Tag Archives: fiction

Flash Your Fiction!

Opportunities to participate in various writing competitions or flash fiction challenges pop up frequently throughout the year, giving everyone an opportunity to flex their grey matter, whether a literary genius or novice writer. Yup, I’m looking at you!

Colleen Chesebro, the Faery Whisperer, has kindly shared an active flash fiction challenge from Charli Mills at Carrotranch.com, which I’ve posted below.

Why not take up the challenge and see what you can free from the depths of your imagination?

Here is the prompt:

January 3, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a character who looks back. It can be a metaphorical reflection or a glance in the rear-view mirror. Who is looking back, and why? Go where the prompt leads.

Send a link back to myself in the comments or to Charli at carrotranch.com and share the love of writing with everyone you know.

Here’s my attempt at the flash fiction challenge…

Shadows grew as the winter sun faded behind the neatly packed houses. Children scampered in for tea and street lights twinkled to life. She sighed, unclenching her fingers and loosening her jaw. Another day – gone. Still no sirens, no-one searching for her. She was one of those shadows, forgotten from the light footsteps skipping home for tea. Her skeletal fingers traced the remnants of light filtering through her cramped prison. Sun-kissed skin, now wrinkled, stretched and cracked at the effort. Yes, she was now just a memory of the little girl who once lived at No. 15.

Now it’s your turn! Share your thoughts – its always great hearing from you.

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Whispers

Words slip so easily from loose lips

Releasing secrets meant for eternity

Their meaning resonating through the atmosphere

Causing ripples in the air around us

Washing icy cold winds through hearts once pure

Waving farewell to resigned contentment and ignorance

Welcoming the fury of considered insightfulness

The power of whispers made in jest

Smorgasbord Blogger Daily – Monday 30th July 2018 – Margot Kinberg, Hugh Roberts and #Reviewer Linda Hill Book Bag | Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life

Welcome to the first of this week’s blogger daily and a small selection of posts that I have enjoyed. The first post is from crime and mystery writer Margot Kinberg on the subject of Happy Endings and how those who read crime (murder stories) still have an expectation of sorts, despite the circumstances. Certainly I…
— Read on smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/2018/07/30/smorgasbord-blogger-daily-monday-30th-july-2018-margot-kinberg-hugh-roberts-and-reviewer-linda-hill-book-bag/

Saturday Script

Dear Reader,

As I’ve mentioned recently, I have been suffering from writer’s block. Today has been the first time something resembling a story has broken through the wall. Let me know what you think… Continue reading

Chastity

Here’s a little something for your Saturday evening…

Continue reading

ThrillWriting: Growing Up as a Cop’s Kid: Information for Writers and Curious Minds

ThrillWriting: Growing Up as a Cop’s Kid: Information for Writers and Curious Minds
— Read on thrillwriting.blogspot.com/2017/12/growing-up-as-cops-kid-information-for.html

Easter Sticky Competition

After watching the scramble to prepare our school’s Easter Sticky Competition today, the memories of how the inspiration for Cecil the Bully came about flooded back to me with glorious giggles. Continue reading

My Dog, The Terrorist!

Eyes wide open with dark pupils glaring into my soul, his mouth remained clamped over his latest hostage. My pleas and persuasion had fallen on deaf ears and now my voice held an angry bite, ready to do battle.

“Put the doll down, Henry,” I growled.

His head cocked to one side, contemplation stealing across his chiselled facade. Pathetic dolly arms flumped as he swung his head to check for attackers from behind.  He was safe for now.  He only had to face me.  But he and I both knew that back-up was on its way.  The heavy footfalls of the Hubble were unmistakable.

“Drop it, now!” My hissing voice reminded me of a stand-off in a spaghetti western.  I should have worn my poncho for this!

Big mistake. As my thoughts trailed away, he took the opportunity to run past my outstretched hands and scuttle out of the kitchen door into the garden, said hostage still trapped between his jaws. I screamed and pursued him, darting this way and that as he pranced before me.  Slight head turns gave him an advantageous view to predicting my next move. Without much effort he ducked and ran just far enough for me to be within touching distance of his wagging bushy tail.

A deep voice made us both jump.

“Henry! What are you doing?” demanded the Hubble. His hands-on-hips stance used for the naughty sprogs did nothing to deter our little terrorist.  With a spring in his paws he pranced past the kitchen door, parading his latest victim with delight.

“Down!” I shouted.

“Drop!” bellowed the Hubble.

A skip and a hop was the terror’s response. His victim slipped slightly and was flicked into the air only to be champed down on again.  In my mind I was weighing up the collateral damage.  Could we lose this one?  Was she a favourite toy? I shook my head.  She was one of too many stuffed toy victims that had seen an ugly end thanks to this four legged brute.  He had to be stopped. Sally, the sweet patchwork doll had to be saved.

With a new directive in mind, I ran into the kitchen.  Ah yes!  Leftovers from the day before: sausages!

I quickly ran out again, my new negotiating tactic in hand.

“Henry, come!” My voice oozed sweetness and trust.

I edged closer to the perpetrator, his piercing gaze fixed on my outstretched hand. His wet nosed quivered.  I could see his jaw slacking.  This was it.  We had a deal. Two tentative steps brought us closer.  The air was heavy with suspense – and the smell of sausage.

Drop. The hostage was free. I threw the tasty morsel to the right as I made a dive to rescue Sally. Yuck! She was safe, albeit covered in slimy saliva. Her hands waved in victory as I shoved her up in the air above my head for all to see. The Hubble just shook his head and walked back into the house.

What? No victory parade? No pat on the back in appreciation for rescuing Sally from the little terror?

Loud chewing noises formed the background music to my victory walk indoors where I demanded an explanation from the Hubble.

He frowned. “Don’t you know you never negotiate with terrorists?”

“What do you mean? It was only as treat!”

“Yes, but now you’ve set a precedent.”

Urgh! No appreciation for my efforts.  I decided it wasn’t worth the effort to argue my point, so I took Sally to the washing machine for a quick spruce up before returning her home to my female sprog’s bedroom.

A scream forced me to abandon my post and run to assist the aforementioned sprog.

“What’s wrong?”

“Henry just stole Miss Giggles and he won’t give her back!” Tears and burbles of how much she loved Miss Giggles ensued.

Oh dear. The Hubble gave his dark know-it-all smile. Grr! I hate it when he’s right.

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Monday Coffee

Hello and welcome back to my place. Yesterday was pretty spectacular with the dome lifting over our patch of England, allowing a few frosty flakes from the north to melt on our meadow. We were wondering if the snow would reach us and it felt rather special to see those brave water molecules flitter past our window.

Come in and take a seat at the table. Unfortunately the Darjeeling tea is finished so it will have to be coffee.  Help yourself to a ginger bread man and let me fill you in on some of the exciting things that have happened over the past week.  Continue reading

Kennings At Monday Coffee

Have you ever heard of a Kennings poem? Continue reading