For Them

For Them.

My Grandfather served from 1914 -17 and suffered lung damage from a gas attack. He survived the War but died later, a relatively young man in his thirties, as a consequence of frequent pulmonary illnesses.
I never met my Grandfather and my questions were pushed away with the reply;

‘We don’t talk about the War.’

Sometime ago, I wrote a short piece of fiction of one grandfather’s war experience as told to his grandchildren at Christmas. You may like to read it here.

The Lady in the Bauble



Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

js-brand-tree ONE



Lightning struck and burned the tree, and the village Shaman panicked everyone with his story of angry ghosts that must be appeased.
Johann was instructed to carve a Totem before dawn.
First, he rescued an owl’s nest with hatchlings and some squirrel’s kittens.
Tears flowed down his cheeks as he carved, he couldn’t finish before morning. Tired, he fell asleep. When he woke, the trunk was done with symbols from the lives of his ancestors.
An owl landed nearby; the carved trunk winked. Johann looked around at the other carvings, and he smiled, his little friends had been very busy.

Misc June 15 Nov OneMisc June 15 013 One

Inside a Tardis


Copyright Roger Bultot

Inside a Tardis

Holmes’ face lit up with joy, I wished he would calm down.
We had followed the hooded woman into a rusted police box, its door slammed and locked itself. We were trapped.
I was terrified and couldn’t make sense of the scale or the magnitude. Overawed with the illusion, I trembled as an overwhelming spiritual awakening struck me; had we stumbled into a secret dimension of our universe?
‘We have her’, said Holmes and he lit his pipe. He strode around, incoherent as he puffed. ‘The end of beginning has no end.’
Madness, the reason he needs a Doctor.

Friday Fictioneers.


The Butterfly Stone


I don’t usually read YA fiction, perhaps I should. This was an interesting read and in many ways it reminded me of watching Scooby Doo, it was fast paced and full of compounding conflict and tension. I placed a review on Goodreads and Amazon to show my appreciation for the author’s hard work.

The Magic of the Stones.

The Butterfly Stone – Laurie Bell

Tracey Master is like any other 15-year-old, she worries about her school work, has teenage crushes on boys and a supporting group of friends. She works part-time in the office of her Uncle Donald (Donny), a Private Investigator. The administration is boring, and she craves the excitement of being involved in a real live detective case. The opportunity arises when Miss Tearning hires the services of Uncle Donny to trace a piece of missing jewellery. The recovery of the necklace, the Butterfly Stone pendant seemed an easy task and Miss Tearning’s ex-lover is tricked into handing over the necklace. However, Miss Tearning goes missing and Tracey is left with the item, which attracts an unsavoury group of thieves; the Shadowman and a Red Masked magician.
This all seems like a straight forward criminal investigation, however Tracey and her family, including Uncle Donny, are not Normal – they have magical powers (Mage). They battle with their adversaries who have magical powers and are on an evil quest to own the Stone.
Tracey, her friends and Uncle Donny are drawn deeper into the mystery of the stone and each step towards understanding its powers becomes fraught with dangerous consequences. The seriousness of the situation involves the police and Agents from the M-Force to unravel the case and to stop the Shadowman from his plans.
The search to understand the significance of the necklace leads to Tracey’s ancestral history and links her directly with the power of the stone, the power the Shadowman wants to own. This puts Tracey in mortal danger and her craving for excitement becomes overwhelming full of conflict and insurmountable challenges.
I found this a fast-paced novel, almost a race to uncover the mystery that incrementally adds more intrigue as well as danger for the Mage. The need of having to attend school in between the investigations, I thought added the right mixture of teenage secrecy verses adult concern and control. Later, as the whole complexity of the situation emerges the adults do become threatened by the consequences of Tracey’s actions.
I enjoyed this YA novel and its style of internal quips from Tracey and text messaging between her friends as it captures the inflated confidence of many young teenagers.
For those who enjoy YA novels with a teenage girl as the heroine, I would recommend this as an enjoyable and exciting read.

Guided Tour


PHOTO PROMPT © Jilly Funell


Guided Tour

Gather here, look at the view – on a clear day you can see the Isle of Wight and through your vision amplifiers you will see the beach-cleaners in Franconia. Every morning, they collect the dead.


Since the year 2050 the Tower has served as a triangulation beacon for our killer drones protecting our Channel and executing traitors. Those disillusioned citizens determined to reach the Euro-Zone. A place full of milk and honey – you may laugh.

Enough . . . silence!
The curfew starts soon.  Now go directly to your assigned homes.

Lonely Planet

Lonely Planet

Friday Fictioneers


PHOTO PROMPT © Priorhouse

Where is everyone! Such diplomatic bad manners.
The Ehevan envoy, Sil Chasack, switched to transmit, she strode around
the table.
No sign of the humanoids, she reported. Typical arrogance.
She was sent by the Galactic Federation to instruct ‘Earth’ on environmental sustainability for their survival.
Where were they, don’t they care about trading coffee?
Measurements showed the Blue Planet was deteriorating in a self-consuming infestation, the Mollaks are considering a cleansing cull; as a warning.
Sil wiped the window and looked out, there were no signs of biological life in the dark poisonous atmosphere.
Pity, this Mocha Djimmah tastes superb.



Friday Fictioneers


PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson


It’s okay Malcolm, if you want to cry.
I’m so scared.
Tell me, Malcolm, what makes you feel so afraid?
I see colours, following me.
Now Malcolm, I am here to help, tell me what things?
I can’t, you’ll think I am . . .
Here’s a tissue, Malcolm. I understand. I am here to help.
Do you? I think you are one of THEM!
Don’t shout, Malcolm, we are all the same.
No, we’re not, you’re weird.
Malcolm, you are the one who is different.
SEE! am I the only one?
Please Malcolm, join us, be an umbrella person.

My new book cover – The Listener (0.99p)

Version 2

Ayla – Moon Glow Girl

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


PHOTO PROMPT © Gah Learner

Ayla – Moon Glow Girl

Mary Anne wrote up her diary notes, on the corner of the page was a little face. She smiled watching the full moon rise over the hill, an omen that sent tingling down her spine. The thermometer, from under her tongue, was one degree higher, a perfect BBT.
She would call her baby Ayla, a ‘moon glow’ girl. She must get David in the mood with a warm meal and soft music, lately he was stressed by the street riots and police murders.
Make him forget and relax.
The moon rose higher, he was late; please David return home safe.

A Mystical Murder Trapped in Time

Friday Fictioneers


PHOTO PROMPT © Nathan Sowers grandson of our own Dawn M. Miller

A Mystical Murder Trapped in Time

The remains in the burned-out shed were impossible to identify, so DCI MacLeod employed Mystical Egandor to investigate.
Egandor set up his past generator, a mirror he called Visionar, at the scene. He had to thump it to make it work, it shuddered in protest but eventually the past shed reflected in the glass.
Egandor fell asleep waiting and when he woke saw the reflection had disappeared, he thumped Visionar. Nothing.

He turned and saw the intact shed in the garden, confused, he opened the door and went inside.
Visionar shimmered and reflected a sunbeam to set the shed ablaze.

Sherlock has Disappeared

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


PHOTO PROMPT © Yvette Prior

Watson tasted the residue powder on the tip of his tongue, it was tart and acerbic. Holmes! he thought, not again, where has he gone? Think.
Holmes had promised to forget about the Doctor, to relax, have a good night’s sleep, instead he has disappeared, another hunch.

Couldn’t he leave a note—perhaps he has; chain smoking, sniffing coke, tissues, French brandy, and a dog’s bowl? We don’t have a dog! The Yankee candle, he hadn’t seen that before. Where Holmes?
It’s no use; better clean this mess up before Mrs Hudson arrives.
Yes! Hudson Bay, why? Damn you Holmes.