BLUE - a story in a hundred words.

Foreword!

Memory's a funny thing.
I last saw this image in 2013, yet I recognised it instntly, and I also recalled the story I wrote seven years ago - I even remembered the title, so it was easy to find in my archives!
So here it is again, with only a couple of tweaks and no apology - I think it's worth another outing - what's your opinion?

Oh yes, and thanks to Jean L Hays for the photo and Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog.  https://rochellewisoff.com/
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BLUE

If I stand on a chair I can see people through the dolphin window. The postman’s face looks really funny all blue, like an alien. So does Daddy’s, but he turns pink indoors, which is so boring.

When Mummy came home from hospital last week I waved at her, but she didn’t wave back because she was holding our new baby. His face changed to pink in the house too, but I wished it would stay blue like my Smurfs.

Then yesterday Mummy screamed “He’s turning blue!” and the ambulance came.

Did I kill my baby brother with my wish?

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For thos who don't know what they are, this is a Smurf. My children used to collect little plastic models of them, and there are several films.

PASS THE PARCEL - a story in 100 words

PASS THE PARCEL

When the social worker put Josie into my arms she was a silent, smelly little bundle – a two-year-old weighing less than our Christmas turkey. A life of being passed like a parcel between a drug-addict mother and a series of careless minders had almost killed her.

She slept in my bed that night and for months afterwards, gradually emerging from her shell, shrinking back when her feckless mother dropped in, but we fought off the woman’s attempts to reclaim her.

Now she's about to marry Martin – if he doesn’t treat her right he’ll have me to answer to.

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You don't have to be a birth mother to be fiercely protective, as I learned in my earlier life a a foster mother. Even some of my own children's friends became very dear to me.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog   https://rochellewisoff.com/  and to Jean L Hays for the photograph.

SPARROW REMEMBERS

SPARROW REMEMBERS

Stolen from her bed in the cold white darkness of a Canadian winter, Sparrow’s last sight of home was the sun rising beyond the grain silo beside her house.

Instead of attending school, she chopped wood, broke ice for water in winter, suffered mosquito swarms in summer, and endured nights under a stinking blanket with her captor.

She was thirteen when another little girl appeared – then she remembered that image.

With the child on her back she trudged east, scavenging for food, hiding from strangers, focussed only on one thing – the vision of sunrise over her parents’ farm.
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Dawn Miller's photograph may well have been taken in Canada - it reminds me of the country around my son's home in Ontario, where he lives with his Canadian wife and two small daughters. So my mind instantly put together Canada, little girls, and the photo's focus to create my story.
You can read what other writers made of the image by following links from Rochelle's blog.  https://rochellewisoff.com/

GILDING THE LILY - a 100 word story

GILDING THE LILY

Lucy’s father took her out for a pizza on her birthday and spoiled her, as usual. A computer game she’s been on about for weeks, a cashmere jumper that will need hand-washing, and a box of make-up.

Lucy saw my expression. “Mum! I am ten now, you know.”

“We discussed this already, darling – no make-up till you’re a teenager.”

“It’s not fair – everyone else wears it.”

“None of your friends do.”

She smiled reluctantly, knowing she’d lost. “Okay – I’ll swap it – Boots have some really cool sunglasses.”

It seems only yesterday she was in nappies.

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Exquisite though these are, I prefer roses au naturel, hence my story today.

Thanks to Rochelle for the photograph and for hosting Friday Fictioneers. To read how other writers interpreted the prompt, go to  https://rochellewisoff.com/  and follow the Blue Frog trail.

WHEN I'M BIGGER - flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers

WHEN I’M BIGGER

Why does crying make your eyes all blurry?

I’m hungry, but when I asked Mummy for a biscuit she said I’d made her brush slip and she smacked me.

I don’t like it when she paints her models because it makes her busy and cross. She calls me a little pest and tells me to ask Daddy, but I don’t want to.

When I’m bigger I’m going to bite him – perhaps that will stop him hurting me.

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This week's photo prompt was taken by Jeff Arnold and it made me screw up my eyes trying to get it in focus, hence my story, which happened so fast that it only reached 80 words. I hope you agree that I was right to stop there? Please leave a comment and follow the link from Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  to read other stories.

It doesn't seem possible that it's November already, but my son and grandson's Trick-or-Treat call last night made it clear. I shall have to get a move on with my decorating if our new old cottage is to look its best by Christmas!

Helter-Skelter - how about buying yourself an early Christmas present? My latest novel is on Amazon in paperback or Kindle, (click on the cover at the top of my blog to find it) and would make a great fireside read. Or a beach book, if you're in another temperate zone!

SHOES - a story in a hundred words.

SHOES

We hadn’t bought a map, preferring always just to explore, so we simply wandered through the town. Most of the narrow streets were busy with locals carrying shopping, calling to each other from balconies, or sunning themselves on the pavement – the kind of scene we’d hoped to discover when booking our holiday.

But one district was eerily quiet. Outside several doors lay a pair of child’s shoes, faded and filled with cobwebs.

In a cafė we asked about them. The owner crossed herself.  “Years ago the earthquake destroyed a school – some parents still wait.”

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How could I write about anything else this week when any parent's nightmare has been brought to life on our television screens? Thanks to Sarah Potter for the photo prompt and to https://rochellewisoff.com/ for hosting Friday Fictioneers.

I have been absent from FF for two weeks, visiting family in Canada, and last week's photo reminds me vividly of my son's father-in-law's delicious home-made bread, every slice of which had a hole formed by the machinery of his bread-maker!