BLUR - a story in one hundred words

BLUR

Cataracts.

Operation.

No guarantees.

The words drop like stones. She stumbles home in a blur of eye drops and fear.

The day arrives. More drops so no reading for distraction – nothing to do but wait and worry. Bright lights, a blur of movement, the nurse’s hand a lifeline squeezed bloodless.

She goes home wearing a pirate patch and a relieved smile. Gazes at her unfamiliar reflection, restyles her hair, and walks in the rain without the blur of raindrops on glasses.

Now she’s a veteran. Cataract operation? Nothing to it – a doddle – you’ll be fine!

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'She' is of course me - I had both cataracts done last year and, after a lifetime of -9.5 myopia, I now only need glasses for reading. I could have written another story about having to dot several pairs around the house because I am unused to having to put glasses on for reading! 

I was AWOL last week due to various family matters, but I missed you all so here I am again. Thanks to CE Ayr for the photograph and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog, from where you can follow the blue frog link to read other stories. https://rochellewisoff.com/

MICHAEL'S GRANDSON

MICHAEL’S GRANDSON

Michael was a familiar figure around town, racing along pavements at 8mph on his mobility scooter, stopping in the pub for a pint or two. So when he broke down outside Boots there were many willing hands to push him home.

“This machine weighs a ton,” one friend said, “Forget to charge it up?”

“My grandson’s fault,” Michael said, “Plugged his extension lead into my socket without asking – they’d cut his power off for growing pot in his loft.”

“You should make him pay for the electric.”

“Nah – I owe him for a month’s supply as it is.”

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A combination of photos prompted my story this week - one from Rochelle's blog  and one which I took on Monday while shopping for a lawn edging tool with Mum.

Thanks to Linda Kreger for the first one and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers - Follow the Frog from her blog to read other stories and/or to join in!  https://rochellewisoff.com/ 

SHARK - a story in less than 100 words

SHARK

“That shark’s head gives me the shivers,” Kirsten said, “Let’s go somewhere else.”

“We only want a quick snack,” Rick said, “You can sit with your back to it.”

He was lifting a toasted sandwich to his mouth when his hand froze and he turned a sickly shade of grey.

“What’s wrong?” Kirsten asked, but he could only point. She turned round to see the glass wall bulging, and powering towards them at full speed was an enormous shark.

There was no time even to scream.

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers each week on her blog   https://rochellewisoff.com/  and to Dale Rogerson for the photo that prompted this week's stream of consciousness!  I am late on parade this week because last night I had the privilege of my granddaughter staying for a sleepover. She is four and a half - need I say more? <3

TWENTY-SOMETHING

TWENTY-SOMETHING

Dora had built the perfect life.

Henry returned each evening from the city to a sparkling home and the smell of something delicious cooking. Dora fitted her translating work seamlessly around school runs, entertained Henry’s clients, and did a fortnightly stint at a charity shop.

Then she found condoms in Henry’s car and her world wobbled. She tried to prop it up with his favourite meals, a different hairstyle and a new negligee, but it was too late.

A twenty-something brunette had blown in like a hurricane, reducing Dora’s carefully constructed edifice to a heap of crumpled wreckage.

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There have been some strong winds blowing round here recently, though the only damage we suffered was to a tower of runner beans, which are now propped up horizontally on my neighbour's fence. I have spoken to the plants gently in the hope that the shock will not have stunted the growth of their babies. 

Thanks to Rochelle for the photo of her own minor disaster which prompted this week's stories, and for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/

BOYS WILL BE BOYS - a story in 100 words

BOYS WILL BE BOYS

It began with boys climbing the fence and diving into windowless rooms, rat-a-tat-tatting imaginary guns at unseen enemies. Later they sneaked in to smoke, swigging from bottles purloined from parental cupboards. ‘Boys will be boys,’ people said indulgently.

Then Craig hit town, all motorbike, money and black leather. The rampant bougainvillea now hid darker secrets, and an atmosphere of danger seeped from the crumbling plaster along with the smell of pot.

‘The police should have stopped it,’ people said when it was too late – after a local boy was found with a needle dangling from his arm.

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Rochelle is on holiday yet she still remembered to leave us with a photo prompt onher blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  Thanks to Randy Mazie for the photo. One of these days I will work out how NOT to slip into a smaller font after copying Rochelle's blog title! The only alternative I can find is this which is the next size up on my toolbar! Or I could go really large, but that would be ridiculous.

Pleae leave a comment before you go :)

FLYING VISIT - 100 word story

FLYING VISIT

Jake dropped the bombshell at suppertime. “Mum’s coming tomorrow for tea.”

“Tomorrow?” Alice squeaked, “I’ll never be ready in time!”

“Calm down,” Jake laughed, “It’s only a flying visit.”

Alice spent all evening cleaning, and in the morning she put out fresh towels, baked a cake, and weeded the garden. She was exhausted by the time Daphne arrived.

The cake was a success, and all went well until Daphne was leaving.

“I’ll just pop to the little girls’ room first,” she trilled, and Alice watched helplessly as her mother-in-law ran a finger along the top of the door.

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I know nothing about seaplanes, apart from the fact that my husband has always wanted to fly in one, so Ted Strutz's photo took me in an entirely different direction. Thanks as always to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog.   https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/07/31/2-august-2019/ted-strutz-plane/

I only just caught the Friday Fictioneers plane myself this week, as I have been away for a few days with my mother, who is 94. She walks so slowly with her two sticks that we hired a mobility scooter, and one afternoon while she had her nap I took it for a spin myself. It was fun, but also an interesting experiment being a person in a wheelchair. Some peole moved politely out of the way, others completely ignored me! This is Mum bowling along Eastbourne seafront in a howling gale.

And for sheer over-the-top ostentatious decor, check out the interior of the Victorian Tea Room on the pier!

CHUFFER TRAIN - a little story in a hundred words

CHUFFER TRAIN

The landing craft circled, its cameras focussed on the train below.

“A primitive form of transport,” the Commander decided, and sent Phtam to make First Contact.

Slightly wobbly on her unfamiliar legs, Phtam walked along the platform and approached the nearest figure. “Good day.”

The man didn’t even acknowledge her. She tried each person in turn with no success. A train chuffed into the station but still no-one moved, and when it left, so did Phtam.

“They’re all dead,” she reported. “Probably a virulent virus.”

The ship left hurriedly – without spotting the sign on a gate --

‘Model Village closed today’.

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Apologies to the real people - if they ARE real - on this station, but Sandra Crook's photo reminded me of a model village on the Isle of Wight which I visited recently with my granddaughter.

Thanks as ever to https://rochellewisoff.com/ for hosting Friday Fictioneers - if you care to follow the links from her blog you can read other stories prompted by Sandra's photo.

PS to Sandra - is that Corfe Castle in the background of your photo?

This is the Isle of Wight model village...