Tag Archives: Writing

The Importance of being Odd

Thank you Rochelle for posting the Friday-Fictioneers photo-prompt. The picture was provided by Amanda Forestwood, and looks like it is wonderful path for a country ramble.

More contributions can be read HERE.

PHOTO PROMPT © Amanda Forestwood

The Importance of being Odd

On the first step, I knelt, and Jennifer shouted for joy.

On the third step, I swaddled David.
Son, you are wonderful.

On the fifth step, three-year-old Mary whispered, ‘I love you, daddy.’

On the seventh step, David married, and along came James.
Mary shouted, “I’m a teenage aunt.”

On the eighth step, our hearts broke as Jennifer passed.

On the eleventh, Mary gave birth to Jessica.

Everyone said, Grandpa’s life was on an even keel.

On the twelfth, Jessica and James drowned sailing my yacht.

My saddest steps were always even.

I pray my last step will be odd. 

Secret Gardens

Thank you to our host Rochelle for yet another interesting picture prompt, for this week’s Friday Ficioneers. More story contributions from the group HERE.

Secret Gardens

Rolf kissed my neck and asked, “Do I really love him? “
“Whatever we do remains private,” he said. 

We strolled, bumbling in the Tiergarten, Berlin.
He coaxed me along under an archway of roses.
Secluded, silent and among giant ferns. 

“It’ll be amazing, Anne; you’ll see.”
Oh no! This was not how I imagined our first date.

He pushed the ferns aside and pulled me onto a street.
I looked around at the buildings; we were in Montreal.
Rolf had revealed to me the secret gateway for world travel,
through magical gardens.

If only I could ditch Rolf?

The Legend of the Tang Dong


Thank you to David Stewart for this week’s photographic prompt. As always, the challenge for the Friday-Fictioneers is to produce a 100-word ‘novel’ out of thin air.

Looking at the picture, I sensed a  ghostly haunting scene perhaps a tourist spot or setting for an oriental film.

Thank you to Rochelle for hosting the prompt, click on her name to visit her home blog.

More story contributions can be read by clicking HERE.

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

The Legend of the Tang Dong

I enjoy the peace and idyllic solitude as dawn breaks, which is disturbed by blowing on the longhorn.
The call to a ritual of Tia Chi normally began as everyone assembled in the courtyard.
Such a long time ago.

Today, no one appears.

I blow again, longer, and louder.
Waiting a moment, a multitude of screams reply.
All is well. The Tang Dongs have returned.

Curious as to the legends, tourists now meander around the Temple court and silently view the sleeping corpses in the dormitories.

 At night, hunger wakes the Tang Dongs, who terrify the villages for human blood.

A Novel Apparition

Thanks to Lisa Fox for this week’s Friday-Fictioneers prompt, and I sensed a loneliness in the bar, waiting for something to happen.

Our host Rochelle would enjoy your visit to her site and also you can read more 100-word contributions based on the prompt, HERE.


A Novel Apparition

After the writing group session, Mary stood at the window for inspiration.
She was struggling with her novel ending.
How can she make Sam walk into her trap and kiss her?

She adores her character, but his Cessna disappeared in chapter three with wreckage found floating off St Thomas.
She searched the Caribbean and in chapter twenty-one she sighted him off Cuba fishing with Hemmingway. 

In chapter thirty-two, Sam smuggled submachine guns to Papa Doc and fled to Miami.

She was a CIA agent, and his school sweetheart.
Mary’s legs were shaking as Sam arrived. He kissed her.

Everyone applauded.

Songs My Mother Taught Me

Thanks to Rochelle for this week’s challenge, which is to write one hundred words using the photo prompt from Amanda Forestwood.

More contributions can be accessed by clicking HERE.

PHOTO PROMPT © Amanda Forestwood

Songs My Mother Taught Me

Your absence is like a cherry stone in Papa’s throat when he plays by the fire. Embers waltz in the breeze.
Papa showed you how to play.

When you played, we danced and sang; the moon smiled with gushing pride and the boys loved you.
You grasped the musical essence of the polished spruce, stroking the bow along the strings.
Enchanting, magical harmony filled the forest with inspirational joy, and at night, a melancholy score raised our ancestors to sit among us.

Our hearts burst, hearing you play in great city concert halls with the passion of the varda’s soul.

The Attack of Black Holes

Friday-Fictioneers 10th March

Time warps, fourth dimensions, and paranormal premonitions are subjects of Sci-Fi and fantasy fiction, but are the ideas based on fact?

Thank you to Rochelle (find her site here) for this week’s selected photo-prompt from Jennifer. A surreal picture that has me flummoxed. How was it done?

More story contributions HERE.

PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

The Attack of the Black Hole

“Please, your table.” The waitress indicated.

I frosted like the bonsai as a premonition exploded across my vision.
Did no one else see the future flash its warning?
Yesterday, at the bus stop, I saw a motorbike disintegrate around a streetlight.
I walked home that evening and said nothing.

“Sit next to me, birthday boy.” Samantha took my elbow guiding me.
Angela and Jenny followed. “Birthday presents later.” They giggled towards Samantha.
“Wasn’t it awful,” said Jenny. “That bus imploded killing …”

“Everyone, quick,” I grabbed and pushed them out.

 A swirling black hole opened, consuming everything in the room.

Besotted Love—Awkward

Thank you, Roger for the Photo–prompt for this week’s Friday Fictioneers. I can imagine people from busy offices having a lunch break sitting on the benches by the river to enjoy some sun and fresh air.

Our host Rochelle encourages us to write a 100-word flash fiction to illuminate what is behind the pictures. More story contributions are found HERE

Besotted Love—Awkward

During lunch breaks, she would come and sit by me on the bench.
She said I was lovely and shared her fruit salad.
It was her first job in the city, and over enthusiastic around the office with her boyish, charming smile for everyone.
She said my hair danced in the wind and she gave me strawberries with cream.

I stopped her touching my knee, after she said I like your firm racing-horse legs.

She brought me a rose and said I love you.

No! I have a husband and three children.

We don’t have to tell them; she said.

Their Souls Haunt the Forest

Today, 27 January, is Holocaust Memorial Day, and a reminder of the words, ’never again.’

Rochelle has posted a sad picture for this week’s prompt, and I have gone with a Holocaust theme. I have taken a moment to reflect on the horror that took place and the complicit guilt of those who carried out murderous atrocities. Where neighbours in village after village marched men, women and children into the forests and mass burial pits.

Perhaps you can come with something more cheerful, see Rochelle’s page and read other stories HERE.

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Caroll

Their Souls Haunt the Forest

My mama told stories of her wonderful childhood, the happy times she called them.
My Grandpa Jacob manufactured tallit and suits which sold in the Kiev markets.

When she passed, I went to the old country and found Grandpa’s home derelict.
My mother’s magical garden had died from neglect.

Some old men remembered Jacob, and they gripped their Ekstra as the wind howled and wept through the rafters.
Their faces withered on guilty heads in response to my questions.

“We were only boys,” they said. “Jacob had smiled; God forgives.”
“Let us show you where we buried them in the forest.”

The Office Laundry

The challenge this week from Rochelle for Friday-Fictioneers is a lovely picture from Na’ama Yehuda. My first impression to this prompt was to think of Thumbelina and where she would do her laundry? Instead, I have gone for piece about an office party.

More stories form the group can be found HERE. Visit Rochelle for an insight to her world.

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

The Office Laundry

The office secret Santa presents are useless items given to generate moments of tasteful laughter at the party.
They gave Mrs Welsh a pair of woollen knickers as she constantly complained about the cold air beneath her skirt.

Occasionally, the joke was incomprehensible and generated both unease and fodder for speculative gossip.
Why did Julie spill her drink and blush when George Carson received a pink toy washing machine?

Doris had seen them holding hands, and Angela thought Julie looked radiant.
Should they buy new hats? 

Tom, the Devil’s advocate, bought a black tie, in case Mrs Carson found out. 

The Future is Bright

Friday Fictioneers photo from Fleur shows one of my irritations when driving at night; bright headlights from oncoming traffic. However, the rustic-red coloured sky is the lovely.

Thank you to Rochelle for the prompt and many other stories can be found HERE.


The Future is Bright

Don’t be angry John!
Forgiveness is humble, trust me.

Debbie, trust me! If only I can reach eighty-eight mph and drive into the white.
Then we will live a future of eternal happiness.

John, please slow down!

He pushed hard on the accelerator and drove into the oncoming light.

A horrendous roar of a foghorn exploded towards them.

Debbie grabbed the steering wheel and turned the car on to the verge.
The DeLorean rattled over the rough gravel and ground to a stop.

Oh, Debbie… I’m really sorry.

Please John, I forgot to feed Baxter.
And, he needs his walk.