Misper

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Our story of the week is a story about being lost from the writer Katherine Pringle.

Katherine grew up in Northern Ireland, but left at eighteen to study Graphic Design in London. She fell into publishing without really planning to, but it turned out to be the ideal career for her: she loves working with books and is happiest when she’s surrounded by shelves and shelves of them. She still thinks of Northern Ireland as home, and the Mourne Mountains are the inspiration for a lot of her writing. Katherine lives in Surrey with her husband and two young daughters.

For the past fifteen years, she’s worked as a Designer for publishers such as Rough Guides, Macmillan and Barefoot Children’s Books. Katherine also has an MA in English Literature with the Open University. In 2016, her short story Athry Lake won the Fabula Press Short Story Contest and was published last year in their Aestas Anthology. Misper, inspired by Nelly the Surrey Search and Rescue Wonderdog, is her second story to be published, and she’s currently working on a ghostly mystery novel.

In Misper, Katherine takes a unique perspective on a search and rescue mission.

Enjoy!

‘Strong boots stomp the tarmac and stop right next to Geoff and me. Wet leather and sheep muck leap up my nose. There’s a strange hand in my fur, big-fingered. I lick the palm – urgh, tastes of engine oil. And the voice that belongs to the hand shouts over the beast in the sky:

“That missing girl… I saw her. About ten this morning. Trudging along the path between the end of my field and Carn Wood. Real slow, staring down at her feet. Looked just like that photo in your hand. What’s her name, Erin? Aye, she had that long red hair. Just fourteen? Same age as my own daughter. I thought to myself, now that one should be in school. But no bag. Nothing with her. Really looked like she was going nowhere.”

Geoff talks fast into his radio. The wood skulks up on the dark hill, branches shaking. Come on then, they say, come in and see what we’re hiding. Dare you.

But Geoff turns and strides, straight through the gate to the long house. And I’m right on his scuffed black heels.’ Read more…