Over on Newbie Writers, the forum has just begun a joint short story. I was excited by the prospect of collaborating with much more established writers, and was even more excited to see I was listed as second in a list of eleven in the running order for the story! The editor, Dawn Copeman, began the story and I've just published my section. I'm actually pretty happy with it, considering I only had a week to do it and that week has been full of other stuff. So I present - my bit of the story. Pop over the the Newbie Writers forum if you want to catch up completely, or my section sparks your interest. As always, criticism is encouraged!

The following morning, Sara was penitent with Louis and Jacob. Some years ago she had come to accept that, despite losing her faith when Lizzy left, she still had an innate need to atone for her sins. Maple syrup flowed down the stack of buttermilk pancakes Sara had placed on her best oval display platter in the centre of the kitchen table, next to the jug of orange juice she’d poured earlier to make sure it wasn’t too cold from the fridge. She knew very well that her sons would barely remember the incident from last night, let alone appreciate the gesture she was making, but nevertheless she had taken great care and time to ensure their favourite breakfast was ready for them before school.

‘Morning, Mater!’ Sara mockingly impersonated as she laid out cutlery and glasses ‘What a fine morning to be alive. I see you have graced us with a veritable feast! Our eternal gratitude as always, dearest Mother.’ She giggled loudly, surprising herself with her upbeat mood. It had been some time since she had felt quite this buoyant, so she forced out the guilty thoughts out of her mind which seemed to reside permanently and enjoyed the moment. Today was a day to move forward.

The morning had passed without incident, save for Louis and Jacob interrogating her on the way to school in the Land Rover after she couldn’t stifle her amusement as the pair wolfed down their breakfast, barely acknowledging her presence save for a Neanderthal grunt to request some juice. She had reassured them it was something she had heard on the radio, as she felt that explaining the onset of teenage angst at such an early age would have only produced further questioning. Her positive mood remained, suspiciously, even as she drove to the post office, laden with another carrier bag full of eBay parcels.

As Sara pulled up outside the Post Office, she became aware of her feelings of trepidation returning to nestle in the base of her stomach. Once again, she felt the back of her knees seem to lose power, even as she pulled the bag from the back seat. ‘Today was a day to move forward’ she silently reassured herself. Resolutely doing her utmost to ignore the growing panic, any casual viewer would see only a cheerful figure going about her day, but Sara knew that anyone that knew her well would instantly sense something was wrong. Her panic grew when she realised that she counted Malcolm in that list of people. ‘No.’ Sara audibly reassured herself, turning the key to lock the door, ‘Today is a day to move forward.’

For the first time in a long time Sara did not hesitate as she reached for the door at the Post Office. She was riding her mood blindly, staggered by her sudden ability to disregard the screaming voice in her stomach which would normally be in her head by now.

Sara strode through the door, barely acknowledged the assistant who smiled a friendly greeting at the front of the store, and almost marched to the Post Office counter to the rear. Her thoughts seemed to be two seconds behind her vision. There was no queue for her to join, and once again Sara found herself astonished by her glee at being able to walk directly up to Malcolm. She was a Northern Valkyrie, established 1975, and today was a day to move forward.

All at once her adrenaline was pulled from her body, and her vision snapped back into reality with an almost perceptible pop, as her bubble truly burst. ‘Morning, Sara’ Derek beamed at her, lonesome behind the counter. In this morning of peculiarities, the deflating feeling at Malcolm’s absence didn’t go unnoticed.