In The Shed


I have been AWOL from Friday Fictioneers for too long; hopefully the reduction in workload will allow me to resume my writing which I have really missed, along with the interaction with my FF friends. Thanks as always to our ever supportive leader  Rochelle and thanks too this week to Doug MacIlroy for supplying the photo prompt.

Copyright - Douglas MacIlroy

Copyright – Douglas MacIlroy

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

In The Shed

It’s in the shed, go and find it.’

Mum, I don’t like going in the shed, come with me?’

‘I thought you would have forgotten that little scare by now. Old Sam died two years ago. He was only seeking shelter from the snow after all.’

I wish I could forget the dirty old man I found lying on sacks in the corner. I was only five and with the curiosity and innocence of childhood had smiled and asked him his name.

The memory of his rough hands on me and the smell in the shed will haunt me forever.

 

Photography 101 – Glass


My photograph for today is of Dale Chihuly’s glass sculpture which stands in the reception area of the Atlantis Hotel in Dubai.  I was lucky enough to see this earlier in the year.  You can see it below, along with a close up of the detail that makes up this 18metre high work of art.

Chihuly sculpture

Chihuly sculpture detail

We Get a Garage


I have been away from FF for too long. I haven’t changed allegiance, or gone off the rails, I’ve just been hibernating, recharging my batteries, call it what you will. Thanks as always to the indomitable Rochelle, who never fails to put out a prompt each week to tease our creativity, memory, humour.  Write 100 words, that’s all you need to do to join this very supportive band of writers.

The prompt this week spoke to me of my childhood and memories of actually getting a garage of our own, something only people with cars had, and when I was a child, they were very few and far between.

Copyright Claire Fuller

Copyright Claire Fuller

Word count: 100

Genre: Memoir

We Get a Garage

At the end of our street was a piece of waste ground.  We made our dens there and played during school holidays; summers were long and warm in my memories of childhood

‘I’ve managed to buy the land, Vern,’ said our next door neighbour, unfolding plans on our kitchen table.

‘Will you help me build the garages… you can have one rent free?’

My father frowned, thinking.

‘Ken, you have a deal’, he said and they shook hands, smiling.

Years ago the planners bulldozed the garages, replacing them with little town boxes.

My old street is still there though, this is what it looks like today – lots of cars and not a garage in sight…

My street as it looks today

 

 

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Solitude – photo 101


There was no-one else around when I took this photo of a path onto South Beach.  I walked for a while and sat on the beach, watching the birds wheeling and diving and the clouds floating by and thought it was just heavenly. I think of it still and remember the feeling of peace and solitude.

‘I never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude’ 

Henry David Thoreau

path-to-the-beach.jpg

Life Reflected


This Friday Fictioneering is an addictive thing, miss one week and I feel dreadful. I have been trying to organise my time so I can do more writing -no, I am serious – and so far it has worked. Both last week and this I have managed to post something BEFORE Friday, very happy about that.

For those who are not yet aware and wondering what on earth I am blabbering on about, Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the one and only Rochelle you can read the rules on her post, then join us in our addiction. The photograph this week comes courtesy of the lovely Janet Webb

Copyright Janet Webb

Copyright Janet Webb

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Life Reflected

The sky is a glorious palette of colour; the pale fluffy clouds, almost touching the treetops are tinged with a warm apricot blush. As the sun dips below the horizon, a deep orange glow spreads outwards, filling my room.

Birds are winging their way home, returning to safety in the thick branches of the tall oaks; their freedom strengthens my resolve.

My eyes focus on the reflection in the window and I smile. I’m not the frail old woman I see there, I am strong. I am ready now to find Jack and tell him why I couldn’t meet him.

Read more stories – 

PS  Something seemed to go wrong with WP apologies if you just got the background picture when i hit publish the first time.  Hopefully sorted out now.

We keep a welcome for everyone – not just NATO leaders…


It was really quite something to feel the buzz around South Wales ahead of the NATO Summit.  OK, so in Cardiff and Newport we moaned about road closures, diversions and interruptions to our daily lives, but it was only for a few days and we got over it.

According to news reports ‘Wales is well and truly on the map’, well actually we have been around for quite a long time. Remains have been found in Wales dating from the Paleolithic, Mesolithic and Neolithic eras. The first copper and bronze tools appeared in Wales about 2500BC and the Romans mined for gold at the Dolaucothi mine in Pumpsaint, Carmarthenshire.  Quite a long history wouldn’t you say?

Wales has 641 castles, 11 million sheep and around 3 million people. It has 750 miles of coastline and is beautiful place with mountains and valleys, a bustling capital city, interesting towns and villages, and some very welcoming people.

Come, Visit Wales and see for yourself.

Watch the video welcoming the NATO Leaders to Wales

 

 

 

 

 

 

10 May 1933


Well I’m back from holiday, feeling refreshed and relaxed, so bring it on!  I missed you all last week, and your stories.  Internet connection was spasmodic to say the least.  I hope you all had a good week.

In answer to Rochelle’s photo prompt this week, two stories popped into my head. I’ve gone with the stronger of the two.  Thank you as always to our gracious hostess Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for her patience and unfailing encouragement.

Copyright - Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

10 May 1933

‘Come with us, it’ll be fun. We can get rid of all those books we hate.’

‘I don’t hate my books, how can you hate a book? Some are difficult to understand, but burning books, whatever are you thinking?’

‘If you don’t come, they’ll know.  All students are expected to be there, they’ll give us books if we don’t bring our own.  It’s time for a change; we are to be re-educated, the Propaganda Minister has said so, he will be there in person.’

Werner watched the burning with great sadness, fearing the world would never be the same again.

 —————————————————

Historical Note: On the night of May 10 1933, an event unseen in Europe since the Middle Ages occurred as German students from universities once regarded as among the finest in the world, gathered in Berlin to burn books regarded as being ‘UnGerman’…  Visit The History Place to read more

 

Read more great stories here,

Weed Killer


It’s that time again when we Friday Fictioneers are sharpening our wits and our pencils, trying to come up with a suitable story to satisfy our dynamic leader, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (she who must be obeyed).  Great photo this week courtesy of Roger Bultot.

I may miss the ‘Call for Submissions’ next week as we are taking a family holiday in Majorca. I’ll miss you and will do my best to catch up. Take care of yourselves x

 22 AugustGenre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Weed Killer

‘Can’t we have something other than weeds?’

‘I like weeds, they’re different’

‘I’d like some flowers Charlie’

‘Weeds are easy to grow; flowers aren’t macho’

‘And weeds are?’

‘I trim them, keep them in check’…

Sally went indoors.  They’d had the same argument for months, Charlie wouldn’t listen and she’d had enough.

She picked up the phone, it really was the only way to stop him.  And besides, neighbours had started complaining about the sickly smell emanating from the shed whenever he and Joe were in there, having a smoke.

She only wanted a few flowers.

Not much to ask.

 

More stories to delight you here -

An Invitation


I love the old desk in the photo this week and wonder how many ‘letters’ we will receive…

Thanks to Mr Fields for the photo and for Mrs Fields for continuing to mark our work and support our efforts.

Copyright Jan Fields

Copyright Jan Wayne Fields

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

An Invitation

Dearest Ellen

My words will be a shock to you and I beg you be seated whilst you read them.

When I refused Henry’s proposal, I know you were saddened as you wanted us to be sisters.  My disposition would not have suited your brother and I believed the wedded state was not for me.

I write to you to confess that I was wrong in my belief and have accepted the proposal of marriage from Arthur Nicholls. The wedding will be in June, my dearest wish is that you will be my witness.  

Your loving and devoted friend

Charlotte

 

Read more Friday Fictioneers stories – I insist 

 

This letter could have been written by Charlotte Bronte to her dear friend Ellen Nussey. Ellen’s brother Henry did propose to Charlotte and she did refuse him citing her disposition as the main reason they would not get on.  Charlotte married her father’s curate Arthur Bell Nicholls in June 1854.  Sadly the marriage was happy but short, Charlotte died on 31 March 1855 in the early stages of pregnancy.

If you would like to read more the link will take you to the website of the  Bronte Society

Bronte Society

Bronte Society – Ellen Nussey