SIREN CALL - a story in 100 words for Friday Fictioneers


Drawn irresistibly by her siren call, he scaled the wall with limbs born on a mountainside, clawed digits digging into the cracks like crampons.
For years he had ached to hear a female voice. Gaining the ledge, he began to dance, bobbing his head, inflating his purple throat, putting his all into the courtship display.

She didn’t respond, merely repeating her mating call over and over until dusk, when she fell silent. Night was a dangerous time to be out in this alien place – he slunk away.

Inside the apartment, having switched off the air-conditioning unit, the humans slept.
This week's photo prompt comes from J Hardy Carroll via Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  where she has hosted Friday Fictioneers for at least the four years I have been writing Flash Fiction.
Thrilled this week to have sold another copy of my latest book Wolf Pack - 
I hope whoever bought it enjoys it and spreads the word!
If you like my flash fiction you might like to obtain your own copy, in print or ebook. It couldn't be easier - simply click on the cover image on this page which will take you to Amazon. And thanks.
Oh yes - and Happy Valentine's Day, whether you receive roses and champagne, just a card, or simply bask in other people's glow!


ROCK MAN - a story in 100 words

Today's image from Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers - a photograph taken by Anshu Bhajnagarwala - brought volcanic eruptions to my mind. Partly due to a TV programme about Hawaii I watched last night, but also because I have started on Book Three of my Living Rock series.
This piece of flash fiction is adapted from a story told by one of my characters in the first book - A VOLCANIC RACE, and severely cut to fit the hundred word limit!
This book and Book Two, WOLF PACK, can be found on Amazon.

Pepe held his son to his heart, every cell in his body screaming with fear, as the huge creature erupted from the volcano.
The giant knew instinctively these humans couldn’t live in the molten rock which had given him life, and threw himself in the path of the boiling lava, holding firm until the flow divided around his back.
Then he discovered he was fused to the ground – his brief moments of life were over.
Roaring his anguish over the din of the eruption, he only just heard Pepe shout, “Thankyou!” before he and his son raced out of danger.


PEACE PIPE - a story in under 100 words


The old warrior sat peacefully watching the sunset. He didn’t bother to move as his cousin dismounted.
Dropping the reins, Standing Tree folded his considerable height into a chair. “Why are you sitting out here, Running Wolf?”
“I wanted a pipe.” Running Wolf blew a perfect smoke-ring into the still air and watched it slowly dissolve.
“But you’d be more comfortable by your fire.”
“Warmer, maybe, but pipe-smoke makes my woman cough.”
“You are the chief of the tribe, cousin!”
“Everywhere else, yes, but not in my tepee.”
Renee Heath's atmospheric photo brought this story to mind instantly. All I needed was to write it down - isn't it great when that happens? For other interpretations of her photo you can follow the links from Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  - and have a go at writing a story yourself, why don't you?

Living in the south of England we don't get nearly as much snow as some, but my garden looked very pretty this morning under a thin white blanket.


THE CAR IN THE WOODS - flash fiction


“Don’t touch anything!” Becky’s voice was sharp and Chris shot her a withering look. “I’m only making sure there’s no body inside.” Sighing, he put his hands in his pockets before peering through the side window.
Meanwhile Becky walked slowly round the clearing. When she’d made a full circuit she called shakily, “Chris – we should go – now!
“Why? What’s got you all of a dither?”
“Whoever was driving this car took the engine with them – and there’s only one set of footprints.”
The above story was written to the prompt of a photo by Ted Strutz for Friday Fictioneers, ably hosted by  https://rochellewisoff.com/  After you've left a comment on my blog (please!) follow the Blue Frog link from Rochelle's blog to read other short stories each week.
I may not get round to you all this weekend, as it's my daughter's 50th birthday and her big sister arrived unexpectedly from Ireland to help us celebrate. Therefore I am one happy and distracted-from-writing Mum!


ROAST POTATOES - a story in 100 words


It wasn’t even a proper fight – he said his mother’s roast potatoes were crisper than mine, I said he could go home to his mother any time he liked, he slammed out of the house, I tried to stop him, and my hand went through the glass door.
Blood spurted everywhere, and before the ambulance got here I’d bled half to death.

Then the police got involved, accusing him of attempted murder, and when I said I’d done it myself they assumed I’d tried to commit suicide.

How can I tell a shrink it was caused by roast potatoes?
This week's Friday Fictioneers' prompt photo was taken by Dale Rogerson, and I hope the reason for her broken door wasn't as dramatic as mine. I wrote this story, tweaked it down to 100 words and posted it, in ten minutes flat, so I hope you like it. 
Thanks as ever to Rochelle for hosting our goup of flash fiction enthusiasts on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com .

I have been busy this week promoting my latest book, Wolf Pack , which you can buy by clicking on the cover image at the top of this page. If everyone who reads my flash fiction buys a copy of my book - and leaves a review - I shall be a happy writer. 
Those who have read it say it's my best so far - why not try it for yourself and see if you agree? Please?


DREAMS - a poem for Friday Fictioneers


Each paper slip is a dream -
Green for walking in woods
where looming trees
grasp with gnarled fingers
Blue for drowning
yards from a shore
where no-one hears her screams
Red for dreams of sex
that leave her aching but alone
And the shells are those rare mornings
when she wakes refreshed
her subconscious washed clean
of a myriad hurts.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to Priya Biapal for the image that prompted me this week to write a poem rather than flash fiction. Follow the links from Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/ to read what other writers were inspired to write.



Billy and his mum never went out - all their food was delivered.
One day Billy’s mum went to sleep and wouldn’t wake up, so he ate a box of dry cereal and all the chocolate.
The next day his mum was still asleep and the television was scary, but when he turned it off it was too quiet. He could hear people in the street but he couldn’t work his #swing high enough to see over the wall.
It was a week before the delivery man brought the next box of groceries.