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.