankie and Johnnie say nothing. They simply exchange an understanding smile. "Well, I suppose this is it?" Frankie asks at last. Johnnie nods his head in agreement and responds with his usual to-hell-and-back grin. "Happy birthday Frankie, long time no see!" To which he ruefully adds: "I've missed you Frankie."
"And I've missed you Johnnie," she whispers softly.
Now - at close range - there is no way Frankie and Johnnie will miss each other this time! They slowly raise their revolvers - aim and fire...
Heather Golding
Author / Writer
From an original Creative Writing workshop assignment - dated May 1991
Amended - August 2006 (with the intention of having it published elsewhere)
Re-amended - October 2014
Re-amended - shorter version - February 2015
Published - November 2015
This quote came from an unexpected compliment from a published author, no less, about a short fiction story that I read to a group of writers at a writers' meeting, at which Di Perkins was a guest speaker.
However, as an established author, I was disappointed at how my story appeared when it was later published in the Creative Writers' Group Anthology "Scribbles from the Suburbs" in November 2015. Not only was the entire book badly edited, by the group members themselves, the proof copy was not double checked before it went to print. Not even the date of publication is correct in the book, which amongst other notable errors, was not picked up until it was too late. Therefore, I have re-transcribed my short fiction story below, which includes many of the proper italic 'thought' sentences, which are missing from my original version....
The Secret Pact
(Heather Golding)
It's been a long time since Johnnie's seen Frankie - too long in fact. He's missed her before, "But this time," he says, to no one in particular, "it will be different!" Today is special, grins Johnnie. This time nothing is going to go wrong, he thought, reassuringly.
As he walks through the familiar streets of the old township of Havenview where he lived his childhood and a brief part of his young adult life - before I was sent away to live with my uncle in the country! Johnnie remembers with bitter resentment. He remembers also the one main thing he had to leave behind - his young childhood sweetheart, Frankie.
Johnnie recognises the large sandpit at the end of the playground where he and Frankie used to play when they were young, as young as five. I remember it seemed a hell of a lot bigger back then, he thought.
As his eyes continue to search for more familiar memories of Frankie, Johnnie suddenly spies the old wooden bench in the park where they sat all those years ago. They would often sit together in the early moonlit evenings, alone and away from the prying eyes of many of the town's local gossips.
In an attempt to relive that time he had with Frankie, Johnnie decides to sit his tired body on the seat. Kicking off his well-worn riding boots, he leans his broad back against the upright bench.
The memories of his time with Frankie instantly come flooding back. "I'll wait for you," Johnnie remembers whispering softly into Frankie's feminie ear. Flashbacks of that special moment they shared together are clear in his mind.
Frankie turned her head to acknowledge Johnnie's whispered promise; he remembers how her sad face lit up at the sound of his voice. He also remembers how Frankie's brunette shoulder-length hair would hide her saddened face. Tears often filled her hazel eyes, causing them to well up and run slowly down her beautiful olive-toned cheeks.
Johnnie sighs, just as he had done before, as he remembers taking Frankie's left hand and gently squeezing her small fingers inside his large, masculine right hand. He remembers how Frankie had studied his hand then admired the sun-tanned complexion of his equally-tanned arm, which blended nicely with his brown eyes and dark hair.
And he especially remembers the moment when she had noticed the small yet rather striking tattoo on his upper right arm. It was a simple love-heart, which bore her name along the shaft of the arrow that pierced through to the other side of the blood-red coloured heart. Frankie had slowly lifted her lips close to the tattoo and without saying a word - she kissed it gently, he fondly remembers as he glances down at her name tattooed across his right forearm.
Still deep in thought about the girl he had left behind, so long ago, Johnnie immediately sits bolt upright and reminds himself why he has returned to his old childhood town. He remembers the secret pact, which they had made if they should ever meet again. We shall go away in style! Johnnie reminds himself, as he slips his riding boots back on his sufficiently rested feet.
Meanwhile Frankie has also been thinking about and planning for the day when Johnnie would return. She remembers back to the time, in her early teens, how they would share their dreams and ideas. She remembers the day he had been forced to leave high school at the tender age of fourteen, while she had continued her schooling and holidays without him. She had always been sent away to her Grandparents estate in the country during the winter and then to summer camp during the warmer months. I will always hate what our parents did to try to keep us apart! she reminds herself with bitter resentment. Sadly she also remembers clearly the day Johnnie had been forcefully taken away from her for the last time.
For several moments, Frankie continues to stare out of the huge bay window of her upstairs bedroom where she often sat and fondly thought of the brief times she had spent with Johnnie; his rough-around-the-edges physique, yet sweet image still clearly vivid in her mind. As time passes, she glances down at her pretty be-jewelled wrist watch - a birthday gift from her parents and notices, with some surprise, that the time has slipped away more than she has realised . "Oh!" she suddenly gasps. I guess I should be getting myself prepared, Frankie reminds herself, as she glances across at the small gift box sitting on her dresser.
Johnnie continues on his way and slowly walks through the familiar Town Square past the Town Hall. Without stopping however, he glances quickly toward the already chipped and dull paintwork, which he remembers having been freshly painted several years ago for Havenview's 100th anniversary celebration. I will see Frankie again one day, he remembers saying to himself when last time he'd been here. "And today is the day!" he says out loud to no-one in particular, as he picks up his pace and walks a little faster towards his destiny.
Johnnie notices some of the changes, which have taken place in his absence, but I'll never forget Frankie's house, he says to himself as he approaches the front entrance of the gravelled pathway, which leads up to the well-hidden house splendidly surrounded by tall trees and neatly trimmed shrubs.
He reaches the wrought-iron gate and hesitates for a moment as a nervous knot tightens in his stomach. He swallows his fear and tries to remain calm. To reassure himself, he unzips the black vinyl document case he's carrying under his left arm. He slides his right hand through the opening and caresses Frankie's birthday present.
He draws in a deep breath and straightening his broad shoulders, he opens the well-oiled gate. Slowly he walks along the gravelled path with each step crashing loudly in his head as the loose pebbles give way underneath his heavy-footed riding boots.
Johnnie approaches the house and sees an open curtain in an upstairs window, quickly being closed. "Ah yes!" he whispers gently, Frankie has seen me, he says to himself.
A quick glance through a side window of the closed and empty garage confirms Johnnie's thoughts: Frankie is alone. "It's now or never!" he says out loud to no one in particular, once again.
We made a promise - a secret pact, he reminds himself as he approaches the front door. But before Johnnie could reach the shiny brass knocker, the door opens slowly and Frankie is standing in the entrance - her left hand is resting on the doorknob as her right hand is held firmly behind her back.
For a brief moment Frankie and Johnnie say nothing. They simply exchange an understanding smile. "Well, I suppose this is it?" Frankie asks at last. Johnnie nods his head in agreement and responds with his usual to-hell-and-back grin. "Happy birthday Frankie, long time no see!" To which he ruefully adds: "I've missed you Frankie."
"And I've missed you Johnnie," she whispers softly.
Now - at close range - there is no way Frankie and Johnnie will miss each other this time! They slowly raise their revolvers - aim and fire...
Heather Golding
Author / Writer
From an original Creative Writing workshop assignment - dated May 1991
Amended - August 2006 (with the intention of having it published elsewhere)
Re-amended - October 2014
Re-amended - shorter version - February 2015
Published - November 2015
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