Category Archives: Short Stories

Summer Holidays are here

Summer Holidays are here

The echoing slam of the door reverberates

My ten year old’s schoolbag hits the hall floor

He stands tall and strong

“Ready for Donegal and the caravan Mum?”

. For him

Shrieking seagulls dip their wings in the frothy foam of a fresh flood tide

Laid out like a bride’s lacy veil on moist golden sand

My son sees none of this.

His feet are racing away from me

The thrill of adventure gripping him

Agile as a mountain goat he climbs the sheer cliff face.

His mind set is on jumping from its highest peak

Body arched he flips into the Atlantic Ocean far below

Its turquoise eye tracks his descent impassionedly

He hit the sea with a victorious shout

Disappears beneath its swelling foam

From behind the fingers covering my eyes

Frightening seconds slide past.

The cries of the sea fowl is loud, plaintive

My breath stills in my breast

Will he come up from beneath

Then, hair plastered against his skull

His heads  parts the heaving swell

Breath returns to my starved lungs

Bobbing like a cork on the swell of a breaker

The sea’s buoyancy carried him towards me

And safety

His wet triumphant footsteps trample over

The delicate edging of the sandy bride’s veil

For my son summer has come

Gemma Hill Dec 2016 ©

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Days like these. This is one of them  Is it time to ring the bell?

There are day  wish I was a knitter and not a blogger. Todays is one of those days. I have lost my edit page and my mojo for writing.

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The Parts of Speech Poem

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July 28, 2025 · 9:52 pm

Diversity…

Diversity

Diversity is our saving grace
No longer do we live alone in this place
Other cultures bring prosperity and
Add new religions, customs to our race

Is this progress I hear you sigh?
Are we to be a melting pot now?
No. No one can ever take our culture away
But to embrace others
Will strengthen our beautiful place
So let’s embrace diversity
It’s here to stay.

Gemma Hill  

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Part 2 The Characters behind the storyline of Orphan And Strangers.

Part 2 The Characters behind the storyline of Orphan And Strangers.

William, a farmer’s only son hates farming.  He volunteers to do his bit for the war effort by helping on the trains carrying the soldiers and servicemen across Norther Ireland ensuring they don’t stray across the Border into Southern Ireland.

One day on the Belfast train he meets Margaret, a nurse in the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast. Obsessive by nature, for William falls head-over-heels in love with her.

It’s love at first sight.

Margaret is from Co Kerry – a ‘foreigner’ in his mother’s eyes. And worse still, she’s a catholic.

William’s sister Lisa loves farming and would make a good caretaker for the farm that has been in the family for several generations.. She’s the one who goes to the annual fair days and farmer’s markets. The old hill farmers sup their stout and admire her. Her father notices when she is with him he gets a better price for his cattle.

But she’s a woman. Women get husbands and children – they don’t get farms passed down to them.

It’s a son’s place to carry on the farm. Sarah, William’s mother insists. She’s always known her son is different – not like other boys.  She had a plan for him since he was born. She will marry him off to a good strong willed farmer’s daughter and in time the farms will be joined up and her son will get used to farming the land. This will keep the land and the farm safe from ‘outsiders’ getting their hands on it.

William and his sister Lisa couldn’t be more different. William is detached and withdrawn. Lisa loves life. And to her mother’s thinking she’s also too easy – especially with the America servicemen based in Fermanagh.

When the shocking news breaks that her daughter is pregnant and the GI has left her high and dry, Lisa must marry in a hurry.  Then, Sarah’s son announces he is secretly in love and is adamant he will marry the woman he loves in any church or no church if she will have him, Sarah, despairing of the land falling into catholic hands marries her daughter off cuts   William out of her will and contrives to have him cast out from his church…

Gemma Hill July 2025

 

 

 

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The story behind the story of Orphan and Strangers

The story behind the story of

Orphan and Strangers

People have been asking me how I picked the title Orphan And Stranger for my new book. And how did I decide on its eye-catching cover. Well, in a way the book’s name came about from a conversation I overheard where one person remarked to their companion that despite being in a family sometimes people felt like they were a stranger, even orphan in their own families. That got me thinking and I thought,” That’s kind of like Lisa, the character in my story. She feels she was almost like a ‘add on’ in her family and there to be her brother William’s protector and minder.

The book is set in the beautiful Lakelands of Co Fermanagh

I am pleased that London Publishers Austin and McCauley followed my directions carefully in creating the image of the sun setting behind what is supposedly Enniskillen Castle and followed my choice of hair colour and dress style for the character  of Margaret’s and the image of the soldier William with his kitbag over his shoulder as he kissed his sweetheart goodbye – maybe never to return.

Why did I choose to create the character of William, the main protagonist as a soldier?

As you know my stories hold a grain of fact and a powerful lot of imagination.

My uncle Joe O Donnell, my mother’s younger brother was a soldier in the Inniskilling Fusiliers during WW2 He too loved writing letters and poetry  to his family while stationed in Burma.

He fought valiantly but died in Burma and is buried there – never returned to his family so, the image of William, the main character’s   soldier’s uniform is a nod of thanks to my Uncle Joe.

There is another significant link to Fermanagh and the book’s location.

As a young man in his early twenties, my Grandfather, Tom Canning returned from Scotland to Donegal to marry his childhood sweetheart, Catherine Sherrin from Toberoneill.  Not wanting to leave his new bride (who according to the 1911 Census had just turned eighteen) he sought work at home. He found employment with the Great Northern Railways and moved from Donegal to Belleek, a small town in Co Fermanagh where he worked first as a station porter and then as a signalman.

My Granda Tom and his bride settled down and started their family. In 1913 their first daughter Mary was born. Two years later my father was born in the Railway House in Belleek – a brother for his sister Mary and two other sisters who would come later. As was the custom in those days the first born son was named after his father or paternal grandfather. Daddy was named Thomas after his father. In time he would turn out to be the third Thomas in a line of six Thomas’s over the generations

So you see, the connection to Belleek in Fermanagh has deep roots to the choice of location for my new book Orphan And Strangers.

I hope you are enjoying reading the book.  Have you discovered Lisa’s secret? (No spoilers if you have). Or, William’s irrational belief and hatred for his  daughter Trisha

I am getting really positive feedback on it. I’d love to hear what other readers think.

MORE GLIMPSES AROUND THE BOOK’S PLOT AND CHARACTERS IN NEXT SHORT PIECE OF WRITING

Gemma Hill

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I Wish I had…

5 Regrets Of The Dying: Think About These. #5 Is A Real Epiphany.

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After many years of feeling unfulfilled at her job, Bronnie Ware set out to find something that resonated with her soul. She ended up in palliative care where she spent many years helping those who were dying. Some time later, she compiled a list of the 5 most common regrets expressed by the people she cared for.

The list she collected gained huge popularity, and we are sharing it with you here today because it’s something all of us should keep in mind. Even though it can be hard to think about, this stuff is really important for your happiness right here and now!

  1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

“This was the most common regret of all. When people realise that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honoured even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made. Health brings a freedom very few realise, until they no longer have it.”

  1. I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.

“This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children’s youth and their partner’s companionship. Women also spoke of this regret, but as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence.”

  1. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

“Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.”

  1. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

“Often they would not truly realise the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.”

  1. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

”This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realise until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called ‘comfort’ of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content, when deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again.”

Credit: huffingtonpost.com

This is really truthful and beautiful advice, even though it’s a bit hard to think about. Take it from the people that have been there, and don’t make the same mistake! Share these 5 points, as everyone could use a reminder from time to time

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Here’s a sneak preview of my latest Novel book cover

Absolutely   delighted with it  PUBLISHING  DATE 25TH  MAY 

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Loves Sweet Dream

Loves Sweet Dream

 

The dance floor was crowded. Girls still stood to one side of the Orchid hall in Lifford Co Donegal pretending not to notice the men who were trying to pluck up the courage to cross over the wide expansion of dance floor to ask them to dance.

I looked around for Tony and spotted an Irish soldier dancing cheek to cheek. It wasn’t him. A cluster of giggling girls glanced in my direction. Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the huge glassed picture of some past owner of the dancehall I turned away. My sister’s had backed combed my blond hair into a tall beehive and I felt self conscious in the new green dress and stiletto heels I had ordered out of my auntie, Kay’s shopping catalogue with a promise to pay in for them at five shillings a week for the next twenty weeks.

Tony was late. I wished he’d come. I felt self-conscious standing alone..

“Dance?” a voice asked. I shook my head. The girls giggled again. My face flamed. Then, Anne, an old flame of Tony’s detached herself from a group and tottered across to me; her high heels and tight skirt slowing her steps.

“You waitin’ for Tony?  You needin’ bother. I saw him get into the back of a n army transport lorry,” she said.  He’s away to sign on for another three years,” she smirked.

I could feel my face beginning to crumple. Feeling as if every eye was watching me I ran for the cloakroom.

I stared at the thick, matted black, eyelash liner and thick black eyebrows my sister’s had applied to hide my fair, almost invisible eyelashes and eyebrows. It looked stupid under the harsh overhead light.  The youngest of five sisters, they were always trying to make me look more glamorous.

“Who’s going to want you – looking like you,” they’d say.

Tony wanted me. Tony loved me. He told me so. I’d think as they combed my long blond wavy hair this way and that and plastering my almost translucent skin with Pan Stick In the end I’d scrub it all off again and let my hair would go back to hanging over my shoulders in waves like it always did.

Sarah, the woman who gave out the cloakroom tickets peeped out at me from her seat behind her counter. “Did he stand ye up?” she asked.

I rushed into the toilet and sat there gulping back tears. After a while they overflowed and ran unchecked down my face. Tony loved me but he hadn’t bothered to tell me he was leaving.

My sister’ were right. Who would want me?

Tony had left. He had abandoned me; rejected me. Maybe… maybe it was because I had set limits. He’d sulked when I’d made it plain I wanted to wait until we were married before we made love.

.From under the toilet door I could see feet moving and hear girls’ voices chattering excitedly as they came in and out to fix their hair and reapply their lipstick. After a while I pulled a wad of toilet paper from the tin dispenser on the wall and wiped my face.

“Here, come in to me a minute,” Sarah called as I sidled past a bundle of coats she was pinning numbers on.  Taking a compact from her handbag she flicked a film of powder over my red cheeks and carefully dabbed the black eye shadow drips from under my ear. “You don’t need all that stuff on your face. You’re beautiful as you are, natural like,” she fussed.” There, you’ll do,” she said. “Green suits your fair complexion. Now hurry up and get out there or they’ll be calling the last dance,” she said giving me a gentle push.

Tony had arrived but he was dancing a slow number with Annie, the girl who’d told me she’d seen him leave to return to the Irish army. Bitch, I though as I self-= consciously walked towards the seats alongside the wall.

“Dance,” Looking up into the face of the boy, who had asked me earlier I hesitated, then followed him on to the dance floor.

Standing to attention for the national Anthem I felt a soft tug on the sleeve of my green dress. “What about a bag of chips…before I walk you home,” my dance partner asked.

I shook my head my eyes searched for Tony. He had danced the last dance with Annie was helping her on with her coat. Catching my eye he waved and motioned for me to wait for him as he came striding across the floor.

“You’re very quiet tonight,” he said, as we walked hand in hand down the dimly lit Bridge Street.

“You didn’t tell me you were going away again,” I blurted out the tears threatening to fall again. Stopping, Tony took my face between his hands. I could smell the clean smell of soap and the faint smell of Old Spice aftershave.

“And then you danced the last slow dance with Annie,” I said a tear sliding unbidden down my cheek.

“Come over here…under the light,” Tony said. Putting his arm around my waist he guided me over the broken flagstones on the footpath. Cupping his hand under my chin Tony smiled down into my face. Gently he rubbed the tears from the corners of each eye.

“Oh, my sweet innocent Jenny,” he breathed folding me in his arms.” I hope you never change.”

I knew the rough material of his overcoat would wipe the remaining makeup off my eyes and face but I didn’t care.. I was safe in Toney’s arms again/

“Do you know where I was tonight? And why I was late?” he asked after a while.

I shook my head from the security of his broad chest.

“I’ve decided not to sign on with the army again. But I had to be sure I had a job to go to before I decided not to do that,” he said .Untangling himself from her he stepped back. Putting his hand in the inside pocket of his tunic he drew out a small box. Catching her hand he went down on one knee. “Jenny, will you do me the honour of being my wife,” he asked.

Later over a feast of chips and mushy peas Jenny’s sister’ admired the small sparkling diamond and gave her a big hug. “I’ll be your bridesmaid – “

“No, I’ll be your bridesmaid,” they said jostling each other. Jenny laughed. “But no black eyelashes or beehive hairdos, please” she said. “Tony likes me just as I am.”

Gemma Hill  ©

www.writemewriteyou.com

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WAR STALKS ME

image credit internet

War stalks me

It comes to me every day.

Crushing images consume my mind.

I tremble, silent screams fill my mind

I’m there

Each bullet engraved with the name of a friend.

Today, tomorrow

One will bear my name

I long for hearth and home,

Before that time draws near.

The war it is over they say

It stalks me

Dead faces,

Walk through my grieving soul.

My senses trick me,

Am I here or there still?

Sometimes it’s remembered

Booming gunfire bombing shells

Faceless men

Marching feet

Legless beggars in the street

Vacant faces

Whiskey foul breath

Who can blame them?

They have seen,

The Devil’s hand,

Shred men limb by limb

They fear for their immortal souls

And the strident cries

“No more war.”

Flag draped coffins

Raised high in glory

Piper’s last lamented story.

With heavy hearts and halting strides

Borne to final resting ground

Some days I wish that it was I

No more…the war is over its said

Until the next time I say

It’s there … Stalking…waiting…patiently

Gemma Hill

updated June 2024

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carefully, we walk the invisible line

Certain places and times

We avidly avoid

Don’t say that

Don’t mention that there

Today I am William Tomorrow I’m Liam

Depending on the area, street or lane

 

We share a lot you and I

We bandage our wounded

We tend to our dead

We allow other people to speak in our name

Until we are riddled with

With rumour and fear

Don’t ever forget where

We have been

And say “not in my name”

We’re not going back there again

 

 

 

 

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