# Anniversary (short story)



## topcol (Jan 20, 2018)

*Anniversary (short story 488 words)*

*(My apologies for the lack of proper formatting but I followed the instructions for copying from Word to no avail it seems.)
*
*Anniversary*
Daisy pulled shut the front door of her neat little bungalow and walked down the gravel path to the road. As she turned into the close, her Tweed jacket brushed the privet hedge.
   ‘It’s looking very unsightly, must get the gardener to trim it tomorrow.’ she murmured.

A green Volvo estate stopped at the zebra crossing as she carefully made her way across the main road. The driver stuck his head out of the window. ‘Can I drop you off, somewhere, Miss Brackenshaw?’  

‘That’s very kind of you, vicar, but a charabanc is coming for me at midday. It’ll be parking by the King’s Head so I haven’t far to walk.’ she replied in her clear cut-glass accent.

When she came to the small supermarket, women with pushchairs and shopping trolleys were passing in and out. Two of her neighbours called a greeting to her. 

‘Good morning, ladies.’ she replied without halting her steady progress. 

‘Wonder where old Daisy’s off to, don’t often see her out and about.’ said one.

‘Yeah, I wonder. Got her medals on an’ all.’

Walking slowly, Daisy reached the old pub with its Tudor façade in ten minutes. Her heart lifted on seeing the coach in the car park, engine running. The driver was standing by the open door, smoking a cigarette. Seeing Daisy approach, he threw it down and crushed it underfoot then helped her up the steps. As  her head rose above floor level, a loud chorus of affectionate catcalls broke out. Smiling and waving, she made her slow way up the aisle and carefully lowered herself into the seat Henry had been saving for her.

‘Good old Daisy!’ called out Pam Sutcliffe from the rear of the coach, ‘Still a flirt, just like Bletchley.’

Tipsy giggling flowed from her companions in the back seats, wrapping them all in the cosy warmth of shared nostalgia.

Knowing what was expected of her, Daisy called back, ‘I seem to remember finding you and Jack Bullock kissing behind the canteen during the Christmas party in forty-four, my girl.’ she said. ‘Now, that _was_ an enigma.’

The laughter redoubled and Pam grinned delightedly.

‘Oh, excellent pun, my dear.’ said Henry.

Daisy smiled at him and relaxed against her seat. How good it was to be with her old comrades again on this, the 60th anniversary of the great Alan Turing’s tragic death. Her eyes brimmed as she recalled how cruelly he had been treated by those who ought to have been his protectors. A gentle touch on her shoulder made her look up. A grey-haired woman whose lined face was somehow familiar yet strange stood by her seat holding a bottle of red wine and two plastic cups.

‘Vould you like a glass of good Tokay, Daisy, _liebchen_?’

Daisy stared. ‘Rosa? Rosa Nussbaum? My dearest friend, I thought you were – ’

‘Dead, my dear? No, still here. The camp vas liberated by your vonderful English soldiers. I married vun of them.' 

Daisy laughed. ‘You never could pronounce “w”. Oh! This is going to be the finest reunion ever!’

Turning to Henry, she said with mock severity, ‘Is this your doing, Lieutenant Freeman?’

Henry laughed and held up a self-deprecating hand.

Daisy took the hand and kissed it. ‘You’re a dear man, Henry. Go on, Rosa, pour the wine and let’s drink a toast to Alan.’

‘Not for me, Rosa, I’ve got my own.’ Henry said, producing a small silver flask engraved with his initials.

Daisy was delighted. ‘How wonderful! I bought you that in forty-five for your twenty-first birthday.’

Henry nodded and smiled. He decided not to tell Daisy it was a copy, he having pawned the original during a period of unemployment in the austere 1950s when MI6 returned to pre-war staffing levels.

Dusk had fallen by the time they arrived at the mystery destination. All were in a rosy glow brought on by the wine and myriad shared reminiscences. One by one, they carefully negotiated the steep coach steps and stood around in small groups trying to discern their surroundings.

A security light clicked on and with it realisation dawned. ‘It’s the mansion, my God!’ someone cried out. ‘We’re at Bletchley! Come on, let’s go down to Hut 8.’

The shock of recognition made Daisy stagger slightly. Reaching out, she felt the cool gritty hardness of a stone pillar. An indistinct figure was sitting on a wooden bench in the porch.

‘Alan? Is that you?’ She turned to tell the others but they had gone.

‘Sit you down and rest a while, Daisy dear.’ It was certainly Alan’s voice. 

Reassured, Daisy went and sat down beside him. ‘Oh Alan, I hope you didn’t suffer. Those awful people!’

‘Hush, my dear, it was all over long ago. Would you like to go for a walk with me?’

Daisy nodded and stood up. All her tiredness had evaporated. She felt twenty-one again. ‘Race you to the pond.’ she said, breaking into a run.
*
Henry gently laid the frail body on the wooden bench. As soon as Daisy had collapsed he had applied CPR for a full fifteen minutes, calling her name over and over.

‘She’s gone, Henry, love.’ Pam Sutcliffe said softly.

Tears ran down Rosa’s cheeks as she stroked her dead friend’s hands, crossed on her breast. ‘She wouldn’t have wanted it to happen anywhere else.’ she said. ‘She always said it was where she spent the happiest years of her life.’

Henry looked at her distractedly. ‘So you can pronounce “w”, Rosa.’

‘It was just for Daisy, to nudge her memory.’ she replied sadly.

‘It’s Alan’s memorial bench.’ said a voice from the back of the group.

Henry stared. ‘What?’

Peering closely at the brass plate screwed onto the backrest, he read out, “This bench was placed here by the cryptographers of Hut 8 in loving memory of our dear friend and supreme guiding light Alan Turing who on June 7th 1954 solved the greatest enigma of all. Sit you down and rest a while.” *?*


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## SueC (Jan 20, 2018)

Topcol, this was nice. I will say up front that the spacing was an issue for me. I had trouble reading it, even when I enlarged the page. There are no returns in between paragraphs and it really is too bad, because I think it might keep others from reading it all. I did, however, and found it to be a very sweet. 

There were a couple of terms used that I was not familiar with, but eventually I figured it out and the visuals were very good. I love this kind of story that speaks of kindness and remembrance. I think you did a good job. 

When I cut and paste my work, I always go through it for corrections and formatting before I post. I know a lot of people have complained about the spacing issue, but it is not a problem for me since I editing after I have pasted. I don't know if you can do that or not, but I think it would be worth a try for the next time. Or maybe you can try editing your post now.

Anyway, it was great to read such work. I hope you continue.


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## Roac (Jan 20, 2018)

This is a really great little story. Heart-warming and touching. It was very easy to envision the bus load of seniors having a joyous day out together.

Apart from the formatting issues that make it difficult to read I did find a couple of POV issues with the story.

Near the end you make a nice (and in my opinion) correct change using the * to show the break to Henry’s POV. However, in the first part I noticed two instances where the POV changed or was not clear.

The first was with the Reverend. I initially thought the main character was him because you start the story with him and mention that he still talks to his late wife in the car. Then you switch to Daisy’s POV as she reaches the pub. Is the part with the Reverend necessary for the story? Or could you take this encounter from Daisy’s POV and have her notice the Reverend driving up to her as she slowly makes her way to the pub?

The second was when Henry showed the flask. At this point you provide a sentence in the view point of Henry.



topcol said:


> Henry nodded and smiled. He decided not to tell Daisy it was a copy, he having pawned the original during a period of unemployment in the austere 1950s when MI6 returned to pre-war staffing levels.


 
This shouldn’t be said this way if Daisy is the MC and the story is in her POV.

These are quite minor comments and easily fixed (if you want to) in what otherwise is a really enjoyable read. Thanks for posting it!


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## topcol (Jan 20, 2018)

SueC, thank you so much for your very encouraging comments. The story is the 2nd one in an anthology I completed last in 2016. I will certainly edit the layout as you advise. I'll also take greater care with any future writings. I copied/pasted it from Word and I was somewhat put out to see how different it appeared on here.

What were the terms you had difficulty with? When I was a young man, the word charabanc (pron. 'sharabang') was still used by people of my parents' generation when referring to coaches.

My fiction is almost always based on real life incidents adapted to fit differing genres. I really enjoy using dialogue to fill out my characters and I've found I have a certain talent for humour.

Alan Turing is one of my heroes, by the way, and I attended 3 training courses at Bletchley Park when working for British Telecom in 1988 - 92.

Thank you again, topcol


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## topcol (Jan 20, 2018)

Hi, ROAC, thanks a lot for your comments. I have to confess that I had to google POV because it was new to me.

I always try to depict my characters as more than just 2 dimensional hence the extra snippet of information about the vicar. I began with him in order to give the reader an idea of Daisy's appearance, age and personal history without actually using a list to do this. This was also my motivation in describing Henry's mental reaction to Daisy's remark about the flask. I don't feel that it interferes with the flow of the story though other readers might well agree with your POV, so to speak.

Daisy is actually not the main character, my intention in writing the story was to commemorate the death of Alan Turing in the hope that the reader would be intrigued enough to find out more about this great man, father of the modern computer and now believed by many to have significantly contributed to the Allied victory and to have shortened WW2 by at least 2 years.

My thanks again, topcol


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## Jay Greenstein (Jan 21, 2018)

Okay, take a deep breath. This may sting. BUT: bear in mind that nothing I'm about to say has to do with good/bad writing, your talent and potential, or the story. 



> Reverend Tresco gently brought his old Volvo estate to a stop by the  kerb as he recognised the elderly pedestrian he had just passed.


Here' you place effect before cause, by having the man stop the car, then notice the reason for stopping. As a storyteller you can do that, but in life, for the man living the story cause always comes before effect. It's his story, so instead of you, someone whose voice the reader can't hear, talking _about_ the story, why not let him live it.

Minor point: Since you don't capitalize the car's model, the man is somehow driving a piece of real estate. Major point: Since the reader can't see the scene, and since the year, kind, and model of the car are irrelevant to the story, why mention it?

Next: What's the difference between "he _had_ just passed," and "he just passed." Every word you can remove makes the story read faster, for more impact.

And finally: The man did not recognize "an elderly pedestrian." He recognized the woman by name (in fact, with the words I assumed a male because you gave no reason not to), and he stopped for a reason.

Here's the deal, as Mark Twain saw it:                   “[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Don't say the old _lady screamed__. __Bring her on and let her scream__.” _In short, don't talk about the story as a dispassionate outside observer. Don't explain. Entertain, instead. Make the reader live the story, not be told about the events in it. And never have the character speak for no purpose other than to make the reader know what's happening in the story, because to a reader it's obvious—and annoying. You say, 





> ‘Hullo, there’s old Daisy, dressed like something out of Brief     Encounter and wearing her medals, too. Looking a bit unsteady on her  pins, I’ll see if she needs a lift.’


 You say it only to make the reader know what he saw, what he thought about it, and what he decided to do. Problem is, no man ever, thought something as convoluted as that in words, so it's obvious what you're doing. In reality, without thinking it over, he saw the woman, reacted to the situation, and stopped. Do you have to explain why the window is down? No. If he stops and talks the reader will guess that the window is open, or that he opened it. Does it matter that he leaned over the passenger seat, as against talking from the driver's seat? Would anything change were she on the driver's side and he calling across the street? No. So why force the reader to plow through that explanation? Visual detail like that is wasted because the reader cannot see what you mention and it has no relevancy to the action. You mention "A Brief Encounter as if the term has relevancy to your reader. But which character? Film or book version? Never assume the reader has read/seen _anything,_ and remembers/understands as you do.

So in his viewpoint, it would be more like:

Reverend Tresco pulled his car to the kerb, calling, ‘Good morning Miss Brackenshaw. Can I drop you off somewhere?’ Old Daisy looked to be a bit unsteady on her pins this day, so this...

But forget that, because we have a bigger problem: The opening clearly tells rthe reader that the driver is the protagonist. When the woman says no, the reader expects him to drive off..._with us._ Given that the man isn't in the scene, and all she says to him is no before he vanished, there is no reason for the story to begin here.

What you're doing is describing the film you're mentally watching, talking about what _you_ see, without giving the reader any sense of the scene. Where are we? No way to tell. Why does it matter to the plot that someone asked her if she needed a lift? It doesn't. How old is she? Why should I care about her? What does the neighborhood look like? Dunno. What's going on? Can't tell.

You know all that. The people in the story know that. But the ones you wrote this for—the people who should be _wanting_ to hear more, have not a clue_._ But fair is fair. Shouldn't they be in on it?

So here's the problem you need to address: You, like so many hopeful writers are transcribing yourself telling this story aloud. You report the events on overview, and explain their relevancy, exactly as you would on stage. But…

Who but you can hear your golden voice? No one. So all the emotion you place in your voice as you read is gone. Have your computer read it aloud and you'll hear what the reader does.

The way you deliver the story—the cadence and intensity changes, the hesitations for effect? All gone. The gestures with which you visually punctuate? The facial expressions that illustrate emotion? Your body Language? All gone, as well, because the print medium does not carry or reproduce _your performance._

Our medium is very different, and rigidly enforces the result of those differences, which means that you either make them work _for_ you or they trip you up. But since thousands of never-before-published writers make it every year, that brings me back to the first thing I said: Nothing I've said has to do with good/bad writing, your talent and potential, or the story. It had to do with the effect of trying to write fiction for the page while using the skills of another medium. And that is fixable. Specifically, if I can learn a bit of it anyone can. For all we know you're awash in talent. But until that talent is given the tools it needs, and the knowledge of how to use them, it's potential, only.

So hit the fiction writing section of the library. It can be a huge resource. We have writing articles here, and more on the Internet (some of them mine). Make use of them all as a springboard. With a few of the tricks of the trade—the tricks the pros use—the job becomes both more manageable and more fun.

So have at it. And whatever you do, hang in there, and keep on writing.


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## topcol (Jan 22, 2018)

Jay Greenstein said:


> Okay, take a deep breath. This may sting. BUT: bear in mind that nothing I'm about to say has to do with good/bad writing, your talent and potential, or the story.
> _I'm perfectly unstung, Jay, all criticism is useful._
> 
> Here' you place effect before cause, by having the man stop the car, then notice the reason for stopping. As a storyteller you can do that, but in life, for the man living the story cause always comes before effect. It's his story, so instead of you, someone whose voice the reader can't hear, talking _about_ the story, why not let him live it.
> ...


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## topcol (Jan 22, 2018)

Afternoon, SueC. I've amended Daisy's story after receiving a very detailed critique. What do you think of the changes, please?
Thanks a lot, topcol


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## topcol (Jan 22, 2018)

Hi again, Roac. I've amended Daisy's story, trying to follow the advice of another critic. Hope it works for you.
Thanks a lot.
topcol


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## topcol (Jan 22, 2018)

Hi again, Jay. I've now amended Daisy's story in an attempt to follow your advice. How is it now?
Thanks a lot.
topcol


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## Roac (Jan 22, 2018)

Topcol, I like the edits a lot. The beginning reads much better now that you have focused the story on Daisy. Very well done!

One minor suggestion would be to add an extra line above and below the * to help show the change in the story. With the current formatting it is hard to tell.


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## SueC (Jan 22, 2018)

Good job!


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## Roac (Jan 22, 2018)

topcol said:


> Daisy is actually not the main character, my intention in writing the story was to commemorate the death of Alan Turing in the hope that the reader would be intrigued enough to find out more about this great man, father of the modern computer and now believed by many to have significantly contributed to the Allied victory and to have shortened WW2 by at least 2 years.




And thanks for mentioning this. I am about to google Alan Turing.


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## topcol (Jan 22, 2018)

Thanks, Roac, will add the line as you suggest.
topcol


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## Jay Greenstein (Jan 23, 2018)

> Daisy shut the door of her neat little bungalow and, leaning heavily on  her  stick, she walked down the gravel path. Turning left into the  close, she accidentally brushed against the tall privet hedge, almost  dislodging her medals.


Better...but you're still telling the reader a story, primarily by acting as the camera and reporting visuals in the camera's field of view. It might make sense to mention that she lived in a house. And by mentioning the stick, tell the reader that she has problems walking. But: She never has problems walking again, and you never mention the stick again. So what purpose does it serve? We don't know how old she is, or where she is in time and space, so why, at this point, waste any words on her infirmity that's not an actual infirmity?

As a minor point, look at "she walked." Given that this section follows an "and" clause, without that "she" and presented as  "...and, leaning heavily on  her  stick, walked down the gravel path." it's her walking. With that added "she" it's you telling the reader she walked, a more distant approach that places you among the actors.

But that aside, how can she walk down "the" gravel path when the reader knows of none, nor where it leads? I have no gravel path by my door, and know no one who has one, so the term brings no image—especially given that I don't know how long it is or where it leads. And, which way is "down?" Wouldn't, "She took the sidewalk toward..." be both more clear and direct? You're thinking in terms of visuals, and of small visual detail, but telling the reader it's a "gravel path" gives us nothing useful because only you know what the place looks like.''





> Turning left into the close, she accidentally brushed against the tall privet hedge, almost dislodging her medals.


More irrelevant visual detail. You just told the reader that something _didn't_ happen. She may have nearly fallen, or nearly said, "Oh shit!" But she didn't. Don't waste a reader's time with irrelevant detail, and never tell them about things that might have happened, but didn't, unless it's directly relevant to the plot/scene/character development.

You have to remember that if it takes more time to read about doing something than to do it in the real world the story moves in slow motion. And to prevent that, we need to trim anything non-essential and take some things into account:

• Include nothing that does not relate directly to the action in progress. And because movement is not action, telling the reader that people said hello to her as she walked is irrelevant. Yes, it happened, and in the film there would be a quick shot of it to show the scene's ambiance. But in film it would include how everyone is dressed, how the neighborhood looked, the weather, the age and situation of the people, and a million other things. Done this way it tells us of things we have no interest in, and which impact the plot not at all. 
• In line with the above, include nothing that does not move the plot, develop character, or meaningfully set the scene.
• In order to reduce clutter, and make the story move, forget what matters to you. Present what matters to _her_ enough that she will react to it in a way that matters to the story. In your own life, from waking to sleep your life is an unbroken chain of motivation followed by response. Something catches your attention and you react to it, which probably determines what you will next focus on. And if you and I base our lives on that chain, can she live otherwise and seem real to us? Take a look at this article. It's one very powerful way to place that chain into action, and draw the reader into the story. It's well worth the time needed to chew on it till it makes sense.

Sorry my news isn't better. But I hope this helps.


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## Jay Greenstein (Jan 24, 2018)

> _As an ex-English teacher, I employ the Past Perfect for actions which  precede the Simple Past. I know it's falling into disuse as a  grammatical structure even here in the UK but I use it for precision and  it's only one three-letter word._


You miss the point. Only _you_ can employ past perfect. So this can't be her living the story, only you talking about it. But you're not in the story, or on the scene. It is her story, and the reader expects to experience it, not hear about it. So every time you appear on stage, as yourself, you still the scene-clock, kill any momentum that may have built in the scene, and take the reader out of the story.





> _
> For instance, compare "When she arrived, he left." with "When she arrived, he had left._


 Exactly the same problem. It's the narrator reporting, not her reacting. You might use the reporter's overview between active scenes, to "rubber-band time" in which nothing significan happens. But stop the action to report and the scene-clock dies.

My point, over all, is that we aren't telling the reader a story. The written word won't support that because while the narrator can tell the reader how a given character speaks a line, and the body language involved, we cannot tell the reader how to speak the narrator's lines, so of necessity, they come across as the dispassionate words of an external observer—informational, not emotional.

It's a really hard point to internalize because all our training in writing, during our school years is to prepare us to be self-sufficient auults who are prepared for the needs of commerce, so we can be useful and employed adults. And so, we learn fact-based and author-centric writing, exclusively. Yes, our teachers do assign stories, but the assignments are graded by teachers, who themselves, know only fact-based and author-centric writing skills. So what they praise is unrelated to what an acquiring editor would praise—which is a good part of why fully 75% of submissions are seen as "unreadable," which is their term, not mine.

Som after twelve years of schooling, at least, and perhaps ears of refining those skills on the job and in life, it's damn hard to even see that the problem exists. And pretty much anyone we ask, having come through the same system, will agree that we're writing just fine, and that there is no need to change. 

That's why I so often suggest Dwight Swain's, _Techniques of the Selling Writer_. I didn't find it till after I'd written six unsold novels, certain that I was doing it right. But then, after a paid critique showed that I literally knew nothing about writing fiction for publication, I read that book and had my eyes opened. Given that I sold the next novel I submitted, it must have helped. And 1n 2016, someone, angry that no matter how he tried and rewrote, I kept saying the same thing about his writing, bought a copy. He was bent on showing me that the book was useless. But apparently it wasn't, because he thanked me on the dedication page of his first novel sale. Certainly, I take no credit for his success, other then pointing him to  a good resource. But given the number of five star reviews for the book on Amazon, and the fact that Swain is often quoted in other books on writing, it just might be worth taking a look at.


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