I hated this one, and it shows.  But the deadline was looming …

The brief

In 500 words, write a story or part of a story that fictionalizes something that is mentioned on the radio when you go to turn it on now.  Choose a setting which you describe somewhere in your 500 words, and tell this mini-story from the narrative point of view of a man or woman (a character) whom the story directly affects.  Do not use any dialogue.  Write in either the past or present tense.  Try to use clear, vivid language so that your reader can see the setting and character(s).  Avoid clichè.

The Volunteer

Peter was a short man in his 50s, with a wiry frame, his kind face topped with salt and pepper hair which was balding at the crown.  He was the manager of a charity shop in the small town he lived in which he’d been running single-handedly for a couple of years but recently had enlisted the help of a volunteer, Karen, who, after retiring from her job as head teacher at the local primary school, was pleased to have something to do.

As he did every day except Sunday, Peter pulled up outside the shop in his battered old blue mini, patted his jacket pocket to check he had the keys and went to open up.   He tutted and sighed as he saw the contents of a couple of black bin liners full of donations left by local residents that had been rifled through overnight, strewn over the pavement.  It didn’t matter how many signs he put on the windows asking people not to leave the donations outside when the shop was shut, every morning there was another load.  Stepping over a Kenwood Magimix and some brightly coloured children‘s clothes, once inside, Peter looked around.  He lived in quite a wealthy town and this was reflected in the donations; there was an immaculate Chanel suit hanging up next to a beautiful ivory Vera Wang wedding dress, complete with flowing train.  Peter wondered what the background to the dress was.  Did the bride it was intended for make it up the aisle?  Was she jilted at the altar?  One of the things he loved about the shop was that every item in it had a story to tell.

Karen, a tall, slim woman with auburn wavy shoulder length hair, arrived for her shift and headed straight for the small kitchen at the back of the shop to make them both a cup of tea; milk and one sugar for her, no sugar for Peter.  As she waited for the kettle to boil, she absent-mindedly picked at the yellowing woodchip wallpaper that was coming away from the wall.

As they drank their tea, they put the new donations on to the shelves.  Dusty and dog-eared cookbooks from the 70s, their covers showing photos of fondue and joints of beef sat next to books on how to use Google.  Sparkling evening dresses and shimmering ball gowns went on the rails, china tea pots depicting country scenes and other breakables went on the high glass shelves, away from the clumsy fingers of the school children who liked to come in at lunchtime.

Karen took her place behind the till while Peter went out the back to work on the accounts.  He switched the radio on to Radio 4 and settled down in his favourite brown leather armchair.

After a few hours, Karen’s shift was over and Peter came back into the shop to say goodbye and thank her for her help.  He cashed up, locked the door and drove home.