The Lost Chord

December 24, 2014 / Dee / 30 Comments

One more sleep…

Thanks to Rochelle for shepherding us through another year of Friday Fictioneers. Thanks also to Bjorn for supplying the photo for the prompt this week .

Genre – Fiction

Word Count: 100

The Lost Chord

Hugo loved music, but whenever he sang people ran covering their ears. He played several musical instruments reasonably badly, only the piano had escaped his attentions. The Outdoor Piano Festival would change all that.

For months he cycled over to see Aunt Matilda and hammered out his versions of the classics on her yellowing ivories.

On the day of the Festival, Hugo was eager. Clutching his music he mounted the steps and played his piece to a stunned audience. He heard someone mutter ‘unbelievable’ and ‘he lost a chord.’

Pleasure turned to embarrassment as he dived to retrieve it.

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I wrote this a while ago for a prompt I missed; it has been dusted off and suitably amended. May I take this opportunity to wish my fellow Friday Fictioneers and all my friends and followers a Happy Holiday, however you celebrate it, and a healthy and prosperous 2015.

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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…

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.

No Forks Needed

July 23, 2014 / Dee / 47 Comments

I’m pleased to say we are having a mini heatwave here in Wales; it happens so rarely I feel completely justified in revelling in it. It is also the week of the Royal Welsh Show, last year both exhibitors and visitors were up to their armpits in mud, slush and mire, so I am really pleased they can enjoy the sunshine too.

Glad to be able to submit an FF story this week and my thanks to our top chef Rochelle for selecting such an unusual photograph to tempt us with. Thanks also to Marie Gail Stratford for taking it.

No Forks Needed

Genre: Crime

Word Count: 100

Mary sat at her usual table, her laptop open and ready. The story she was writing was going well, but now she was stuck. Did she kill off the character giving her problems, or try to rework the plot? She was watching the street, waiting for her muse to return, when two strangers came in.

One man went to the kitchen. She heard a blood curdling scream and saw Wu Tan stagger out, clutching the knife embedded in his chest. The men ran into the street and disappeared.

Mary stared at Wu and flexed her fingers, her muse was back.

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We’ll Meet Again

July 11, 2014July 11, 2014 / Dee / 27 Comments

I have been AWOL for a few weeks, I hope some of you have missed me…..

I have been busy working on a tender document which has proved much more difficult than I ever imagined when agreeing to do it. I mean, three weeks of my life is too much to spend on writing something that I didn’t enjoy. It has been submitted now, at 11.45 am to be precise so I’m free now to write something I do enjoy enormously…

Thank you to Rochelle for everything, loved your post and photographs about the Friday Fictioneers get together, so lovely to see you all in the flesh, so to speak! Thanks also this week to Kelly Sands for the photograph.

Genre: Family History

Word Count: 100

We’ll Meet Again

Eight year-old Sheila skipped alongside her mother, so excited to be going on this adventure. They met other families on their way to the station. Some mothers were crying, Sheila idly wondered why.

Her mother, never one for showing much emotion, kissed her as she opened the door to the special carriage on the train. She checked the gas mask was in its box and Sheila’s name tag was securely fastened to her coat.

‘Be a good girl. Say your prayers and do as you’re told. I’ll see you soon.’

It would be four eventful years before they met again.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Notes:

Sheila is my aunt. At the outbreak of WWII almost all the children of the city of Hull were evacuated to safety. Everyone knows how badly London and other cities were bombed, but for reasons explained below, the bombing of Hull was kept off the newsreels and out of the papers.

http://www.mylearning.org/the-hull-blitz/p-3047/

Memories of Another Life

May 28, 2014May 28, 2014 / Dee / 57 Comments

I am feeling rather pleased with the fact that I have managed to post something BEFORE Friday.

I also have a question that I have been meaning to ask for some time now. I notice the times that comments and stories are posted and it makes me wonder just where in the world all you Fabulous Friday Fictioneers are; it would be really nice to know. I’m in Wales, land of song (allegedly) and rugby (definitely) and laver bread… but that’s another story altogether.

Moving on – thanks as always to Rochelle for keeping us all focused and this week, thanks also to Jennifer Pendergast for the lovely photo.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

Memories of Another Life

The Guardian watches us.

I slip through the gate unobserved; a delicious taste of freedom, though confrontation will follow.

Fading memories of childhood brought hope to years of waiting. There was love and laughter in that other life I lived.

Did they ever stop searching for me? Did they ever forget me?

I will never know.

I hear the running footsteps and the loud cries ‘Valide Sultan, nerdesin?

‘I am here.’

Silence falls.

My son confronts me. Conceived by force, taken from me at birth, I fall to my knees prepared for his wrath.

Only death will set me free.

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I have just finished reading ‘The Aviary Gate’ by Katie Hickman, for the second time. Due to the mixed reviews the book received, I thought I would do bit more research on life in the harems of the great Sultans. I came across the story of Aimee du Buc de Rivery and wondered if this incredible life were true. The photo this week let my imagination wonder a bit more.

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An Uncertain Future

May 23, 2014May 23, 2014 / Dee / 43 Comments

Our fabulous group achieved recognition by WordPress – the comment I liked best- ‘We love Friday Fictioneers as much for the blogging bonds it cultivates as for the range and power of the stories it inspires.’

If you missed the post you can read it here. So pleased for Rochelle and for the whole group too, as it is always a good feeling when your work is admired.

Back down to earth now, my story this week follows the lovely photo by Erin Leary.

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

An Uncertain Future

She waits outside the door, listening to the conversation between the doctor and her husband. Her nails dig into her palm, the discomfort a distraction.

‘Last question, do you know what day it is today Daniel?’

‘Yes, of course I do.’

‘Can you tell me?’

A slight pause, ‘you know it as well as I.’

‘I’m not sure, will you tell me?’

Silence

Sadness envelops her; her worst fears confirmed.

Later when they leave he holds her arm. Safe again, he looks at her with shining eyes, and wide smile.

She smiles back at him, immediately recognising her new role.

Dementia is a cruel and unforgiving thing. This story came to mind as soon as I saw Erin’s photo. It is based on a close friend and her husband – a former accountant with a brilliant mathematical mind. She always described his illness like ‘a mist that slowly descends until the way becomes totally obscured.’

Into The Blue

May 12, 2014 / Dee / 17 Comments

I have been unable to post anything as my account was suspended by WordPress. I don’t know why this was and they haven’t told me why they did it. There was just a message saying my account was suspended when I tried to log on. I sent an email complaining and have not had a reply, but magically the account seems to be working now. Thank you WordPress!

So, with haste in case they change their minds and banish me again, here is the story you should have seen last week.

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

Into The Blue

“It’s deep blue, just like your eyes”, I say,

He continues to read the paper barrier between us.

“My outfit looks good, what will you wear?”

There is no answer.

He turns a page.

Seemingly all communication has ceased,

His silence is slowly suffocating me.

I walk onto the terrace.

I forgave his betrayal,

I should have let him go

Not clung to him in desperation,

Fearful of a life without him.

I watch the flotsam in the bay, subject to demands of an indifferent tide,

Like me.

I dress for the party and leave,

Travelling hopefully, towards new horizons.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thanks as always to Rochelle and to B.W. Beacham for the photo last week.

I have not been able to comment on any stories, I promise to make amends this week – WP permitting of course!

Seeing the light

April 30, 2014 / Dee / 54 Comments

Hello, it’s great to be here early for once instead of rushing around at the last-minute. I hope you’ve all had a good week. I’m looking forward to the Bank Holiday weekend and Monday off, when I will try to catch up on some of my writing projects (she says with fingers crossed)

Thanks to Renee Heath for the photo prompt this week and a special thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for her continuing support, diplomacy and encouragement.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

Seeing the light

Frederick watches the crowd gathered on the pavement. They are getting restless. Some shout concerns, about their safety, loss of their livelihoods. Not many seem supportive of his demonstration.

‘You’ll blow us all to kingdom come, you mad German!’

‘It’ll never work!’

‘What about the poor candlemakers?’

His wife tightens her grip on his arm.

At 9pm the gas is turned on. Pall Mall is lit up from end to end; the crowd roars approval, some even come to shake his hand.

‘Listen to them now liebling, no need for your fears. You should have more faith in your husband.’

Artist unknown. Courtesy of National Gas Museum

and now for the history bit…

In 1807, Frederick Winsor, a German born entrepreneur, demonstrated the use of gas to light streets, in London’s Pall Mall. Fifteen years later almost every large town in Britain, as well as Europe and North America, had a gasworks. The company he founded – The Gas Light & Coke Company, continued to supply most of the gas in London, until the industry was nationalised in 1949. Read more at The National Gas Museum website.

For more stories click on Mr Frog