🍬Sweet Delight
One Sunday afternoon, whilst wandering along the back streets of Glastonbury, I happened upon a shop I had never noticed before; though, how I could not have noticed it was surprising, given its bright appearance and prominent position. It sat on the corner of Sugar Lane and Venture Street. It was painted in a vivid shade of green and sported large windows displaying row on row of rainbow-coloured sweet jars, filled with an enticing variety of colourful goodies. The neon sign over the door read: ‘The Suck it and See Sweet Shop.’ And, just beneath the sign, in smaller bright red letters, was written – ‘Come in. Be brave. Just suck it and see.’ Now I cannot say that I was being brave when I entered, merely curious.
Once inside, I was amazed to see thirty or forty rotating jars of sweets, floating effortlessly in the air. There were jars of Pineapple Chunks, Jelly Babies, Aniseed Balls, Pear Drops, Barley Sugar lumps, Gummy Bears, Mint Imperials, Chocolate Mice, Liquorice Comforts, and Granddads favourite, Everton Mints which were all smartly attired in their black and white stripes. The choice of sweet delights was enormous. Without doubt, a sweet lovers delight.
Looking around me, I tried to think how this illusion was possible, and came to the conclusion, that it must be a film projection, or a clever bit of AI. Tentatively I put out my hand to touch the jar of rotating Pear Drops. You can imagine my surprise, when my fingers encountered a real glass jar. The instant I touched it, the jars halted their rotation, and a jolly high-pitched voice behind me said, “Can I assist you madam?” I quickly turned and came face to face with a creature I can only describe as, a bright orange, happy faced, Elf.
“I er …I’m not sure,” I spluttered.
“Well,” replied the Elf, “I think your choice of sweet will not disappoint. Our older clientele swears by them. They are guaranteed to last a whole week, after which they will return to their jar. The flavour is quite pungent and will no doubt, take some getting used to. Therefore, we further suggest, you suck it slowly.” I was about to reply, when the Elf clapped his hands, and in a swirl of multicoloured smoke, I found myself back at home, holding a single pear drop, neatly wrapped in a tiny golden box. Though my mind was in a whirl and not really understanding what had, or had not happened, I tentatively opened the box and popped the sweet into my mouth. Its extra strong menthol and acetone flavour exploded like volcanic lava, and filled my head, eyes, nose, throat and cheeks. My head swam, my knees began to buckle, and for a brief moment, I thought I might faint. Panic stricken I attempted to spit the sweet out, but it was as if it was glued to my cheeks and tongue. Sweat dripped from my forehead and a force ten, sinus clearing vapour attacked my throat. Desperately wanting revenge on this piratical sweet, I took a deep breath and attacked the sweet with my teeth, but try as I may, I could not penetrate its granite hard shell. My only hope I realised, was to return to the shop, which is exactly what I did.
I entered the shop, found the pear drop jar, and waited for the elf. In an instant he appeared in front of me.
“Can I assist you,” he asked.
“Yes, you most certainly can,” I spluttered. “Please, please get rid of this pear drop.” The elf smiled benignly. “I take it that the sweet was not satisfactory,” he said, tipping his head to one side. “They are a tad strong and not to everyone’s taste.”
“Not to everyone’s taste,” I gasped. “They ought to come with a warning notice. Beware. After sucking this sweet, be sure to have a fire extinguisher ready.” The elf chuckled. “Quite so, quite so. However, the answer is not a fire extinguisher. You simply have to suck it slowly. Any attempt to get rid of it, or to crunch it, simply makes it angry. Pear drops are known for being somewhat belligerent. So, don’t fight it just relax and suck gently.”
I took a deep breath, let the pear drop relax onto my tongue and sucked it slowly and gently. The result was instant. The violent burning sensation stopped and was replaced by a warm glow.
“Now then madam,” said the elf. “Would you like to keep the sweet madam or have it returned?”
“Oh!! Please, please get rid of it and put it back into the jar. My eyes, mouth and throat are in need of a reprieve.” The elf clapped his hands, and as if by magic, which of course is exactly what it was, the mint disappeared from my mouth and settled itself down in its jar, before attacking another poor unexpecting soul.
“Can I entice you to try one of our other sweet treats,” asked the elf quietly. “We have a wonderful selection.”
“No, thank you,” I replied as courteously as I could. “Maybe next time I’m in the area.” The elf bowed his head in acknowledgement and disappeared. As did the shop. I never saw it again. When I related my story to friends I think they thought me quite mad, but I know my experience was real. One thing I did learn however was this – never attack a pear drop with gusto, don’t even think of crunching it or munching it, just suck.
Ann D August 2026
END OF TERM SUBMISSION
With much apprehension Eleanor logged on to her online professional development tutorial. It was nearing the end of her final year and the last piece of creative writing homework was about to be presented to the students. Two whole weeks in which to come up with something to fit the last task and she will then have completed her course. It had proved challenging but as the months had gone by, she could feel herself growing in confidence and the feedback had been encouraging. She realised that by stretching herself beyond her comfort zone she was growing mentally and her story telling skills were definitely developing.
The tutor welcomed the team as they all logged onto the portal and congratulated them on their previous submissions, but for the last literary piece he would be looking to see how they had developed over the year and to evaluate the progress they had all made with an unusual challenge. He announced that the final brief was titled: “Compose an amusing short story, with clever use of your own name, including something that grows in the garden and has rhymes contained throughout with the use of alliterations” Eleanor looked aghast at her reflection on her screen and quickly noticed the other students, who also appeared in the zoom call along the top of her monitor, were looking equally perplexed. Now that was indeed an almost impossible challenge, she thought to herself. The tutor wished them all the best of luck in this, their final piece of work.
The tutor then explained that for the last session in two week’s time, they would be asked to read their pieces aloud to the whole group instead of the usual online submission to him. As Eleanor logged off, she was muttering to herself, two weeks, TWO WEEKS, only fourteen days, FOURTEEN DAYS?
Over the course of the next week, she began to play around with ideas, but nothing of substance came to her. Eleanor began to despair as time was passing and ideas to fit the brief for her story were lacking. And so, with only seven days before her submission, she decided that a walk to the local park was needed to clear her head and hopefully find some inspiration.
She gathered together some food for the ducks, remembering not to take stodgy stale bread. Instead a selection of defrosted peas, sweetcorn and seeds were mixed together in a paper bag.
The duck pond was alive with mallards and their chicks, coots, moorhens and even a pair of elegant swans who all greedily accepted Eleanor’s tasty treats.
The park was busy that afternoon and a giggling crowd of primary school children attracted her attention. They were sitting in a circle along with their teachers in what appeared to be a teddy bear’s picnic event with soft toys placed in front of each child. Lunch boxes and drinks were being handed around. Eleanor sat on a bench and watched from a distance smiling at the touching scene. She loved seeing the children playing make believe with their teddies. I wonder, she thought to herself, if this could be a germ of an idea to begin my story…..
One week later and the day had arrived to log onto her student portal for the last time. One by one the other members of her group appeared online and were duly asked to read their final piece for their creative writing challenge.
All seemed to be going well until finally, it was Eleanor’s turn and she took a deep breath and nervously began to read….
‘It was not quite light and the mood in the nursery this morning was also gloomy. Elle glanced around the room to the hastily cleared away toys and could hear a whimpering sound from the huge wicker basket in the corner.
As Elle tiptoed carefully over some discarded lego bricks and an old abacus she reached into the basket and gently eased out a wonky bunny and gave him a cuddle. The bunny was the oldest of the toys and had lost an ear from being carried around by the children of the house, but he was most definitely the favourite amongst the other toys. He would always be there with his lopsided face which appeared to give him a huge smile, and they all called him our funny bunny.
The usually very happy bunny was feeling sad today as he explained that he had eaten the last scoop of his delicious runny honey from the pot and had no money to buy any more.
Elle glanced over to the miniature wooden toy kitchen and immediately saw the problem. Small jars had been filled by the children of the house with real food items, carefully labelled and neatly arranged on the shelves. She spotted that the dried peas jar was full, the rice container was full, as was the pasta jar. However, the honey pot was lying on the floor and was most definitely empty. “Ah I see now, what have you been up to Funny Bunny? The dog-eared rabbit gave Elle a pleading look and she immediately whispered to him not to worry. “Fear not” she said “I’ll think of a plan.”
What on earth was Elle the ragdoll to do? Elle had lived with the toys in the playroom for many years and had curiously watched when new arrivals appeared. She immediately made the newcomers feel at home and they all looked to her to keep everything in order.
She rummaged around the nursery in the half light and glanced over to a large wooden table, spotting an old-fashioned money till which she knew was always full of grey plastic pennies. I know, she thought, we could buy some more honey with these coins. The bunny looked up at Elle with a sheepish look on his face. Hmmm something was definitely amiss, she thought.
Dawn was just breaking and Elle watched as a shaft of weak sunshine penetrated the tiny round window illuminating the nursery. There was just enough light for her to carefully creep over to the money till and the bunny watched as Elle pressed the large yellowed button which opened the cash drawer. Empty! On glancing over to Funny Bunny, Elle could see he was covering his eyes with his paws and he knew that he was in bother. There was a very guilty look on his face. “I’m sorry, Elle, but I used those coins to buy myself a chunky carrot yesterday. What ARE we to do now?”
She picked up the toy telephone and pretended to call her friend Buck the Duck, who was always full of good ideas, to see if he could help her. Buck had been placed on the shelf and had been surveying the scene from up high. We need a pow-wow he suggested, as Elle gathered all the soft toys around in a circle to form a ruck. Heads together to clear out the muck, ideas were thrown around like a black shiny puck.
After many a while and listening to the ideas to solve Funny Bunny’s dilemma Elle was stuck no longer. They’d sneak outside and make friends with the bees and ask if they could have a small scrape of honey from inside their hive. Funny Bunny jumped for joy, sad no longer, as he could just imagine poking his finger inside the bee’s hive and having a good suck on the sticky honey. Without further ado they marched in single file into the garden taking the empty honey pot with them.’
Eleanor finished reading her story and looked up into the eyes of her tutor. “Very good Eleanor” he commented. “There seems to be plenty of references to rhymes and alliterations and of course to a shortened version of your own name, but I’m missing any reference to the final piece of something that grows in the garden?”
Eleanor gave him a cheeky wink and replied that she could read it all over again if necessary to see if anyone could recognise the hidden garden plant in her story; which was called Honey Suck Elle !
To which the whole tutor group realised the clever way in which she had weaved the garden plant into her work. They all applauded and she was met with a sea of smiling faces across the top of her screen.
Mission accomplished!
Barbara C
In Praise of Flame, Marsh Pink and Shambar
For Jessie
Dawn has broken.
I wander into the kitchen and spy the warmth of the tropics
Sunrise in citrus, summer on a winter’s day.
I choose the fruit thoughtfully.
A rosy orb sits weighty in my palm.
Gently I rub the waxy skin and feel the dimples under the blush
I loosen the peel and with a slow fragrant sigh
A cloud of oil mists the air releasing a light fresh aroma
That awakens my spirit and arouses my taste buds
This gem is bursting with energy and provides a zest for life
Carefully without breaking the precious parcel,
I slowly take each segment out of its case.
Cool against my fingertips I raise it to my lips
And suck the refreshing slightly bitter juice
It tastes of early morning,
the gentle sting, awakens and refreshes my tongue.
The hour is elevated, encouraged by the tropical grapefruit.
Ruth L