Not drowning, just out of his depth

November 1, 2013 / Dee / 20 Comments

It’s that special time of the week , the post for Friday Fictioneers. This week the colourful photo is courtesy of Doug MacIlroy – a great teller of tales. Each week the one and only Rochelle Wisoff-Fields casts her net and draws in writers from across the world, all eager to accept the challenge of writing 100 words, (no more, no less) inspired by a different photo each week. Join us…

Doug MacIlroy

NOT DROWNING, JUST OUT OF HIS DEPTH

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

One day a man started a job. It was the job he had always dreamed of, but it brought him unhappiness. The job demanded skills he didn’t believe he possessed.

Dejected, he asked his grandfather for advice.

‘A fish set off on a journey. Swimming strongly and steadily, it encountered many problems but stayed on course. The fish found itself in churning water at the foot of a waterfall; it paused not knowing what lay ahead, then plunged in and battled to the top.’

‘If you believe you can, you will, if you believe you’ll fail you will; your choice.’

click the little blue frog for more stories

A Different Life

October 18, 2013 / Dee / 31 Comments

It’s time for Friday Fictioneers again. Many thanks to Rochelle for captaining our ship and keeping us on course, and to Janet Webb for providing the watery theme for the 100 word challenge this week. My story follows the photograph.

A Different Life

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Noor clawed the baked earth around her failing crop; her baby son slept on her back, too weak to cry. Solomon set off weeks ago to look for work, the water he left them was all gone. It was thirty miles to the aid station, Noor knew if her son was to live, she had to make the journey again.

Nora stood looking out, praying for a break in the weather. It had rained constantly for six days. The garden was a sodden mess, no place for the bouncy castle or Disney Princess tent. She considered cancelling the birthday party.

Free

October 13, 2013 / Dee / 29 Comments

There has been quite a lot happening in my life just recently and the urge to write just got up and walked out. I had to have the lenses in my eyes replaced – not as horrific as it sounds I assure you – but a worry nevertheless. My work has also taken up too much of my time and I found I didn’t want to write – anything. I have missed Friday Fictioneers very much indeed; missed the contact with people who had become very supportive friends; missed the exchange with people who are kind enough and interested enough to follow my blog, such as it is. I did try to post something for the prompt last week, then deleted it as it was not much good. I am back to try again.

Forgive the out-pouring, but it matters to me that you know why I have been AWOL.

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

FREE

Beth found the bones at 6pm.

They lay in a shallow space between the overhanging rock face and the old irrigation channel she was working in; she had been clearing stones and old debris from it for the past two weeks.

Rob came over when she called and casually inspected her find.

‘Looks small, a child perhaps?’

‘No!’ Beth shuddered at the thought.

‘Children worked in places like this; the find is not unusual.’

As he gently moved the bones to one side, a soft sigh whispered past them and floated up on the cool evening air.

Free.

At last

Read other stories here

Timeless

September 4, 2013 / Dee / 53 Comments

Suddenly, it’s Wednesday again and time for Friday Fictioneers (don’t ask, just accept it, we do) ~Writers from all over the globe come together to submit their 100 word stories or poems, inspired by the weekly prompt sent out by our lovely purple leader Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. It is her birthday today so join me in sending her the warmest of birthday wishes. HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROCHELLE. The photo this week comes courtesy of the lady herself, my story follows the photo.

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Timeless

“It’s just clutter, nothing of value, why can’t I throw it out?”

“That’s my grandmother’s button tin you’re holding. Remember how we used the big buttons to teach you to count?”

Laura glared at her mother and sighed.

“You don’t need any of it.”

“How do you know what I need?”

“I look after you mother, I think I know.”

Isobel watched as her daughter walked around, calculating how many boxes they’d need.

“Laura, you pop in briefly, collect my prescription, get my groceries, but you can’t give me what I need.”

“And what would that be?”

Isobel smiled

“Time.”

The Train

August 31, 2013September 2, 2013 / Dee / 25 Comments

This week’s photo comes courtesy of Dawn Miller and is taken inside Union Station, Washington D.C. The marble and columns speak of times gone by and thinking of this led me to my story for Friday Fictioneers. I was delighted to have at least come up with something this week, I failed miserably last week as I was so involved with work, I never seemed to find time to myself to write. Thanks as always to Rochelle 🙂

The Train

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Bathed in silvery moonlight, the train waits in the siding. It is empty, except for the ghosts. Their fingers linger over highly polished mahogany. Fine silks and satins glide over heavily carpeted corridors. Thousands of stories have unfolded in the confines of these sumptuously elegant carriages.

It is morning. Highly trained staff will soon board, the ghosts will vanish and the magic will begin. Windows will gleam, crystal will sparkle, silver will shine and crisp table linen bearing the world-famous cypher will be laid. The Venice Simplon-Orient Express will be made ready to beguile and charm; another adventure will begin

http://www.orient-express.com/web/vsoe/cabins.jsp

PS I have just realised that I ‘liked’ this post – I did think it was alright, but never intended to ‘like’ it publicly. Please excuse my arthritic fingers attempting to get to grips with the new mobile App for WordPress, I promise to take more care in future and only ‘like’ your posts. (02/09/13)

Where trees are fallen

August 16, 2013 / Dee / 26 Comments

Another week, another post for Friday Fictioneers. Follow our leader Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, then join our merry band. Thanks this week for the photo go to Roger Bultot.

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Where Trees Are Fallen

“Jarvis,the car! Get me away from these people.”

“They’ve just returned you as their MP, for a second time sir.”

“And what happened to my previous majority?”

“Yes that’s odd, especially as you were born here sir.”

“We don’t mention that, remember?

“Sorry sir, I thought….”

“You didn’t think, otherwise you wouldn’t have allowed that moron in to rant at me”

“But you altered the route of the new railway. The land had been in his family for years.”

“Tough. It’s called progress.”

“Surely you could have listened sir?”

“I did. Now get the bloody car!

“Sir, about the car…”

Give me a land of boughs in leaf,
A land of trees that stand;
Where trees are fallen there is grief;
I love no leafless land.”
– A.E. Housman

At the moment we have great arguments raging here about the new HS2 train which, if it goes ahead, will cut a swathe through huge chunks of the English countryside. The photo made me think of all the trees that are in danger, the ancient woodlands that will disappear.

Click on Mr Froggy for more stories

Mistaken Identity

August 10, 2013 / Dee / 18 Comments

A little later than usual, here is my effort for Friday Fictioneers this week. A big thank you to the lovely Renee Heath for the photograph this week and to Rochelle for all the time and effort she devotes to FF – we are all truly grateful. Bow, curtsey…

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

Mistaken Identity

“Stop, stop. Stop!”

My son tightens his grip, his little nails dig into my hand.

“What’s the matter Sam, whatever’s wrong?”

I pick him up. His face is ashen. Two perfectly shaped teardrops hover in the corners of his brilliant blue eyes, threatening to spill over any moment.

I hold him tight.

“What is it? Tell me what’s wrong. Do you have a pain? Just tell me.”

Removing one arm from around my neck and a wet cheek from mine, he points at the fire hydrant and, in the smallest voice, whispers

“There’s a Dalek and I don’t like him.”

Click on the little blue froggy thing to read more stories

By way of explanation…

We don’t have fire hydrants in the UK like the ones in the photograph.

In the mid-eighties we made our first visit to America. My husband is a film buff and a Western fanatic; the thought that he could see Monument Valley and walk in the steps of John Wayne had a lot to do with planning our vacation. In the event we never got to Monument Valley, but did see some amazing and wonderful places on that first trip.

During the stopover in San Francisco, which was much cooler than the weather we had left behind in Los Angeles, our youngest son complained that his legs were cold. My husband and elder son went off to find a shop where we could get him some trousers instead of the shorts we had with us, and we trailed somewhere behind. I think we were approaching Union Square when the incident I have written about happened.

A new series of Dr Who had just been screened at home and while my eldest loved it, my younger son and I would hide behind the sofa when there was a scene with the Daleks. They could be pretty scary.

Busy Bees

July 31, 2013July 31, 2013 / Dee / 35 Comments

Last week was one of those weeks best forgotten. I did no writing but lots of driving and listening, to mainly boring people, talking about mainly boring topics. I missed my Friday Fictioneers fix, like lots of others I look forward to Wednesday when the email from Rochelle drops in my inbox and I wonder in what direction the photo prompt will take me. The photo this week is courtesy of Jennifer Pendergast -hmmm

Genre: Horror

Word Count: 100 words

Busy Bees

The giant bee at the entrance attracted local newspaper headlines.

GIANT BEE LANDS IN HONEYPOT

HONEY, I GOT STUNG!

Alice ignored them and carried on with her work.

The giant bee was the idea of the PR-savvy graduate, foisted on her for the summer.

Alice ignored her too, and went to talk to her bees.

“She’s a problem, but we can’t have too many questions asked.”

“Buzzzz,buzzzzzzzzzz?”

“Just as you wish.”

That night as Alice drank the golden elixir, which she had done inside one shape or form for three hundred years, the hives were empty.

The swarm was forming.

PS – I needed an extra word, so I hope the hyphenated PR-savvy is allowed.

Life’s Cycle

July 17, 2013 / Dee / 39 Comments

It’s Wednesday it must be time for Friday Fictioneers. The photo this week is courtesy of AnElephanCant – (an elephant obviously can) and we Fictioneers are following the yellow jersey of our tour leader Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Join us and meet new and interesting writers from all over the globe, we have fun but be warned, it is very addictive and your Wednesdays will never be the same again.

Genre: Poetry

Word Count: 100

Life’s Cycle

We rode side by side in silence lost in thought

Happy in companionable silence

Our love was new in that early carefree time

When you looked at me and saw perfection

And I looked at you in adoration

The years unfolded bringing joy and heartache

At times it seemed in equal measure

We rode out less as our children came

And interrupted our treasured togetherness

We argued and fought like any married couple

Until we found our new direction and grew close again

The same but stronger

Now too old to ride, our cycles gather dust and hold

Our memories

The Convict

July 10, 2013 / Dee / 46 Comments

This week’s photo prompt comes courtesy of Randy Maizie. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write 100 words on whatever the photo suggests to you. All submissions are scutinised by our leader Rochelle Wisoff-Fields aka Mrs Phelps and enjoyed by all the other Friday Fictioneers. Good luck!

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

The Convict

After eight gruelling months, the Barossa reached Hobart.

Released from their shackles, the prisoners staggered on deck for the muster. Richard stood quietly. There was no escaping the unyielding heat of the southern sun. Briefly he envied those who had died in their chains.

The charge was murder; lacking evidence the gallows were exchanged for penal servitude. He was innocent; friends and family knew it and it pained him to accept that he would never see them again.

He laboured hard, eventually receiving his ticket. His homeland forbidden him, Richard settled in Van Diemen’s Land and died there aged 56.

This is based on the research I have been doing on my family tree. I have an ancestor who was transported to Van Diemen’s Land – present day Tasmania – accused of murdering a special constable who was trying to quieten a mob during a Chartist riot. Richard was found guilty, based on the evidence of someone who remembered ‘a tall lad in a brightly woven cap’. He escaped the gallows only to endure transportation for life. He was 21. Forbidden ever to return home, he made a life in Hobart.

For more information on Convicts in Australia