19/07/2018

ECLIPSE - a story in 100 words


ECLIPSE
“Fetch another virgin now!” the Chief screamed, “The Sun is dying!”
The medicine man cowered. “But Chief – we’ve sacrificed all the virgins.”
“Get Daxo’s neice.”
“The gods will be insulted – she’s too ugly.”
“That’s why I’m sure nobody’s screwed her.”
The fire that burned Daxo’s neice had been his fault - she was still a virgin because no man saw past the scars. 
“Hide, Petl – they will sacrifice you,” he urged.
“They won’t if I’m not a virgin, Tio.”
“Who?” Daxo gasped.
“You, Tio – quickly!”
Despite himself, Daxo succumbed, and the medicine man arrived just as Daxo saved Petl - and the sun - the only way he could.
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This week's story is condensed from another I wrote last year, with apologies for my lack of  fresh inspiration. We have just been offered a Trust cottage and will be moving within a month - so much to do, so little time, but we're thrilled.
Meanwhile, a quick plug for my latest book HELTER-SKELTER - just the job for a holiday read so be sure to get your copy, paperback or ebook, before you pack your suitcase. Link to the Amazon page at the top of my blog.

11/07/2018

THE SLAVE GIRL - a story in a hundred words


THE SLAVE

 “Who will buy this lovely young virgin?”
“I will,” Petrus said and the hammer fell.

His home was a humble pottery in Stabiae, but a fig-tree shaded the yard, the kitchen was cool, and when Yani gave birth to a son, Petrus freed her.

One day he announced, “I go to sell pots in Surrentum,” and Yani said, “I will come too.”
Petrus stared as she packed all their belongings into the cart. “Shall I bring my wheel?” he joked.
She glanced at the mountain and shivered, clutching her child. “You can buy another – now hurry!”

They were ten miles away when Vesuvius erupted.
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Stabiae was a small village overlooking the Bay of Naples which, like Pompeii, was buried under metres of volcanic ash when Mt Vesuvius erupted.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stabiae
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I took this photograph on our village green at Halloween a couple of years ago - this was our local supermarket's offering to the festivities. Thanks to Rochelle for using another of my photos - I shall enjoy reading what the rest of Friday Ficitoneers thought of it. If you are not a FF contributor, you can find us by following the blue frog link from https://rochellewisoff.com/ - after you've left a comment here, of course.

And - if you click on the book cover at the top of this page, that link will take you to the Amazon page where you can buy my new book HELTER-SKELTER, which is the story of Albie, a boy growing up in Kent, South-east England, between the wars - a completely different genre from my last book, A Volcanic Race. For those of you who bought AVR, I am still working on the sequel and hope to publish it in time for Christmas.

05/07/2018

THE LAKE - a hundred word story for a hot day.


THE LAKE

That summer was a scorcher but the townsfolk were still shocked when Brandon appeared in shorts. 
His boss asked why he couldn’t at least get a leg that looked human, but Brandon said he was hot and they’d have to get used to it.
After work he walked round the lake, wishing he could grab a swim, but knew his stump would be too much.
Until Sadie got caught in the weeds, and he tore off his leg to dive in, then hopped ashore with her in his arms.
He swam every day after that, and at Christmas he married Sadie.
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The photo prompt this week was taken by J Hardy Carroll and posted on https://rochellewisoff.com/  If you follow the Blue Frog link from Rochelle's blog you can read other stories by Friday Fictioneers..

My Big News this week is that last Saturday - just inside my self-imposed deadline of June - my historical novel Helter-Skelter went live on Amazon. 
Publishing this book has been a dream for a long time. Some years ago an agent took it on but she couldn't find a publisher. Many of those she approached said I wrote well, but they didn't want an author who lived abroad and wouldn't be instantly available for publicity purposes!!
Well, now I'm back in England, the book has undergone a thorough edit, and here it is. If you click on the cover image the link will take you to the right page on Amazon.
For those of you who read A Volcanic Race and are waiting to read the sequel, be assured that I am working on that right now. I hope Wolf Pack will be out later this year.

28/06/2018

THAT SONG - this week's one hundred word story


THAT  SONG

That song has made him millions over the years. Wonder what his fans would say if they knew I wrote it?
The summer of ’67, it was, when he was too spaced-out to sit up, let alone write a tune. He found it one day and played it, the band loved it, and it took off. Did he give me the credit? Not bloody likely!
He’s had four different wives since then, all young and thin.

The old goat didn’t even recognise me this morning, pushing the Hoover round the studio.
He’ll remember me tomorrow – I’ll make sure of that.
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Thanks as ever to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  and for taking the photo prompt this week. 
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And I have exciting news to share with you - my next book will be out on Amazon next week! 
Helter-Skelter is set in the first half of the 20th century, so it just qualifies as an historical novel, and is the story of Albie's search for his gypsy father after his mother abandons him at the tender age of twelve. 
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For those of you who read my first book, A Volcanic Race, and are eagerly anticipating the sequel, I have been working on Wolf Pack at the same time as completing Helter-Skelter. 
For those of you who didn't buy AVR because you 'don't read fantasy', perhaps I can change your minds?The book is definitely NOT sci-fi, and even people who only bought it out of friendship have enjoyed reading it!


22/06/2018

MAGNET FISHING - a story in 100 words

MAGNET FISHING

All you need is a strong magnet on a rope and you can earn quite a few quid in scrap metal, or even a fortune, like that bloke who found a safe full of cash.
The rope must have got tangled and the lad fell in trying to free it, then his dad went in after him and they couldn’t get out.
The canal walls here are slimy slopes. There is a ladder but it’s round that corner – they probably never knew it was there.
Drowned, both of them, in five feet of mucky water. Doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?
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Thanks to Fatima Fakier Daria for this week's photo on Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  for Friday Fictioneers.
My story is what I imagine a local might say to a visitor or a reporter about a dreadful accident in the North of England which took the lives of a father and son this week.
 https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/magnet-fishing-dead-father-son-huddersfield-canal-river-calder-west-yorkshire-a8404026.html
Image result for magnet fishing accident

14/06/2018

JILTED - a story in a hundred words


JILTED

See that dress on the line? That’s my dream in tatters.
I shouldn’t have fallen for Hank, of course, but there’s a shortage of single men round here, and when he breezed into the bar, all tan and drawl, I was smitten.

Out in the cornfield he kissed me till I melted like butter in the sun. He came to supper, spoke respectful to Pa, charmed Momma, talked about settling down hereabouts, and we set a date.

He didn’t show.

When the dress is dry I’ll put it away in tissue paper.
You never know – I might need it again.


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Yes, I know it's probably a bird, but I saw a dress blowing in the breeze. If you follow the Blue Frog link from https://rochellewisoff.com/  you will discover what other writers thought they saw.
Thanks to Jean L Hayes for the photograph and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers, for whom I have written 100 word stories for at least four years - that's the equivalent of a novella!

Which brings me to the book I have actually written - A Volcanic Race - which is available on Amazon in print at the bargain price of £6.39 - or as an ebook. Click on the cover at the top of this page to follow the link to Amazon.

That's after you've left a comment here, naturally :)

06/06/2018

WAITING - flash fiction - one hundred words inspired by an image


WAITING

‘Nine o’clock by the statue.’
His typical text – terse and lacking in detail. He assumes too much, gives too little, yet I have been here since eight. It is now nearly ten.

When the morning rush eased off I felt too conspicuous in the thinning crowd and moved to the mezzanine. From here the people look insignificant, and with a jolt of clarity I realise that is how he sees me. Suddenly I am angry. As I leave the concourse the fresh air clears my head.

At nine pm my phone buzzes. ‘Where are you? I’m waiting.’
I delete his message.
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Roger Bultot's photograph was posted for Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/ from whence you can follow the Blue Frog link to read dozens of other stories - all FREE! Except for the small payment of a comment, of course.
By the way - after reducing the line-spacing in my book A Volcanic Race I have been able also to reduce the price to £6.99 ($7.99) so now is your chance to buy a copy before I start asking you to buy my next book! Click on the cover (top right) to go to my Amazon page.

30/05/2018

ROCKS - a (mostly) true story in one hundred words


ROCKS


They had hoped to be in before Christmas – until workmen digging the foundations hit bedrock. A perfect base for our extension walls, they thought, but Building Regulations were inflexible. They had to dig down deeper, extract the rock, and pour concrete. It seemed total madness, but rules are rules, even in Ireland.

Then it snowed, the foundation ditch became a moat, and the caravan toilet froze solid.

Finally spring arrived, building work recommenced, and their spirits lifted – they had a garden to design. It made sense to start with a rockery – one thing they weren’t short of was rocks.
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This is almost a true story. My daughter and her husband are in the throes of renovating a cottage in Ireland, and the first photograph could (almost) have been taken in their garden. The one on the left was.

Thanks to Connie Gayer for the photograph which Rochelle posted on her blog at  https://rochellewisoff.com/ - from whence, if you follow the Blue Frog link, you can read other stories that are more likely to be Fictional.



24/05/2018

TREVOR'S PRAM - a story in one hundred words


TREVOR’S PRAM

The space beneath the mattress in the ancient pram could hide many small items, and Pauline supplemented her income by pilfering, careful to spread her net wide enough to avoid suspicion. With her husband in prison she struggled to make ends meet.

Trevor learned from an early age to snatch an apple or sweets to hide under his blanket, and his innocent face saved him from anything worse than an indulgent scold. By two years old he was an expert.

This pram’s a godsend,” Pauline told her sister, “It’s amazing what useful trifles you can hide under a baby.”
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Yes, I know - you're wondering how I got from that photo to my story. It's a pretty glass bowl, similar to one I have had for fifty years which is just right for serving sherry trifle. Other writers have no doubt been less obscure with their stories, which you can check out on https://rochellewisoff.com/ from where Rochelle hosts Friday Fictioneers. As she took the photo it is probably her bowl, though she clearly prefers plants to trifles. 
   

17/05/2018

GRANDMA'S BOOTS - a story in a hundred words


GRANDMA’S BOOTS

I loved Grandma’s cottage – after school I’d lie on her rag rug while she told the story of each scrap, eating buns hot from the chipped yellow stove. She made soup with vegetable peelings that Mum would have thrown away, never bought new clothes, and mended her own boots.
‘Embarrassing’ Mum called her, but she couldn’t stop me loving her.

Then one day there was no smoke drifting from her chimney, no smell of baking.
Mum bought a frock to bury her in and burned her old clothes, saying they weren’t fit for the jumble.
I hid her boots in my wardrobe.
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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  and to Courtney Wright for the atmospheric photograph. The stones on which the boots sit reminded me of the cottage my daughter and her husband are renovating in Northern Ireland - they will know exactly where I saw Grandma's stove!
Like many of you I have been busy writing, working on Wolf Pack, the second in my Living Rock series, and also preparing to publish another book in a completely different genre - historic drama/romance. Helter-Skelter is the story of Albie, his search for his gypsy father when his mother abandons him at the age of twelve, and eventually of his army service in the first months of World War Two.
Look out for Helter-Skelter by Elizabeth Young soon on Amazon.

10/05/2018

THE BURGER VAN - a story in a hundred words


THE BURGER VAN

Music was so unlikely in that dingy street that the night ladies paused in their negotiations to gather round the hatch.
Dale served everyone burgers and coffee, each burger-wrap and coffee-cup printed with a girl’s face.
“My daughter,” he explained.
They curled their lips. “What did you do to hurt her?”
He looked beyond them at the towers of wealth. “I turned my back when she needed me most. If you meet her, ask her to come home.”
He drove away, and the wind blew discarded cups into a corner where a ragged bundle huddled unseen.
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I can't get excited about cities - nasty noisy rushing places that hurt my soul - so this week's flash fiction was bound to be down-beat. Thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/ for posting the picture prompt taken by another Wisoff - read Rochelle's blog for the full story, and follow the link from there to read others.
I have been busy working on the latest draft of Wolf Pack, the next book in my series. If you haven't read Book One yet, the link to A Volcanic Race is at the top of this page.


03/05/2018

THIRTY-NINE STEPS - a 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers


THIRTY-NINE STEPS

The villagers called Seth simple, but his mother was a witch – if he wanted to build his staircase, no-one was brave enough to stop him.
When he carried log after log up the hill they mocked. “Those steps are far too big!” and “Who wants to go up there?”
Seth simply smiled. “You’ll thank me one day.”

Then the rain came – first a downpour then a deluge. The stream became a river, Old Jake’s cottage washed away, and the villagers retreated uphill.
Each over-large step held a family and, until the flood receded, there they stayed - scared and soggy but safe.
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There are a few people in parts of England who would have welcomed some steps to higher ground a few days ago, but the sun has now returned. Thanks as always to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on https://rochellewisoff.com/  and to Karen Rawson for the photo prompt.
Her photograph also reminds me of a trip many years ago to the Flinders Ranges in South Australia, where heavy rain turned a trickling stream into a raging torrent within half an hour, underlining the valuable lesson - don't mess with Nature.
I am feeling happy this week, as I and my novel A Volcanic Race have been given a lovely write-up on the Subscriber Spotlight pages of Writing Magazine's June issue. The article has already nudged one friend into buying a copy - click on the image at the top of this page if you would like to follow suit.


26/04/2018

SNOW ANGEL - a 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers


SNOW ANGEL

With the temperature twenty-five on the beach, the last thing we expected was snow, but after a night of heavy rain the mountain shone brilliant white.
After lunch we hired a car and drove up to look. It was magical but freezing, and we weren’t dressed for snow.
Driving back round never-ending hairpin bends, my foot slipped on the pedal and we slid towards a vertical drop.
Two feet from certain death we stopped, with the bonnet touching a snowman.
Or so I thought, until our snowman spread its beautiful wings and soared away over the sunlit void.
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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog https://rochellewisoff.com/ and to Jan Wayne Fields for the photo prompt. You can read other stories by following the above link.
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When I lived in Tenerife, the sight of snow on the mile-high Mount Teide was an annual treat for the eyes. Once the Cabildo had cleared the very steep and winding access road, locals would drive up there to play in the snow, even enjoying barbecues, before building snowmen on their bonnets and driving down - the winner being the driver who got the furthest before the snowman melted! 
There is so much more to Tenerife than the average tourist sees - it is hardly surprising that my adopted island inspired my Living Rock series of books. If you would like to buy A Volcanic Race, the first in the series, click on the cover at the top of this page.

19/04/2018

CHAIN GANG - a 100 word story

CHAIN GANG

We needed six kids holding two chains each, and one to start us off.
Big Carl would grab his chain and run like crazy while our skinny legs struggled to keep up. Muscles screaming, hands burning, round and round, faster and faster, till Carl yelled ‘Now!’ and we lifted our legs and flew.

I let go once, and my loose chain took Carl’s tooth out. Skinned knees were nothing compared with the shame.

Thirty years on, Carl’s big heart gave out. When we wedged our shoulders under his coffin, all six of us were certain we heard him shout, ‘Now!’
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Douglas M Mckillroy's photo is probably of something much more industrial than a children's ride, but this is how I've interpreted this week's Friday Fictioneers' prompt from Rochelle, our glorious leader. Go to her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  to read other stories from our group.


What glorious weather we're having in England this week! And it's more of a treat because it's a rarity. Needing some photos for a book cover was my excuse to take the day off and get the bus to Brighton, where I managed to squeeze in lunch, a bit of shopping, and a stroll along the seafront with an icecream in my hand. The kids' rides on Brighton Pier might have influenced my choice of story!


12/04/2018

UNTIL THAT NIGHT - a story in a hundred words


UNTIL THAT NIGHT

It was our dream house thirty years ago. Children raced round its rooms, their laughter bouncing off the walls, and the house itself smiled. Perfect.
Until that night we left a window open.
Now we creep around in silence, brittle as glass, afraid of breaking our fragile union. Happiness has vanished – in fact we barely speak at all – and the house sags around us for lack of love. The window stays open – there’s nothing worth stealing now.
He wants us to leave – ‘move on’ he calls it – but what if she returns and I’m not here?
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Friday Fictioneers is a group of roughly 70 writers who produce a 100 word story each week from a photo prompt. This week's photo is by Yarnspinnerr and posted on Rochelle's blog https://rochellewisoff.com/ - thanks Rochelle.
I am celebrating - quietly - having reached the end of the latest draft of Wolf Pack,   the second book in my Living Rock series. To read the first book click on the link at the top of this page.


04/04/2018

AND BREATHE - a 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers


AND BREATHE

Dee hoisted Petey out of his high chair and smacked his nappy-padded bottom. He wasn’t hurt but it shocked him into taking a breath – when he held it that long it frightened her.

Petey grew into a self-willed teenager, ignoring Dee’s admonitions to stay away from the tidal pools, and his gang often bunked off school to go swimming.
One blustery day Martin misjudged his dive and the whirlpool dragged him down to certain death, but Petey took a deep breath and jumped after him.

The others counted two long minutes before he dragged Martin ashore, unconscious but alive.
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Dale Rogerson's photograph of lights made me think of whirlpools - such is my weird imagination! Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog https://rochellewisoff.com/  from whence you can follow the link to read more short stories and see what other writers made of the prompt.

29/03/2018

FAMILY TREE - fiction in one hundred words


FAMILY TREE

Kirsty raised her glass to Andrew, mouthing “Happy anniversary” over the buzz of conversation – despite everything they’d made it through twenty-five years. With their first grandchild on the way, she was content, if not deliriously happy.

The dappled shade reminded her of a distant afternoon beside a river, making love hidden by willow tree fronds, young and carefree.
Careless, too. Her smile faded as she recalled the subsequent loss and heartache.

Andrew’s voice shattered her reverie. “Kirsty – who’s that young man?”
Kirsty could only watch, trembling, as the consequence of her stolen afternoon walked towards them across the lawn.
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This week's photo prompt comes from Fatima Fakier Deria via the good offices of Rochelle at https://rochellewisoff.com/  and is one of about 70 stories which you can find by following the links from her blog.

I was very pleased this week to find that my local library in West Sussex are now listing my novel A Volcanic Race, which I hope will lead to more people reading it before the sequel, which I am now working on, comes out. You can buy your own copy by clicking on the image of its cover on this page.

21/03/2018

ESCAPING - a story in 100 words


ESCAPING

I know it won’t be an easy road, but there’s no turning back now.

I loved him once, but he soon knocked that out of me. The kids, poor little sods, tiptoed round the place like mice, scared to say a word. I tried to hide the bruises but they guessed anyway.

With no money I couldn’t see any way out, but last night Mikey, my little hero, tried to stop him, and he hit Mikey. Knocked him clear across the kitchen.
So now we’re leaving, making our own way, and however rough it gets he’s not going to stop us.
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Bjorn Rudberg's photo, which Rochelle used on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  this week, reminds me of some of the mountain roads in Tenerife - the ones the tourists don't see - where you can't turn round even if you want to. Those tracks prove that vehicles use it regularly despite the dangers - I wonder what's round the corner that could be worse than the road itself?
That thought prompted my story - what faces this mother is scary, but if she stays...



15/03/2018

MAN WALKS INTO A BAR - a story in 100 words


MAN WALKS INTO A BAR

“Evening, landlord! A pint of your best, please, and one for yourself. I hear there’s been a UFO sighting?”
“Saw it with my own eyes. It came out of nowhere, hovered just over my car, then whooshed off. Never been so scared in my life.”
“Where was this?”
“On the old quarry road.”
“Can you show me?”
“You won’t get me out there again.”
“Then I’ll find it myself. A photo like that will get me into the nationals.”
 Later.
Another man walks into the bar. “Anyone lost a camera? Just found it lying out by the old quarry road.”
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This is yet another story prompted by a photo taken by Ted Strutz and posted on Rochelle's site  https://rochellewisoff.com/  - thank you both. By following the links from Rochelle's blog you can read lots of other stories from the same prompt.

I'm off balance today. Getting up at 7am because the only slot my hairdresser had free was at 9am has thrown me - the stress we retirees go through!! 

On top of that, over the past week I have been writing new sections for my Work In Progress (WIP) revision, and rediscovering the thrill of having so many thoughts tumbling over each other that my fingers can't move fast enough to keep up.
 If you haven't yet read my first book, A Volcanic Race, now would be a good time, because the next one is on its way! The link to Amazon is on the top right of my page. Yes, up there!

09/03/2018

GARDEN VISIT WITH DAD


GARDEN VISIT WITH DAD

Jed Fisheagle’s expression was stony as Patty wheeled him round the gardens.
“I had hoped you’d appreciate the nature and fresh air, Dad.”
“Air’s alright – I can smell the pines from here – but nature? Huh! Those ain’t trees, all chopped about like that.”
“They’re pollarded, Dad.”
“Whatever, they ain’t natural. And water should be free, not walled in a pond full of fish a man can’t eat. Where’s that coffee you promised?”
As Patty turned his wheelchair towards the house, Jed swung his stick, toppling several stacks of stones. “Even their signposts are wrong – this ain’t the way to the reservation.”
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Another picture prompt from Friday Fictioneers - thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/
and to Sandra Crook who took the photo. I like trees to be natural - trimmed is okay, but never pollarded to within an inch of their lives - to this story couldn't be written any other way. 


02/03/2018

STRANGER IN TOWN - a story in a hundred words


STRANGER IN TOWN

The saloon sign creaked in the chilly wind and Brad succumbed to its invitation. A dozen men fell silent as he entered and ordered a beer.
“Friends in town?” the barman asked.
“No, just passing through.”
“You expected somewhere?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Storm coming – we’ve got beds. You can get a bath at the barber next door.”
“Guess I could use one,” Brad laughed, drained his glass and went to get cleaned up.
As the door shut behind him, the barman said, “Right – who’s first?”
“I’ll have six, Todd,” said the Sheriff, “Best pies in the county.”
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Friday Fictioneers' prompt this week was so bleak that it made me think of an empty town in the middle of nowhere, and as I know nothing about boxing, I let my mind wander. Hope you like what I came up with.
Thanks as ever to Rochelle for hosting FF on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  and to J Hardy Carroll for the pictorial prompt that inspired us this week.

My alternative thought was to write about the snow we have around our village in the south of England, but that would have involved me posting a picture of the massive bruise I acquired when walking 'off-piste' in search of my own photo opportunity - not a pretty sight! - so here's the photo I took when I'd picked myself up.


AND - for any of my readers who weren't brought up in England, or who have never encountered the wonders of theatrical melodrama, here's a clue to the story behind my story.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sweeney_Todd


22/02/2018

LAST MAN STANDING


LAST MAN STANDING

When the plague struck I somehow escaped contagion. On my first foray into town for food I didn’t see one adult alive, but I acquired a small tribe of feral children.

Suddenly my cottage wasn’t big enough so we moved to this farm. We have fruit and vegetables to pick, horses to pull the machinery, and space to recover. Each time we hit town for clothes, tools and seeds – always seeds – more children creep out of the undergrowth to join us.

What we need now is books and a teacher – preferably young and female – then it will be perfect.
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WRITTEN IN A RUSH BEFORE MY GRANDDAUGHTER ARRIVES FOR HER FIRST EVER SLEEP-OVER - WITH ME LUCK!  Apologies for the capitals :) Thanks to Rochelle https://rochellewisoff.com/   for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to Marie for the photo that almost - but not quite - had me stumped!



14/02/2018

BARGAIN COTTAGE



BARGAIN  COTTAGE

We were on a winter break when we saw the cottage, picturesque beneath its blanket of snow, and at that price we snapped it up.

When we returned in the spring the cracks were showing, literally, and the architect recommended a complete rebuild.
Bravely we declared living in a caravan made us feel young again, though to be honest, cold showers on arthritis did the opposite. But we’d found a good builder and work progressed well – until they demolished that wall.

They’d uncovered the real skeleton in the cupboard – no wonder the cottage had been so cheap.

                                                *******
This week's photo, taken by Dale Rogerson, immediately brought to mind my daughter and her husband, who are renovating a cottage in Northern Ireland. They haven't found a skeleton - yet. This is their cottage, photographed last week, and they're very comfortable in their caravan - or so they claim!

Thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/ for hosting Friday Fictioneers. You can read other stories by following the Blue Frog link on her blog.

I am trying to get to grips with Twitter, having only used it spasmodically so far, so if you see me popping up in odd places on that site, please wave . 
Oh yes, and if you have read my book, A Volcanic Race, and enjoyed it, please be kind enough to recommend it to your friends and post a review on Amazon.
For some reason known only to themselves, Amazon don't co-ordinate the reviews on their various national sites, so only half of my excellent reviews appear on the UK site - some are on other sites around the world. Go figure! 
If you haven't read it yet, there's a link up there at the top of my blog 😼



07/02/2018

AW, SHUCKS! a story in one hundred words


AW, SHUCKS!

Henry’s hotel had seen better days, but then so had the town.
Within a decade of the County re-routing the highway the place had become a backwater, full of washed-up trash and drifters. The hotel’s wallpaper peeled off and flakes of rust fell if a pigeon landed on the roof.
When a stranger booked a room for a week, Henry was too astonished to enquire what the man did all day out in the woods, and when he offered to buy the place, Henry practically bit his hand off.
Henry left for Florida a week before the new owner struck gold.
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Yet again Rochelle has found a photo to stir the imagination, this one taken by JSBrand. Thanks to those of you who sympathized with my internet dilemma last week - I found a lovely woman locally who fixed it, so now I'm back in business, and can comment on more posts than I did last week.
One more thing - if any of you have been good enough to buy my book - link at the top of the page if you haven't! - could you please compound your kindness by writing a review? Thanks.

01/02/2018

CHANGING ATTITUDES - a 100 word story


CHANGING ATTITUDES
 Last month I would have fought for that tree, tying myself to its trunk to defy the chainsaws, but that was before the disaster. Now I’ll fight for my share of the logs, for without fire how can I feed my child and keep the night terrors at bay?
We don’t know what happened – without media there is only rumour and fear. Already barter has replaced cash, every supermarket has been looted, food rots in powerless freezers, and farmers patrol their livestock and crops with shotguns.

I never imagined the time would come, but today I killed a chicken.
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If I manage to post this it will be a miracle! On Monday I had a message on my laptop that Adblock had crashed, taking with it Google Chrome, my browser of choice, and clicking on the 'balloon' as instructed did nothing to fix it. Firefox, my standby, has also crashed, and uninstalling Chrome then reinstalling it didn't work either. So here I am, struggling with Google Search - can't get a Toolbar, or a Bookmarks bar, and it's all guesswork to a technophobe, so bear with me!

24/01/2018

SHRAPNEL - a hundred word story inspired by a photograph

SHRAPNEL

“Found some!” Arnold yelled.
The piece of shrapnel was still hot, as was the bombsite, but his gang had to be there first to retain their scavenging rights to the street. 
As they scoured the rubble for more, Hal asked, “Anything from your dad?”
Arnold shrugged. “He’s too busy killing Jerries.”
“My dad writes every week.”
“Your dad’s a softie.”
The token scuffle didn’t last long – Arnold’s heart wasn’t in it.
Mum shouldn’t have left that letter lying open, but when he heard her crying he read it. Now the words were burned into his brain.

‘Dereliction of Duty’.
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Thanks to Sandra Crook for her photo of a derelict building and a Smart car, but my mind sped off in a different direction. Visit https://rochellewisoff.com/ to read other interpretations of the Friday Fictioneers prompt.

18/01/2018

HAMELIN - a story in one hundred words


HAMELIN

Clowns outside the school attracted every child to their offer of free rides at the fairground. In the scramble, only the fittest won a ticket, and Belinda had to stand and watch as her luckier classmates climbed aboard, the music blared and the ride started.
But something wasn’t right. The speed increased rapidly until the children’s faces blurred, the music became deafening, and when a flying shoe struck Belinda she backed away.
Then the noise reached a crescendo and the ride stopped abruptly – empty. Belinda, sobbing with fright, turned and fled as fast as her crutches could carry her.
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There is something about the frenetic noise of a fairground that could so easily escalate into nightmare, and this story is what J Hardy Carroll's photo brought to my mind. To read what it inspired other writers to write, go to  https://rochellewisoff.com/  and follow the Blue Frog links.

For those who don't know the story of The Pied Pper of Hamelin, there are accounts of the (allegedly) true story on Google. 

ps. If you haven't read my book A Volcanic Race yet, the link to Amazon is at the top of this page.