Herring House: Stories and Other Writing

Chloe was 19 years old and studying at Juilliard Ballet Dance School in New York City. She’s danced since she was four years old, her mother Alice, was a primary school teacher and Ted, her father was a piano teacher. Chloe was an only child, her family were quite well off, loving and encouraging. They cherished Chloe and supported her dreams. As a small child Chloe loved to dance around in fairy costumes and pretend to be a ballet dancer. She was never shy, but a lively, outgoing child. They lived on the edge of a big city on a quiet street where many families had settled to raise their children away from the hustle of the city. Chloe had a best friend from the age of six. Her name was Holly and she had a little pony, Jess, a happy go lucky Arab cross. The two girls had a happy childhood, one loving ponies and the other loving dancing and the ballet. It was a cold Friday morning in February and started off like any other day in Chloe’s life when she received an urgent call a...

  Gripping the bricks with all my strength, my joints within my body ache with a burning desire. A few more struggling moments until I reach the top of the watchtower knowing I am within reach of this small but achievable moment of today.  The struggle of pushing my body to its limit, the overwhelming desire flowing within my veins is achieved. I stand up panting, slowly lift my head , blinking and regathering my thoughts before looking out across the ocean. The cold breeze gently caressing my skin and I take one look at the sun rising above it and close my eyes and say - 'It was worth it.' Leia ***   Looking out of the window, being above the people, traffic, houses and trees, I could see for miles. Breathing in deeply the smell of the room, the dust, the mildew in the corner, the age of the tower.  The watchtower had been in the town for generations, in my family. My Grandpa would tell stories of how he would watch for planes in the war. But today, I just get ...