And The Band Played On

March 25, 2015March 26, 2015 / Dee / 50 Comments

Thanks to Rochelle for continuing to keep the Fictioneers in tune and to David Stewart for his photo this week, there was a bandstand like this one, in the park near where I grew up, those were the days…

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

And The Band Played On

‘When we’re married, you won’t go away to sea anymore will you, Wallace?’

‘No love, I promise. But these jobs bring in more money than I was earning in the orchestra. I get to see more of the world too.’

Maria smiled, sensing it was best to leave things there. He had promised.

The letter telling him the band had been transferred to the White Star Line came three days later.

‘Look, I’ve been assigned as the new bandleader love, I could make some good contacts for the future.’

With Maria’s blessing he boarded RMS Titanic on 10th April 1912

♫ ♫ ♫

Wallace Hartley was born in my home town of Colne in Lancashire. A large bust of him stood outside the library and I used to pass it most Saturdays when I went shopping with my mother. The story of how the band played on as the Titanic sank, was told to every pupil. The town is very proud of its famous son. You can read more about him here

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

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An Enchanted Place

March 11, 2015March 11, 2015 / Dee / 43 Comments

All over the world, (yes that’s right) writers are busy staring at the photo prompt and putting fingers to keys to say just what they see. Thanks to Sandra Crook for the photo this week and to Rochelle for leading us along the Friday Fictioneers trail.

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

An Enchanted Place

Fairies danced here once. My sister, cousin and I watched them at twilight as they danced about in the clover, their flimsy wings translucent and dotted with pale colours. No adult believed our stories, laughter and a pat on the head was their usual response.

Life moved on as life does, we three lived ours in different countries, until death robbed us of our cousin. Returning to this place where we played and laughed together, I feel the loss of the child I knew and the weight of the adult I’ve become.

I won’t come back.

The diggers arrive tomorrow.

♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠

Note: Our enchanted place is no more, except in my memory. Fifty houses now stand in the field I was remembering, where we ‘saw’ the fairies long ago.

Click on Mr Frog to read more great stories

Making Tracks

February 28, 2015February 28, 2015 / Dee / 29 Comments

I’m late, I’m late… thanks Rochelle for keeping us on the straight and narrow and to Dawn for a lovely photo from her trek to Machu Picchu – it’s on my list…

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Making Tracks

The juiciest blackberries grew alongside the tracks; with a sick husband and five children to feed, Anna happily accepted nature’s help. Becky snatched the pail from her mother, furious the others were never sent picking.

At lunchtime Anna set off to look for her. Though her eldest child might have womanly curves, she was still a child. Anna found the half-filled pail, but no sign of her daughter.

In a car heading out of town, Becky smoothed her new dress. She felt the driver’s eyes on her body and smiled. She could handle him, just like the boys in school.

click Mr Frog to read more great stories

Sending warmest congratulations to Rochelle on having her second book accepted and to Claire Fuller whose debut novel ‘Our Endless Numbered Days’ has received some great reviews. I am full of admiration for them both, it is lovely to share their company and their well deserved success, they have set the bar very high for us lesser mortals…

DIY – A Shorcut

February 2, 2015February 2, 2015 / Dee / 15 Comments

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

DIY – A Shortcut

John stepped back into the water trough a second time.

‘I hate bloody DIY! And why soak the paper? What’s wrong with old fashioned wallpaper paste?’

‘I thought it would be quicker and hopefully less messy.’

‘You thought. Here, make yourself useful, hold the brush.’

‘It seemed a better idea to do this while the boys were away.’

He grabbed the brush, held the paper off the wall and in one angry movement swept it down to the skirting board.

‘Careful, you’ve covered up the socket.’

‘Just shut up,’ he said, jabbing the point of the scissors through the paper.

*******************

The socket reminded me of the fiasco we had when we decided to decorate the bedroom our boys shared when they were small. It’s all true, apart from the scissors in the socket…but it could well have happened that night!

Thank you to Ted Strutz for the photo prompt and to Rochelle for continuing to light the way.

Weathering Our Storm

January 23, 2015January 26, 2015 / Dee / 24 Comments

Thanks to Georgia Koch for the lovely photo for our prompt this week and to our intrepid Captain Rochelle for navigating our good ship Friday Fictioneers through all kinds of seas.

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Weathering Our Storm

Will you come with me, to Venice?’

An invitation to the place where we began would once have sent my heart soaring. Dare I allow it to do so again?

‘I’ll think about it, if that’s alright?’

Oh, the care we take with one another. I couldn’t ride out the maelstrom of his affair. I had to scream it out, to hit back verbally against the waves of pain and sadness that engulfed and threatened to overpower me.

But somehow the storm abated, he chose to stay. How ambitious we are, how determined to keep our precious ship afloat.

‘Yes.’

Click here to read more great flash fiction

Setting The Scene

January 14, 2015January 14, 2015 / Dee / 50 Comments

The photo reminds me of a house we once rented in France. We had a very enjoyable holiday but as we left I mentioned to the owner that she should really tell prospective holiday makers that part of the house is overlooked by the neighbours.

With a Gallic shrug she replied ‘but Madame, that means the house stays cool in the summer, why is this a problem?’ Hmm…

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Setting The Scene

‘Darling, the Meissen table centre.’

Not again

‘We had to sell the Meissen.’

‘Who?’

‘Mother, we had to sell it all.’

‘Sell what? Oh poor darling, put out the Lalique the one with fairies.’

How many times will we have to do this?

‘That’s gone too. James has been ‘investing’ your money, hardly anything left.’

If I could get my hands on the bastard

She stares at me, narrowing her eyes.

‘My dinner table must look beautiful.’

We wait for imaginary dinner guests. When she sleeps, I put away the remnants of her golden days, praying she will soon forget them.

and read more stories, you know you want to…

Thanks to Rochelle for overseeing production and to Jan Wayne Fields for setting the scene. (See what I’ve done there, of course you do)

In The Shed

December 17, 2014 / Dee / 29 Comments

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.

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.

We Get a Garage

November 19, 2014November 20, 2014 / Dee / 28 Comments

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.

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…

Life Reflected

September 10, 2014September 10, 2014 / Dee / 42 Comments

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

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.

Weed Killer

August 20, 2014 / Dee / 32 Comments

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

Genre: 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.