HUNTING - a 100 word story

HUNTING

When his original home crumbled around him, Jean-Claude wandered rootless for decades, flitting at night from one roost to another – until he found the strip joint and could sleep through the day undisturbed.

Hidden in the folds of dusty curtains, he scanned the clientele to pick his victim, then lurked in the street to swoop when they staggered out. A slit throat covered his handiwork before he slid them quietly into the river.

His secret night-life went smoothly – until the woman upstairs hung garlic up to dry. Unable to get past, Jean-Claude was trapped.

Rat blood isn’t as tasty as human.

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Thanks to Rochelle, who hangs out at  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  for the photo that prompted this story. Follow the blue frog trail on her blog to read what other writers from all over the world wrote from the same prompt.

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My story was written between bouts of housework - keeping our apartment spotless for another viewing. If you want to see what it looks like spick and span, click on the Apartment for sale page at the top of this blog.

Thank you for visiting - and please leave a comment so I know I'm not talking to myself!

CLIMBING - a 100 word story

CLIMBING

“Nice girls don’t climb trees!” I can hear Ma saying that now - and my childish answer, “Why should boys have all the fun?”

But my childhood was short. I went into service aged twelve, and my duties included cleaning the big chandelier. One day it dropped too quickly and the chain whipped me into the air, but I shinned down nimbly - and Master James saw me.

We were friends in secret for six years, but when we announced our engagement, James’ mother accused me of social climbing.

“Mary’s good at climbing,” James said, and the old dragon couldn’t understand why we laughed..

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This story was written for Friday Fictioneers, prompted by the photo posted on Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/. Follow the Blue Frog trail on Rochelle's blog to read what scores of other writers thought when they saw the photograph.

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Our apartment in Tenerife is on the market, so PM me if you're thinking of buying your own place in the sun. We have no chandeliers - only ceiling fans!

TABBY - a 100 word story

TABBY

I was under the dresser when I heard Mum say Nan was really ill, and I pressed my face into Tabby’s fur. Tabby is the best cat ever but she hissed at me.

“Come away, Lucy,” Mum said but I couldn’t. Gross slimy things were coming out of Tabby’s bottom, and it was even worse when she started licking them, but Mum said, “Those are kittens. They came out of Tabby’s tummy like you came out of mine.”

“And like you came out of Nan’s?” I said and Mum cried.

That’s how I knew Nan was going to die.

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This story was prompted by the above photograph posted on Rochelle's blog for Friday Fictioneers. Follow the Blue Frog icon on  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  to read more takes on the prompt from around 100 other writers. 
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ANDROMEDA - a 100 word story

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle who sends the members a photo prompt each week on her blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/   Follow the Blue Frog link on her blog to read the other stories..

ANDROMEDA  (or The Long Goodbye)

Celia decided to leave Henry on July 23^rd 1993, the twins’ third birthday. She caught him in a clinch with Daphne Mortimer in the summerhouse when he should have been blowing up balloons.

After consideration, and believing her children deserved a stable home, she put her decision on hold and accepted Henry’s apologetic diamonds gracefully.

Each subsequent affaire earned her another rock, which for twenty years eased the chafing of her self-imposed bondage.

What broke the final link in the chain was catching Henry in flagrante in the hayloft –  with the groom she had hired specifically for her own amusement..

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Please do leave a comment below, and feel free to browse back through my earlier posts including the daily stints through April for the A-Z Challenge. Oh yes - and my APARTMENT page if you fancy buying your own place in the sun!

DIA DE CANARIAS

DIA DE CANARIAS = CANARIES DAY

On 30th May each year Tenerife, together with the other six Canary Islands of Gran Canaria, Fuerteventura, Lanzarote, La Palma, La Gomera and El Hierro, celebrates Canaries Day - the anniversary of the inauguration of the first Canary Islands Parliament in 1983.

Everywhere you go you will see people dressed in the traditional costumes and hear the local music. Schools celebrate the day before, and Parque de la Reina is no exception. Here are some photos I took of the school parade on Friday morning.

A local band

I was given one of these buns baked by the school.

 

Nothing is more refreshing than a slice of watermelon

One of my early morning walk friends with her, granddaughter and great-granddaughter 

AND - if you want to buy an apartment in Parque de la Reina, mine is FOR SALE

Click on APARTMENT at the top of my blog to see the photographs.

SCRAP- and a 100 word story

A couple of years ago a fence was erected round the undeveloped building land in our area.



Already the fence has been breached, in some places by dog-walkers who resent being dispossessed, in others by the youngsters who occupied the rough ground years before the construction comany acquired it. They're doing no harm by walking their dogs or simply by sitting outside on sheets of cardboard enjoying the warm nights of Tenerife.

What surprises me is that the fence is bent back but still there.People are so desperate for cash that most of the metal was stolen for scrap before the fence went up - electric cables were stripped for the copper, the aluminium lamp shades have all gone, and every drain cover is missing.

The holes have been filled with rocks to avoid accidents.

AND NOW - a 100 word story about scrap, written for Friday Fictioneers and prompted by this photograph posted by Rochelle on her blog. https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/

TIP BOSS

Santosh held the wire in the glowing heart of the fire – there was no shortage of fires here – and then fixed it precisely in place before leaning over to kiss Jacinta.

“What have you made?” she asked, “It’s monstrous.”

“I call it Tip Boss.”
Santosh stared at other groups huddled round other fires for mutual protection. Taking a deep breath of the stink that passed for air on the tip, he stroked Jacinta’s belly and promised her, “Our son will not live here – I will sell my art.”

A year later ‘Tip Boss’ was the centre-piece in Santosh’s own gallery.

I HEAR THUNDER - a 100 word story

After a fortnight away in England visiting family we have decided to drop the price of our apartment. I have therefore spent the last few days re-advertising it. If you like the idea of owning an apartment in Tenerife, the details are on the APARTMENT page of this blog.

Now I can concentrate on writing again, here is my contribution to FRIDAY FICTIONEERS prompted by a photograph on Rochelle's blog   https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/



I  HEAR  THUNDER

After months of hiding in cellars, trembling at each explosion and venturing out only when driven by hunger, Shira crept away through the ruins.

Carrying her daughter among broken timbers and glass shards, she dodged from shadow to shadow until they were in the fields.

Even in the ditches they dropped flat every time a bomb fell, but when they reached the hills the sounds of war were mercifully distant.

Sheltered beneath a tree, they slept until woken by a crash directly overhead. The child screamed, but Shira said soothingly, “Hush - it is only thunder. See, here comes the rain.”