A Man of Vision

April 15, 2016April 15, 2016 / Dee / 35 Comments

Two weeks into my retirement and hardly a word written! It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but then life has a habit of interfering. I have managed to scribble this, hope you like it. Thanks to Kent Bonham for the interesting photo and to Rochelle for steering us through the maze…

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

A Man of Vision

‘How can we help you if you keep the design in your head Antoni?’

‘I cannot draw a design, as it changes every time I think of it. It is a fluid, changing thing I cannot confine to paper. If you will help me, then you must work as I work.’

‘But this bears no resemblance to any cathedral we have ever seen.’

Antoni stopped listening.

Through years of turmoil and political unrest he worked on his masterpiece. He never finished it, but saw in his mind’s eye all the colours, the textures and the glory of his beloved cathedral.

*******

For more information on Antoni Gaudi and his work, including his beloved cathedral the Sagrada Familia

for more stories, click Mr Frog

Early One Morning

March 23, 2016March 23, 2016 / Dee / 34 Comments

Only one more week left at work … one good thing is that I will be able to spend more time writing and catching up with Friday Fictioneers. I haven’t done much ‘visiting’ recently and I want to say thank you for putting up with me and still visiting and commenting on my posts. 🙂

Thanks as always to Rochelle for making time in her very hectic schedule to continue to lead us- sympathies with the dental work, I’ve been in the same boat recently, painful. Thanks to to Ted Strutz for the intriguing photo this week.

Genre: Family history

Word Count: 100

Early One Morning

May woke her brothers. The room was dark and cold. Condensation collected in puddles on the windowsill. Ernest pulled the blanket tighter.

‘Ernest, Walter, wake up. There’s water for a quick swill, your clothes are on the chair. Hurry up, don’t wake the others.’

They walked together alongside the canal, huddled against the cold, breathing out clouds into the morning.

‘Boys, hurry up! If we’re late and refused work today, Joe Stamford will dock our pay for the week. Think of ma and the bairns, come on!’

Joe Stamford watched them running across the yard and started to close the door.

*******

A little bit of history… May in the story is my grandmother. She left school aged 12 and went to work in a cotton mill in Colne, Lancashire, with her two older brothers. They left home around 5.30am to walk the two miles to work every day. Conditions in the mills were very hard, if they were late one day, they were refused entry and could lose their pay for the whole week. They worked hard to support their mother and six other siblings as by now, their father was quite ill and without work for long periods of time.

This is a photo of her, much much later, with my grandfather on a rare day out to Blackpool. (Apologies for the quality.)

Jar of Happiness

March 2, 2016 / Dee / 45 Comments

This was my original post for this prompt back in 2012. Can’t quite believe it was so long ago but, as the saying goes ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ and Friday Fictioneers certainly provides that in spades! Delighted to hear that Sandra Crook a stalwart of FF, is one of ten people short-listed for the Magic Oxygen Literary Prize 2016 and that our FBM Rochelle is busy with her next book and interviews on radio etc., etc., don’t know where she gets her energy from, wish I could borrow some 🙂

Image courtesy of Sean Fallon

The boy stands anxiously in line

Money clutched tightly in his hand

As one by one a box is taken from the pile on the counter

And handed to a mother, sister, grandfather, brother, father

He has none of these.

Nearing the front, he leans forward and tries to see if there is one for him

Then a brightly coloured jar catches his eye

It is full of cars, trains, planes and robots

Tucking it under his arm, he walks out smiling

His guardian waits to take him back to the home

Back to where the old toys are cheering

click to read more stories…

Tuneless

January 20, 2016January 20, 2016 / Dee / 37 Comments

Thankfully the rain has ceased, but now the bright, crisp, frosty mornings come as a shock to the system. Where did I put that de-icer? I know there’s a can here somewhere…

Many thanks to Rochelle for continuing to inspire us and, this week, thanks to her husband, Jan, for the photo prompt.

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

Tuneless

‘I want to learn the piano.’

‘You would like to learn the piano.’

‘Sorry. I’d like to learn the piano. Please?

‘We can only afford one lesson each week and your sister asked first.’

I remember that conversation so well, though it took place a lifetime ago. My sister was my mother’s favourite then, and could do no wrong.

I was a tomboy. I bit my nails, climbed trees, ran wild and played with the boys. Definitely not mother’s idea of a pianist.

The piano took some punishment for a few months, until my sister discovered the local ballet class.

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)

Starting Over

January 8, 2015 / Dee / 37 Comments

I love Chicago! Just thought I would tell you. We went there years ago and spent a week in the city before travelling on to Utah – don’t ask… Huge thanks to Rochelle for continuing to host Friday Fictioneers and supporting everyone who takes part.

Finally, my very best wishes to you all for a healthy and prosperous 2015

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Starting Over

The bag was heavy but Molly dragged it to the station. Her face turned towards the sun, its warmth flowed through her body, easing the pain. Cosmic pain relief, she laughed out loud at the simplicity of it.

On the train she ripped up the left-luggage receipt and gently took out the torn and crumpled letter. It had been hidden, but not well enough. Eventually she had retrieved it. Carefully, she smoothed out the creases until she could read his words.

On the platform she scanned the faces of strangers, looking for him.

He was there, as he had promised.

…………………………….

“Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you.” – Charlotte Whitton