Wednesday, 19 October 2016


Writing Prompt for Wednesday Stories 10/19/16
·       October 13, 2016

Hosted by our lovely Debb at Inner Sunshine

This week we will incorporate all four photos into our stories.  There are no prompt words.  Expected word maximum:  600 words.  Enjoy!

Here is my story:


Reaching the wooden bridge Janet paused for a moment.  She loved this time of year as the shadows lengthened and the days became shorter.  The daylight hours were so few to enjoy but she knew she was luckier than some people.  She could still get out and about, she could still walk in the fresh air and get the last vestiges of vitamin D from the last of the sun’s rays as it became weaker and weaker each day. 

Janet passed several people on her walk, smiling at the passer-by’s, some acknowledged her informal greeting, some ignored her but she shrugged those people off.  They might be having problems or troubles that made them oblivious to other people and their surroundings.  There wasn’t a lot she could do about that just the hope that her smile would lighten their day somewhat.

She did have a nice smile.  That was something her first boss had complimented her on was how her smile lit up her face.  She didn’t realise it was because he wanted more from her and not just more output at work.  His eyes usually strayed from her smile to her chest which would make her blush and feel very uncomfortable.  It was only for a moment, a fleeting glance at her shapely breast, a sly smirk on his face quickly wiped off as he leaned over her to reach a pencil on her desk.  

He called her in to his office one day asking her to bring her pad and take dictation.  Her shorthand speeds were above average and she always typed his letters back quickly, correcting his grammar nine times out of ten.  His sentence construction was pretty poor and she always changed the salutations to the correct signing off.  He never knew ‘Dear Sir/Yours Faithfully’ or dear Mr. Jones/ Yours Sincerely’ but he didn’t need to because she always did it for him.

When he paced about the room speaking out loud, her pencil flying over her pad, she knew he would stop behind her and surreptitiously sniff her hair, he would press his large hand lightly on her shoulder and let his fingers graze the side of her neck, she would suppress the shudder because she needed her salary at the end of the month.

Janet remembered it was about this time of year when she tried to tell her father about Mr. Kingsley.  They were sitting in his study, her dad had his cigar ready and a few nuts on his desk ready to crack open, she started to tell him but his hand waved away her conversation dismissively.  He told her that was something she would have to learn to cope with in the world of work and that it didn’t really mean anything. 

Crossing the bridge she saw a young girl sitting on a picnic rug, holding a book obviously in a world of her own.  Janet thought how lucky that woman was, she would never suffer from that kind of sexual abuse these days.  Well she certainly hoped not.  She was sure things had changed over the last 40 years from when she was working in an office. 

Resting on a bench, soaking up the atmosphere Janet’s eyes were drawn to the bench beside her.  She had felt eyes upon her and noticed the small squirrel gazing at her.   Oh what a simple life that little rodent lived.  He knew his place in the world, gathering his harvest to see him through the winter, running up and down trees playfully, his furry body keeping him warm in the cold season.

Word count: 599

Wednesday, 12 October 2016


Writing Prompt for Wednesday Stories 10/12/16

This week our lovely Debb at Inner Sunshine has set a photo prompt to be used with five random words witha maximum word count 500.

Here is my story:

tortoise, shop, verb, finance, tattoo. 


Susan could use the same basic sewing pattern, she mulled it over, yes, with some added oomph and using different colourways would do the trick.  It had taken her a few days to come up with the idea but now she knew where she was going with it
The fashion show at the all girls’ school was right up her street.  Trendy young females who would jump at the chance to wear her outfits but she could only choose four girls.  Susan did so hope that they were too young to be allowed to have a tattoo anywhere on their body.  Being rather a posh school it was probably frowned upon along with body piercings in noses and eyebrows and lips.  Susan shuddered at the very thought of it.

Her bookkeeper had agreed that the small amount of finance needed for this enterprise could probably be ‘lost’ in the accounts somewhere along the way so she could look good by donating her skirts to the models afterwards. 

The school started sending out the advertising for the event.  It had started a few years ago as a small charity event with the students modelling the latest fashion, all to be auctioned off on the Gala Evening.  

The leaflets advertised the event and all the other contributors. To Susan’s eyes one shop stood out from all the rest.  She’d seen the frontage in town and thought it was rather quirky especially with a logo of a picture of a tortoise.  It was something to do with durability of their clothing as the tortoise was so long lived.  Susan sniffed disapprovingly at that idea.  It did seem rather naff to her. 

Madeleine, Laura, Emma and Bethany arrived in a flurry of giggles for their fittings, all long legs and ‘like’ and ‘cool’ peppering their language.  Susan felt quite old when she wondered what on earth had happened to the English language.  Nobody seemed to talk in sentences anymore and any kind of sentence construction with usage of the correct verb was out of the question.  Her old teachers would have had a fit hearing that kind of language.

Susan was adjusting Madeleine’s skirt, her mouth full of pins, when her mobile pinged with a message.  Laura looked at her questioningly and after receiving a nod from Susan she picked up the mobile and read the message out loud.

‘Good luck girls, have a fun time tonight, love Jack.’

The teasing that ensued made Susan feel young again.  The four girls wanted to know who Jack was.  They came up with all sorts of scenarios, he was her toy boy, he was her lover, he was her gardener, a.k.a Lady Chatterley’s Lover, that last idea had them all in stitches.

Wiping away the laughter tears that were streaming down her face, Susan felt so alive in that moment.  She’d missed being part of a group, albeit with the age difference but that didn’t seem to matter today.  They were all women together.

Word count: 498

Wednesday, 5 October 2016



hosted by Debb Stanton at Inner Sunshine

a weekly prompt with photos and prompt words.  This week Debb has given us several options to choose from and my choice was to write a story using three photo prompts.   Debb also gave us an unlimited word count.

Joy to Behold

Alice smiled as she flicked through the family photograph album.  These pictures were installed in her brain.  They were not her memories, those were long gone but they were pictures that she thought could be her memories.

Her arthritic fingers turned the pages slowly.  There were houses that she almost recognised.  There were scenes that again she almost recognised.  In the back of her mind she knew they meant something, she hoped that they meant something to her otherwise why did she have them open on her lap?

Selena knelt by her chair, speaking softly to her she removed the photo album and gently helped Alice up, leading her to the dining area, she helped her into the chair and placed her dinner plate before her.

The aroma of the food wafted up to Alice, slowly she chomped on her food, delicious as it was without many teeth left she was glad it was shepherd’s pie, nice soft food for her palate.  She remembered to wipe her mouth with her napkin and smiled at the people sitting opposite.  George was gummy also but he made her shuddered with the noises he made as he slurped and sucked his food rather than try to chew and his drooling was atrocious.  His moustache always smelt of stale food.  She really didn’t like George very much.  

Alice looked down the other end of the table where Margaret was being helped with her meal.  Joan and Betty were having good days and wolfing down their food as though they had never been fed before.  At this stage in their lives it may be their last meal or that’s what it seemed like to some of the residents in the home.

This home had many benefits but eating together with a bunch of geriatrics wasn’t one of them.  Alice was not in their category yet.  She knew that.  She also knew that she couldn’t cope at home alone.  So here she was.  Some days were better than others and then she was grateful, some days were not as happy and then her tears fell from her eyes and the staff and carers couldn’t cheer her up.

The smell of the apple pie wafted through the air tempting her taste buds.  The pastry crust was golden brown and crisp.  The smell of cloves lingered as an after taste in her mouth.  A drizzle of custard set off the fleeting memory of her childhood when her own mother dished up a baked fruit pie.  

Safely back in the communal lounge with her photo album on her lap Alice dozed for a little while.  Opening her eyes sometime later she realised somebody else was looking through her photographs. 
Trying to snatch it back her visitor placed their hand over hers. 

‘Hello Gran.  Can we go through the photos together this afternoon?’

A blank look from Alice made her guest swallow.  She looked around and Selena nodded at her encouragingly. 

‘I’m Louise, Gran, your youngest grandchild but all grown-up now.’

Recognition flickered across Alice’s face.  A smile enveloped her face as she offered her cheek up for a kiss.   Louise obliged, noting the feel of Alice’s paper thin skin, the softness belying the crepey skin folding in on itself.  She felt so much love for this lady who had been the mainstay of her life for most of her 30 years.  Louise felt the prickle of tears as she realised her Gran was not always aware of everything around her.  Luckily today though she seemed more alert.

‘I’ve brought you some more pictures for the album.’  Louise explained the three snapshots.  ‘This is Mary-Beth, she’s such a live wire now.  We went on for a walk in the countryside.  We packed up a picnic and then just let her run free.  Look at the joy in her, such childlike glee.  She just loved running through the field of daisies in the summer.’

Alice rubbed her forefinger over the child’s blond hair. 

‘Mary-Beth,’ Alice said.

Lingering on the photo, trying to make sure the image stayed in her mind, Alice was determined to remember this youngest member of her family.

Louise pulled the next photo out of her hand and placed it in the album.

‘This is me on another trip.  Just look at the old tree, Gran, I bet it could tell us a tale or two.’

Again Alice soaked up the image.  ‘I like your hat my dear,’ she said.

They both laughed.  Louise chatted to her Gran about that day and the feel of the gnarled bark on the tree.  She explained how she felt just being in the presence of this majestic tree. The shade and light as it dappled through the green leaves made it a magical spot to sit and rest her back against it.  Louise told her Gran that she spent about half an hour just sitting by the tree soaking up the atmosphere.

Louise could see her Gran was glazing over.  That was probably too much information for Alice to take in this afternoon.  There was one more photograph Louise wanted to show Alice and then place in the album.

It was a slightly blurred image of Louise at sunset standing at the edge of the sea, the waves coming in to shore.  Louise told her Gran about the sound of waves rippling on the sand and the salt spray hitting her face.  As she licked her lips she could taste the saltiness of the vapour.

Alice grinned as she looked at Louise.  Her smile was as broad as the Cheshire cat, showing her gums but the joy in her face and the light in her eyes made up for any lack of teeth.

‘I can smell the sea,’ Alice said.  ‘I love the seaside.  Can we go sometime please, my dear?’

Louise kissed her Gran’s cheek as she squeezed her hand. 

‘Of course we can.  We will go next summer.’  

Louise smiled at her Gran through her own tears.  She didn’t know if her Gran would survive this winter and next spring and actually make it to summer but if she did then Louise would move heaven and earth to keep her promise.

Word count: 1038

Thursday, 15 September 2016

Was It Worth It

FFfAW Challenge – Week of September 13, 2016
82nd Challenge
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Week of 09-13 through 09-19-2016

Guide for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
1. A prompt photo will be provided each Tuesday to be used as a base to your story. Please include photo prompt with your story.
2. Linking for this challenge begins on Tuesday and runs to the following Monday evening.
3. Please credit photo to photographer.
4. The story word limit is 100 – 150 words (+ – 25 words). Please try and stay within this limit.
5. Pingback to the challenge post in your story's post.
6. This is a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less) and each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Therefore, no serial (continuation) stories. They become too complicated for our readers.
7. Add your story to the InLinkz Link-up (Blue Froggy button). If you need link-up instructions, please email me at
8. Please keep stories below R rating.
9. Please respect the diversity of our readers and writers in regard to race, religion, and life style choice when writing your stories.
10. Remember, half the fun is reading and commenting on each other's stories.

This week's photo prompt is provided by Jade M. Wong.


It was so beautiful the way it sparkled on her finger.  She knew she was signing her life away but she didn’t care if he was going to buy her jewellery of this quality.

Helen watched her friend get married.  She watched her friend bring up children.  She watched her friend hide the tears.  She watched her friend pretend.

She watched and waited to catch her friend when she fell and she did fall hard.  Picking up the pieces of her life Helen’s friend still wore the ring on her finger.  It was loose now and often disappeared under her finger.  It had lost its sparkle as well.  The gleam had gone from its many facets.  The gleam had also left Helen’s friend.

Was it worth it?  Helen asked her friend.

With eyes that glistened with unshed tears her friend said, yes, of course it was.

Helen didn’t believe her.

Word Count: 150

Wednesday, 14 September 2016



This week the lovely Debb of Inner Sunshine

has given us a new prompt  for this week.
One story on two unrelated photos PLUS use the five words given. (The standard has been to write on one photo with using the five prompt words; for this week we are adding one more picture to the mix.) new kind of prompt!  For this week we will write one story on two unrelated photos PLUS use the five words given. (The standard has been to write on one photo with using the five prompt words; for this week we are adding one more picture to the mix.)

coronation  + flood  + insult  + pin-up  + suicide


Sitting on top of the world, the wheel stopped spinning, the chairs waved gently in the breeze.  Antoinette looked up, shading her eyes from the brightness of the sky.  She remembered his insult as he climbed in the rocking car, after they’d queued up for two hours when she had chickened out of getting in the enclosed, tiny space and being lifted high into the sky.

Rob might look like a pin-up movie star but she was beginning to realise looks weren’t everything.  In fact she wondered why she was still here.  She turned away from the crowds still lining up to enjoy this experience as she tried to stop the flood of tears she felt threatening to fall down her cheeks. 

Antoinette pushed her way towards the public conveniences and hoped that they would be empty so she could cry her eyes out in peace.  There a young girl was leaning against the wash basin, her eyes were red and weepy.  She caught Antoinette’s look, lowering her lashes and hiding her feelings.  The poster on the wall she’d been studying mentioned suicide and how their organisation could help by talking to them confidentially.

Antoinette smiled at the young girl, who gave a watery smile back, nodding her head in acknowledgement.

Melting into the crowd Antoinette decided she would go back to the hotel instead of waiting for Rob.  He could find his own way back especially after those nasty words he had thrown her way a couple of hours ago. 

The hotel room was a calm haven, decorated in peaceful, serene colours with beautiful prints adorning the walls.  Antoinette laid on the bed thinking, her eyes taking in the babbling brook on the painting hanging on the opposite wall.  She wished she was there, somewhere in the countryside, small mountains in the distance, clear water running over large boulders.  She could almost hear the rippling water, tinkling lightly as it sought its way to its destination.

What was she going to do now?  They had another week together on this holiday but she really didn’t know whether she could keep it together and pretend anymore.  She nodded to herself.  These few days had been rather an eye opener and she couldn’t pretend anymore that she really was going off Rob.  His company was grating on her nerves.  Last night in the hotel restaurant he’d made stupid, crass remarks about the Coronation Chicken that was on the menu.  Laughing loudly about the name.  She ordered it to spite him and thoroughly enjoyed every single bite. 

She thought about the young girl she’d met earlier in the day.  She thought about all the things that made her unhappy.  She thought about all the things that made her happy.  She thought long and hard.
She packed her suitcase, took half of the holiday money from the safe, thought about leaving a note, decided against it and made her way to the nearest railway station.

Word count: 492

Sunday, 11 September 2016


AuthorBy Sunday Fiction

Posted in Photo Fiction

The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide. Please try to keep it as close to the 200 words as possible. It doesn’t have to be centre stage in the story, I have seen some where the placement is so subtle, the writer states where it is.

Once you have written and posted your story, please add the link to the inlinkz froggy icon below and add it to the collection so we can all have a read. Click on the links above. The main object is to have fun. 


War is here again.

Mary wept her heart out when she heard the news.  She was too old to go through this again.  She worried about her children, her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren.

Would they survive? 

Would any of them survive?

How did the talks break down? 

So many questions she had.  

If she could she would bang the leaders’ heads together.  She would give them a right old talking to.  This was the trouble these days – the leaders were all men.  Now if there were women in charge things would never have become this dire.  It would have been stopped before it started.

Mothers and wives know how to step in and diffuse situations before they erupt in to such violence.

Violence doesn’t solve anything. 

Nobody would listen to her now. 

The carers in the home thought she was a sweet old lady who wouldn’t say ‘boo’ to a goose, little did they know what she did or what she was capable of.  The subterfuge, the lies, the heart-stopping moments when she thought she might be caught.  On many occasions she had saved the day. 

She was still bound by the Official Secrets Act

Word count: 197

Sunday, 4 September 2016


The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide. Please try to keep it as close to the 200 words as possible. It doesn’t have to be centre stage in the story, I have seen some where the placement is so subtle, the writer states where it is.
The main object is to have fun.
Here is the link if you want to join in.


‘There is hope,’ he said as he embraced her, enfolding her body into his arms, gently squeezing her against his chest.  She inhaled his smell, the roughness of his tweed jacket, she felt his heartbeat, steady and strong.

Not for us, she thought.  I don’t want this anymore.  How can I tell him it’s over?  I’ve got to move on. I’ve got to flow strong like a river, pushing past barriers and gates.  Taking the sludge and slurry of my life, dumping it, leaving all the negativity behind.

‘We will get through this,’ he murmured into her ear.  ‘We will.’ 

His strength and determination had got them through a lot in their life together but 25 years later, the kids had left.  They had their own lives and only visited when they wanted something, usually money. 

He gave in to them.  He bailed them out many, many times. 

Now she needed to persuade him that she was moving on.  She would invite him to join her on this journey.  She wasn’t hopeful he would. She couldn’t see him upping sticks, leaving it all behind, the comfort and security but she hoped against hope that he would. 

He did.