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29.11.17

INCOMERS - a story in one hundred words

INCOMERS

The farmhouse was just within their budget, so Beth and Steve bought it, reasoning they could do much of the renovation themselves.
The owner of the post-office-cum-stores said morosely. “Hear you’ve bought the old Arnold place. Hope you know what you’re doing.”
Back outside, Beth shivered. “What did he mean?”
“Villagers don’t like incomers getting a bargain,” Steve said, “They’ll come round when we offer them work.”

But no tradesman would enter the property and they had to do everything unaided. It was weeks before they started clearing the outhouses.
That was when they discovered the bloodstains in the bath.
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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and 'What's His Name' for the photo prompt. I must also thank those people who have already bought a copy of my book A Volcanic Race - now is the time of year to buy gifts for friends and family, so why not a book? Positive reviews will encourage me in my present task of writing the next book in the series. It is available on Amazon in print and ebook. 


27.11.17

MEMORIAL - a poem

PHILADELPHIA
To a memorial in the chancel
 I wonder if he called her Phil,
his sweet young wife
who died too soon
leaving three babies motherless.
Did the birth of her youngest,
Peter,
cause her death?
And did they blame him –
this child who never knew
her breast,
her arms,
her love.
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Written at a Festival workshop in Holy Trinity Church, Hurstpierpoint. Local poets and artists were invited to pick a church feature as a prompt, and this memorial slab in the chancel was my choice. The poems were later published in the church magazine.

22.11.17

THE GLORY-HOLE - a story in one hundred words

THE  GLORY-HOLE

Maggie knew that downsizing didn’t mean just moving somewhere smaller, but she hadn’t realised how much junk she’d accumulated. Every drawer and cupboard was jam-packed with forgotten stuff.
“Most of this should go to charity,” she muttered, wrinkling her nose as she flicked through her wardrobe, and she filled several bin-liners without a qualm.

The glory-hole wasn’t so easy, though there was nothing of value. She didn’t need Georgia’s christening candle, or the scarf she’d worn to Mark’s wedding, and heaven only knew why she’d kept those baskets, but how could she dump the clock that stopped the day Derek died? 
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Thanks to Rochelle for the photo prompt this week - I wonder if that cupboard is in her own home? - and for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/

My own week has been filled with the excitement of publishing my first novel on Amazon. A Volcanic Race is a fantasy suitable for teen to adult readers, and is available in print or ebook.  If you like my flash fiction, why not buy yourself a copy for some relaxing reading during the coming festive season?

16.11.17

GANG WARFARE - a story in one hundred words




GANG  WARFARE

We never meant to hurt anyone.
Me, Ginge and Joey were the Denver Street Gang, with our headquarters in Joey’s garage. The four from Bennett Road used the old office building. It was only kids’ stuff – yelling insults, chucking stones, letting tyres down.

Then Ginge suggested it would be fun to smoke them out with that tin of sludge off the garage floor. How were we to know it would burn that fierce?

Three of them got out the back, but Kevin broke his ankle and couldn’t run, so they just left him.

They’ve got a nerve calling themselves a gang.
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Thanks to J Hardy Carroll for this week's Friday Fictioneers' photo prompt. to read other stories by our group of writers, visit https://rochellewisoff.com  and follow the links.
I have again been busy working on getting my first book published. The print version of A Volcanic Race went live on Amazon today and the ebook should follow shortly!! Once I've recovered from the excitement I can start revision work on the second book in the series.

9.11.17

DEPARTMENT STORE - a story in 100 words for Friday Fictioneers




DEPARTMENT STORE

“What on earth are you playing at?” The department manager’s voice was icy.
Walter settled more comfortably into the cushions. “Ain’t no sign saying we can’t sit here," and Doreen kicked off her shoes, dug her toes into the artificial grass and rocked the swing seat. 
The manager, aware of the amused onlookers, kept his temper with an effort. “This is a display, not a hotel.”
Walter handed over a fifty. “Doreen was missing home, and this is the only grass for miles.”

At closing time the manager asked them to come every day - sales of garden furniture had doubled.
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I am not a lover of cities, so I have a fellow-feeling for Walter and Doreen.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on  https://rochellewisoff.com/ from which blog you can follow the link to read other interpretations of Marie Gale Stratford's photograph.
I am getting close to publishing my first novel, A Volcanic Race, on Amazon, and I'm up to my ears in proof-reading, composing a blurb, and trying to get my head round publicity. So please forgive me if I don't read every blog this week :)

3.11.17

WHODUNNIT? a mystery in one hundred words

WHODUNNIT?

Colonel and Mrs DuCole lived outside Nether Mills in the Manor, which was a large house, but not large enough for them to share harmoniously.

Gerald played golf badly, his daily failure to reduce his handicap rendering him evil-tempered, and he hated Mildred’s collection of china. Every surface in the Manor was crammed with breakables, ranging from priceless porcelain to mass-produced pottery.

The day Gerald scored twenty over par he snapped, striking Mildred over the head with a souvenir from Clacton-on-Sea. Their gardener phoned the police-station.

“I know who did it – the Colonel in the library with a candlestick.”
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Yeah, yeah, I know - it's corny, but I've had a busy week. I am within reach of uploading my book A Volcanic Race to Amazon and as it's my first venture into self-publishing it has been a tad stressful!
This week's Friday Fictioneers photo prompt comes from Sarah Ann Hall and was published on Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/