Category Archives: Blog

A Dash to Freedom

Friday Fictioners, a volume of fiction in 100words.

This week’s prompt is interesting as it reminds me of the many storms and monsoons I have experienced.

If this was a holiday snap, I hope that Brenda’s holiday went well despite the storm and they enjoyed the experience.

You can read other contributions to Friday Fictioneers, here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Brenda Cox

A Dash to Freedom

Mai Ling ordered black coffee.

The uprooted trees symbolised the turmoil in her thoughts, a burning itch of fire ants on her skin.
The bitter drink aggravated the snake coiled in her belly, a mixture of freedom with the dread of discovery.

Last night’s tempest thundered like a herd of stampeding buffalo battering the hotel with spears of rain, and the window crashed across the room.
She acted on impulse, a frenzied flash of angry until the bedsheets resembled an impressionist canvas of red.

Her cup rattled in the morning quiet.
The train departs at seven and she will travel alone.

The Well of Eternity

This week’s Friday Fictioneers’ photo-prompt takes us for a stroll through the woods, and we discover an abandoned cabin covered in moss. Interesting.

Read other story contributions here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas

The Well of Eternity

There it is, “Die Quelle der Ewigkeit.”
Mary looked at John, his eyes ablaze with excitement.
One mouthful of the water in the hut ensures eternal happiness for life.

They bumbled around these woods for days, searching for the mythical source. 
She gritted her teeth. She expected a romantic weekend, perhaps even a proposal. 

John scooped up a handful of water, refreshingly cool, gasped, choked, and dropped onto his knees. ‘Mary.’
Her mother’s warning sparked Mary’s thoughts. “He’s a lunatic.”

Panic battered her heart.
No! she screamed and pointed at the sign.

John gasped for breath, collapsed, and died. 

The Guiding Beacon

This week’s photo prompt reminds me of the NATO early warning system domes that once were situated on some of the hilltops.

More stories from Friday Fictioneers inspired by the Photo can be read HERE.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The Guiding Beacon

Mary-Anne gave out sandwiches and coffee from the back of her van to the destitute. She received a licence to expand her enterprise and has added fries and seafood dips.

‘My unique Bubble,’ she says. ‘Well, that’s just storage and an attraction for the town.’

Her assistant sniggered. He maintained the space array beacon hidden by the dome, and his team operated from the sub-terrain control centre.

The Nymerana were creating a network on Earth to guide their people towards safety from the Asteroid shower destroying their constellation.

Humans are naïve, although accommodating, thought Mary-Anne. They taste like scrumptious chicken.

Married Bliss

I am amazed how the BMW in Liz Young’s photo-prompt does not appear to have any damage, considering the wall and railings are in pieces.

You can read more Friday Fictioneer’s contributions and stories here.

Photo Prompt Liz Young

Married Bliss

She drives wearing high heels, rummages in her handbag and,
at junctions, if she stops, she has to text the kids.
When we are in the car, she will nag at me.
You missed the kids’ school play and games day–-a crime in her eyes.
The traffic accident held me up. I didn’t get home until midnight.
Apparently, I never liked her Mum. Hell! the poor lady died before we met.

You are wearing the wrong shirt, and Martha will comment on it.

Who is Martha?

Enough! I screamed. I missed the brake. 

“See what I mean,” she said. 



Vicious Nymph

This week’s photo prompt from Miles Rost encouraged my search to identify the little red/white and black bug.

I discovered it is the nymph of the Lanternfly, which as an invasive species into the US is causing damage to crops and trees.

More stories from Friday Fictioneers- click here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Miles Rost

Vicious Nymph

Mary swiped at the nymph she missed as it took off and disappeared into the foliage below.

She believed in live and let live as every creature has a place in our shared world. Mum taught her to care by trapping the spiders with a jar and to release them safely into the garden.

She accidentally crushed a beetle as it crossed her path. Sorry! Her attention was distracted, looking for signs of lantern flies.

Tears rolled over her cheeks; this is wrong, the annihilation of a species.

They ruined her orchard.

She saw two; rushed forward and splattered them.

The Nurse, the Virus and the Wormhole

Many thanks to Dale for this week’s photo-prompt, which reminds me of a classic children’s story.

The halo effect around the lamp has a warm spiritual feel of peace. However, I have gone for a Sci-Fi story this week.

Read more stories from Friday Fictioneers.

The Nurse, the Virus and the Wormhole

The lamp is on as a signal that all is well.

Nurse Gladys stared towards the Milky Way, looking for the return flash of plasmatic light. She was waiting for a vaccine delivery from Anolion; shivering, she pulled her coat collar up.

Two years ago, the Anolie materialised through a wormhole to gorge on Earth’s vegetation. Unfortunately, Gladys’ sons were the first of millions to die from a virus contracted from these aliens.

The Blue-Lighted packet appeared, it contained Vaccine and Anolie eggs.

The agreement was one of coexistence and to share resources.

Gladys smiled, she loved roasted Anolie.

Legend of a Green Man

This week’s picture prompt for Friday Fictioneers flash fiction showing an entanglement of trees and their roots is interesting for me. I spent some time trying to determine what the type of tree it was. I came up with–an American Beech or possibly Eucalyptus.

Does anyone know?

More stories from Friday-fictioneers here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

Legend of a Green Man

Was her motivation greed or curiosity?

Legend tells of a Green Man and of an underground city dripping with gold and silver.
Myth requires the first born in spring as a sacrifice at the roots of the great, grey tree to fertilise the forest and ensure an abundant harvest from our fields.

Everyone in Cronbourne keeps clear of the tree in May and we wear a sprig of silver birch to deter evil.

Martha laughed and went searching for hidden treasure.
We continuously called and heard her mobile ring within the tree.

The autumn harvest was excessively rich that year.

Back to School

This week’s photo-prompt , thanks to CE Ayr, has a sense of isolation and one I am sure many people are feeling in the present atmosphere of Covid restrictions. At the same time there is a sense of peace in the image that I feel when walking along a quite beach early in the morning, preferable on a Caribbean island rather than along a cold, wind swept coast.

More stories from Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

Back to School

John relished the solitude of his dawn stroll. He walked and breathed in time with the natural rhythm of the waves as he listened to the soft adagio whoosh of water washing along the sand.
His mind relaxed and emptied of all invasive thoughts as he concentrated on the peace of the moment. 
Mentally refreshed and calm, he felt prepared with emboldened fortitude and leadership expected from a head teacher.

His knees trembled as he watched.
After an enforced break, over excited, chattering children arrived as their pale-faced parents waved anxiously from the gate.
He wiped his forehead and smiled.

The Watchers

Friday Fictioneers

This week’s picture prompt, thank you Dale Rogerson, reminds me of the odd freak snowfall we sometimes get in May.
Also, how sometimes we get caught out by a sudden spring frost that decimates the border flowers planted out the week before.
Weather around the world follows a similar pattern each year, yet nature surprises us with unpredictable events.
Nature loves us, really.

The Watchers

We had held hands on the veranda listening to Spanish guitar music, watching the meteors streak across the night sky.
We had bread with bratwurst dipped in Dijon and drank Pilsner. 
One shooting star momentarily lit up the entire street and Baxter scampered indoors whimpering, Caroline followed to calm our Labrador. 
It was a hot summer with an uncomfortable, sweaty night, but in the morning, I woke to a sharp frost with a snow-covered garden. I saw footprints leading to the rose-bed, then stop.
By midday the snow had gone, as was Caroline and Baxter.
It has been three years.

Journey’s End Pub

This week’s picture, to me, is a reminder of the Burma -Death Railway built with forced labour by the Japanese Army during WW2. It is estimated that 90,000 labourers and 16000 allied prisoners of war died during it’s construction. The brutality of the period reverberates with us still, in books and in films.
One film, The Railway Man, is an adaptation of the account of a British Army Officer, Eric Lomax, captured and tortured by the Japanese. Years after the war Lomax confronts his Japanese counterpart and they become friends. As they say; time heals. Perhaps, but only for some.

My story has nothing to do with that tragic period.

Read the other stories on Friday Fictioneer by clicking here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas

Journey’s End Pub

Their shift had ended 200 years ago, and the bearded miners packed the “Journey’s End” pub.
The flaming fire warmed the room, but at midnight the atmosphere turned sullen.

John sipped his ale.

Outside, a train screeching to a halt stirred all the men to drink up and leave.
John followed them into a fog of hissing steam that obscured a locomotive.
The miners climbed into the carriages, and the engine pulled away in the dark above dilapidated tracks.
John marvelled at this silver miners’ mystery.

He returned indoors to his bitter ale, and the crowded pub of bearded miners.