23/02/2017

NURSE FIONA - flash fiction

NURSE  FIONA

Fiona settled at her desk to complete a job application, and was dithering over the question, Why are you leaving your present job? when she heard a faint sound from the corner bed.
She soothed the old woman’s restless hands. ‘Are you in pain, Mabel?’
‘No, dear. Just sit with me. I see it’s snowing – like when I met Arthur.’ She giggled girlishly. ‘I threw a snowball to catch his attention.’ Suddenly her head lifted. ‘Arthur?”
Fiona caught the briefest glimpse of an old man before Mabel’s hand relaxed in hers.
After completing the formalities she tore her application into tiny pieces.
...................................................................
This week's lovely photo was taken by Sarah Potter and reproduced as a prompt on Rochelle's blog https://rochellewisoff.com/ . From there you can follow the Blue Frog trail to read other interpretations of the picture.
I would like to thank the 25 other writers who commented on my blog last week - the most I have ever had for one story - most of whom liked the photo of mine which Rochelle used.
If you like my writing, you can find another of my stories on this site  http://visualverse.org/  which also uses a pictorial prompt,, but although the word limit is greater there is a time limit of an hour - one hour!


15/02/2017

THE HIGH LIFE - fiction in 100 words

THE HIGH LIFE

Karl wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was good at football – very good – and was quickly snapped up by a major team.
He was regularly front-page news, blinking in flashlights outside nightclubs with a series of stunning girlfriends. 

His team managed to keep his worst excesses out of the papers – he was their golden boy as long as he kept scoring goals with his world-famous headers. His life was the envy of many – until he developed a blood clot on his brain.

Deprived of the adulation on which he thrived, his downward spiral was swift, and ultimately fatal.
......................................................................
This week's photo is one which I took myself ! I was out for a walk one morning in Tenerife when I spotted this macabre still-life. To read how other writers inerpreted the image, go to  https://rochellewisoff.com/ and follow the link.
This story is not the only one I've written this week - I am delighted to tell you that on  http://visualverse.org/about-visual-verse/  you will find my name in the list of authors.

08/02/2017

RATS & COBBLESTONES - Flash Fiction in 100 words X2

RATS

Twenty years we’ve lived here, but I’ve never felt comfortable.
I imagined the kids drowning, but of course they were soon swimming like ducks, and when Derek bought a narrow-boat they were ecstatic.
Admittedly the gently sloping gardens are lovely, but every passing boat brings gawping strangers and, since a photo of me in a bikini appeared on Facebook, I’ve stayed indoors.
Then last week it rained, in biblical proportions.
“We’re safe,” Derek declared, sitting Canute-like beside the canal bank, but had to admit defeat when a rat swam past him, heading for our terrace.

When the water recedes we’re selling up.
............................................................
For some reason I thought yesterday was Wednesday, so when I saw the next photo on Rochelle's blog I thought it was the Friday Fictioneers' prompt. So here's the story I wrote yesterday - two for the price of one!
Please feel free to comment on both before you follow the links from    https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/   to read other stories.
..................................................................................................................

COBBLESTONES

The villagers protested but the mayor carried the vote – the cobblestones that rattled his Rover’s suspension would be covered with pulverised gravel from his quarry, which the village could have at cost.
Within days every carpet was grey with dust, and the men covered their drinks whenever someone drove past the bar. Complaints poured into the Mayor’s office, but he shrugged, “What can I do?”
Then the rains came – a true tropical storm that raced down the steep village street and washed every grain of grey onto the beach, leaving only ancient cobblestones to gleam under the next day’s sun.
......................................................................................
And yes - the theme of rain seems prevalent this week - must be due to  the weather in Sussex :)


01/02/2017

EXOTIC FLOWER - FLASH FICTION in 100 words

EXOTIC  FLOWER

Malee’s only way out of poverty was to marry a rich foreigner, and her photograph on the Agency’s website caught Vincente’s fancy – after one carefully orchestrated meeting he proposed.
His apartment in Malaga wasn’t the palace he had described, but Malee told herself she was fortunate – Vicente was a considerate husband, she had found a shop that stocked familiar ingredients, and beneath the trees of the park she almost felt at home.
Then winter came, and the park was buried in snow. Malee spent her days sitting by the window, an exotic flower dying by slow, cold degrees in a foreign land.

 ..........................................................................
The recent snow in the south of Spain has been an unwelcome surprise to many locals and expats alike - for someone from a warmer country it must have been a horrible shock.
This week's photograph was taken by Roger Bultot and posted on Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  From there you can follow the Blue Frog link to read how other Friday Fictioneers interpreted the prompt.

25/01/2017

FLIGHT - 100 word flash fiction

FLIGHT

Father said they wouldn’t come this way, but this morning we could no longer ignore the thunder of guns.
“Ten minutes!” Grandfather roared, and like hens we scattered, gathering food, clothes, and suddenly precious things – mother’s mixing bowl, father’s books, my doll – and piled into the motorcars.
We could actually see the enemy when we reached the ferry.
“Everyone!” Grandfather ordered, and all, from eighty to eight, hauled on the rough rope, bullets hitting the leather seats to prove that our lives depended on speed.

As Father’s axe cut the rope I cooled my burning palms in mud. Mother scolded but she was smiling.
...................................................................
My regular readers may recognise this week's photo prompt, taken by Al Forbes, as it was used on Friday Fictioneers last year, but this is a completely new story. If you'd like to read what I wrote before you can find it archived in February 2016.
Thanks to Rochelle @ https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ for hosting FF - follow the link on her blog to read many other and vastly different stories.
Oh - and welcome to James, who has become my 100th follower - check out his blog @  http://jthargreaves.blogspot.com/  for longer short stories.

20/01/2017

OVIDUCT - Flash fiction

OVIDUCT

The entrance beckoned across the dinosaur theme park – gentle curves in the warm white of a breakfast egg. The children clamoured, so I paid the entry fee.
I walked easily through the first two arches, but when the third one touched my hair I felt a frisson of unease. 
“Wait for me!” I called, but they scampered ahead, and by the time I’d ducked through arches four and five they were nowhere to be seen. Childish giggles drew me further in until I was crawling on hands and knees.
When I couldn’t even force my shoulders through, the screaming started.
........................................................................
I'm late on parade this week. I had my second cataract operation on Tuesday, and at the moment I'm managing with off-the-shelf reading glasses.
Today's prompt photo was taken by Dale Rogerson and posted by Rochelle on her blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  You can follow the Blue Frog link from there to read other stories, after you've commented on mine, of course. Thank you.



11/01/2017

STRIKE - a 100 word story

STRIKE

I promised her she’d regret leaving me, so when I’d collected enough pills I dissolved them in my morning coffee. Bloody doctors and a stomach-pump put paid to that plan.

I faint at the sight of blood, so knives are out of the question, I’ve no idea where to buy a gun, and the gates to the canal towpath were locked.


So here I am on this railway bridge, sitting with my legs dangling over the edge, waiting for a train, and I’ve just remembered the drivers’ strike. Who would have thought it would be so flaming difficult to commit suicide?

................................................................................
Another story prompted by a photograph on Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ , from whence you can follow the link to read how other Friday Fictioneers interpreted  C E Ayr's photo.