Shabby Love


Happy New Year!!  Hope you are all well and keeping warm and dry as we battle this dreadful weather.

Welcome to another year of Friday Fictioneers, hosted as always by the one and only Rochelle. You can get more information about how to join our happy band, the rules and regulations etc., by going along to her website here. Thanks for the photo this week to Dawn Quyle Landau

Copyright Dawn Q Landau

Copyright Dawn Quyle Landau

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Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Shabby Love

Our meeting place has lost its charm.

I happened there by chance, and remembered

How much I loved you, once.

We met often, making plans for ‘sometime later’

Until the day you pressured me for things I could not do.

You lashed out, calling me prude and names

I’d never heard nor understood.

I ran from you in tears, upset and hurt,

Much later realising the valuable lesson learned.

Love is not always kind, or what you hoped for.

True love comes when you are least prepared for it.

The little hut is shabby now, like your supposed love for me.

———–

Click on the little blue froggy thing for more stories

Jake and the Dolphin


Thanks to Rochelle for shepherding the Friday Fictioneers throughout the year.  I have thoroughly enjoyed posting a story almost every week, and thanks to constructive comments from some very talented writers, I feel my writing has improved a great deal. The lovely photo this week is courtesy of Jean Hays – I seem to remember having another of her beautiful stained glass panes as a previous prompt.

 

Not long now until Christmas, only five sleeps as youngest son told me (he is 36).  So, may I take this opportunity, whether you celebrate Christmas or your own particular special celebration, to wish you all peace and happiness and a wonderful holiday with friends and loved ones.

 

Copyright - Jean l Hays

Copyright – Jean lL Hays

 

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Jake and the Dolphin

 

Every year Jake’s parents took him to Florida for Christmas, hoping the holiday sunshine would help him.

‘We’re going to swim with dolphins this trip.’

Jake didn’t react; that wasn’t unusual.

Late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, as they splashed about, a dolphin appeared alongside. Gently nudging Jake, it guided him through the water. Jake held him tightly. People stopped to watch the boy with the dolphin, seemingly playing together.

When he was put to bed, Jake turned to his mother and whispered ‘Love you’

She stared momentarily, not believing her ears, then hugged him.

‘Jake, you can talk.’

 

This is based on something that happened to a friend’s son. He was diagnosed with autism, a most cruel affliction, when he was two years old. He had no speech at all and although seemingly happy in all other ways, his frustration at not being able to make himself understood, gave rise to terrible temper tantrums that affected all the family. It got so bad that at times they just couldn’t take him anywhere.

When he was nine, he went swimming with dolphins and a short time afterwards, he was able to speak.  Not fluently, but enough to make himself understood.  The medical team was very doubtful that the dolphin had anything to do with it.  His mother believed that the dolphin had helped her son and I like to think so too.
  for more stories from the Fictioneers click the little blue froggy

A Different Life


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.

18 October

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.

 

Read more stories here:

 

Fearful Symmetry – S is for Strangers


Something in the way he smiles draws my attention

Soft woollen sweater draped casually across broad shoulders

Sunglasses pushed up on his forehead as he reads the menu

Sipping a glass of red wine he looks out across the piazza

Stealing a sly glance I catch his eye

Smiling widely he raises his glass I respond with mine

She walks from behind me and takes the seat beside him

Slow blush flares on my cheeks I lower my head hiding my embarrassment

Soft caresses tenderly whispered words of love

Stabs of jealousy surface and are gone

Sure in his affection wrapped in his arms she turns towards me

Smiling she raises his glass I smile and raise mine to her

Silently acknowledging her youth and beauty

Surprised by the happiness I feel for these two lovers

Strangers yet universally recognised

small-heart0011.gif

(Read more about Symmetry here )

Timeless


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.

    

Copyright - Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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.”

 

 

 

Life’s Cycle


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.

 

anelephantcant

 

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

 

A Story of Love


On the merry-go-round of the Friday Fictioneers, we spin our stories, tell our tales;  climb to the heights or sink to the depths of the human condition. The photo to challenge us this week, comes courtesy of David Stewart, you can climb his Green Walled Tower to read more from him, and you can read more from Rochelle, who leads the Fictioneers up and down and round and round each week.

rescuers D Stewart

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

A Story of Love

I believed your promises of love and forever

I left my friends and family behind

They didn’t see what I saw

Couldn’t bask in the glow of the love you gave me.

I walked beside you

Your confidence soared

You matured

Saw a different world

A world of opportunity

 Endless possibilities

For an unencumbered man.

♥♥♥♥♥♥

 Heartbroken desolate abandoned

Unable to dull the pain

I returned to my safe haven

Loving arms held me tight

Unquestioning support and solace

Nurtured the Me you had destroyed

Watched the smile I’d lost return

Saw me climb back to my place in the sun.

A Role Reversal


I missed last week’s Friday Fictioneers; for friends and followers, my previous post explains what happened. All is still not well but this is not the place…

The lovely photo prompt this week, courtesy of Managua Gunn should provoke some great stories from the Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle as usual for continuing to spur us into action.

copyright Managua Gunn

copyright Managua Gunn

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Role Reversal

She stands erect, eyes forward never moving, as we watch her from the corner of the square.

Her long blonde hair is tied back under her helmet, her uniform immaculate as always. I want to touch her, but cannot.

Occasionally she will come to attention, march to the post across the courtyard, turn and march back, but I haven’t time to wait.

Last night she wasn’t immaculate as she abandoned herself to desire. Passion spent, we slept entwined, waking early for her to take up her post.

We walk away. I have to get the children to school.

Watching Trooping the Colour wearing tight pyjamas


Saturday 15th June was the Queen’s Birthday Parade in London.  We  had tickets to watch the pomp and pageantry in Horse Guards Parade; our seats were in a row that backed onto the gardens of Downing Street.

On Tuesday 11th June my husband complained of feeling unwell. He got worse throughout the day; our doctor decided that he should go to hospital and arranged for us to attend the Acute Assessment Unit at A&E.  We arrived at 9.00pm with overnight bag at the ready and were seen almost immediately for a blood pressure check and blood tests.  Next, my husband was sent for X-rays, and then we were told to return to the waiting area to be seen by the duty doctor.

We waited with a lot of other people; some moaning softly in pain, some just staring into space, some playing games on their phones or talking with friends and family. One woman was having an argument with her husband over the fact that he never took the rubbish out; he just sat and held her hand, understanding perhaps that this was her way of handling the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

At 12.30 we were called in to see the doctor. The results were back and it seems my husband had a kidney infection.  We were given antibiotics and pain killers and sent home.

I wasn’t convinced.

For one thing one of the antibiotics had to be ‘taken with or after food but NOT on an empty stomach.’ As my husband hadn’t eaten properly for three days and wasn’t about to have anything to eat now, I knew we were going to have problems.   He went to bed with one of the other tablets as I crossed my fingers and hoped he would have a peaceful night.

Wednesday dawned and things weren’t much better. He still didn’t want anything to eat but managed a piece of toast so he could take his tablet. He still felt ill and had a high temperature, but didn’t want me to call the doctor.

Om Thursday he seemed worse. I rang the surgery and spoke to the doctor. He asked a lot of questions, then told me he was going to admit my husband to hospital and I should take him over there straightaway.  On the way, I realised that I had forgotten to pack his pj’s.  We called in to a large clothing store on the way to the hospital, they had no pyjamas only ‘Leisure Wear’.

Once in hospital, we waited for what seemed like an eternity before he was admitted to a ward. Finally about 11.30pm he went to get changed into his ‘leisure wear’.He wasn’t impressed with my purchase; the top was too tight and the trousers too long.  I kissed him goodnight and left him in the care of the night staff.

I left the hospital and went to stay at my son’s house, not wishing to be on my own that night.  My daughter-in-law had laid out a pair of her pj’s as I had nothing with me. I was touched and amused that she thought her clothes would fit me; she is at least two sizes smaller than I and a good four inches taller. We had a hot drink and discussed what had happened during the last few days, then I climbed into their spare bed in a top that was too tight and trousers that were too long, but I was too tired to care.

The following morning I switched on the television to watch the Welsh Guards trooping their colour on Horse Guards Parade and wondered who was sitting in our seats.

In Horse Guards

Trooping the Colour

In the Mall

(More photos and full report @ BBC)

And a couple of balcony shots, courtesy of my tv.

On the balcony

On the balcony 2

Red Arrows over Buckingham Palace

The Wondrous Heffelumpion


It’s that time again!

 It’s that time of week when we sharpen our wits

And try to work out a story that fits,

Just 100 words, not one more or one less

That’s what’s  required from our good leader-ess.

 She watches o’er our writing with candour and wit

Never tires of praising and commenting one bit,

Rochelle reads them all as Chief Fictioneer

For which we are grateful, let’s give her a cheer

Copyright EL Appleby

Copyright EL Appleby

The Wondrous Heffelumpion

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

My grandmother knitted the wondrous Heffelumpion when I had the mumps. It was love at first sight. He went to school, university and kept me company in my first tiny flat. After much washing he went saggy, but I still loved him.

If my husband thought me odd for keeping H on my bedside table, he kept his thoughts to himself. Our children loved him, each in turn; when they had done with him I took him back.

My little granddaughter has now claimed him, taking him everywhere tucked under her arm. She calls him Mr Snuffles.

She loves him.

Some of her other smaller friends: Bagpuss & Ted

Small friends