Oh. My. Dog! #37

Posted: January 8, 2017 in Flash Fiction, Oh. My. Dog!
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Lynx and I had agreed on visiting the cemetery the following Saturday. As the train was due to leave York station at 10 o’clock, I had time for a second mug of coffee before getting on the way. Walking briskly, Bud and I arrived at the station with nearly twenty minutes to spare; heading into the café I ordered a coffee and a cinnamon roll to go. Both were long gone when Lynx arrived at the platform – right as the train entered the station.

We boarded the train and found our seats; I let Bud to the window, knowing how much he enjoyed watching the world go by.

It was cloudy when we left the train, meeting none of the villagers on our way to the small cemetery where only the ravens greeted us. Bud led us to Lynx father’s grave. Lynx was pale as she took a minuscule plant from her bag. Carefully, she planted the arbor vitae in a corner.

Bud gently nudged her and she got up. I could see her tears despite the heavy shower that soaked us through within seconds.

“Do you think they let the tree there?”

“I’m confident – they’ll think it was the gardener.”


Oh. My. Dog! #36

Posted: December 11, 2016 in Flash Fiction, Oh. My. Dog!
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We left Mrs Cairns and James in animated conversation; they didn’t seem to notice that we were gone.

I unlocked my door, instantly revealing the whole flat. Compared to Lynx’s accommodation it was tiny, completely furnished by my landlords.

I grabbed two bottles of sparkling water and switched on the coffee machine.

This is nice. Like a lottery win, having your own ‘house’, a landlady like Mrs Cairns…”

You cannot complain about your flat, Lynx!”

Lynx clenched her fists. “I know, it’s mine. Do you know why? My father didn’t like my lifestyle. He bought that flat in my name, left me 18 000 £, telling me to never contact him again!”

Bud laid his paw on my knee. I saw a graveyard, and an inscription. ‘Final battle’ was often used for patients who did not survive cancer.

Bud’s eyes locked with mine. He seemed to ask if he should show it to Lynx as well. I nodded, edging closer to her. She gasped on seeing the images, unshed tears started running freely. I held her, Bud snuggled close; Lynx’s finally taking a deep breath ended our group hug.

Could you please come with me to the cemetery? I can’t do that alone.”

Dear friends and readers,

cover_inasmallcompass_1It has finally happened: My first book, In a Small Compass – Vol. 1, was published on November 30, 2016 as a multi-format ebook by Smashwords. As many of you may know, the book comprises my first 15 (optimised!) short stories. I hope you’ll take time to check it out at Smashwords, where you can download the book for free.

In a Small Compass – Vol. 1 is available at many retailers. Mobi format is available at Smashwords.

Buy/download links:  books2read.com/u/m0zodW

I am looking forward to your feedback and reviews.  🙂

Best wishes,


Oh. My. Dog! #35

Posted: November 13, 2016 in Flash Fiction, Oh. My. Dog!
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Mrs Cairns’ high tea was delicious – as always. Throughout the meal, I felt Bud’s watchful eyes on me. He sensed my restlessness; he presumably knew the reason why.

Why don’t we go outside, our garden is beautiful on bright autumn days like this.”

We cleared the table, then we followed Mrs Cairns to the garden. The rose-bush seemed bigger, or perhaps I was imagining things. Bud pricked his ears as we heard soft voices behind the hedge. He let out one of his silent barks and trotted to the garden gate. His joyful wagging indicated that it had to be Lynx. I rushed over to meet her. As expected she had James in tow.

I made the introductions. Mrs Cairns recognised James immediately. She greeted our visitors with a warm smile. “Would you like some freshly made lemonade, or would you prefer coffee?”

Lynx politely declined. “Thank you, we’re good, Mrs Cairns. I know for a fact that James is dying to see your garden, though. Can you imagine that his father denied his studying landscape gardening? He insisted on business management!”

Mrs Cairns chuckled. “Business management studies followed by landscape gardening make for a successful future job, I suppose.”

Oh. My. Dog! #34

Posted: October 16, 2016 in Flash Fiction, Oh. My. Dog!
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Have you ever come across a gardening geek?”

Lynx looked surprised. “Except gardeners? No. Besides, I cannot imagine a gardener applying surveillance devices for plants. This would rather be a nerd with botanical interests.”

Right! Mrs Cairns told me about a ‘friend’ looking for me.”

Lynx was thunderstruck. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Bud laid his paw on her knee as I admitted that it had simply slipped from my mind.

I’ve seen him on campus, James something. He hardly ever talks, doesn’t seem to socialize at all. I’ve seen him watching you, though.”

Lynx and Bud held eye contact, she smiled. “I knew you were special, Bud.”

If there was really a camera, he might have overheard Mrs Cairns and wouldn’t dare to return.

Lynx interrupted my musings. “James seems horribly shy. He surely doesn’t want to do any harm. I am going to have a little chat with him.”

We agreed that I had better stay away.

Two days later, Lynx carefully approached James after the last lecture. “I could kill for a coffee. Would you like to join me?”

At the Costa, it became obvious that Lynx had been right: James was shy and very lonely.

Oh. My. Dog! #33

Posted: August 21, 2016 in Flash Fiction, Oh. My. Dog!
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Leaving The Yorkshire Terrier, I considered the weather highly adequate for a jog along the river Ouse. Bud and I enjoyed the sights; really enjoying York – our new home.

+++ +++ +++

We returned at the pub with two minutes to spare. When Lynx came out to meet us, I learned that she lived less than a minute away.

Lynx unlocked the door to her flat, inviting us in with a bow. Signalling that I was to take care of the drinks, she turned to Bud, “And you make yourself comfortable and look good.” Bud grinned.

After dinner, we focussed on the ghost gardener. I told Lynx everything we had learned so far, including my theory that the ghost gardener would return once to admire the gardening work – which hadn’t happened.

What about Mrs Cairns’ rose bush? Has the branch recovered?”

No, it hasn’t changed.”

See? The ghost gardener didn’t return, still waiting for a success.”

All right, the ghost gardener will wait until there is progress but – how?”

Did you search the premises?”

I admitted that we hadn’t.

The ghost gardener might have left a camera.”

Mr Cairns handled serious cases, this one seemed harmless. Who would consider tracking a plant’s healing process?

Oh. My. Dog! #32

Posted: July 10, 2016 in Uncategorized
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We can cross off Andrew Drake; and Eileen Rivers cannot walk without crutches. This seems to be a dead end, Ken.”

I was disappointed. Perhaps the ghost gardener had not admired the rose-bush, yet.

Did your friend find you, Ken?”

Mrs Cairns’ innocent question threw me off-balance. Bud lay his paw on my knee. I saw a guy about my age, I was sure I never met him. He was standing next to Mrs Cairns and – her rose-bush.

I told him you were at university, he said he’d find you.”

Thank you, Mrs Cairns.” I felt no need to explain that I didn’t know him.

+++ +++ +++

Bud’s and my extended Saturday bike tour ended at the Yorkshire Terrier Pub. I was looking forward to a Ghost Ale, secretly hoping to meet Lynx. I was not disappointed.

Ghost Ale and water on the way!”

The pub was still empty and Lynx seized the opportunity for a hug and a chat. I told her about the ghost gardener. She listened intently.

Wow! We need to find that guy! My shift ends at eight. Why don’t you guys come over to my place?” Her dazzling smile included Bud, her kiss was just for me.

Oh. My. Dog! #31

Posted: June 28, 2016 in Flash Fiction, Oh. My. Dog!
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Saturday morning started with my ringing phone. “It’s breakfast time, Ken!”

Ten minutes later, Bud and I trotted over to the house. Mr Cairns stood in the open front door – a little impatient, yet grinning. “The wife is in a creative mood.” He was right; delicious smells wafted from the kitchen.

+++ +++ +++

We tucked into the delicacies; Mrs Cairns had once again outdone herself. She was the first to put away her cutlery. “The rose bush, who did this? It is actually a blessing that it has been turned at that angle, I just don’t feel comfortable that someone sneaked in and did it.”

Mr Cairns cleared his throat. “This ghost gardener is pretty active. We monitored some of the gardens – to no avail, though.”

This made sense. Why should this gardener return? Unless…

The ghost gardener is an expert; the main reason for returning would be to admire the achieved improvement. Did you have any uncommon guests – interested in your garden?”

Eileen Rivers, she was interested in the herb garden. And Andrew Drake stopped by, asking advice for his slug and snail problem.”

Mr Cairns’ face reddened, “Andrew Drake?!”

Bud lay his paw on our landlord’s knee. Mr Cairns chuckled.

Oh. My. Dog! #30

Posted: May 29, 2016 in Flash Fiction, Oh. My. Dog!
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‘The Ghost Gardener of York’ – this headline might have fitted the yellow press, not our reputable regional newspaper. Inwardly shaking my head, I kept on reading. For several months, someone had solved local hobby gardeners’ issues by nocturnal visits to their gardens. The home owners were mostly thrilled. ‘My orchids never really grew, they seemed limp, then, one day they were relocated, other plants planted next to them. Now they are my pride and joy….’ – ‘My apples used to be attacked by parasites. One morning, there were some odd screens; the apples grew and were delicious…’

The stories went on. Some hobby gardeners had even started a forum. I followed the link. There was more praise and – the question who this ghostly gardener might be. Some had set up photo traps – to no avail.

This makes sense, Bud. As their gardening issues were solved, there was no need to return.”

Bud glanced up and laid his paw on my knee.

I saw a dimly lit alley and a dark-clad figure squeezing through a hedge.

That’s not much to go on, Bud. These clothes offer no clue regarding gender or age. My educated guess is that it’s done with best intentions.”

Oh. My. Dog! #29

Posted: April 30, 2016 in Flash Fiction, Oh. My. Dog!
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Her words were still ringing in my ears as I took a step forward.

What do you mean by tampered with, Mrs Cairns?”

The rosebush has been turned by about 90°.”

How do you know that?”

Smiling sadly, she indicated a branch. “You see this strange dent, Ken. It was previously facing the footpath.”

I was confused. Why would someone dig out a rosebush, turn it, the carefully set it back into the ground? Mrs Cairns’ voice interrupted my musings. “Last night I had the strangest dream,” she whispered.

I actually handed Bud a rose and he happily carried it away.”

She looked me in the eyes – all serious, stating “I would never hand a thorny or poisonous plant to a kid or an animal, Ken. Never.”

I know that, Mrs Cairns.”

+++ +++ +++

I filled Bud’s bowl. Having lost my appetite, I decided on doing some research. Why were we all dreaming weird stuff? And what about this creepy rose? There were thousands of websites on dreams and roses, nothing that seemed believable came even close to our situation. I opted for giving up my research; deciding on checking the news instead. A headline caught my eyes: ‘The Ghost Gardener of York’