30/08/2017

THE SERF - a story in a hundred words.

THE SERF

The new labourer is an odd bloke. He was mixing cement by hand till I showed him how to use the mixer. Mind you, the brickies claimed his cement was the best they’d ever used, so he knows his job.

Took some persuading to wear a hard-hat, too, and his clothes are weird, but he’s a grafter – looked shocked when we stopped for a brew-up, and can you believe he’s never tasted tea? Said serfs weren’t given such luxuries, and Den asked him where he came from.
“This place,” he said, “Before cannons destroyed it.”

Fair gave me the shivers, that did.
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I always sense the ghosts when I visit a ruin, hence this week's story prompted by Roger Bulltot's photo on https://rochellewisoff.com/  where Rochelle holds court. 
As I am flying off to Canada on Friday to visit my son and his family, I apologise in advance for a) my lack of comments on other FF blogs, b) delayed or absent replies to any comments you are kind enough to make on mine, and c) my probable absence from FF for the next two weeks. Be good while I'm gone!

24/08/2017

FAIRY LIGHTS - a 100 word story

FAIRY LIGHTS

It has been a difficult year, weather-wise, and we have to make every sunny day count. Today we were working in the meadow, racing against time to finish before the rain, and we returned at dusk to find a temple had sprung up like a mushroom!
Its glowing walls beckoned and so, carrying torches, we followed our Queen, singing as we marched.
We were passing the timber structure when disaster struck. A human emerged from the temple, shrieked loudly enough to burst our ear-drums, and sprayed us with poison.

Only four of us survived – who will paint the flowers now?
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In the middle of a busy week, here is a touch of fantasy to lighten our lives! Thanks to Jan Wayne Fields for the photograph, and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/   Follow the links from her blog to read other stories prompted by the photo.

19/08/2017

JUNGLE - a one hundred word story for Friday Fictioneers - on a Saturday!

JUNGLE

The en-suite was tiny, rendered even more claustrophobic by a window obscured by rampant creeper and a jungle-themed shower curtain. Joanne propped the door ajar and washed quickly.

She was rinsing her hair when a bird shrieked raucously – surely there were no parrots in Surbiton? – and when she turned off the shower she heard the rasp of tropical insects and a swish of wind through trees.

Joanne wrapped herself in an inadequate hotel towel and stepped out of the shower – onto damp undergrowth and fallen branches.

A snake slithered over her foot.
She screamed.

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I am very late on parade this week - life got rather complicated and inspiration flew out of the window - so this little story is the best I can offer before rushing off the give Mum her lunch. Thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/  for hosting Friday Fictioneers - you can follow the link from her blog to read other stories.

10/08/2017

ORANGE TAPE - a story in one hundred words

ORANGE TAPE

The beach was packed, but an area at the far end was empty, cordoned off only by flimsy orange tape. There was a sign in Spanish but no guard, so Trudi stepped over and spread her towel, ignoring the shouts of a local.
“Can I explore that cave, Mum?”
Charlie’s ‘cave’ was the size of a small car – Trudi nodded, lay down and relaxed.
She was woken by a shower of pebbles and looked up, far too late to run - she didn’t stand a chance against a forty-ton rock.

It took them three long, hot days to find Charlie.
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It's only a story - right? Yes, but based on somethng that happened while I lived in the Canary Islands.  You can read the news report here:  http://www.tenerifemagazine.com/happenings/2-dead-6-trapped-in-los-gigantes-rockfall.htm
Thanks, as ever, to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and to C E Ayr for the stunning (!) photograph that is this week's prompt. Follow the links from https://rochellewisoff.com/  to read other stories.
And for anyone who read my blog two weeks ago, I am proud to announce the arrival of my third granddaughter - I am now Nanny Liz to five children, all delightful!

02/08/2017

FLOWERS ARE NOT ENOUGH - a story in a hundred words

FLOWERS ARE NOT ENOUGH

The bank’s letter hit Marylin like a train – Andrew had gambled away their house.
After a savage argument she worked in grim silence, carefully sealing the boxes before they went off to a storage facility.
One question ran through her brain on a loop as she worked – why would anyone in their right mind think a few pathetic flowers could make up for losing her home?

When the removal van arrived, she paid six months in advance, reckoning that would give her ample time to find somewhere new, maybe in Eastern Europe or even Mexico, before they found him.
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Thanks to Dale Rogerson for this week's photo prompt and to  https://rochellewisoff.com/  for hosting / organising Friday Fictioneers. Follow the links from her blog to read stories by other writers. You can also scroll through my own blog to read a poem with which I won a forum competition earlier in the week.

01/08/2017

AN EXPAT'S LAMENT - A POEM


I'M A WINNER!  A forum to which I belong had a competition in July to write a poem on the theme of HOLIDAY. I won with this poem, written in memory of our many years in Tenerife. I should add that all of our visitors were welcome, and that this is tongue-in-cheek - honest!

IT’S NO HOLIDAY FOR US – an expat’s lament

We have so many visitors
we have to take bookings.

They bring bottles of duty-free
to an island where booze is cheap,
and a pound of mild Cheddar
when we requested strong.

For a week they eat our food,
use our electricity,
and leave hair in the shower.

‘Your life is one long holiday,’
they say,
‘It’s all right for some,’
as we drive to the beauty spots
for the hundredth time.

Then they buy us a meal,
and we leave them at the airport,
before going home to sweep sand off the floors
and wash their sheets ready for the next lot.


27/07/2017

NOT MY FAULT - a hundred word story for Friday Fictioneers.

NOT MY FAULT

“It’s not my fault, Sir!”
“You were caught red-handed destroying it, Taylor.”
“Well, yes, Sir, but that little sh.. – er – boy Stone, made me do it.”
“How, precisely? You’re twice his size. In fact I recall you were sent to me last week for locking him in a broom cupboard.”
“Exactly, Sir, and nobody would have known about that if he hadn’t phoned home. Without that phone booth to hide in while he snivels to his mum, he’ll have to take it like a man.”
“As you will, Taylor – bend over that chair.”

“No Sir! Please Sir! Not the cane!”
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It's my opinion that some people take photos just for this forum, as J Hardy Carroll appears to have done with this one! Despite that, three separate interpretations popped into my mind, but two were about phone calls too personal to share, and the phone call that is on my mind at the moment hasn't come yet - the one about the arrival of another grandchild, who is already five days overdue.
So here it is - a light-hearted treatment of a dark subject. Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog, from whence, after leaving a comment here -  you can follow the link to read other stories.  https://rochellewisoff.com/
ps. if you'd like to read another of my stories, go to p40 on this month's  http://visualverse.org/