Pages

30.5.18

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.
..........................................................................................................
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.



24.5.18

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.”
.......................................................................................
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. 
   

17.5.18

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.
...........................................................................................
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.

10.5.18

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.
......................................................................................................
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.


3.5.18

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.
.........................................................................................
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.