Winter

I wrote this to Anonymous' first prompt.  It follows on from On The Edge of Disaster.

The cargo haulers had made their drops on the edge of the storm front and skittered back home again on the leading edge of the storm front.  Iphana hadn’t had time to watch them go, she was too busy hauling her supplies inside.  The loads were too heavy for her to move on her own but she had equipment in the workshop that could shift them and she needed all the help she had.  The storms made their presence known first at higher altitudes but it wouldn’t be long before they were here at ground level and anything she didn’t have inside by then she would have to count as lost.  Once the supplies were in she’d be right for the winter, the fuel used for her heating and generator was the one supply that had never been short delivered.

She wasn’t clear what the “problem” was that had prevented her from being brought into the settlement for the winter, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with why the hawler drivers would never stay and talk to her for a few minutes, even if she’d spent twelve hours working on a rig to get it moving again.  She been doubly careful with her personal hygiene in case her body or her breath ponged and she hadn’t noticed, but to no avail.  Frankly the isolation had been getting to her, she hadn’t even had any mail for months.  She’d been looking forward to winter in the settlement.

It was a close run thing in the end.  Iphana drove the forklift into the workshop for the last time and hit the button to close the inner door just as the gale force winds laced with ice particles hit.  For a few seconds as the roller door descended she felt the full force of the winter storm, then the door was down and the simple absence of the wind was blessed warmth.  A second button raised the solid winter door from under the ground and when it was in place the roller door stopped undulating in the wind.

Getting into dry clothes then sorting and storing her supplies were the next jobs but something made her stop in her tracks.

Sitting in one of the cargo drop loads, still enclosed in the cargo net, was a large, bright yellow mail bag.

Planning For Friction

I wrote this to aldersprig's first prompt.

“It’s my wedding and that’s what I want!”  Anna crossed her arms and stamped her foot.  It already had been such a long and difficult day that no-one pointed out to her how childish that was.  Anna didn’t want to relinquish any control of her wedding, even to a professional.

“Hibiscus and frangipani in winter,” the wedding planner Anna and Lissa’s mother had finally hired to take the burden of dealing with the bridezilla made a note.  “You do realise that if you pick something that’s in season then you’ll have more money for other things?”

“Daddy said he’ll pay for anything I want,” Anna pouted.

The wedding planner looked at Mrs Renfrew, mother of the bride-to-be, who simply nodded helplessly.

“So, frangipani and hibiscus then.”  The wedding planner made notes.  “Is that for the church, the tables and the bouquet?”

“Yes,” said Anna.

“Now you’ve already booked Kenstall Hall for the reception.  The ballroom I understand from your notes?”

“Yes,” beamed Anna.  “I’ve settled the menu with them but I don’t have a DJ yet.”

“What is the menu?”  The wedding planner had her pen poised over her notes.

“Asian-style prawn cocktail, followed by gluten-free chicken cacciatore and a pavlova with cream and fruit for dessert.”  Anna added as an afterthought, “I thought that the table settings could have those large cloth napkins people tuck into their necklines to protect their clothes from the sauce.”

“That’s a good idea,” murmured the planner making a note.

Mrs Renfrew cut across her, protesting, “But you need to have a vegetarian option for your Aunty Neala and her family!  I keep telling you-”

“Mummy, gluten free looks after everyone we’re asking who has a food related medical condition.”  Anna pouted again.  “Aunty Neala has spent years serving up inedible concoctions and telling me to eat up because that’s all there was.  Now she can have a dose of her own medicine.  At least we know the mushrooms in the cacciatore won’t be toadstools – she almost killed Lissa that one time.”  Anna flashed a genuine smile at her sister sitting quietly out of the line of fire.  She turned back to the wedding planner, “Oh, and my cousin Maide will probably want her children to sit with her so she can make sure they stick to the eating plan she has them on – we’ll put her at the children’s table.”

Mrs Renfrew realised something, “Frangipani, no vegetarian option, Maide.  Anna, are you doing this to get back of people?”

Anna was astonished.  “Of course I am, Mummy.  I imagine the frangipani will make Aunt Estelle sneeze for hours.  I’m the bride and they can do what I want for once.  Which reminds me,” she turned to her sister, “I’m sorry to do this to you, Lissa, but as Gloria insists on being a bridesmaid I’m going to put you all in puce.”

“Puce?”  Lissa looked bemused.  “She’ll be furious!”

Anna smiled.  “Good.”