Growing Grey - short story - 3

This is a piece I wrote for my GCSE English Language Coursework about 2 years ago. I'm looking to pick it up again and possibly turn in into a longer story - add a bit more detail.. not rush the whole plot in a set amount of words etc.

Growing Grey

Wet. Cold. Miserable. Wales was just horrendous in January. The fields were frozen and the ground was as solid as rock. People were huddling frozen in their thick winter coats at bus stations, moaning and groaning about the ridiculous British weather. Because of the staggering strength of the winds, they were packed like sardines into the protective shelter of the bus stop. However, despite the dreadful mood, the late winter sun had begun to rise and was spreading new warmth throughout the neighbourhood of frosty iced roads, lightening everyone’s spirits. The village was made up of small country cottages with pretty little white picket fences and large front gardens, filled with all sorts of trees and shrubs. Due to the recent snow and frosts, the cottage gardens looked like beautiful winter wonderlands.

Marie opened the front door to her humble little cottage with her son, William, behind her and made her way steadily down the slippery garden path. She breathed a sigh of regret when she reached the arch trellis that her husband had made when they first moved into the house. Having to look after William by herself for the past four years had taken its toll on her. She cast a last glance around her winter garden, and there wasn’t a snowdrop or crocus in sight.

William climbed reluctantly into the passenger seat of the car and slammed the door shut whilst his mother began to get the de-icer spray out. Sneering at the cold weather, he put in his headphones, blaring depressing music through them to match both the weather and his bad mood. He had come to despise his life at home. He just didn’t get the attention he needed from his mother anymore. To her he was still a good lad with a few strange friends.

Marie adjusted her old leather gloves as she shook off the ice. She stared at her glove and noticed how little they had changed over the past five years. A car horn sounded and she snapped her head up. The grass was green and lush, dotted with bright white daisies. The sun was higher in the sky and there was a pleasant warmth surrounding the small neighbourhood. Marie cast her gaze over to their front porch past a garden full of blossoming flowers and saw a small enthusiastic boy closing the door behind him.

William was her eleven year old son and was just starting senior school that year. He was bouncing around as if he was on sugar, but he was using this to hide his enormous case of new found nerves. Because he had wild black hair just like his father, it was cut short for his first day at his new school in order to look as neat and tidy as possible. His new, striped, bright tie was tied perfectly in a Windsor knot all the way up to his top button, which was fastened. He looked the perfect little school boy with a face of an angel and his pristine uniform and black polished shoes. William had been so excited about going to his father’s old school that hadn’t been able to get to sleep the night before and was up at the crack of dawn to get ready. Bright eyed and eager to start his new day, he ran to the car threw his bags in the boot and practically jumped into the front seat. No-one would have guessed that smile could turn upside-down so quickly. No-one would have guessed he would become the little depressed boy who hung around the end of the street before Easter. "Come on mum, let’s go!" he cried eagerly.

Another car horn sounded. Marie snapped her head up once again and looked around, only to be met with a very bitter, cold wind in her face. Jack still had a hold over the grass and the ‘sardines’ were still in their bus station. The low winter sun was still rising and the roads were just beginning to thaw with the help of plenty of grit. "Sorry dear, what did you say?" Marie shook her head and glanced over to William or ‘Liam as his friends now called him, with a bewildered look on her face.

"You just gonna stand there all day or we gonna go?" Liam moaned whilst hanging out of the window. His hair was nearly past his chin and shading his eyes, no longer neat and tidy. His tie was sloppy and hung like a noose around his neck. There was no top button. A familiar depressed look cast over his once bright features. Marie had only noticed this look once before, and that was four years past. She’d hoped to God that she’d never see that look again. It was a look of pain, of grief and of mourning. The loss of his father had meant the loss of his mother too. Marie had retreated within herself, blocking everything else out. Marie had changed from the constantly attentive and dutiful mother she once was. Now she was a mother who never expected him to have any problems whilst he was growing up. A mother who never asked if he wanted to talk. A mother whom he couldn’t scream at or cry with.

Marie looked over to her son and saw him for what he really was for the first time in years. He was no longer the sweet little boy who helped with the cooking, no longer mummy’s little helper. One of them had grown up, and it was time for the other to follow. Taking one last look at her garden before she left for the day, she managed to spot a small delicate snowdrop bud and gave her son a brief apologetic smile as she climbed into the car. As she moved to pull out onto the road and was blinded by the low winter sun, you could just see a single grey hair tucked behind her ear. Slowly but surely, she would allow her son to grow up, and that meant her moving on, and growing grey.

Wow, pretty powerful. Loved the ending, and how it all came together. Like you said, more details in the middle would, in my opinion , help improve this. I hate when they give word/time limits for this type of stuff. You can go a long way with this. I felt a couple of phrases are slightly overused and common these days , which perhaps you could try and avoid using (winter wonderland etc)Thanks for sharing (and welcome to the site!)




Abbas

The intricacy of the environment painted is captivating, enticing, and addicting. Though my specialty is sci-fi, I can appreciate this as writing of equal or greater status of my own, and recognize it as such. Well done.

Thanks guys

I'm normally a scifi writer too.. now i just need to find where that black hole on my computer hid the rest of my writing...