24/09/2015

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.



WATERBIRD

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.

19/09/2015

HARRIET'S GIRLS - a 100 word story


HARRIET’S GIRLS

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.



12/09/2015

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!



FIRST NATION

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.



04/09/2015

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 & JULIET

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.