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.

ROBINSON II - flash fiction

ROBINSON II

Ethan’s voice dripped scorn. “That’s not proper treasure!”

“Is too!” exclaimed Henry, “Tell him, Grandad.”

Albert lifted down the box. “These are souvenirs of my shipwreck. Sixty years ago I washed up half-drowned on an island, and I’d have died of cold but for that Zippo. Kindling and driftwood like this made a fire, then I searched the beach.” He touched the coins reverently. “There’s one of these for each body I buried.” After a moment his back straightened. “But I also found a fishing net, so I survived.”

“What’s that bird for?”

“To remind me never again to eat a seagull.”

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Thanks to Rochelle at https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  for posting Claire Fuller's photo as a prompt for this week's Friday Fictioneers. To read other takes on the prompt, follow the links on her blog. After commenting on mine, of course, and please feel free to scroll back to read my earlier stories.

A WINNING STORY in 200 words

Eash month Talkback, a writers' forum to which I belong, runs a flash fiction competition - entries are prompted by a word and restricted to 200 words or less. May's word was LAMBENT - I admit I had to look it up! - and my story came first. So I decided to post it on my blog for those who like to read my stuff.

HOMELESS                                              

The harsh light of dawn heralds the clatter and clank of dustcarts and delivery vans, waking doorway sleepers from the gentle oblivion of night. I light a cigarette, cupping the match to burn its light onto my retinas – a small fire to appease the hunger.

At noon, glaring sunlight strips layers from bodies that should remain covered, while sweaty faces complain about the heat and sniff disdainfully at the street people soaking up the warmth.

Later, sunset blazes over the roof-tops – a brief, glorious vision of a town burning – but when darkness falls there are only cold neon street-lights and shop-fronts.

And of course there are candles in jars on pavement tables. I hate the pathetic, fake romance of lambent light striking sparks from polished glasses – glasses which probably hold the same wine that I drink from my carton.

It would be easy to set fire to a tablecloth. That one over there, where the bloke is struggling to eat while the girl rubs fire into his groin with her bare foot. They haven’t noticed me watching – no-one ever does.

Imagine the flames, the breaking glass, the panic, the screams.

All it would take is one flicked cigarette butt.

TROUBLE AT T'MILL - a 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers

TROUBLE AT T’MILL

When the mill-race dried up and the wheel stopped turning, the mill-stones couldn’t grind flour and the entire village went hungry.

“That’ll be His Lordship’s bloody lake,” said Chalky Miller, “I knew that dam would be a disaster.”

A week later the flow still hadn’t been restored, so Chalky and some villagers dynamited the dam. What they hadn’t accounted for was the weight of a million gallons of water. The flash flood spun the wheel so fast that sparks flew from the mill-stones, the flour dust ignited, and the mill burned.

The villagers stood by helpless, hungrily breathing in the scent of baking bread.

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A bit of light-hearted story-telling this week as an antidote to last week!

Thanks are due to https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and to Piya Singh for the photo prompt. Do follow the link from Rochelle's blog to read how other writers interpret the photograph.

ONLY EXPERIMENTING - a 100 word story

ONLY EXPERIMENTING

Evan sat on the wall opposite, rocking back and forth and watching the firemen.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whimpered, then looked round to make sure nobody had heard.

Mr Jenkins said you could make fire with a lens and he’d used the magnifying glass from his detective set. He shivered, remembering his fright when the curtain went up with a whoosh.

They should have listened when he yelled ‘Fire!’ but Dad had gone to look before he dialled 999 and now Mum was stuck.

He heard a scream and sobbed, “I didn’t mean it – I was only experimenting.”

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Friday Fictioneers is a group of writers who write 100-word stories prompted by a photograph posted each week on Rochelle’s site

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/

You can read all the other stories – free! – by following the link on her blog

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 NOT ONLY BUT ALSO  

This is my OFFERING for the O-day of the A-Z Challenge, which is to blog every day for a month using the letters of the alphabet as the only prompt. 

My theme is Tenerife, one of the Canariy Islands, where I live.

OBSOLETE – 

Bull fighting officially ended in Tenerife in 1991, but this ruined bull ring in our village stands as a stark reminder of more savage days.

 Before they fenced it off I went inside to look. There was ornate mosaic tiling everywhere in the public areas, but behind the scenes were cement block walls and plaster with deep gouges at bulls' horn height. The animal pens were tiny cells that to my mind still smelled of urine and terror.

 Despite a spell as a parking area for hire cars, and a briefer period as a storage depot for containers, to me it is still haunted.

Here are some OLD buildings in Las Galletas that hold happier memories - and are still inhabited.

Thanks for visiting my blog - feel free to browse and to leave a comment.

WHAT WOULD YOU SAVE? 100-word fiction

WHAT WOULD YOU SAVE?

Marjorie clutched the oxygen mask to her face and breathed deeply, but Jim had already lit a cigarette.

“Haven’t you had enough smoke for today?” Marjorie snapped.

“I need one,” Jim said, “Don’t you realise we’ve lost everything?”

Marjorie choked back a sob and glared at the collection of junk in front of her. “Is this all you managed to get?”

Jim shrugged hopelessly. “I just grabbed whatever was on the hall-stand, and you didn’t do any better.”

“Yes I did,” said Marjorie, “I’ve had Betty for seventy years - she's always been the first thing I’d save from a fire.”

There is a large element of truth in my story this week. Betty has been my friend and confidante since I was born, and in the event of a fire I would grab her first - right after my grandchildren, of course. 

What would you save?

Follow the link on this blog  http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  to read other stories prompted by the photo.

And please leave a comment on mine!

REPARATION

From outside it was simply an abandoned building, standing eerily silent with its memories.

Tall weeds proved the fire had happened years ago, but when I pushed through the rusted fence I could still smell smoke. 

A shaft of light blinded me momentarily, and when I looked again there was a man working at a bench.

“What are you making?” I asked.

“Reparation.” 

He pointed to the sign above us. “I broke the rule – twelve people died.” He raised his head and I saw a flash of intolerable pain. 

“Me included,” he added before he wavered and vanished like smoke.

The above story was written in response to the photo prompt supplied by Rochelle on her blog

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com

Other Friday Fictioneers' posts can be found here

http://new.inlinkz.com/luwpview.php?id=351912

Note: I almost didn't enter Friday Fictioneers this week. Why? Because the photo was far too apposite after my daughter suffered a fire at her apartment last Thursday!

CAT & SALES - (or cat for sale!)

Here she is - Kika the little madam - catching up on her sleep in the sunshine after another night on the tiles.
Lucky for her she can sleep through the loud Italian party on our neighbour's roof terrace.
I could do with a decent kip as well, after the damn cat woke me - yet again - by miaoing outside my window in the wee small hours.

This was the sight that greeted me yesterday morning - behind those telegraph poles should be our mountain, but someone had pinched it.

The sky was clear as a bell today when my daughter Mandy joined me on my walk. Not only that, but the pods of cyclists who rode past us all gave us plenty of walking room and actually smiled - it makes such a difference having a pretty blonde companion!

We are apparently going to have a heat wave later - it may even start tomorrow - so all cardigans and jackets can be washed and put away until autumn. Barbecues such as the one at which I took this photo have been banned to reduce the fire risk - we don't want a repeat of last year's disastrous forest fires.

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Down in Las Galletas the Rebajas - sales - have started, and will  last all through July.

These summer dresses are selling for around ten euros each, which is great if your knees are good enough, but we were drinking our coffee opposite a very posh and expensive ladies' dress shop that displayed this sign.






The OH and I obviously have similarly twisted minds because the same thought struck both of us - they chose an unfortunate way to chop up the word DISCOUNTS!

MORNINGS AND ANORAKS

Usually my morning walk is a time to put my thoughts in order for the day’s writing. I drag my wandering mind away from last night’s gossip, or what I dreamed about, or the shopping list, and deliberately tell myself, “Right – let’s  sort out this bit of dialogue,” or, “How would a twelve-year-old boy react in that situation?” The mere act of putting one foot in front of the other seems to untangle knots.

The views help too – the blossom is now falling from the flame trees, carpeting the pavement in orange and smelling of sweetish rot. 

The eight-forty bus waits outside the ruined bull-ring.


The old house still stands stubbornly by the huge hump in the road that its owner’s refusal to move forced on the road-builders.

But for the past few days it has been impossible to think about anything other than the forest fire.

On Monday morning there was a towering cumulus of smoke obscuring Mount Teide. On Tuesday one couldn’t breathe without inhaling specks of burning forest, and we learned that the beautiful Barranco del Infierno had succumbed. 

By Wednesday we knew the inhabitants of Villaflor had been evacuated, the volunteer firemen were battling the blaze on several fronts, and hydroplanes flew over our home at regular intervals, collecting water from the sea to drop on the flames. 

The fire is reported to be under control now, but this morning the planes were still flying – I saw both of them and took photos. You can just see it if you look really hard. It was too hot to be wearing an anorak!

FIRE ON TENERIFE

I make no apology for returning to yesterday's subject, and I am about to make a politically incorrect statement, so don't read this is you're likely to be offended.

Arsonists should have to live with the consequences of their crimes.

I live in Tenerife where at least 2000 hectares of beautiful forest are on fire because some blithering idiot set it on fire. Some selfish, thrill-seeking bastards decided it would be fun to watch other people's homes and livelihoods go up in smoke. And make no mistake about it - lives will be lost. Just this afternoon a fire engine crashed on the motorway - one can't help wondering if its driver had been up all night.
The bomberos and military are doing their best while millions of trees explode and die, thousands of birds fall screaming as their feathers burn, thousands of rabbits, lizards and insects bake in a coating of red-hot pine needles.
There are goats that people will not be able to rescue, dogs and cats - some with owners, some feral, all un-deserving of the fate that is racing to overtake them.
I saw the desolation of Masca after fire swept through there five years ago. I shall never forget the weeping shopkeeper who sent me up the stairs to look at his apartment. "I won't come with you, it upsets me too much" he said and I could see why. Televisions melted, his bath like a Dali painting, precious photographs ruined in twisted frames, clothing and furniture just piles of water-soaked ash, and the stink of burned dreams everywhere. It's happening again, now, as I type this.

If you don't read my Facebook page, look at these sites to see the awful pictures and get the latest updates.
www.facebook.com/cav.tenerife
www.facebook.com/prensa.laorotava
www.facebook.com/canarianweekly

FUEGO!

Fuego means fire, but the word is also used to mean fuegos artificiales - fireworks.
Last weekend was a big fiesta weekend here in Tenerife, to celebrate the Fiesta del Carmen, and there were dozens of beautiful firework demonstrations all over the island.
Las Galletas, our nearest coastal village, was packed to bursting with cars and camper-vans. Tents were erected on the outskirts, the beach was full, the life-guard was on his perch and the sea heaved with bathers.
We have been to the firework display several times - to sit on the beach and experience it close-up is amazing. Yesterday I merely saw them from afar and heard the thud-thud of the huge bangers, and waited like a local for Las Tres Palmeras - three fireworks that resemble Three Palm-trees - which signified the end of the show.

Meanwhile in the mountains, what we have been dreading for the past year has finally happened - a forest fire. We have had no significant rain for a whole year and everything is tinder-dry. Fire could have burst out by itself, but the usual explanation for such disasters is human. Sometimes it is a dropped cigarette-end - it is illegal to throw one out of ones car window here, and quite right too. Sometimes an irresponsible farmer will let a bonfire get out of control, or sparks from a barbecue will fly further than expected. But often it is arson. Acres and acres of trees burn because some stupid idiot wants to watch the fire, or has a grudge against society. People's homes and livelihoods are destroyed, lives are lost. 

The bomberos do their best, but much of the forest in Tenerife is inaccessible to vehicles. Pines packed with explosive resin cling to precipitous slopes. The layer of pine needles is metres thick since the peasants no longer gather it. The roads are bad enough without thick smoke obscuring the bends.
The firemen climb up the slopes in danger of their lives, dragging their hoses - helicopters drop buckets of seawater - trees are felled to create fire-breaks. Eventually they always put out the fire, but at tremendous cost, as the remote village of Masca learned a few years ago. 
Wish them and the residents of Tenerife the best of luck - we need it! This link is to the local newspaper.
http://www.diariodeavisos.com/

F-WORDS

 F-WORDS were FLYING round our apartment yesterday – the boiler packed up. FIVE years is FAIRLY average here with our water so FULL of cal. Nigel FITTED a new one, FURTHER up the wall so the OH won’t bang his head when he FILLS the washing machine – and we’re €180 worse off. “What F-word?” you ask. FIDDLESTICKS, naturally.

FIGURES – I checked my blog stats yesterday and FELL into a depression at how FEW hits I’ve had. But it’s early days, so thank you to my FAITHFUL FOLLOWERS!

FOOD - FRESH FISH is our FAVOURITE food to eat here (a very appropriate subject on Good FRIDAY) and we live on an island with more FISHERMEN than FARMERS. In the village near us there is a fish market – a dozen or so stalls that back onto the beach where the boats come in. On the terrace behind the stalls, seagulls wait by buckets for the offal to be thrown out, and on the pavement in FRONT we join housewives and restaurant owners to buy fish that was in the sea less than an hour ago. I bought some bonito once, and when the woman FILLETED it, the sardine that had been its last meal was still wriggling.

The best meat in Tenerife is pork – local, tender and FANTASTIC. When we FIRST arrived to live here the butcher didn’t understand my request for pork with the skin on, and gave me a carrier bag containing the skin FROM a whole pig. I shared it with FRIENDS, FROZE some more, and we FEASTED on crackling for months. Now the butcher is used to our strange FOREIGN ways and asks whether I want my pork “con o sin piel.”

FRUIT is another treat – oranges, lemons, mangoes, papayas, bananas and of course FIGS. I remember leaving a coffee bar one day and picking a handful of figs off a tree in the street. One of my mother’s Christmas treats was dried figs, which I can’t stand, but fresh ones still warm from the sun – that’s a different matter entirely.

And talking of food, I must not FORGET to mention my husband’s favourite – Papas Canarias – food of the gods. Small local potatoes cooked in their skins in salt water. The locals used to cook them in a bucket of seawater but now they use sea salt. Serve them with Mojo Verde – a green sauce made with olive oil and cilantro (fresh coriander).

FIRE The very word sends shivers down the spine, especially when we’ve had a drought as bad as the last twelve months. A spark can set off a FOREST FIRE that destroys acres in hours. A few years ago there was a devastating fire that reached one of Tenerife’s most beautiful places, Masca, which until recently was only accessible by goat track. The road isn’t much better now, and getting FIRE-FIGHTING equipment up there was a nightmare.

When the fire was FINALLY out there was a media appeal for help, so my daughter and I took some spare household goods and plants and went there. Our gifts were welcomed, and one man showed us his burnt-out home. It was awful - like a Dali painting – have you ever seen a melted television set? One can understand why it is a criminal offence here to chuck a FAG-END out of a car window.

But for FUN with the FAMILY and a real FESTIVE spirit you can’t beat an open fire, even in the tropics, and my son-in-law has built a FIREPLACE on his roof terrace.