NEWS - a story in under a hundred words

 

NEWS

News programmes were full of the change of President – relief from the majority, anger from a vociferous and violent minority.

Spencer couldn’t watch – it was too late for his dad, who had died a month earlier. No headlines for him – just another statistic, a black man who’d wandered inadvertently into the path of a white supremacists march.

Spencer had sold his car to spare his family the shame of a pauper’s funeral, and now he went to work on public transport, the only one wearing a mask.

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This won't be the only story prompted as much by the US situation as by the photograph, but I couldn't think of any other way to read Rochelle's photo. Here in England we can only hope that America manages to heal itself without violent civil war - from our side of the Pond it looks perilous in the extreme.

SISTERS

SISTERS

 She was always the brilliant one, the shining star in our parents’ firmament. I was the plodder, with steady Bs to her A+ marks, forever in her shadow.

 I married a local boy and took Mum grocery shopping each week, while she lived forever in the spotlight, treading red carpets in designer gowns and killer heels, occasionally descending on us with bottles of champagne and exotic foods – a glowing goddess.

 Then my Lucy was born, bringing in her tiny hand an unexpected bonus – not even an Oscar trumps a grandchild.

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Here we go again - another week not much different from the last, and another Friday Fictioneers story to add to my collection. Thanks to Dale Rogerson for the photo, which appears to have been taken from the Royal Box, and to Rochelle, our indefatigable host.

AND while you're here, why not hop over to Amazon and buy one (or more) of my books to keep you amused until the Big Bad Virus has receded? You can find my latest offering by clicking on the book cover at the top of this page. 

 

BOXERS - a 100 word story

 BOXERS

Jackie had her life sorted out – husband, two children, a nice home – until That Woman started work at his office.

It was suspicious enough when he started showering every day rather than a quick wash, and going out for lunch instead of taking sandwiches, but buying new underwear to attend a conference was a dead give-away – did he think she was too stupid to notice?

She knew his habits too well. She also knew his weaknesses.

Boxer shorts washed with peanut oil would ruin his weekend.

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I am late on parade this week, and even today I am just squeezing this blog in between taking an old Acer Tablet to the school to be given to a disadvantaged home-schooling pupil, and going to my daughter's house to celebrate my granddaughter's 6th birthday. AND before anyone reports me to the Covid-Stazi, they're a single parent family and we are their support bubble!

Thanks to Rochelle for the photo prompt - I wonder if her desk is always this tidy? 

SANDCASTLES

 

SANDCASTLES

Juan built sandcastles. Every day he went to the beach, collected damp sand from the tide-mark, and constructed dreams. Tourists watched and took photographs – some even threw money into Juan’s bucket, although never enough – but Juan loved the attention.

Lucia wasn’t happy being the only wage-earner. “You must get a real job – the rent is overdue again.”

“I have a job,” Juan replied grandly, “I am an artist.”

But the next night he came home to find Lucia and their possessions in the street – the landlord had thrown her out.

It was time to stop living in cloud-cuckoo land.

Clouds = castles in the air = the train of thought that led to this week's story for Friday Fictioneers. 

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting it for another year, and to Na'ama Yehuda for the photographic prompt.

I won't wax philosophical - there will be enough of that around as it is - so I will simply take the opportunity to wish everyone who reads my stories a very healthy and Happy New Year. I shall be opening the bottle of Prosecco that we didn't consume at Christmas - how will you see in 2021?

IN TIMES LONG GONE

 

IN TIMES LONG GONE

“We have a son! I will teach him to be a good carpenter.”

“Are you sure? I know you promised but ...”

“Hush, Mary – I meant every word.”

She slept until voices woke her. “Find another shelter – my wife’s just had a baby.”

“The angel told us – that’s why we’re here.”

She moved her cloak aside, and weathered faces worshipped while baby hands bestowed blessings. But Joseph was protective. “You’ve seen him – now leave us in peace.”

“We all wish for peace,” they said, and returned to their flocks, leaving a lamb to warm mother and child.

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I was determined to squeeze a Christmas story out of whatever image Rochelle chose this week, and it was a struggle, but I hope you like it.

Too many people have talked and written about 'These Difficult Times' that I won't add to them, except to say that nothing can 'Cancel Christmas'. It will be different. For most of us it will be much quieter, which for some may be no bad thing. For others it will be sad, and they have my sympathy - I will not be able to visit my mother in her nursing home. But we will still celebrate whatever we believe in - the birth of Christ, or simply the love of family and friends - and it will be Christmas, despite Covid. 

Have a good one.

INVASION

 

INVASION

George returned from the war uninjured.

‘A miracle,’ his father said, happy to have his son back on the farm.

But his mother knew George hadn’t escaped unscathed. The meticulous way her formerly careless boy folded his clothes, the way he jumped when she dropped a saucepan, his insistence on closing all the curtains although blackout was long gone.

Her husband scoffed, ‘It’s just habit – he’ll get over it.’

Then her best coat disappeared, to be found a week later outside the village.

‘We were told to cover the signposts,’ George said.

Finally his father understood – not all injuries are visible.

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THANKS again to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers even while celebrating Hanukkah, and to Sandra Crook for the intriguing photo prompt. To read other stories, or to join in and write your own, follow the Frog Link from  https://rochellewisoff.com/ . And if you're not here next week, Happy Christmas to everyone!

AND if you haven't sorted out your holiday reading yet, or need books to send as gifts, why not try my LIVING ROCK series, available on Amazon.

WHILE I WASN'T LOOKING

 

WHILE I WASN’T LOOKING

A month stuck indoors was more than enough. I can’t get the hang of this Zoom nonsense, and phone calls aren’t the same as visits, especially when you’re deaf.

So the moment Boris let us out, I made a flask of tea and walked down to my usual bench for a look at the sea. It’s half a mile away, but that vista opens up my soul.

Or it used to. Some criminal at the Town Hall has taken advantage of us being distracted to pass plans for a huge block of flats.

Covid has a lot to answer for.

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This is my first venture into the world of writing for a while. I was hacked back in November and it's taken me this long to get my life straight - and my head! So please be kind if my story isn't up to scratch. Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and to Roger Bultot for the photograph.

Before all that happened I did manage to publish the final book in my LIVING ROCK series, so if you're looking for a Christmas read, for yourself or anyone else aged teen to adult, look no further. All four books are available on Amazon - A Volcanic Race, Wolf Pack, Landslide & Rock Festival. To go directly to Amazon for the final book, click on the cover image on this page.