Problem Attic. Insert witty tagline here.

Feedback Wanted (A Short Story)

I started writing this a while back, I think originally as a short story. Anyway, I’d be interested to know what people think of it, and whether it’s worth writing the rest of it. I think it’s okay, but it reality it could be anywhere from complete garbage to the greatest works of mankind… anyway, read it and let me know what you think.

Oh. The story isn’t called Feedback Wanted. It’s a story about people, tentatively titled…

Open Day in Heaven

“OPEN DAY IN HEAVEN,� the posters read. They must have gone up sometime during the night - and now, here they were, pasted against power poles and the faded bricks of alley walls.

The news spread across town faster than the light cast by the lazily rising sun. The baker’s assistant was the first to notice, walking to work in the half-light, then the paperboy began shouting to those he passed on his delivery run, and by seven the only person asleep in the town was the Miller’s two-year-old, who slumbered with a smile on her face as if to say “I already know.â€?

* * *

* * *

It had been a hard year; while no colder than usual, the winter had run somewhat longer, and now those orchards whose crops hadn’t suffered from the late frosts were having to deal with frustratingly persistent fruit-fly. The town’s main livelihood being its orchards, this meant the posters were received with less jubilation than might have been the case elsewhere. The orchard owners, on the whole, responded with little more than tired smiles, and Daniel at the Garage was heard to mutter “we’ll see, we’ll see.â€?

Not all the town was so indifferent, however. At the school, the only way Mrs Davies could settle her class down was to get them writing stories about “what heaven is like.â€? Even then, things wouldn’t quiet until she promised the class there would be no school on the open day (Why a Thursday? she wondered).

The chosen day was a source of contention for others, too. Brent was the local banker—there were no branches in the town, so he acted as a liaison between there and the city branch. Unfortunately, Thursday was his day to go into the city. Either he could miss this heaven thing, or he would set his work back a whole week. His clients wouldn’t be happy.

* * *

Business wasn’t the issue for all. Becky and John Read had lost their first child one year ago to the day, the day of the open day. The posters awakened simultaneously such hope and sorrow it seemed an eternity before either of them could move. They were in shock.

Their one-year old had simply not woken up one morning. The doctors called it cot death, but the name didn’t change much. Days of shock turned into weeks of pain, followed by months of numbness. But the numbness was gone, and the pain was back, this day.

Standing in their living room, Becky looked at John, helpless. John shrugged; bit his lip; tears welled up. Heaven wasn’t supposed to be painful! What right had this god to cause all this pain all over again!

* * *

Ray lived on the opposite side of town to his ex-wife. A walk of five minutes didn’t make much real difference, but at least he wasn’t next door. But this open day… dammit. She was sure to be there, and there would be no way he’d enjoy the day off if she was around. She’d probably bring some man she’d gotten friendly with, too. There was no way he’d be going… ‘Wild horses couldn’t drag him…’ He snarled—the song had meant something else, once upon a time. Now it was just bitter memories. How could she? They were in love… why didn’t it work? What went wrong? The same old thoughts, the ones he’d managed to smother in work and routine, began to circle again. Dammit! Even the thought of her made him angry.

* * *