Ribbons in the Valley | Short Story

The smell of coal smoke hangs low in the valley, skeined in ribbons of mauve and grey. As the nights draw in, it is the smell which welcomes the men home, filthy and goggle-eyed.

Straight to the outdoor tap, where mountain-cold water brings new aches to already weary bones. Hands move slowly, deliberately, the joints already worn from a day’s work. They will not be allowed in to eat until they are immaculate.

Under the whitewashed eaves it is stifling, but it is not the closeness which encased them underground. It is a heat born of life and food and the day being done. There is sound, but not deadened by coaldust or echoing across joists. It is the sound of crockery being drawn from the dresser, the sound of children’s chatter, self-centred and joyous.

Thanks for reading folks. Recent short stories include ‘Passing Traffic‘ and ‘A Shadow World‘.

Matthew Richardson is a writer of short stories. His work has featured in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Close to the Bone, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, Cafelit, Best MicroFiction 2021, Writer’s Egg, Idle Ink, The Wild Word, Down in the Dirt, and Shooter magazine. He has a Professional Doctorate in Education. Matthew blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com.

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