Tag Archives: photo prompt

Aug 17 2016
30 Comments
Writing

Hornet’s nest

I’d only popped in for a quick coffee. She’d said not to bother, but what with everything I thought she’d be happy to see me. I’d even bought a few bits. A cute little sleep-suit, some nappies, that sort of thing.

Anyway we got chatting, well I did (she seemed exhausted) and we started reminiscing about the engagement party several months back. I’d asked if she remembered Marcus. She went really quiet. So I reminded her of the dancing, the drinks and the unexplained 12 minute toilet break.

How was I supposed to know, Dave, her husband, was in the kitchen?

 

Here we go with another 100 word picture prompt story for Friday Fictioneers. Check out the fresh new link for loads more from wordsmiths around the globe. Have fun, and if you liked it please let me know!

wasp-nest

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Aug 10 2016
21 Comments
Writing

Just the facts

“You can’t see them anymore because over the years they’ve mostly eroded away – like that one with the nose. There were lots more of them when I was a kid.”

“David!” The way she said his name was as short and sharp as the elbow that followed.

David ignored her. The kids, it seemed, were lapping it up; their wide eyes demanding more of dad’s facts.

“I know what you’re going to say,” He continued, “we thought the Pyramids were yellow?  Well kids, let me tell you about global warming.”

For the fifth time that morning, she rolled her eyes.

 

Back once again with another 100 word picture prompt story for Friday Fictioneers. Check out the link for loads more from wordsmiths around the globe. Have fun, and if you liked it please let me know!

adamickes-boardwalk

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Aug 05 2016
12 Comments
Writing

Enough

“…that’s when they said I should leave.” Mike searched the bottom of his glass.
“Hit me again, will ya Sammy?” he pushed his bone-dry shot glass towards the man behind the bar.

Sam popped the top from the bottle and poured another shot.

“Cheers,” he said, scooping up the drink. “You just can’t trust them. None of them. Not a single one.”

Sammy raised an eyebrow.

“Not you Sammy. You’re alright. Hit me again.”

Sam breathed deeply and poured another shot.

Mike nodded in vague appreciation.

“It’s the others.

Hit me.”

Sammy considered it.
He considered it long and hard.

 

icon-grill-ted-strutz

This story, my weekly dip into trying to write something creative, is part of Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. If you’ve taken the time to read this far then I thank you but please take a few more minutes to go read some of the other wonderful entries.

 

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Jul 27 2016
20 Comments
Writing

Big Shop

Sunglasses, vest-top, short shorts, liberally applied factor 50 and flip-flops. Aside from grabbing the canvas bags and car keys, Sandra was ready. The supermarket wasn’t far, but today was Wednesday – “Big Shop” day, and she was buggered if she was going to carry it up the hill.

Two left turns, a roundabout and one set of traffic lights and apparently Sandra had crossed time zones. Sunglasses were removed and wipers were set to stun. Two climate changes later, she arrived.

“The great British summer,” she mocked as she reached for the umbrella tucked inside the emergency wellington boots behind her seat.

Oh my word, it’s been a while but here we go with another slice of Friday Fictioneers. I’ve seen this prompt before – choosing then to let my imagination go on a strange journey for 40 days and 40 nights.

Be sure to check out the other entries for this week’s prompt by CLICKING THIS LINK!

photo-88

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Jun 17 2015
30 Comments
Writing

Silenced

Ubinox was patient.
Ubinox was smart.
Ubinox was lithe, agile and keen.

High above the Grand Hall she waited; fingers and toes gripping the light fittings as she sank silently into nothingness.

Shadows stretched across the empty room as the wise old grandfather clock, standing as it always had by the ornate double doors, beat out a steady rhythm for them to dance.

Ubinox watched.
Ubinox waited.
Ubinox didn’t flinch, not even when the chimes signalled 8pm and the doors burst open with a surge of gay abandon and a chorus of cheers.

At 8.05 the cheers were silenced.

I have my doubts whether you’ll see what I see, but perhaps after reading and looking again you’ll find Ubinox lying in wait. This piece was written for Friday Fictioneers. 100 words per story, 100 stories per week.

hyde-hall-light

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