22/11/2017

THE GLORY-HOLE - a story in one hundred words

THE  GLORY-HOLE

Maggie knew that downsizing didn’t mean just moving somewhere smaller, but she hadn’t realised how much junk she’d accumulated. Every drawer and cupboard was jam-packed with forgotten stuff.
“Most of this should go to charity,” she muttered, wrinkling her nose as she flicked through her wardrobe, and she filled several bin-liners without a qualm.

The glory-hole wasn’t so easy, though there was nothing of value. She didn’t need Georgia’s christening candle, or the scarf she’d worn to Mark’s wedding, and heaven only knew why she’d kept those baskets, but how could she dump the clock that stopped the day Derek died? 
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Thanks to Rochelle for the photo prompt this week - I wonder if that cupboard is in her own home? - and for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/

My own week has been filled with the excitement of publishing my first novel on Amazon. A Volcanic Race is a fantasy suitable for teen to adult readers, and is available in print or ebook.  If you like my flash fiction, why not buy yourself a copy for some relaxing reading during the coming festive season?

16/11/2017

GANG WARFARE - a story in one hundred words




GANG  WARFARE

We never meant to hurt anyone.
Me, Ginge and Joey were the Denver Street Gang, with our headquarters in Joey’s garage. The four from Bennett Road used the old office building. It was only kids’ stuff – yelling insults, chucking stones, letting tyres down.

Then Ginge suggested it would be fun to smoke them out with that tin of sludge off the garage floor. How were we to know it would burn that fierce?

Three of them got out the back, but Kevin broke his ankle and couldn’t run, so they just left him.

They’ve got a nerve calling themselves a gang.
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Thanks to J Hardy Carroll for this week's Friday Fictioneers' photo prompt. to read other stories by our group of writers, visit https://rochellewisoff.com  and follow the links.
I have again been busy working on getting my first book published. The print version of A Volcanic Race went live on Amazon today and the ebook should follow shortly!! Once I've recovered from the excitement I can start revision work on the second book in the series.

09/11/2017

DEPARTMENT STORE - a story in 100 words for Friday Fictioneers




DEPARTMENT STORE

“What on earth are you playing at?” The department manager’s voice was icy.
Walter settled more comfortably into the cushions. “Ain’t no sign saying we can’t sit here," and Doreen kicked off her shoes, dug her toes into the artificial grass and rocked the swing seat. 
The manager, aware of the amused onlookers, kept his temper with an effort. “This is a display, not a hotel.”
Walter handed over a fifty. “Doreen was missing home, and this is the only grass for miles.”

At closing time the manager asked them to come every day - sales of garden furniture had doubled.
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I am not a lover of cities, so I have a fellow-feeling for Walter and Doreen.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on  https://rochellewisoff.com/ from which blog you can follow the link to read other interpretations of Marie Gale Stratford's photograph.
I am getting close to publishing my first novel, A Volcanic Race, on Amazon, and I'm up to my ears in proof-reading, composing a blurb, and trying to get my head round publicity. So please forgive me if I don't read every blog this week :)

03/11/2017

WHODUNNIT? a mystery in one hundred words

WHODUNNIT?

Colonel and Mrs DuCole lived outside Nether Mills in the Manor, which was a large house, but not large enough for them to share harmoniously.

Gerald played golf badly, his daily failure to reduce his handicap rendering him evil-tempered, and he hated Mildred’s collection of china. Every surface in the Manor was crammed with breakables, ranging from priceless porcelain to mass-produced pottery.

The day Gerald scored twenty over par he snapped, striking Mildred over the head with a souvenir from Clacton-on-Sea. Their gardener phoned the police-station.

“I know who did it – the Colonel in the library with a candlestick.”
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Yeah, yeah, I know - it's corny, but I've had a busy week. I am within reach of uploading my book A Volcanic Race to Amazon and as it's my first venture into self-publishing it has been a tad stressful!
This week's Friday Fictioneers photo prompt comes from Sarah Ann Hall and was published on Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/

25/10/2017

MOVING MUM IN - a story in one hundred words

MOVING MUM IN

“It’s a lovely room, dear.” Judy’s lack of enthusiasm was palpable.
Penny took her hand. “What’s wrong, Mum? I thought you were happy to be moving in with us, and you can’t live alone any longer.”
“Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. It feels like a step nearer the grave.”

Penny put a gentle arm round Judy’s shoulder and turned her towards the window. “See that sky? Sunset isn’t the end of the day – it’s just the beginning of evening. Now let’s have a cup of tea while we decide where to hang your pictures.”
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Roger Bultot's photo made me think of other kinds of sunsets and, as my own Mum will shortly be moving in with my brother, this story almost wrote itself.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/ from whence you can follow the link to read other sunset stories.

18/10/2017

TREE - a poem for Friday Fictioneers

TREE

A tree is always there –
immovable,
a living solid friend –
backrest to the solitary reader,
a shelter from sudden rain,
the hollows of its roots
a bed for summer lovers –
perhaps a hundred years
of memories.

You don’t expect
to wake one morning
and find its height
reduced to length,
the secret places
in its roots
indecently exposed,
and the unreachable boughs
sad and defeated
under your caressing hand.

When a tree falls
your whole world rocks
and the child in you
trembles.

It’s like coming downstairs
in the dark night
seeking comfort,
and hearing your father cry.
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On seeing Sandra Crook's photograph of a weeping tree, I immediately thought of this poem which I wrote thirty years ago in 1987, the year a hurricane tore down far too many beautiful trees across the south of England. As we have just had another big storm, it seems appropriate to post it here. And it has the requisite number of words!
You can see other 100 word stories via https://rochellewisoff.com/


12/10/2017

EMPTY NEST - a hundred word story

EMPTY NEST

That garden shed was a bone of contention from day one.
He wanted a man-cave to store his tools, while I envisaged a quiet retreat for writing. Grudgingly, we shared the space, each snarling when disturbed by the other.

Until sparrows converted his crusty, gnarled gardening glove into a nest. Stealthy as thieves, we watched noisy hatchlings feed and fledge. Indulgent, we brought insect gifts and wiped their crap off tools and books, naming each baby.

Then one morning they flew out to claim the sky.
We cleaned up silently, united in our grief, as bereft as university parents.
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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog   https://rochellewisoff.com/  and to Douglas MacIlroy for the photo prompt.
I was away last week for three days, celebrating my daughter's birthday in Ireland, and did not visit as many other FF blogs as usual, for which I apologise. Must try to do better, as the teachers used to say - perhaps they still do?