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    The Third Book of Short Stories
    The Third Book of Short Stories
    The Third Book of Short Stories
    Ebook49 pages38 minutes

    The Third Book of Short Stories

    By Lyn Funnell

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    About this ebook

    The Third book in the Short Stories by Lyn Funnell series of easy reading stories that cover a variety of situations, places and characters. My Box, Village People, Neddie the Nerd, The Newsmaker and more will keep you entertained while your on the move, enjoying a quite Sunday or reading in bed.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGA&P ePublishing
    Release dateJul 10, 2014
    ISBN9781849893671
    The Third Book of Short Stories

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      Book preview

      The Third Book of Short Stories - Lyn Funnell

      Title Page

      The Third Book of Short Stories

      By

      Lyn Funnell

      Publisher Information

      The Third Book of Short Stories published in 2011 by

      Andrews UK Limited

      www.andrewsuk.com

      This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

      The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

      Copyright © Lyn Funnell

      The right of Lyn Funnell to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

      My Box

      I live in this box.

      It’s not just any old box; it’s my Special Box. My Home. My Permanent Residence, in a Pedestrian Subway.

      Sounds posh, doesn’t it?

      I don’t know how long I’ve lived here. Days blend and blur. I’m not sure how old I am now. The postman doesn’t deliver birthday cards to my box!

      Over the years I’ve collected things; rags, newspapers, clothes, that bottle there. Nice shape isn’t it? It’s Portuguese. And my tin. People drop money in it as they hurry past. Funny, they never look at me or talk to me. It’s like I’m invisible. I used to talk to them. They’d pull a funny painful face, lower their heads and rush away without answering. I don’t bother now. And they never touch my stuff. I can leave it all day and nobody nicks a thing!

      Once I was beautiful. I was! Could get any bloke I wanted.

      And what did I do? Picked the wrong one, that’s what I did. Boy, did he change after the wedding! Drank like a fish and beat me black and blue.

      Couldn’t spare a fag while I’m telling you this, could you? It upsets me, the past. Cheers mate – and I’ll take one for later if that’s alright. You’re a star, mate. Nice lighter. Disposable isn’t it? That’d come in handy for lighting fires to warm me up. Oh thanks! I appreciate it.

      Anyway, I started having a few drinks before he came home – to ease the pain. And one day he didn’t come home.

      I only found out he hadn’t paid the mortgage or any bills for months when the bailiffs chucked me out. Then Social Services took our kids into care. I haven’t seen them since.

      Vaguely I remember walking around and crying. I bought some gin and aspirins. I think I was going to top myself.

      Some bloke asked what was the matter, then he took me against a wall. I didn’t care any more. He said he’d pay me, but he stole my handbag instead, with the aspirins in it and all my money.

      So I staggered along. Everything was dark. No daylight. Then I collapsed beside the river and waited to die.

      And they found me. The people who live in the

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