 |  | We ran a competition in 2004 for all those who think they're the next William Shakespeare or George Eliot.
And we were so impressed that we decided to publish many of them - the best ones even got an extra prize of a bundle of books.
All stories start with the seven words: "It was a cold but bright morning."
We've had some cracking entries so thanks, and enough from us .... read on!
It was a cold but bright morning; the fog clung lazily to the banks of the Sowe, muffling the forlorn quacking of the resident ducks. As I walked along the path, I became aware of the wispy puffs of breath materialising in front of me, reminding me that beyond the warm confines of my various layers of tee-shirt, jumper, coat, scarf and gloves, it was indeed very chilly. 'Not as cold as poor Patch', I thought, my eyes becoming suddenly hot and pricking, as I remembered that awful day only three weeks ago.
Five years ago we had come to Coventry to make a new start. Me, my husband, and our daughter - and our lovely dog.
| |  | A barbeque
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It had been wonderful to start with. We had our first garden, in which we had our first barbeque within a week of moving in. Patch was able to roam freely over the huge expanse of verdant grass and the myriad shrubs. Despite the fact that she was nearly blind and mostly deaf, she still used her diminished sense of smell, managing to find her way round and back to the house again. It was perfect.
But three weeks ago I didn't want that garden any more, and I didn't want to live in Coventry. Life was no longer perfect. My poor dog, at the ripe old age of nearly eighteen, succumbed to old age and somehow the garden seems too big now.
People say that Coventry is a city of ghosts - well there's one more now and I bet she's still wagging her tail and chasing butterflies, only now she can see and hear and run easily.
Yes, it's definitely cold this morning, even in my heart.
Jacqui Knight
It was a cold but bright morning and we were carrying out our usual routine. Shelly in the pushchair, Maggie holding my hand, on the way to school, past the Admiral Piketon, heading towards the canal basin, as ever.
"I've been in there" said Maggie.
"Don't be silly" I replied "It's a pub, you haven't been there!"
"Yes I have! Daddy takes me there on Saturdays!"
As usual, again, we were slightly late. But not late enough for me to notice two rats playing in the waste ground beside the Admiral Piketon. It was kind of cute, they were jumping about - not menacing - just having fun.
| |  | A real rat!
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"Daddy takes you to the park on Saturdays! Remember - you fell from the swing two weeks ago and had a bad cut on your nose?"
"Didn't fall in the park; fell down a step in there!"
Funny how anger makes you walk faster. We got to school with five minutes to spare so I had to wait with other mums and dads to turn in the kids. Teachers are not allowed to accept the kids before 9.00am - something to do with insurance. Very inconvenient for most of us.
”Bye Maggie” I said knowing she was safe until 3.30pm. I wasted time, wandering around Coventry, into the market, Woollies, whatever. I noticed the fur shop had had its lock super-glued and the workers couldn’t get in. Served them right for selling fur then!
I bought some cheap meat in the butchers, it looked good, but I knew it would be as tough as old boots soles. Never mind, I’d done the right thing and bought fresh meat. I visited some charity shops and got a really nice coat for Maggie - it didn't seem to have been worn much. Even better, I found a sweater that is still in its original packaging, in my size, and was only 50p. So it wasn’t the height of fashion, but who cared, it was NEW!
I visited the library and looked at Lady Godiva, and wondered, did you really? And if you did, was it worth it, did he change?
I had wasted enough time. It was opening time for the pubs so I return home, and, having taken a deep breath, ventured into the Admiral Piketon. The pushchair entered first of course, I'm not that brave.
Yes, he was there, the rat who spent all his time looking for a job, and our spare (ha!) money on bus fares. Those rats outside could have had a far better time with a threesome.
Yes, rats are vermin, especially those with two feet.
Gill Torri
It was a cold but bright morning. Oxfam wasn't open yet but Gladys was already waiting outside. She always came to Coventry to visit the charity shops - there was such a good selection and at least none of her Solihull neighbours would see her there.
Her electricity had been cut off three weeks ago. She couldn't pay the bill. She wouldn't ask for help. Today she wanted to buy a nice warm cardigan. Extra layers of clothing was what they advised old folk to wear in cold weather, wasn't it?
| |  | Was there a ring in this cardigan?
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When the shop opened Gladys scurried inside and began hunting. She soon spotted her prey - an M&S one, good quality, hardly worn, perfect! She paid her three pounds and scuttled back outside where she quickly stuffed the Oxfam bag into the House of Fraser bag she'd brought with her. Couldn't go giving the game away now, could she?
Back at home she eagerly tried on her lovely new cardigan, admired herself in the hall mirror, twisted and turned, posed and smiled, put her hands in the pockets and... What was this in the corner of the pocket? Her hand brought out a gold ring, a heavy gold ring set with three large diamonds ... and suddenly she was laughing, hugging herself in her new cardigan, dancing round the hall. Sell it, sell it, sell it! Pay the electricity bill, get the lights back on, buy some lamb chops, some decent teabags, strawberry jam, Woman's Own, hand cream, corn plasters. Oh, all those things she'd been doing without! Yet, even as she was making the lovely list in her head, she knew she wouldn't go through with it.
The ring must go back to Oxfam. How many starving children could that ring feed? She took the cardigan off, put her coat back on and walked to the bus stop.
Sarah Griffiths
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