Short Stories
In addition to being a bestselling novelist, Escott shines in short fiction as well.
See a selection of her work below.
You made your bed, now lay in it
Tara’s fingers fumbled for the pen and paper she kept by the sink. She heard the truck pull up and ran to the kitchen window with hopes of writing down the licence plate number but it was too dark. They always waited until night fall to dump their garbage on the road behind her house.
She couldn’t understand it. The city dump was a five minute drive away. They accepted all garbage for free yet people continued to treat the road behind her Newfoundland Housing unit like a dumping ground.
It irritated her to no end. What really made her mad was it happened on a weekly basis. One day it was an old dishwasher. Another a box spring and mattress. Then a discarded TV.
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Stealing Her Recycling
A Snapshot of Life.
(My blog is not only about funny parts of my life but also where I feature my short stories. This short story was inspired by real events but I’ve protected the name of the guilty.)
"I am calling the cops," she yelled over her shoulder. Her fingers holding open the blinds as she peaked through the slats. "It's theft. They're stealing people's property" she informed him.
He pulled his gaze away from the TV screen toward his wife who was standing in front of the big Bay window in their front room. He knew better than to argue with her once she got something into her mind.
The Old Lady and the Tea
People watching is my favourite sport.
I love sitting in a public place watching people go by. Guessing at what they do, who they are, what their lives are like. It can entertain me for hours.
It was on one of my trips to the mall when I noticed her.
She sat alone in the Avalon Mall Food Court drinking her tea from a Tim Horton's paper cup. I knew it was tea because of her age. She was in her late 70s or early 80s. That age range came to mind because she had an uncanny resemblance to my mother. Her gray hair was short with the type of curls that could only come from rollers and setting lotion. Her black Sears rain coat was open revealing a white T-shirt with a floral design around the neck. Her polyester blue pants had a permanent crease in the legs and her sneakers, which I am sure she had chosen for comfort, had seen better days.
She sipped her tea and stared blankly ahead. Not noticing anyone around her. Just deep in thought. It was noon. If this was my mother she would have wanted a sandwich or soup with her tea.
