Tag Archives: storm

Mavis Pops To The Shops

Mavis peered through the gap in the curtains.

The storm hung in the air, threatening to unleash its rage in a flurry of rain, hail, thunder and lightning. It‘d been like that for a while.

Mavis released the curtain. The deep red drapes tumbled closed and the room was once again plunged into darkness.

She paced the room, tutting as she did, before folding herself into the weathered wingback chair, her knees creaking in time with the furniture. Her plan to pop to the shops (3 minutes away) had been inconvenienced by the imminent storm for the last half hour.



This piece was submitted as part of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 1 photograph. 100 words. Over 120 people taking part. And hey, if you still can’t get enough – why not check out my almost-FREE eBook, People WatchingUS link hereUK link there.


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The storm

Henry looked nervously at the tall oak tree in the garden, the storm swirling around its branches pulling it this way and that. He wished he could bring it in, offer up a cup of tea and shelter from the savage weather.

Henry closed the curtains, climbed into bed and listened as the rain lashed at the windows and wind howled through cracks in the doors, begging to be let in.

When he awoke, somewhat cold, the noise of the storm had vanished; instead the sound of the ocean calmly washed over him, and sea salt smells filled his nostrils.



Submitted for Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. See if you can write a piece of flash fiction in 100 words.

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I’d spent the last few weeks staring at the BBQ; the lid of which was still very much closed. The sun had been out but the desire to stand next to a flaming pit of coals whilst being incinerated by the fiery heart of our galaxy hadn’t really set me alight. I’d began to assess the cost of the cream coloured kettle grill against the times I’d actually cooked on it since purchased.

The last few Summers had been cancelled, what with all the rain and hose pipe bans, so if my maths was anything to go by (and it generally wasn’t) then each dinner I’d cooked on the damn thing was currently costing an average of £42.37 a pop.

I’d spent the last few minutes staring through the window; the curtains very much open. My mind snapped back from the BBQ as lightning illuminated the night sky. The puddles forming in the flooded gutter bouncing the light around the street like an elaborate wet mirror-ball.

“1 potato, 2 potatoes, 3 potatoes…” I whispered as I waited for the rumble of thunder. “7 potatoes, 8 pota…”  The deep roar ripped through the air as car alarms wailed, dogs began barking and the rain lashed down ferociously.

Curtains twitched across the road. I waved as Doris at number 16 watched the storm with me. Sharing in this moment of natural magnificence from behind separate glass. Staring, wide-eyed at… me.

It was in that moment I remembered I always slept as naked as the day I was born.



(thanks @vicmaude for the fantastic photo!)


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