Madam, do you trust him?


Good to be back. The photo this week is from Claire Fuller, I have just finished reading her brilliant book ‘Our Endless Numbered Days’ which certainly stays with you quite a while after you finish reading.Thank you to Rochelle for her continued captaincy of the good ship ‘FF’ and for her latest book ‘Please Say Kaddish For Me’ which I have just started to read.  I feel humble to be in such talented company.

Copyright - Claire Fuller

Copyright – Claire Fuller

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

‘Madam, do you trust him?’

‘I have a mind to.  Anthony has been a loyal page and is also a good friend of John Ballard, both seem set upon my release. The letter sets out a plan so daring, it takes my breath away, but with God’s help it will succeed. Bring me paper, I will reply.’

Imprisoned at Chartley, Mary’s letters were encrypted by her secretary Gilbert Curle and smuggled out in casks of ale, only to be intercepted by Sir Francis Walsingham. Her eager reply to Babington’s letter sealed the fate of both herself and the plotters.

The Babington Plot

Courtesy of National Archives

Courtesy of National Archives

 

Courtesy of Wikipedia

Mary,Queen of  Scots                                         Courtesy of Wikipedia

 

 

Cee’s Oddball Photo Challenge Week 34


Cee’s Oddball Photo Challenge has given me the opportunity to share some photos that otherwise would never have been seen! Here are a couple that are hard to categorise, taken just outside the walls of the beautiful medieval city of Lucca

Statue in Lucca 1

Statue in Lucca 2

Posted for Cee’s Oddball Photo Challenge Week 34

 

 

Cee’s Oddball Photo Challenge Week 32 – Up The Creek


Up the Creek

 

This is a guide to the Creek Street area of Ketchikan in Alaska.  Fascinating place with some interesting history. Married Man’s Trail led over the river and through the woods… but definitely not to grandma’s house!!

Posted for Cee’s Oddball Photo Challenge

 

 

A Little Superstition Goes a Long Way


I joined Friday Fictioneers late in 2012 so missed this photo the first time round.  Sorry to hear Rochelle isn’t well, here’s to a speedy recovery.  Thanks for all her hard work and support since taking over  the FF mantle from Madison Woods

Copyright Madison

                                        Copyright Madison Woods

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

A Little Superstition Goes A Long Way

‘What do we do ma?’’  John’s voice trembled.

Recognising her son’s fear, Alice Grey reached for his hand.

‘Same as always John, we stick together. Speak to nobody.’

They walked along the hedgerows, keeping out of sight in case they were followed. The jailer had taken John’s boots and the rough track made his feet bleed. Alice picked leaves, wrapped them in a strip torn from her skirt and bound his feet.

‘How’d you know what to pick ma?’

‘Mother Demdike showed me.  She knew all the remedies.’

‘Was she hanged today?’

No, she died before being sentenced.’

‘Lucky beggar.’

 

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By way of explanation – Alice Grey was the only women found not guilty of witchcraft at the trial at Lancaster Prison in 1612.  All the other women from the Pendle area of Lancashire, who were tried, were hanged.

One Yorkshire woman accused of witchcraft was tried, found guilty and hanged at York.

 

Waiting


Still trying to get my act together, but managed to get something in almost on time. Delighted to see Rochelle has used my photo of a sudden snowfall in Central Park – we were taking a carriage ride and suddenly the snow started falling – magical.

24 July

 

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Waiting

Penny is late. I fiddle with the strap of my overnight bag. I don’t like waiting. I’ve been here so long people are staring. We said 5pm outside the café; the park closes at 6pm she’d better hurry up.

Sarah was the same where time was concerned, always late.  It got on my nerves in the end, along with her flawless skin. No need to cover her acne with layers of Max Factor. And her hair, so shiny and wavy… not so wavy the last time I saw her.  Everyone gets their comeuppance in the end though, it’s only fair.

 

Throwing the switch


I haven’t been around for a while as my life has taken several twists and turns, nothing bad, but time consuming and I have missed my friends.  I will try and keep up, thank you for being patient.  Thanks to Rochelle for never missing a beat and to Stephen Baum for the photo this week.

Copyright Stephen Baum

Copyright Stephen Baum

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Throwing the Switch

Martha looked pale and small in the hospital bed.  Was she breathing?  Harold held her hand; the realisation of his need for her overwhelmed him. It seemed she had always been with him, even before they met. Before the dream became a reality.

As the nursing team carried out their checks, he paced the room, willing her to stay, to come back to him.

‘She’s resting, Mr Jackson, do you want anything?’

I want to stay with her forever

No, thank you.’

Martha slowly opened her eyes.

‘Harold?’

Her voice threw the switch and Harold’s smile lit up the room.

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Bonding on a Summer Night


Thanks to Rochelle for continuing to host this wonderful group which I have missed these past few weeks. Thanks also to Kent Bonham for the intriguing photo.

Copyright - Kent Bonham

Copyright – Kent Bonham

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Bonding on a Summer Night

Harry likes the freedom of the road, and the freedom to play his games miles away from Linda and arguments about D-I-Y. He likes overnighting in the foreign lorry parks, better equipped than ones at home. Tonight, he can’t choose between John Travolta and James Bond, but the redhead sitting at the bar can’t resist him. Anticipating the night ahead, he takes the drink she offers and leans in.

The truck, a bit heavier than expected, takes the early Channel crossing.  In the Centre Hospitalier de Calais, the gendarme repeats his questions, Harry stares at him, his mind totally blank.

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Happy Father’s Day dad………still miss you x


Dee:

I first posted this five years ago; it says all I want to say on this Father’s Day too, so Happy Father’s Day, dad, I miss you every single day xx

Originally posted on 40again's Blog:

Its’ funny how for years you check out the latest cards for Father’s Day, looking for THE one; the one that says all you want to say and sometimes never do, the one that you know instantly will make him laugh and then suddenly out of the blue there is no longer any need for Father’s Day cards.  My father died 23 years ago and, though time is a great healer I still miss him just as much today.

I miss his laugh, the freckles on his arms and fingers, his voice when he sang old songs from the movies, his belief that you made your own way in the world without help or favour, his strong work ethic and the fact that no-one owed him a living. He didn’t suffer fools and could be impatient if he thought someone was wasting his time, but he was incredibly kind to those less fortunate than he and very generous to his…

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John, ‘The Immigrant’


It was a lovely surprise to see that our intrepid leader Rochelle had used my photo as the prompt for Friday Fictioneers this week. It was taken in Barcelona, walking from Port Vell towards the Monument to Columbus.  I love the feel of Barcelona, the bustle and atmosphere, we had a very enjoyable time there, though as you can see the weather could have been better…

Copyright - Dee Lovering

                                                   Copyright – Dee Lovering

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

John, ‘The Immigrant’

‘She’s with her family, leave her be.’

‘They took her from me, but I’ll find her.’

‘John, it’s been a year, she could be married.  Please, we need you. ‘

‘No! I need her!’

The pursuit of religious freedom led many Puritans to the shores of New England. It wasn’t religion that sent John westwards, though the long journey afforded him time to reflect on it and the argument with his parents.  He had defied them and left them to struggle.  But the moment he had laid eyes on Dorcas Coleman, he wanted her; nothing would stand in his way.

 

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A brief note on my story. One of my ancestors sailed to New England in 1625 to join the colony of English Puritans who had settled there.  He was one of the first settlers of Rowley Mass. and did marry Dorcas Coleman in 1648.  I have used some poetic licence with their meeting, but I feel it goes someway to explain why he made the journey alone. Although another ancestor, also called John, settled in Virginia,  in all the research the man in my story is called ‘John, The Immigrant’ hence my title.