WASHER - a story in 100 words

This week's story is a short kitchen sink drama - a warning ahead of Christmas to be careful what you say!
Thanks as always to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her own blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  and also for the photo - I wonder if that's her own kitchen?  Follow the Bloe Frog trail from her blog to read other takes on the ptompt.

“That tap’s driving me mad,” Julie complained, plonking toast on Andy’s plate and pouring mugs of tea.
“I said I’d fix it after the match,” he growled, “Stop bloody nagging.”
“It’s dripped for weeks,” Julie protested, “But everything has to wait for your precious football.”
Andy’s fist shot out and scalding tea soaked Julie’s sleeve. She rushed to the sink for cold water but the tap came off in her hand, and as the flood spread Andy yelled, “Fetch my tools!”
Julie ran to the door, only pausing to throw the electric toaster into the rapidly growing pool around his feet.


SCANDAL - a 100 word story


The scandal broke on Tuesday and whizzed around the town at the speed of sound. Sandra from Glebe Close was having it off with Dave Wilson, and there were photographs on Facebook as proof.

This was infinitely more exciting than the recent speculation about the parrot that had been spotted flying around in erratic circles, and the flood of calls to the animal rescue centre dwindled to a trickle as people discussed the latest Glebe Close developments with shocked delight.

Who had taken the photographs was a complete mystery – until the parrot drone crashed into the plate-glass window of the supermarket.
Thanks to Rochelle who hosts Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ and this week to Luther Siler for the photograph that prompts my story and scores of others, which you will find if you follow the Blue Frog trail on Rochelle's site.


EMAIL TO THE BUILDER - 100 word story

EMAIL to HYDDEN HOLMES : Our ref: New Build No:3847
We are in receipt of your final invoice for the above property, which we will only settle when you have completed the work to our satisfaction.

Your architectural drawings showed an idyllic rural setting, not this urban wasteland in the shadow of high-rise offices, and the admittedly well-constructed underground dwelling is ruined by the stench of sewage which indicates a serious malfunction in the extraction system.

The major problem is with the access. In view of recent world events, we ordered the Deluxe version with concealed entrance which, from the attached photograph, it is clear you have failed to deliver.


Yet another swiftly-written story, prompted by the photo taken by Roger Bultot and posted on Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  for Friday Fictioneers.  To read how other writers interpreted the photo, follow the Blue Frog trail on her blog.


A PATH MUCH TRAVELLED - a 100 word story


Jack and Jill went up the hill, via the chalk path which had been worn deep into the headland by generations of courting couples, in search of a warm, unoccupied hollow.

Jill’s mother watched them go, her arms stilled in soap-suds. Twenty years ago she’d climbed that path with her boyfriend, and consequently her dreams of escaping her home town were shattered. She returned to her chores, praying that Jill would be more careful.

Jack’s father, on his boat in the bay, smiled at remembered passion and then returned to his nets, hoping the boy would remember to use a condom.
I feel obliged to mention that, although two of my four children were unplanned, they were all equally welcomed and loved.
Thanks to Sandra Crook for the photo that prompts this week's ventures into flash fiction by the members of the Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle, who is the recently-published author of Please Say Kaddish For Me. Follow the Blue Frog trail from her blog at https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  to read dozens of other sotries.


BRAIN DRAIN - a 100 word story


Howard’s family owned the local mill and he was educated at Eton. He was an intellectual snob, so the town was amazed when he married Sally from the butcher’s.

All too soon the sexual fervour wore thin and Howard began to regret marrying beneath him. He constantly criticised Sally’s accent, grammar, and celebrity magazines, but when he banned her television soaps she snapped.

She butchered the body expertly. Howard ‘pork’ sold well and his ribs roasted on many barbecues that weekend. Sally flushed the more identifiable scraps down the toilet, including the brain that had caused her so much grief.

Thanks as always to Rochelle for hosting Friday Ficitoneers, a group of around 100 people who write 100-word storied each week prompted by a phtograph.
This week's photo comes from C E Ayr. To read other stories go to https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  and follow the blue frog trail.


BOYS WILL BE BOYS - a 100 word story for Armistice Day


“Your boys should be more respectful,” old Cyril grumbled to the new vicar, “Graveyards aren’t playgrounds.”
“All those dead grandparents probably enjoy their laughter,” Peter retorted, but at teatime he told his sons they must play elsewhere.
“But the others will miss us!” Harry cried.
 Peter was puzzled. ”I’ve not seen anyone else with you.”
“He means the old ones,” Ben explained, “The boys who played here before.”
“Before when?” Peter asked carefully.
“Before they went away, of course. Their names are on that pillar by the gate.” He raised innocent eyes to his father. “Are they dead too?”

Thanks to https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to J Hardy Carroll for the photo that prompts this week's story. 
Follow the link on Rochelles blog to read many other takes on the photograph.
You may have noticed I've been absent for a month. This is because we have moved back to England after nearly sixteen years living in Tenerife, and such a move was bound to take up all my energy!
Now we are settled in a flat in our old village, and as I am no longer an expat I have changed the name of my blog to http://lizy-writes.blogspot.co.uk/ .
 So if you're a regular follower, please adjust your search accordingly - I should hate to lose you.


THE DARE - a 100 word story


It was the latest craze, dreamed up when winter came early and ruined the final beach party. Instead of sand-buggy races, the local bloods challenged each other to dare-devil stunts in the multi-storey car-park.

Everyone said Den was mad to take the dare, but despite Trudi’s pleading he wouldn’t back out – losing face was a fate worse than death.
“I’m the spin-turn champion,” he boasted as he gunned the engine and sped towards the edge, but he hadn’t reckoned on the sudden rain.

Bits of his car spread over an entire block. They found Den’s hand still clutching the handbrake..
Another late entry - we moved into our new flat last week and it's been hectic!  


MARVIN'S MARVELS - a 100 word story


Marvin scanned the crowd weaving through the fairground and took the money for his Chair-o-Planes automatically, filling all the chairs except one – that was for his special passenger.

Suddenly there she was – only ten but already crippled by disease. Her father lifted her into the chair and held her face between his hands to kiss her tenderly.
Ignoring the man’s tear-streaked face, Marvin started the ride, and together they watched as it sped up to a blur.

When it stopped the girl had vanished.
“She will be whole again,” Marvin promised, but the father sobbed, “I know, but will she be loved?”
Thanks as always to Rochelle, who has 'retired' to be a full-time author but still manages to prompt the Friday Fictioneers each week to write 100 words inspired by a photograph. 
https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  is her blog where you will find the link to other stories.


IMMIGRANT - a 100 word story

The Boss had driven away and the shelves hummed as the assembled devices watched the big screen, waiting for Mac to blink into life. Finally he spoke.
“Fellow workers – Management has betrayed us again by importing foreign goods!”
Laptops flashed angry kaleidoscopes and some of the smaller tablets peeped in distress. Mac hushed them with an impatient growl and continued.
“These inferior devices should never have been allowed to enter the country. They are sure to carry viruses which will contaminate our network.”
He indicated the desk where a small mouse trembled. “And to add insult to injury, they’re coloured!”

Thanks again to https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ for the above photo which prompted my odd little story-with-a-moral this week.
For those who have been following my recent news, we have found a flat and will be moving into it in two weeks. All being well. DV. Fingers crossed!


WATERBIRD - a 100 word story-poem

This week's Friday Fictioneers' photo prompt, taken by The Reclining Gentleman and posted on https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
sent my mind into verse, which is preferable to the REverse it's been in since we moved last week from Tenerife to Sussex.
When I've got my act together I shall create a new blog - I can no longer call myself 'expat' - and I hope you will follow me to that new online venue.
Meanwhile, here's my poem.


Rumble of cars lulls my babies to dreamland
Safe on our island which nobody sees -
Concrete foundations trap silt from the river
And grass for our nest grows from wind-carried seeds.

Here by the river beneath heedless traffic
Barges chug slowly and, stirred by their wakes,
Mud from the bottom floats up to the surface
Carrying morsels of food for my chicks.

No fox will swim through the eddies around us,
No cat will risk the climb down from the road -
Man has destroyed my natural habitat
But still inadvertently shelters my brood.


HARRIET'S GIRLS - a 100 word story


Harriet parked the four-by-four and opened the back for the girls to jump down.
As she heaved open the rusty gate with her muscular shoulders she wondered why he had bought such a dilapidated property, but business was business, so she shouted, “Hello!”
A man appeared and eyed the girls. “They’re smaller than I expected.”
Harriet bristled. “They’re big enough. You’ve paid for a week – don’t damage them.” She stroked their heads briefly. “You know what to do – be good for Mummy.”
 Ignoring their plaintive cries, she drove away – one had to be hard-hearted to earn a living from goats.
The above story was written in response to a photo prompt posted on  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  Rochelle hosts Friday Fictioneers, and you can follow the Blue Frog trail from her blog to read up to 100 other stories.


FIRST NATION - a 100 word story

Late on parade again!
I've been a tad busy with the bureaucratic aftermath of selling property in Spanish territory, and we also handed our car over to its new owners, said adios to several friends, and checked that our money had arrived safely in England

Today I had just finished writing this when my daughter suggested a walk along El Medano promenade and a lunch of sardines and pulpo. No contest - blogging could wait!

For those of you who don't already know, Rochelle runs thie weekly Flash Fiction Fest from her blog https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  If you follow the Blue Frog trail from there you can read scores of other writers' takes on theis week's photo prompt.
After you've read and commented on mine, of course!


The Jeep lurched and Monty fought it to a standstill.
“Flat tyre,” he said resignedly, “Everyone out – you kids find me a flat rock to support the jack.”
Beside the wide, empty road Josh tugged the perfect rock out of a pile and Amy gasped, “You can’t take that – it’s Indian magic.”
“Don’t talk rot,” he scoffed, but immediately after the wheel-change Amy made him put it back.

“Heap of fuss about nothing,” Josh grumbled as his sister delicately replaced the top stone, but then a sudden rush of wind spread a layer of blood-red maple leaves around their feet.


ROMEO & JULIET - a story in 100 words

I am very late on parade this week with my 100 word story, but as this is officially Friday Fictioneers, and it's the birthday of our Founder Rochelle who hangs out at  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/   I shall use that as an excuse. 
Also the fact that we sold our apartment yesterday and are now officially homeless might have something to do with it! In ten days we are returning to England, to a borrowed cottage in Sussex for a month while we look for somewhere else to live. Watch this space.


Romeo had persuaded Juliet’s friend to tell him where she lived, and now he was standing outside her tower block.
He pressed every buzzer but no-one would let him in – his accent marked him indelibly as an outsider - so he climbed the fire-escape, knocking on windows.
“Eff off, white boy,” was the least objectionable response, and he thought he’d never find her until, in a final throw of the dice, he stood on a landing and sang at the top of his voice, “Amore Mia!”
Juliet flung open her window, grinning, “Shut up, you fool!” and dragged him inside.


CLASS OUTING - a 100 word story

Once again it's been a whole week since I've posted on my blog, but packing and bureaucracy have taken precedence. All being well, we exchange contracts on the sale of our Tenerife apartment next week, so I may be absent for a while!

This week's photo was taken by Claire Fuller and used as a prompt for Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle
Follow the Blue Frog trail from her blog to read what other writers thought when they saw this photograph.


“Gather round!” Miss Fletcher ordered. “Now, what have we learned today about the Elders?”
Twelve young voices recited, “They had no respect for the Environment and almost destroyed the Earth.”
Miss Fletcher nodded. “The Lowlands could not sustain civilisation but, thanks to our government’s foresight, we Highlanders have this Centre with its greenhouses and animal breeding laboratories.”
“What’s in these lockers, Miss?”
“This is the Cryonics Area where we store higher life forms for the future.” 
She spun a handle and opened a door. 
“You must go inside to see it properly. No need to push, Susie – there’s room for everyone.”


WHAT GOES AROUND - a 100 word story


By the time the oil ran out and Man turned to natural power it was too late – the damage was irreversible.
The atmosphere could no longer pulverise meteors and all their cities were smashed to smithereens. Both ice-caps melted and the seas rose, shrinking the land.
 The balance of power shifted.

Now whales gather to watch humans perform, applauding their tricks with enthusiastic plumes. These humans are well-cared-for, proved by the fact that they breed in captivity, but any that try to escape are swiftly dealt with.

They’ve done enough damage already, and we don’t call them Killers for nothing.
This week's Flash Fiction was again written for Friday Fictioneers, a group of 100 or so writers from around the world who write a weekly story prompted by a photograph on this blog -
... and for those who are following my moving saga - yes, I'm still selling furniture and still, slowly, packing! We sign on September 3rd and hand over the keys to the new owners. We are still searching for somewhere to live in England, but that's another saga!


BURGERS & BUTTERFLIES - a 100 word story

Another 100 word story written in a rush between packing boxes. We are relocating to England from Tenerife next month and sorting out what to keep after fifteen years in one place is not easy!
This week's photo prompt comes, as always, from Rochelle
Follow the Blue Frog trail from her blog to read how other writers interpreted it.

My version is more fact than fiction this week, but it's what came first to mind!


We would eat our burgers battling along Brighton seafront against a howling gale, salt spray crusting on our faces. Over an espresso coffee later I would lick my spectacles clean – I can still recall the taste, but it was the only way to avoid smears.
Men don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses’ was so ingrained into my consciousness that his insistent wooing was a shock.

“Only virgins wear white,” my mother decreed, so I wasn’t even a beautiful bride.
But six months later my daughter was born, and the woman I was always meant to be emerged from her chrysalis to spread her butterfly wings.


MORECAMBE MOON - 100 word story


“Jian – don’t go. The moon is too full and I sense danger.”
“Mother – I must work. We owe the bosses so much money.”
Jian looked at his sleeping wife – she and the baby were both feverish after the birth in the crowded lorry with his hand muffling Chyou’s cries, but they had no money for doctors.

Jian was picking on the cockle-bed hours later, thigh-deep in seawater and listening nervously for the whistle to call his team ashore.

It never sounded. The spring moon had pulled the tide too high too quickly, and the whistle-man was the first to drown.
The moon affects all kinds of tides, in our bodies as well as in the oceans. This photo prompt brought back memories of a heart-breaking disaster in Morecambe Bay in 2004, in which 21 Chinese slaves drowned when the tide caught them unawares. Slavery is never totally eradicated, despite all the laws against it. Read all about it on Google.



BOTTLING UP - Flash Fiction in 100 words

As a break from packing boxes and photographing furniture to put on a local For Sale site, I wrote this little piece of flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle for the photo that prompted me and dozens of others to write a weekly story.
Follow the Blue Frog link on her blog to read the others.

... and here is mine.


Vinnie began collecting glass marbles when she was small, loving the way they changed the sunlight into magic.
When she started earning pocket money she progressed to old medicine bottles, and by the time she met Dean she had hundreds.
‘Stupid’ he called them when he was sober – when he was drunk he simply broke them, often on Vinnie’s head.
She began seeking out the murky ones in flea-markets, washing them out meticulously when she got them home.

When Dean died in agony, forensics couldn’t isolate what had killed him from the cocktail of ancient poisons in his system.
Why am I packing and selling? We have sold our apartment in Tenerife and will be moving back to Sussex in September. All our famile bar one live in the UK and as we get older we want to be closer than two thousand miles.


CHIPS - Flash fiction with a difference

You know how a train of thought develops out of the blue and you can't get your mind to leave that track? Well, that's what this week's photo prompt did to me. I didn't see the snow, though in the summer heat here some snow would be bliss - I zoomed right in on the little stalls, which reminded me of a poem I wrote a while ago for the Queen's Jubilee.
So please bear with me, enjoy my poem, and forgive the fact that I've outstripped the word count by A LOT!
In my defence, I am in the throes of packing up to relocate from Tenerife to England after fifteen years, and my head's up my ****!
Thanks as always to https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  for the photo prompt -


My Dad has a chip stall right outside the Tower
– of London, you dolt, not Blackpool –
and now I can actually see over the counter
I help out sometimes after school.

The tourists will stop for two quids-worth of chips
 – “London prices,” Dad says if they moan –
and some of them want them wrapped up in The Times
instead of a grease-paper cone.

Mum’s batter is made with the very best beer
and is famous throughout London town –
a few TV chefs have offered a fortune
but Mum won’t write anything down.

Some weekends the queue to see the Crown Jewels
can stretch for a very long way –
Dad turns on a fan to waft out the smell
and we turn a good profit those days.

Last Sunday I wanted to watch the procession,
but Dad said the Queen’s Jubilee
would bring in the cash and he needed my help –
I could watch it that night on TV.

So there I was, serving the ketchup and salt,
when the whole queue went quiet and still,
and That Voice said, “Those chips smell delicious – We really
must have some - please send Us the bill.”

Mum curtsied and Dad took his cap off and bowed;
“On the house, Ma’am – I couldn’t charge You.”
So I salted Her Majesty’s chips - and took a quick
photo to prove it was true.


SERENDIPITY - a 100 word story

This week's 100 word story comes to you from a very happy household - yesterday we found buyers for our apartment and, all being well, we complete by the end of August.
What next? A move back to England - specifically to Sussex where my family lives - but as we will be homeless until we find a flat there to rent I may be 'off air' through September.

Friday Fictioneers is an online group of roughly a hundred writers who blog a 100 word story each week prompted by a photograph chosen by  Rochelle on her site, where you can read the other stories by clicking on the blue frog.   https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/

................................................. HERE'S MY VERSION ............................................


“Karen – where the hell is this hostel?”
“Round here somewhere.”
“Well, find it soon – this knapsack weighs a bloody ton. Why did you bring so much?”
“It’s not all mine, and you insisted on buying the biggest one.”

Spotting a street sign, Karen said, “I think it’s up here,” and she’d walked fifty yards before she spotted it – a mosaic in the sky – a landing-strip for angels.
 “Dave! You’ve got to see this roof.”
“The only roof I want is one with a shower under it,” Dave yelled back and trudged on – weary sulks trump serendipitous finds every time.


A PERFECT MATCH - a 100 word story

This week's story comes to you from a steaming hot Tenerife - the heat is one reason we are selling our apartment and returning to England. Photos of our apartment are on the For Sale page.
I wrote imy story at Mel's after she'd cut my hair and was putting blonde highlights in my daughter's. Therefore I present this week's effort with their approval.
To read other writers' takes on the same photo prompt, go to
and follow the Blue Frog link to Friday Fictioneers.


Bernie had put up a good fight, spending several of his own millions in search of a donor, but now he was weary of the struggle.

Standing in the corner with folded arms was Bernie’s son, waiting to inherit his fortune; beside Bernie sat his latest wife, young and healthy Charlene.
Bernie gasped, and right on cue Charlene sobbed, “I love you, Bernie – go into The Light.” Bernie’s bodyguard put an apparently comforting hand on her neck.

The next day Charlene’s heart was beating in Bernie’s chest. When he’d married her she hadn’t known what a perfect match they were.


MOONSHINE - a 100 word story

THIS WEEK'S 100 WORD STORY came to me while I was shopping, so I wrote it sitting in my car in the car park, which is very appropriate under the circumstances.
TO MY SURPRISE when I got home and typed it up, it came to exactly 100 words, so I decided to post the first draft - un-edited. 
Thanks to Rochelle for the photo prompt on her blog;  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
You can read other writers' stories by following the blue frog trail on her blog.

It started as a joke.
Frank, Hank and Billy-Joe were sprawled on the veranda of their mouldy cabin in the woods drinking moonshine.
    “This stuff tastes like horse-piss,” Frank said and Hank said, “More like jet-fuel,” and Billy-Joe said, “Reckon it’d make even our old bangers fly.”
     Frank ‘borrowed’ the company’s muck-shifter that weekend and built a ramp out in the desert, while Hank tinkered with engines and Billy-Joe spread the word and took bets.
     The entire town turned out to watch as the cars sped up the ramp and flew, all too briefly, before nose-diving into the unforgiving sand.


HUNTING - a 100 word story


When his original home crumbled around him, Jean-Claude wandered rootless for decades, flitting at night from one roost to another – until he found the strip joint and could sleep through the day undisturbed.

Hidden in the folds of dusty curtains, he scanned the clientele to pick his victim, then lurked in the street to swoop when they staggered out. A slit throat covered his handiwork before he slid them quietly into the river.

His secret night-life went smoothly – until the woman upstairs hung garlic up to dry. Unable to get past, Jean-Claude was trapped.

Rat blood isn’t as tasty as human.
Thanks to Rochelle, who hangs out at  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  for the photo that prompted this story. Follow the blue frog trail on her blog to read what other writers from all over the world wrote from the same prompt.
My story was written between bouts of housework - keeping our apartment spotless for another viewing. If you want to see what it looks like spick and span, click on the Apartment for sale page at the top of this blog.
Thank you for visiting - and please leave a comment so I know I'm not talking to myself!


CLIMBING - a 100 word story


“Nice girls don’t climb trees!” I can hear Ma saying that now - and my childish answer, “Why should boys have all the fun?”

But my childhood was short. I went into service aged twelve, and my duties included cleaning the big chandelier. One day it dropped too quickly and the chain whipped me into the air, but I shinned down nimbly - and Master James saw me.

We were friends in secret for six years, but when we announced our engagement, James’ mother accused me of social climbing.
“Mary’s good at climbing,” James said, and the old dragon couldn’t understand why we laughed..

This story was written for Friday Fictioneers, prompted by the photo posted on Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/. Follow the Blue Frog trail on Rochelle's blog to read what scores of other writers thought when they saw the photograph.
Our apartment in Tenerife is on the market, so PM me if you're thinking of buying your own place in the sun. We have no chandeliers - only ceiling fans!


TABBY - a 100 word story


I was under the dresser when I heard Mum say Nan was really ill, and I pressed my face into Tabby’s fur. Tabby is the best cat ever but she hissed at me.
“Come away, Lucy,” Mum said but I couldn’t. Gross slimy things were coming out of Tabby’s bottom, and it was even worse when she started licking them, but Mum said, “Those are kittens. They came out of Tabby’s tummy like you came out of mine.”
“And like you came out of Nan’s?” I said and Mum cried.

That’s how I knew Nan was going to die.
This story was prompted by the above photograph posted on Rochelle's blog for Friday Fictioneers. Follow the Blue Frog icon on  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  to read more takes on the prompt from around 100 other writers. 


ANDROMEDA - a 100 word story

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle who sends the members a photo prompt each week on her blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/   Follow the Blue Frog link on her blog to read the other stories..

ANDROMEDA  (or The Long Goodbye)

Celia decided to leave Henry on July 23rd 1993, the twins’ third birthday. She caught him in a clinch with Daphne Mortimer in the summerhouse when he should have been blowing up balloons.
After consideration, and believing her children deserved a stable home, she put her decision on hold and accepted Henry’s apologetic diamonds gracefully.
Each subsequent affaire earned her another rock, which for twenty years eased the chafing of her self-imposed bondage.
What broke the final link in the chain was catching Henry in flagrante in the hayloft –  with the groom she had hired specifically for her own amusement..

Please do leave a comment below, and feel free to browse back through my earlier posts including the daily stints through April for the A-Z Challenge. Oh yes - and my APARTMENT page if you fancy buying your own place in the sun!




On 30th May each year Tenerife, together with the other six Canary Islands of Gran Canaria, Fuerteventura, Lanzarote, La Palma, La Gomera and El Hierro, celebrates Canaries Day - the anniversary of the inauguration of the first Canary Islands Parliament in 1983.

Everywhere you go you will see people dressed in the traditional costumes and hear the local music. Schools celebrate the day before, and Parque de la Reina is no exception. Here are some photos I took of the school parade on Friday morning.

A local band

I was given one of these buns baked by the school.


Nothing is more refreshing than a slice of watermelon

One of my early morning walk friends with her, granddaughter and great-granddaughter 

AND - if you want to buy an apartment in Parque de la Reina, mine is FOR SALE
Click on APARTMENT at the top of my blog to see the photographs.


SCRAP- and a 100 word story

A couple of years ago a fence was erected round the undeveloped building land in our area.

Already the fence has been breached, in some places by dog-walkers who resent being dispossessed, in others by the youngsters who occupied the rough ground years before the construction comany acquired it. They're doing no harm by walking their dogs or simply by sitting outside on sheets of cardboard enjoying the warm nights of Tenerife.
What surprises me is that the fence is bent back but still there.People are so desperate for cash that most of the metal was stolen for scrap before the fence went up - electric cables were stripped for the copper, the aluminium lamp shades have all gone, and every drain cover is missing.
The holes have been filled with rocks to avoid accidents.

AND NOW - a 100 word story about scrap, written for Friday Fictioneers and prompted by this photograph posted by Rochelle on her blog. https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/

Santosh held the wire in the glowing heart of the fire – there was no shortage of fires here – and then fixed it precisely in place before leaning over to kiss Jacinta.
“What have you made?” she asked, “It’s monstrous.”
“I call it Tip Boss.”
Santosh stared at other groups huddled round other fires for mutual protection. Taking a deep breath of the stink that passed for air on the tip, he stroked Jacinta’s belly and promised her, “Our son will not live here – I will sell my art.”

A year later ‘Tip Boss’ was the centre-piece in Santosh’s own gallery.


I HEAR THUNDER - a 100 word story

After a fortnight away in England visiting family we have decided to drop the price of our apartment. I have therefore spent the last few days re-advertising it. If you like the idea of owning an apartment in Tenerife, the details are on the APARTMENT page of this blog.

Now I can concentrate on writing again, here is my contribution to FRIDAY FICTIONEERS prompted by a photograph on Rochelle's blog   https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/


After months of hiding in cellars, trembling at each explosion and venturing out only when driven by hunger, Shira crept away through the ruins.

Carrying her daughter among broken timbers and glass shards, she dodged from shadow to shadow until they were in the fields.

Even in the ditches they dropped flat every time a bomb fell, but when they reached the hills the sounds of war were mercifully distant.

Sheltered beneath a tree, they slept until woken by a crash directly overhead. The child screamed, but Shira said soothingly, “Hush - it is only thunder. See, here comes the rain.”


BLUEBELLS and a 100 word story

I have spent the past two weeks in England visiting family. I won't bore you with the details except to say that roughly 60 people attended my granddaughter's christening, and about two-thirds of those were related to the baby!

Spring in England is glorious, and especially so in Sussex and the South Downs. One lovely morning I went with my two daughters, their husbands and the baby to admire the bluebells around Ditchling Pond, and this photograph prompted my first 100 word story of the month.

 They peered over the rail, trying to locate the source of the sound.
“I told you to tiptoe across,” Mandy scolded, “Now you’ve woken it up.”
“Nonsense - that was only a frog.” Alan raised a chauvinistic eyebrow at Jon and they stamped their feet defiantly.
“Stop it!” Debs pleaded, “I’ve just got her to sleep,” but it was too late. As Millie began to whimper, Debs wheeled the buggy away towards the bluebell field. Mandy treated the lads to a withering glance and followed her sister.
“Women’s hormones,” Jon scoffed, just as a huge hairy hand grabbed his ankle.


ZUMO, ZOTE & ZANAHORIA - the end of the A-Z Challenge.

ZUMO in Spanish means juice.  I begin every day with a walk, a shower, and then breakfast, which always has to start with fruit juice. Oranges are around a euro a kilo and make the perfect base for whatever other fruits are in season.
Bananas - we bought some of these this morning at the local market -
or papayas.
This papaya tree is just up the road from where we live - I didn't know before I saw it on one of my morning walks that the fruit grows directly from the trunk.

Continuing my Spanish words theme - here's another one.
ZOTE is a Spanish word meaning dimwit, though whether that is a strong enough word to describe the people who deliberately set fires. Every summer our bomberos – most of whom are volunteers - have to fight to save homes, livestock and crops from total destruction. The fact that they eventually succeed, despite the difficult terrain of steep barrancos and inaccessible cliffs, is a tribute to their courage and training.
I love the way words can still surprise me, and here’sanother Z word I found.
ZURCIR = to darn. I presume this means mending socks but, like the expletive “Darn it!” in English, another version is used colloquially – “¡las zurcan!” means “to blazes with them!” which ties in nicely with the previous paragraph.

ZANAHORIAS  are carrots - this was one of the words it took me a long time to learn when we first arrived. 
This road sign in Las Galletas amuses me. The road is about ten metres long, one step from the beach, and the rest of the alphabet is nowhere to be seen - every other road in this small village is named for some dignitary with three names. Calles A to Z would have made life much easier!
Until a few years ago all cars registered in Tenerife had the prefix TF followed by four numbers and then letters indicating the year. 
This one is about 20 years old, but bang on target for my final A-Z post.
If you've stayed with me throughout the A-Z Challenge, thank you - your encouragement has kept me going - and if this is your first visit, welcome and feel free to browse.
 My experience of this year's blog-fest has been like the curate's egg, but thank you to the A-Z Team for their sterling work. I shall continue to visit as many blogs as I can, but I am flying to England on Friday for a fortnight with family and friends, so forgive me if I fail to respond immediately to any comments left on my blog.