Phrase Writers Group

At every Phrase Writers meeting we are given (optional) homework, a subject or phrase to inspire a story or poem.

This week's subject -- The secret path

Friends donated their (first) names

THE SECRET PATH

Nick staggered through his back door and collapsed in a puddle by the washing machine. His loving wife Corrie had long banned him from their pristine porch entrance, following any Saturday run, when Nick raced round the nearby park.

Corrie gazed at her husband, his running T shirt sodden with sweat. It was made of so-called technical material, that wicked away sweat from the runner’s body, leaving them dry and comfortable. This particular brand had long given up.

“Carl won again” groaned Nick. “Every week he finishes first at our path runs. He must have a secret path”.

“I’ll make you a nice cuppa” said Corrie. “That’ll sort you out”.

Nick slowly climbed to his feet.

“Carl wins at everything. Promotions at work, the shortest queue in the shops, most reliable second-hand car, you name it. And the prettiest wife” Nick added.

Corrie had heard it all before. Apart from the last complaint.

She cleared her throat.

Nick looked at Corrie, and gave the little smile she so loved.

He wrapped her in a hug. “Carl doesn’t have you to come home to, the best any man could have. I am truly blessed”.

Corrie relaxed in the embrace, and for once didn’t give Nick what for, what with his sweat all over her favourite Angora sweater.

* * * * *

An hour later, Nick was refreshed by two hot and one cold showers, and more so with Corrie’s magic brew. The nice cuppa tea over which they had first met, and still enjoyed several times a day.

“Why don’t you like Carl?” asked Corrie. “He seems a cheerful chap”.

Nick pondered. Corrie never thought badly of anyone, and regarded insults a waste of time.

“He always wins our path runs. Never lets anyone else in to share the glory. We started the path runs last year. A group of us from work wanted a Saturday challenge. The local park has umpteen crisscrossing paths, some tarmac, some man-made”.

“Man-made?” queried Corrie.

“If people walk the same route for long enough, such as up a hill, then you can see a path being worn down. Then everyone starts using it.

“So we devised our path run. We set a starting point, and a finish, normally at one of the local cafes. You had to get there using paths only. If another park user was walking towards you, you turned around and ran another way, still keeping to the paths. A simple run from points A to B could become three times as long. Winner has their breakfast bought by the others.”

Corrie smiled. “Those cafes are known for their extravagant breakfasts”.

“Indeed” said Nick. “We sometimes share three amongst the seven of us. But Carl scoffs all of his”.

“Maybe he runs farther than you do?”

“That’s the thing” mused Nick. “Once the race starts we never see him again till one of us finishes and there he is, smirking. Sometimes I wonder whether he spends his spare time creating his own secret path...”

Corrie laughed. “Well Carl belongs to the local running club. Maybe he runs during the week”.

Nick frowned. “That almost makes him a professional. The Saturday path run is just a bit of fun, between friends. We’ve been steadily improving, different people winning each week. The breakfast afterwards is the icing on the cake, so to speak. Then Carl comes along, and keeps winning”.

Corrie looked at her despondent husband. Laughing at him was not her way.

“It’s not just about winning” she said. “What about your finishing times?”

“They have improved” admitted Nick. “When you know someone else will win, well we’ve introduced ideas to keep us challenged. So, given half a chance, one of us will run towards another, to make them double back. Then a crafty sprint towards the finish line. Except someone else gets in their way. Laughs amidst the panting”.

“And you’re getting faster” prompted Corrie.

“Yes, I suppose we are”.

“I like Carl” said Corrie. “Why don’t you ask him for running tips? Regular runners are always willing to help”.

“Yes dear” said Nick.

* * * * *

The following Saturday Nick was wearing his freshly laundered technical top. At the finish it was dripping with sweat as usual.

Nick looked at Carl. That wasn’t a smirk he decided, more an encouraging smile.

“Well done Carl. You’re helping us get faster. But tell me. We never see you. Do you have a secret path?”

“I have a secret, that’s true. The path to success in any endeavour” said Carl.

“And what’s the secret?”

“Practice”