Hugh Roberts is a writer and blogger, now living in Abergavenny, South Wales.
Although Hugh suffers from a mild form of dyslexia, he doesn’t allow it to stop him writing. He has a passion for reading and writing short stories, many of which come with an unexpected twist.
Hugh is hoping to publish his first collection of Short Stories towards the end of 2016.
Sarah says: I’m delighted to welcome Hugh Roberts as this month’s guest storyteller. But be warned, his “unexpected twists” often have a wickedly dark edge to them, as you’re about to discover –shades of Roald Dahl, even.
To read more of his tales, plus some helpful snippets about the art of blogging, you can find him at Hugh’s Views and News.
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The Gingerbread House
Here’s the photo I took of it. Do you like it?
Yes, it took a lot of time making that gingerbread house. Mum was not very pleased about all the mess in the kitchen, but when Johnny volunteered to help me clean everything up and I agreed to make her a cup of tea, she went back to her computer upstairs and said nothing else about it.
The gingerbread house was a huge hit at Mum’s birthday party. Everybody loved it and said how nice it looked as the centrepiece of the table. We even used our favourite sweets to decorate the house. Yes, we ate some of the sweets as we decorated the cake, but there was enough left to finish it off. Mum was well pleased with it and Dad said it was the best birthday cake he had ever seen. He was the one that took the photo.
At Mum’s birthday party, the following day, everyone was eager to have a slice of the gingerbread house, but Dad said we had to eat the sandwiches, cheese and pineapple on sticks, and sausage-rolls first before Mum could cut into it while we all sang happy birthday to her. Mum was quite emotional as she made the first cut and we all thought it was because she hated the fuss of birthdays and being the centre of attention.
Mum had been upset the day before, not only because of the mess we were making but because she said the picture of the gingerbread house we were baking from the recipe book looked like Grandma’s house. Grandma and Mum were very close and when Grandma went to heaven to become an angel, we were all very upset. Johnny and I were so pleased with the gingerbread house and that it reminded Mum of Grandma’s house. Johnny is nearly eight and I’m ten in three and three-quarters months’ time.
After the birthday party had finished we agreed to help Mum and Dad clear up. Dad asked Mum if she wanted to keep the cake board the gingerbread house had stood on, seeing as the whole lot had been eaten. While Dad cleaned the cake board, Mum sat down in her favourite chair and noticed that the lid of Grandma’s canister, that they call an urn, was not on correctly. She asked Dad about it and he said he hadn’t touched it.
It wasn’t until Johnny told Mum and Dad that he’d emptied what was in Grandma’s canister into the mixing bowl, because he wanted to put Grandma back into her house, that the screaming and crying started. Even Dad was upset. I had no idea what Johnny had done while I made Mum that cup of tea and took it up to her. I didn’t even notice a difference in the mixture when I came back and Johnny was making a wish as he stirred everything with the big wooden spoon.
However, it doesn’t matter to Johnny and me because we still believe Grandma is an angel.
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Sarah Potter Writes 