Wild Card

Photo © Lisa Fox

Leo was so handsome. All the girls were falling over themselves to go out with him. I had spots and frizzy red hair so knew I’d have no chance.

At the dance the boys lined the room, the girls danced in groups, giggling every time a boy approached. Suddenly Leo was standing there, alone, watching. From my seat in the shadows, I could see the effect he was having. I finished my soda, ready to go. Leo walked over.

‘Leaving? ‘


‘Can I walk with you a while? Can’t stand all this.’

We walked.

We talked.

We still do.

Thanks as always to Rochelle for organising Friday Fictioneers

  • A Wild Card – a person or thing whose influence is unpredictable or whose qualities are uncertain

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The Supper Club

(Photo © Jennifer Pendergast)

Maria bought the food and wine and selected her best linen for the table.

Hugh said fish pie wasn’t a good idea, it was child’s food and messy, he preferred
steak. He changed the wine glasses, removed the flowers questioning why she
thought this club was a good idea.

The Supper Club attendees loved the meal and thanked them for an enjoyable evening
Hugh said they were patronising and steak would have been better.

Maria cleared away, smiling to herself. Hugh would have steak tomorrow
night, with the mushrooms she had found growing at the back of the garden.


The Bootmaker

Copyright @RogerBultot

The Bootmaker

After a five-year apprenticeship as a bootmaker and despite a lifelong limp, John Lobb walked 250 miles to London seeking to promote his skills to London society. He was turned down repeatedly, so journeyed to Australia during the gold rush, there creating hollow heeled boots for miners to hide contraband nuggets.

 Still longing to establish himself  in London, he made a speculative pair of riding boots for the Prince of Wales, returning from Australia in 1863 to great acclaim. He opened shops in London and Paris. He died in 1895 and is buried in Highgate Cemetery.

(Hermes acquired the brand in 1976 read more here www.johnlobb.com)

As usual, many thanks to Fairy Blogmother, Rochelle, for her dedication each week


Copyright @ Anne Higa

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100


Daylight showed through the ill-fitting curtains. Annie saw it was snowing and the rubbish bin was still there.

On her way downstairs, she shouted to her husband, “Sam, are you awake? You forgot the bin. Again!

The headache she’d had all week was getting worse, there was pain behind her left eye too. She was annoyed about something, but couldn’t hold a thought in her head. A hand she didn’t recognise was shaking as it fumbled with the door.

Sam ran into the yard, “Annie, stop, I’ll do it now.”

Annie stopped, then fell to the ground, quietly, like the snow.

Between the Covers

The book shelf is very much like my own at home. Spotting the book on Florence & Tuscany reminded me of a conference in Nice…

Thanks to Dale Rogerson for the photo.

Genre: Memoir

Word Count 100

Between the Covers

I was in Nice for a conference. Giovanni had invited me to a small Italian restaurant and hearing him talk about Florence was wonderful. I felt I had already climbed the Campanile, crossed the Arno to the Priti Palace, strolled through the amazing Boboli Gardens. I knew I had to visit

Later, he invited me to his room for a nightcap, I have to admit I was tempted, but one thing would surely lead to another and I was due to fly home tomorrow.

Flying home, I read the Eyewitness Guide bought at the airport. It was safer between these covers…

I have been lucky enough to visit Florence two or three times, I fell in love with it the first time. This book has been invaluable.

After a storm

Copyright Sandra Crook

I’d heard the wind howling last night, heard the rain lashing the windows. I was aware that he’d gone out just after 3am.

I slept fitfully, waking to the sound of a siren and vehicles racing down the street. I dressed and ran to the jetty, slipping on seaweed and other debris hurled ashore by the wind and high tide.

If you are totally set on a course of action, if you cannot see a way ahead despite the best counselling and help… I had grown weary trying to protect him from himself.

Mental health; so much said, so little understood.




During these very worrying times, I felt I wanted to pause, take stock and count my blessings. I have a lot to be grateful for today, a good night’s sleep, family and friends who regularly keep in touch in a variety of ways, food on the table and good health.  I am trying to make each day as good as I can make it.

“I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning”

J.B. Priestly (1894-1984) Writer and Playwright

Lockdown… an unexpected side effect

Sydney Opera House

We were on what we thought of as ‘The Holiday of a Lifetime’ in Australia, when the lockdown due to COVID-19 occurred in the UK.  I hope in years to come that we can remember the holiday for the great time we had, not for ‘the virus’.

It was quite stressful  trying to get home. Our original flights were cancelled, as we were no longer allowed to transit through Singapore. Two other flights booked by our fantastic travel agent, were also cancelled.  We slowly began to realise that we may be spending rather longer ‘down under’ than we expected. Eventually, we were told she had got us two seats on the last Quantas flight out of Perth to London and it goes without saying that we were incredibly relieved and arrived home to a very quiet airport.

I usually read quite a lot when I’m on holiday, but this holiday was very different. We visited Sydney, Tasmania and Perth; there was no lying on sun loungers by a swimming pool, there was so much to see, so much to do.  Consequently, I only read one chapter of the book I had with me and, as I packed it to come home, told myself I would have loads of time to finish it and others during lockdown.

And here we come to the unexpected side effect I mentioned at the beginning… I find that I can only read books with happy endings.  I don’t want murders, grisly thrillers or anything dark and disturbing.  I have gone back through all the books I have and started to re-read the ones depicting happy times.  There is perhaps the odd divorce or even an affair or two, or a wayward daughter who eventually returned safely to the bosom of her family.

I have always written short stories and I have enjoyed writing flash fiction, (I haven’t done much of either recently due to family issues & time restraints) but I am very aware that writers are urged to read widely and as much as possible of different genres.  But at the moment I am stuck in my ‘happy’ rut.

I wonder if anyone else has experience something similar?




Fresh Fields

linda-kreger-prompt 30.08.19

 © Linda Kreger

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Fresh Fields

Cerys hated being single. Her job in the library meant she met lots of people, but there was never time to form a friendship with anyone.

A change was long overdue.

The notice about the Park Run seem to jump off the wall to her on Monday morning. She read it carefully and decided she would enter, typing in the web address before she could change her mind.

The following Saturday, she joined hundreds of others on the start line. ‘Good luck’ said the man standing next to her, giving her a gentle push as they set off, together.



Better mood this week… so fed up of the doom and gloom the ‘B’ word is bringing to everything and everyone I speak to, be glad when it’s finally sorted.

Thanks as always to Fairy Blogmother Rochelle where would we be without her…