Every month I put a FREE short story on here. Here’s the story for April 2026.
Sunshine After Rain
CRASH! I watch in horror as my jar of coffee topples from on top of my supplies, hits the car park concrete and explodes. I don’t believe it. It’s the second disaster of the day. The first was getting horribly lost on the way to the campsite and having to wake the farmer to let me in. Now I’m struggling to unload the last of my supplies from the boot of my car. I curse softly and put the supplies back. I need something to brush up the broken glass and freeze dried coffee but the only brushes I have with me are my hairbrush and my toothbrush. My heart sinks. Eventually I manage to gather it all up using my windscreen scraper.
I’d chosen the camping weekend as an antidote to life in the city and a way of getting over Josh, my ex. I saw it as a chance for me to re-build my shattered self-esteem, restore my confidence, and prove to myself that I didn’t need a man in my life to make it complete. So far it wasn’t going well.
I sigh and focus my thoughts on the happy times I had camping with my parents. To me it meant freedom, wet wellies and pink skies. I recall the smell of the damp grass, shimmering with morning dew, wood smoke drifting across the fields and the sulphur glow of campfire embers in the twilight. What terrific holidays we’d had: long lazy days filled with fun and laughter. I wanted to re-capture some of that carefree idleness. I’d forgotten about the isolation and lack of open-all-hours shops.
The misery in my stomach turns to lead. I gaze around. In the stillness of the night I hear the distant hum of traffic on the motorway. The neon lights of the garage half-a-mile away, peek over the hedgerows. I’d called there earlier to ask directions. The guy at the cash desk had been friendly. According to the badge on his lapel his name was Davy and he was ‘here to serve you.’ I smile at the memory.
On a whim, I had bought a bottle of wine and some chocolate. In his blue and white checked shirt, that did nothing to disguise his muscular build, he had the sort of rugged good looks you only see on movie screens.
When I ask the way to the campsite, he ran his fingers through his unruly shock of dark hair; his liquid brown eyes sparkled with mirth.
“Down for the weekend, are you?” he said. “Picked a good one from the look of it. You can’t beat the freshness of a bright spring morning.” The soft country burr in his voice gave me goose-bumps, but I wasn’t going to be seduced by his charm. I’ve been there, done that, got the broken heart to prove it.
Josh’s charm and charisma oozed out of him like kapok from an overstuffed cushion. He was a high-flying city boy so smooth he could run through puddles without making a splash. I fell for the glamour, the glitz and the neon lights, the promises and the pretence. He was a townie through and through ‒ his idea of a walk in the country was taking a short cut through the park. He turned my life upside down. When we broke up my world shattered into a thousand pieces. I shudder and shake off the memories.
In my tent I zip myself into my heavy fleece, pick up my torch and set off along the lane to the garage. The light from the torch plays on the ground ahead of me. The fields are eerily silent with only the slightest whisper of a breeze rustling the leaves. I gaze in awe at the canopy of stars in the night sky. A shiver runs down my spine, although it isn’t cold. I breathe in the invigorating, fresh night air.
By the time I reach the garage my heart is pounding. I push the door open and step into the blaze of fluorescent light. There’s no one else in the shop, only Davy and me. I pick a jar of coffee off the shelf and add a packet of bourbon biscuits for good measure. At the cash desk, Davy beams me the sort of mega-watt smile that would melt lead at one hundred paces. I’m not going there, I think, trying to block the thoughts that crowd my mind. A shiver runs down my spine. He is gorgeous.
I shift my gaze to the poster on the wall to avoid eye contact. A huge clown’s face stares back at me. Garish and bright the poster advertises a circus just outside of town.
I haven’t been to the circus in years. The last time was when I was six and my Dad took my sister and me as a treat. We sat on hay-bales at the front, mesmerised by the horses, elephants, dogs, acrobats, high-wire walkers and trapeze artists as they performed in turn. I recall the pounding hooves and the hurdy-gurdy music: the noisy confusion of the clowns, the razzmatazz, bright sequined costumes and the sombre authority of the scarlet-coated ringmaster trying to keep control. But most of all I remember the sheer joy and excitement of the afternoon. It’s so real I can almost smell sawdust, greasepaint and candyfloss. A warm glow fills my chest at the memory of the clown throwing a bucket of what we thought was water over Dad. It turned out to be confetti. We screamed, first in horror, then with laughter. It had been magical.
I must be smiling because Davy says, “Do you like the circus? Would you like to go?” Our hands touch as he hands me my change. I feel heat rising up my neck until I’m sure my face is as red as the clown’s nose.
“Only I’ve got some tickets,” he says. “Free because I put up the poster.” He nods at the poster. “I thought perhaps tomorrow, it’s my day off….”
I know I have a voice, I just can’t find it. My smile must have morphed into a look of horror because Davy shrugs and stutters, “Unless you’ve something else planned.”
His smile fades and a flush of pink creeps across his cheeks. He turns quickly away, but not before I catch the flash of pain in his puppy-dog eyes.
My heart somersaults. I feel awful.
“Or I could just give you the ticket I suppose…” he says.
I take a breath. My resistance dissolves like sugar in hot tea. “No, tomorrow will be great,” I say. “Fantastic. What time?”
The grin spreading across his face is like sunshine after rain. I sigh with happiness. Well, I think, no fun going to the circus on your own, is it?
If you enjoyed this story there are many more in my short Story Collections here.
