THIRTY-NINE STEPS - a 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers

THIRTY-NINE STEPS

The villagers called Seth simple, but his mother was a witch – if he wanted to build his staircase, no-one was brave enough to stop him.

When he carried log after log up the hill they mocked. “Those steps are far too big!” and “Who wants to go up there?”

Seth simply smiled. “You’ll thank me one day.”

Then the rain came – first a downpour then a deluge. The stream became a river, Old Jake’s cottage washed away, and the villagers retreated uphill.

Each over-large step held a family and, until the flood receded, there they stayed - scared and soggy but safe.

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There are a few people in parts of England who would have welcomed some steps to higher ground a few days ago, but the sun has now returned. Thanks as always to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on https://rochellewisoff.com/  and to Karen Rawson for the photo prompt.

Her photograph also reminds me of a trip many years ago to the Flinders Ranges in South Australia, where heavy rain turned a trickling stream into a raging torrent within half an hour, underlining the valuable lesson - don't mess with Nature.

I am feeling happy this week, as I and my novel A Volcanic Race have been given a lovely write-up on the Subscriber Spotlight pages of Writing Magazine's June issue. The article has already nudged one friend into buying a copy - click on the image at the top of this page if you would like to follow suit.

RATS & COBBLESTONES - Flash Fiction in 100 words X2

RATS

Twenty years we’ve lived here, but I’ve never felt comfortable.

I imagined the kids drowning, but of course they were soon swimming like ducks, and when Derek bought a narrow-boat they were ecstatic.

Admittedly the gently sloping gardens are lovely, but every passing boat brings gawping strangers and, since a photo of me in a bikini appeared on Facebook, I’ve stayed indoors.

Then last week it rained, in biblical proportions.

“We’re safe,” Derek declared, sitting Canute-like beside the canal bank, but had to admit defeat when a rat swam past him, heading for our terrace.

When the water recedes we’re selling up.

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For some reason I thought yesterday was Wednesday, so when I saw the next photo on Rochelle's blog I thought it was the Friday Fictioneers' prompt. So here's the story I wrote yesterday - two for the price of one!

Please feel free to comment on both before you follow the links from    https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/   to read other stories.

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COBBLESTONES

The villagers protested but the mayor carried the vote – the cobblestones that rattled his Rover’s suspension would be covered with pulverised gravel from his quarry, which the village could have at cost.

Within days every carpet was grey with dust, and the men covered their drinks whenever someone drove past the bar. Complaints poured into the Mayor’s office, but he shrugged, “What can I do?”

Then the rains came – a true tropical storm that raced down the steep village street and washed every grain of grey onto the beach, leaving only ancient cobblestones to gleam under the next day’s sun.

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And yes - the theme of rain seems prevalent this week - must be due to  the weather in Sussex :)

TROLLEY DOLLIES - flash fiction

TROLLEY DOLLIES

“Will you look at her, Mavis! Stuck up cow.”

“Thinks she’s too good for us because Waitrose carries a better class of shopping.”

Betty sniffed. “She still gets dumped in the same car park, though.”

Mavis leaned in confidentially. “Those trolleys with the posh wheels are always getting nicked. I heard her cousin’s living on the streets full of a bag-lady’s stuff.”

“No!” Betty was briefly diverted, but then a chilly wind blew and she creaked dolefully. “She’ll be as rusty as us soon if this flood water doesn’t go down – my wheels are bloody freezing!”

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Janet Webb took this photo which is this week's prompt for Friday Fictioneers, the group hosted by Rochelle. Follow the link on her blog  

 https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  to read other 100 word stories.

PINK SILK - a 100 word story

PINK SILK

Despite the relentless rain, Sanjay was happy. After months of persuasion, his parents had agreed to his marriage to Gita, a beautiful but poor girl from the wrong side of the river.

When he got home he hastened to the window and saw her at her own window, waving the scarf that had been his betrothal gift. He blew her a kiss, just as a massive chunk of the bank was torn loose and her old house slid into the river.

Hand on mouth, Sanjay watched helplessly as Gita, still holding the scrap of pink silk, was swept away downstream.

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog. https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  and for taking the photograph that prompts this week's stories from around the world. Follow the Blue Frog trail from her blog to read scores of others - after leaving a comment here, if you would be so kind!

                                     

WASHER - a story in 100 words

This week's story is a short kitchen sink drama - a warning ahead of Christmas to be careful what you say!
Thanks as always to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her own blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  and also for the photo - I wonder if that's her own kitchen?  Follow the Bloe Frog trail from her blog to read other takes on the ptompt.

WASHER

“That tap’s driving me mad,” Julie complained, plonking toast on Andy’s plate and pouring mugs of tea.

“I said I’d fix it after the match,” he growled, “Stop bloody nagging.”

“It’s dripped for weeks,” Julie protested, “But everything has to wait for your precious football.”

Andy’s fist shot out and scalding tea soaked Julie’s sleeve. She rushed to the sink for cold water but the tap came off in her hand, and as the flood spread Andy yelled, “Fetch my tools!”

Julie ran to the door, only pausing to throw the electric toaster into the rapidly growing pool around his feet.

THE POWER OF "THE GAME"

LAS GALLETAS  seafront road is too narrow for the traffic that uses it. There isn't really room for the cars that park by the beach, and meeting a Titsa bus coming the other way can be nerve-wracking.

A couple of years ago the road was closed sporadically for months while the Cabildo installed vast pipes to take the local sewage out to sea. They even used gravel and stones from the beach to create a very dodgy-looking temporary pier on which the heavy diggers teetered dangerously.
When the pipes had gone beyond the harbour the beach was reformed, but Man cannot match Nature.

Last year's floods washed the beach back into the sea and destabilised the sea wall. They repaired it.

Then last week we had big seas, even inside the harbour, and the beach vanished again, along with some of the pavement and a bit of road. We had to drive the long way round or park in El Fraile and walk.

 This was the scene on Thursday morning - you can see El Fraile beyond the palm trees in the background of the second photograph. It looked to me as if workmen needed to drive pilings into the beach to shore the road up safely, which would mean months more work at Tenerife speed. 

But yesterday the traffic was flowing smoothly again and a neat patch of tarmac covered everything. This was unprecedented! What had happened? I came home and looked up Arona's calendar of events and the answer was staring me in the face. 

A football match - today at 6pm - in the Sports Centre in El Fraile.