SEA GLASS - a story in 100 words

SEA GLASS

Kanet had ruled for sixteen years, but when he saw his cousin’s army approaching he fled the island, leaving his daughter to be captured. Izobella cursed him as she threw her crown at his departing sail, and the gods blew up a storm which swamped the boat, sending Kanet to his death.

Izobella married the invading cousin.

Centuries later Bella, playing on the beach, found a sea-glass jewel, its wave-tossed surface dulled but still holding inner fire. She took it home and stuck it to a cardboard crown. 

“See, Mummy, I knew I was a real princess!”

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The photograph which prompted my story was taken by Janet Webb and posted on Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  Follow the link from her blog to read other interpretations of the photo prompts that are posted each week. You can also read more of my stories by browsing my archives which are listed on the right.

I spent some of my childhood scouring Brighton beach for pieces of sea-glass among the pebbles, and to me they were always jewels.

ISLAND PICNIC - a 100 word story

ISLAND PICNIC

When Tom was young his parents used to take him over the reed-bed to picnic in the summer-house.

“Walk quietly,” his father would warn, “Don’t wake the troll,” and Tom would tiptoe across in delighted terror.

Later, Tom played the troll game with his own children, and even his worldly-wise grandchildren trod softly over the bridge.

One afternoon, at an island picnic, Tom collapsed. His sons raced homewards carrying him, their footsteps loud on the bridge, and they were halfway across when a massive arm reached up and snatched the body.

 “It’s what Tom would have wanted,” they said at his coffin-less wake.

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Firstly I am proud to tell you that I have had a poem accepted for World Poetry Day, which you can read under the 'Melting Pot' tab on Liz Brownlee's blog at:  https://messagepoemstotheplanet.wordpress.com/
Secondly I would like to say 'Welcome' to another two followers who have appeared out of the blue - thank you for your interest in my blog!

And thirdly, this week's photo was taken by Adam Ickes. I remember the photo, so presumably I have written a story about it before, but I can't remember when or what, so here's a new one! The prompt was posted for Friday Fictioneers on Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  To read other stories, follow the Blue Frog trail from there.

YE OLDE COFFEEE SHOPPE

YE OLDE COFFEEE SHOPPE

Janine was so sunk in despair that she walked into the cafė without realising it hadn’t been there yesterday.

A coffee appeared and a hand gripped hers. “Tell me about it, dear.”

Mesmerised by the pulsating glow from a wall lamp, Janine spilled the whole sorry tale of love and betrayal.

“You want revenge,” the stranger said, “Give him this.”

The bottle hummed in Janine’s grasp as she walked home, but she mixed its contents into his curry without hesitation. She only came out of her trance when he lay writhing, but by then it was too late.

They never did find the shoppe.

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This photo, taken by Ted Strutz, is this week's prompt for Friday Fictioneers,, hosted by   https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  . My offering is a little spooky - follow the Blue Frog trail from Rochelle's blog to read what other writers came up with.

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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.

RUBBISH - flash fiction

RUBBISH

Charlie was happiest when the only sound was the shriek of gulls fighting over fish guts, but Jed wanted a mechanical winch.

“Winches got no sense, boy,” Charlie said, “Can’t feel what’s in the net like hands can.”

“We’d catch more.”

“Don’t need more - we ain’t greedy like some folks.” Charlie picked rubbish from the net. “Got more respect for the sea, too.”

One day the net was too heavy even for their calloused hands.

“Bloody container dropped off a ship, I reckon,” Charlie cursed.

 Cutting the rope, they returned to shore, leaving their discarded net wrapped around a whale.

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The photograph, taken by Jan Wayne Fields, is the prompt this week for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by   https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/   I am particularly grateful for the prompt this week as I have written nothing else, due to a cataract operation last week that's left me a bit disorientated. I'll be fine when the other eye is done, which I hope can be soon!

Meanwhile, please leave me a comment  and browse the rest of my site before following the link on Rochelle's blog to read other 100 word stories.

ASTRAY - a 100 word interquel.

This week's photo prompt was first posted two years ago on Rochelle's blog,  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ . If you'd like to read the story I wrote then you will find it in my archive for May 2014.
I almost used it again this week, as I had a cataract operation two days ago and my eyes are a bit strange, but instead you have more about Juan, whose story I wrote last week. It's neither sequel nor prequel - is there such a thing as an interquel?

ASTRAY

“Take it to policia,” Juan’s mother would have said, but he’d left home to escape her discipline – he sold the bracelet he found in the street. Later, broke and hungry, he stole a handbag, and soon he was a regular at the backstreet pawnshop.

Juan lived the high life until he fell ill – his woman took his wallet and left. Starving, his fevered hands botched the next robbery, and under the uncompromising regime of jail he yearned for his mother’s gentler discipline.

The moment he was free Juan scuttled home, settled down with the wife his mother chose, and raised sheep.

PRODIGAL SON - a 100 word story

PRODIGAL SON

In the narrow alleys of the barrio word spread like floodwater, and if Juan misbehaved his mother had her slipper waiting when he got home. “I heard what you did.”  At sixteen he ran away.

In the city Juan lived by his wits, and was soon smoking fat cigars and wearing gold rings. But when he was ill, no-one brought soup: when he fell, nobody helped him up: and when he screamed, nobody heard.

Aged thirty-two, he returned home, where his mother clipped his ear. “I heard what you did.”

Juan smiled happily as she washed the prison stink from his clothes.

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Thanks to Rochelle for this week's Friday Fictioneers' photo prompt. It reminds me vividly of the narrow alleys I saw in Tenerife, hence my Spanish hero Juan. You can read what other writers made of Jan Marler Morrill's photo by following the links here:  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/



This is one of my own photos from Tenerife - you can see the resemblance.