Storytelling Sunday 2: The Words The Pictures

Welcome to Storytelling Sunday! It's the first day of April - are we going to hear some tall tales today? No time to waste, we'd better get started and find out..

My story is a true one. A sequel to last month's yarn about my aunt and her supply of teddy bears. It goes like this:

Smoke Got in my Eyes

Once upon a time (as some of you already know) I had an aunt called Ed. Ed was an excellent kind of aunt to have, even though my school friends refused to believe that she existed ("you can't have an aunt called Ed, she must be your uncle"). But she lived far away and we hardly ever saw her and this was a pity. She was a bit racier than the kind of aunt we were used to on the other side of the family. In her youth she had enjoyed riding about on the sidecar of my dad's motorbike; and she liked a visit to bingo, followed by a quick nip of whisky. Her indulgences (and the other side believed there were many) ranged from filling her bath completely full (what a waste of hot water) to using tinned potatoes (we only have fresh here). Personally, I love a big bath and I'm a fan of potato in any form. Top of the list, though? She smoked.

Anyway, one day, when Auntie Ed was in her eighties and suffering very badly with arthritis, she phoned, right out of the blue, to say she was coming for one last visit. Her plane ticket was booked and could we pick her up from the airport, half past three, Monday. There's lovely. (She was Welsh.) We ran about getting ready, making essential preparations for the arrival of one very sick, but very feisty, old lady. What was the first thing I bought? An ash tray, of course.

So, she arrived. And we had a wonderful time. I drove her about in my new car, that week. She admired it greatly, even though the low seats probably made her uncomfortable. She stroked the badge and asked me if I could maybe go a little bit faster, really let the engine roar?

And then Auntie Ed went home.

Auntie Edna, with me. On an earlier visit

Of course, some time after that we got the call we had all been dreading. Auntie Ed had passed away and we were very sad. I was thinking about her the next morning as I unlocked that car and got in. I drove down the street and I kept on thinking about her and suddenly, suddenly, I could smell cigarette smoke. It was all around me, filling up my nose and settling into my sweater; and there was nowhere it could possibly have come from. The road was empty and the vents were closed. I breathed deeply and what came to me was Ed's raucous laugh and her wildly generous nature. I looked again to see where the cigarette smell could be coming from. But there was nobody there. Or maybe there was. You decide.

And that's my story for this month. Have you got one to share? Of course you have! A photo and a few words (or maybe the few words without the photo?) or something a bit longer. I love them all! Create your post with an introduction (so your readers know what's going on) and a link back here and come on over. The linky stays open all week, so if your story isn't ready for Sunday - no worries!

The small print - which I'm not making small because I would like you to read it. I firmly believe we are telling stories in the round here. One person starts and then turns to the next. You can't do it in isolation. So I'm asking everyone who adds a link to say hello to at least a couple of the other storytellers. To make this even easier, how about turning off word verification, just for today. Please think about it. Now, let's read..