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Showing posts with label Friday Fictioneers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friday Fictioneers. Show all posts

11.3.21

ON THE EDGE

 

ON THE EDGE

Katherine stood at the very edge of the beach, the ebb and flow of the moonlit sea echoing her emotions. Each retreating wave dragged shingle from beneath her feet, and she fought to keep her balance, just as her mind struggled to maintain equilibrium in its turmoil of thoughts.

How could things have gone so wrong? 

She was briefly tempted to let the sea take her, but when the seventh wave knocked her over she scrambled up and back – back to life without him, back to prove she could do it alone. 

No man was worth her death.

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Back in my distant adolescence I lived near the sea, and took long moody walks on the beach, thinking how guilty the people in my life would feel if I drowned. That was the nearest I came to contemplating suicide - a passing thought - and telling my family about it would have been inappropriate and cruel.

I am aware that some people in other countries believe every word that is reported about England. The media are only interested in the sensational, of course - there is nothing newsworthy in real public service, performed for decades, without any thought as to how photogenic it is. I am proud to be British and a royalist and, despite their faults, our Royal family is respected and envied in many countries.

30.9.20

THREE DAYS - a 100 word story

 

THREE  DAYS

It was three days before I dared to move. Three days sweating in the heat, three nights trying to sleep in a space not built for bodies, even one as small as mine, three days without food or drink.

 The first kick scared the hell out of me, metallic echoes ringing in my ears, but when no-one came I kicked harder, over and over, until I was free.

 I burst out into blinding sunlight – my first in God-knows-how-long – stepped over his stinking body and raided the fridge.

 Now I must find out where I live – I want my mum.

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This is my 700th blog post!! Actually I'm surprised it's not more - certainly I feel like I've been blogging for ever and a day - but the stats on my page can't be gainsaid.

Thanks as ever to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog, which has been going for WAY longer than mine - I wonder what her score is? Also thanks to Rowena Curtin for the photo prompt. To read other interpretations of the image, go to  https://rochellewisoff.com/  and follow the Frog link.

PLEASE DON'T FORGET to leave a comment, and maybe also to check out my LIVING ROCK books on Amazon - a link to ROCK FESTIVAL, the fourth and final book in the series is at the top of this page.


16.9.20

MOVING HOME - a story in only one hundred words.

 

MOVING HOME

 Archie wouldn’t let me put him down – not surprising with all the upheaval – and I managed one-handed till Dad needed help with the sofa.

I thought his high-chair would be the safest place, and I was only gone a minute, two at the most, but when we came down Archie had gone.

 I knew who’d taken him – the bastard must have been watching us, waiting for his chance to snatch him.

 It was three days before he called, and I could hear Archie in the background. “My mother already loves him,” he said, “You won’t hear from us again.”

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Thanks to Roger Bultot for this photograph which instantly prompted a story, but Other Life in the shape of a friend for lunch got in the way and I've only just got round to writing it. I was briefly tempted to write a different story, as the pile of rubbish is reminiscent of the state my garden has been in this week while a new kitchen was installed, but I resisted the temptation to burden you with my life story!

What I will do is ask you to buy my latest book by clicking on the link at the top of this page. ROCK FESTIVAL is the fourth and final book in my Living Rock series - the first three books, A VOLCANIC RACE, WOLF PACK & LANDSLIDE are also available on Amazon. The series is a fantasy - not everyone's cup of tea, I know - but Rochelle has read them and enjoyed them, so they must be worth a try! 😊



9.9.20

NOT OPEN - a story in 44 words.

 

NOT OPEN


“How much did you take today, Joe?”

“Nothing, Ma – ain’t seen a customer all day.”

“What – not one?”

“Nope – can’t understand it – I made a new card for the door, an’ all.”

“Oh Joe! Your dyslexia will be the death of me!”

 

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With apologies to anyone who suffers from dyslexia - a condition that can impact on all aspects of life.

This week's short story is REALLY short because I couldn't see any way to pad it out without losing the impact of my first draft. To read stories of twice the length written by other Friday Fictioneers and prompted by Rochelle's photo, go to her blog at  https://rochellewisoff.com/

MEANWHILE - may I remind you that the fourth and final book in my LIVING ROCK series, ROCK FESTIVAL, is now available on Amazon, along with the first three - A VOLCANIC RACE, WOLF PACK & LANDSLIDE.  To read an extract, scroll down to my blog dated 28th August. And then buy a copy, read it, enjoy it and LEAVE A REVIEW!! PLEASE!!


29.4.20

THE MATRIARCH - a story in 100 words


THE  MATRIARCH

Guiseppe surveyed the empty tables with a heavy heart. “If we can’t open again soon we’re finished! What will we pass down to our children?”
Maria sniffed. “What children? You are never at home to make any.”
As she flounced off, Guiseppe admired her beautifully rounded behind, the swing of her heavy black hair, and long-neglected need surged through his body. Perhaps lockdown wasn’t all bad, he thought, following her upstairs.

Weeks later Guiseppe set some of his tables out on the pavement, and Maria welcomed their returning customers with the contented smile of a matriarch.
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I am pleased I managed to write a positive story today! 
This has been a week of ups and downs - a granddaughter celebrating her birthday in lockdown in the Middle East, several days of wonderful warm sunshine followed by a day of pouring rain, family members feeling the strain while I am unable to help.
But I have also managed to put in a lot of time on my next book, the final one in my fantasy series - probably! I still have the idea for a follow-up simmering on a back burner, but Book 4 brings threads from the first three books together in a shattering climax. WATCH THIS SPACE!
If you haven't yet read the first three, now would be a good time to order them from Amazon, either in print or ebook format. A Volcanic Race, Wolf Pack and Landslide, by Liz Young.
Go on - make my day - buy them, read them, post a review! Please!

26.3.20

GARDENING LEAVE - a 100 word story


GARDENING LEAVE

Lynne was digging absently, her mind on her latest plot, when Ron’s voice broke into her train of thought. “What’s for dinner?”
Lynne sighed. “I’ve already told you twice – stew and cabbage.”
“No potatoes?”
“There weren’t any – shelves stripped bare.”
However early Lynne went shopping, the locusts beat her to it. Putting food on the table was hard enough without Ron’s constant whining. She stabbed her fork viciously into the compost heap and continued plotting.

A few months later Lynne’s novel was finished, the garden was awash with green, and Ron had potatoes coming out of his ears.

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For some reason I couldn't copy the photo on Rochelle's blog, so I've used a copy of the lovely painting she did from the same photo - I hope that's okay? To read what other writers made of the image, go to    https://rochellewisoff.com/  and click on the frog.

My story is not - repeat NOT - based on fact, just on daydreams! I hope you are all well, and if the virus hits you, get well soon. We are self-isolating as much as is possible - we do need to eat. Thank goodness the Off-licence is considered essential by Boris and his government! Cheers!

19.3.20

BILL'S FOLLY - a 100 word story for today


BILL’S FOLLY

It took Bill a month to build the tower, block by block.
Bill’s Folly, the town called it, but he ignored the jibes. He packed his battered car with tins and packets, bought a primus stove and bottled water.
The day he hired a crane the whole town turned out to watch his car creak skywards, trailing a rope ladder.

His pockets bulging with last-minute purchases, Bill climbed the ladder and pulled it up behind him.
“You want pensioners to self-isolate? Fine – but you’ll get a bucket-load of my shit every day to remind you I’m still here.”

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From this story you'll probably guess that I'm over 70 and not happy to be termed 'elderly'! After a last trip to the garden centre today to buy vegetable seeds, my husband and I will be self-isolating - I just hope the weather is good for gardening! Keep well, all of you who so kindly read and comment on my weekly story, and thanks to Rochelle who keeps us going. 

26.2.20

THE ROAR OF THE GREASEPAINT


THE ROAR OF THE GREASEPAINT

Lucy was just nineteen and ripe for plucking when the actor stayed at her aunt’s boarding house. After a week of stories about his glamorous world, she packed her bags and followed him.
But scrubbing greasepaint from his collars wasn’t glamorous, and the thrill of being backstage soon wore thin. She wasn’t even good enough at sewing to help the wardrobe mistress.
When she caught him kissing his leading lady, she got a bus home and married the boy she’d left behind.
He was a much better father to her child than the actor would ever have been.
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In the midst of preparing for publication Landslide, the third book in my Living Rock series, I've taken a break to write this week's 100 words.
My first husband had just dipped his toe into the world of amateur dramatics when we met, and twenty years later the 'roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd' tempted him to turn professional. I still remember scrubbing the collar of his one white shirt and drying it on a radiator overnight for the next performance!
Thanks to Dale Rogerson for her evocative photo, and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog, https://rochellewisoff.com/

18.12.19

SUMMERHOUSE - a story in under 100 words


SUMMERHOUSE

The summerhouse was our place, where we drank wine and made love to the sound of wavelets lapping the lake shore.
It was there where, one glorious sun-dappled afternoon, we made our vows, and sprinkled rose petals on the water to thank the gods for our good fortune.
But the gods of love are fickle creatures, who waft a curtain of rosy gossamer over their victims’ eyes. Love couldn’t survive the chill wind of reality, and now those dreams are frozen under a blanket of lies and broken promises.
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The building in Dale Rogerson's photo is clearly intended for summer use - you'd get a very cold bottom on those seats, though the view would be glorious. Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/ from where you can follow the frog link to read other stories prompted by the photo.

4.12.19

NIGHT BUS - a story in a hundred words

This week's Friday Fictioneers image reminded me instantly of a story I wrote three years ago, so I adapted it to use again. I have a busy few days coming up so I hope you will forgive the repetition!


NIGHT BUS

After Dave vanished, George was alone and scared – rough sleeping was dangerous. He was huddled in his doorway when a bus stopped and a voice called, “Free ride, mate?”
Bright lights obscured its destination but George stepped aboard into welcoming warmth. The door snapped shut, leaving his belongings outside, but Dave emerged from the misty interior and handed him a bottle. “Wondered when you’d be along.”
George drank deep, tasting strange flavours. “Have you been here all this time?”
“All what time?” Dave’s voice was vague, his eyes empty.
George turned to get off, but the bus was already moving.
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27.11.19

RONDA - a true story in one hundred words.

In Great Britain we drive on the left, so we turn left at a roundabout, not right. This photograph reminded me so strongly of my years spent living abroad that I had to write about it, so here is my own piece of potted history - every word of it is true!


RONDA
We were living in Tenerife when the Cabildo introduced rondas. Many locals had never seen a roundabout, let alone driven round one.
 The first instructions in newspapers were wrong and had to be amended. Leaflets appeared in letterboxes, posters in supermarkets, there were endless discussions in bars.
Then, suddenly they were here.
Wise people stayed off the roads for a while, but others had jobs to get to, or shopping to do, and had no choice. There were countless accidents, many gesticulating arguments, a few deaths.
Years later the local drivers still hadn’t learned that a roundabout wasn’t a parking zone.
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Thanks as ever to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and to C E Ayr for the photo which brought back so many memories. To read other FF stories, click on the frog on https://rochellewisoff.com/

20.11.19

IN STORAGE - a story in 100 words


IN STORAGE

My family sold everything to send me abroad, where the agent promised I would earn good wages, a hundred times more than was possible at home.
The lorry driver packed us into crates like chickens, where we took turns breathing through the air-hole, but when we felt the sea beneath us we were happy. We heard English voices as a fork-lift moved our crates, then others were placed around us, more above us, we heard metal shutters closing, then silence.
My phone is dying, so this is my final message.
Tell my family I’m sorry.
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J Hardy Carroll's photo might be of a simple storage facility, but to me it looks sinister. Whenever I see images of those enormous ships with containers stacked high on deck, I wonder how many poor deluded souls are hidden inside one. I am inflicted with too much imagination! Thanks as ever to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/

7.11.19

KITCHEN SINK DRAMA - a story in 100 words


KITCHEN SINK DRAMA

“I really don’t understand why you did it, after all these years.”
“That’s just it – years of the same irritating little things are like Chinese water torture, drip-drip-dripping until you could scream. At breakfast, for example, leaving the lid off the marmalade, toast crumbs in the butter...”
“I agree that’s annoying, but...”
“Dirty socks on the floor, changing channels without asking...”
“My Jim does that too, but even so...”
“He promised to fix the tap months ago. I was making pastry with that drip getting louder and louder – it was just his bad luck I was holding the rolling pin.”
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I assure you this is fiction - honest! Aren't we writers lucky we can take our frustrations out in words? 
Thanks to Ronda del Boccio for the photo and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog. https://rochellewisoff.com/     You can read what others made of the prompt by following the frog from there, after you've commented on my story first, naturally!



3.10.19

TWO GIRLS TALKING - a story in exactly 100 words

This story has been simmering since yesterday but that was also my husband's birthday, so cake-making had to take precedence. It does seem that if I don't get my story out on Wednesday I don't receive nearly so many comments, but that's life, I guess.
Thanks to Dale for the photo and to Rochelle for running the entire Friday Fictioneers shebang on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/
ps. I do hope this actually IS a baseball pitch - not being American or Canadian I can only surmise!
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TWO GIRLS TALKING                                    

‘How’s the big romance going?’
‘All he thinks about is baseball. Our dates consist of holding hands on a hard wooden bench – I’ve had so many splinters my behind looks like a pincushion.’
‘So tell him you want to be taken out for a romantic meal.’
‘Didn’t you see the photo? It was all over Facebook – I nearly died of embarrassment – a table smack bang in the middle of the pitch.’
‘At least he’d made the effort to carry it out there – and getting the pizza delivered can’t have been easy.’
‘Huh! There wasn’t even a candle on the table!’

15.8.19

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/


24.7.19

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...









17.7.19

MARVIN'S EXTRAORDINARY EXPERIENCE - a story in 100 words


MARVIN’S EXTRAORDINARY EXPERIENCE

Marvin was waiting for his brother to help move his stall, so when the Thing landed he was alone.
“Who are you?” it demanded.
“Don’t you mean, ’Take me to your Leader’?” Marvin replied.
“That is so last millennium.”
Marvin tipped his hat. “Marvin Brown, purveyor of pretzels and chilli chicken dogs. You look a bit undernourished.”
The Thing sniffed with a nose the size of a small car and covered its face. “Don’t think I’ll risk it, thanks,” it said, and shot back up into the night sky.
“Bloody aliens don’t know what’s good for them,” said Marvin.
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A ten minute, one hundred word story for a very odd photo prompt - my first thought was, who would actually PUT something so weird in the middle of a town? My granddaughter would be scared silly. 
Thanks to Roger Bultot for the photo and to Rochelle for running the weekly show that is Friday Fictioneers. Click on the link to read what other writers thought of the photo - https://rochellewisoff.com/

10.7.19

DINNER - a story for Friday Fictioneers in 100 words


DINNER
People were enjoying a peaceful dinner when the power failed, plunging the restaurant into darkness.
In the ensuing confusion tables were overturned, glasses smashed, and then the screaming started. One after another the voices rose to a crescendo ... and stopped. Then there was another sound, like a child slurping thick milkshake through a straw, but amplified a hundred-fold.
After a few moments there was nothing but silence.
When the police arrived, three strange tubes were disappearing into the ground, smeared with gore, and the floor of the restaurant was a foul, pulpy mess.
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Not the most pleasant way to make my reappearance after a few weeks absent, but those waving arms look menacing to me! Two weeks ago I was in Northern Ireland visiting my elder daughter and her husband and drinking Guinness. And last week I was painting my bedroom and my desk was inaccessible!

20.6.19

DELAYED - a story in a hundred words


DELAYED

When my flight is seriously delayed, I phone Ellie.
She’s furious. “How could you? We’re meeting the vicar tomorrow!”
Her shrill voice carries to the woman beside me, who smiles sympathetically. “My boyfriend has to attend a business dinner alone – he thinks I’ve done it deliberately.”
The airline offers hotel rooms and we share dinner – I haven’t talked to Ellie for that long, ever.
We meet again at breakfast, share a cab back to the airport, and part on a promise – once the decks are cleared we’ll meet again.
We have so much more to say.
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Rochelle is the indefatigable woman who runs this weekly beanfeast and you can find her on  https://rochellewisoff.com/   if you follow the froggy link you can read scores of other stories prompted by her photograph.
I have been busy painting the door frames on my landing. It's a small cottage and the three doorframes, which comprise three sides of a square, have only an inch of wall between them. This makes positioning the drip sheet easy, but it's also easy to step back and smudge the paint, and oh! the repetetiveness of the task! Only the light shining on wet paint tells me where I've been and which is still waiting to be done.
Writing and gardening have filled my spare time :)
PS - I may be AWOL next week - we are off to Lisnaskea in Northern Ireland to visit my daughter.

16.5.19

WATER - a story in a hundred words


WATER

I am the sprite known as Agua.
Sucked through a pipe and imprisoned in this chlorinated hell.

Every day people invade my space, the crash of their entry vibrating through every cell in my body.

I hide in the corners to avoid their thrashing limbs, but there is no escape.

Only when they leave can I swim in the shade between their hard squares of light, longing for the tree shadows and weed-scented river of home.

One day I will drag a body under and hold it.
Perhaps then they will drain this watery prison and set me free.


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I have always found empty swimming pools eerie, and the unidentifiable swirls in Rochelle's photograph inspired my story this week. What's more, I hit exactly a hundred words first time!
Thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/  for hosting Friday Fictioneers tirelessly week after week, even when away in the Holy Land - hope you're having a great time, Rochelle!