Monday, 8 February 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. 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 little froggy below so that it is added to the collection and we can all have a read.
The main object is to have fun.


Mary poured herself a cup of coffee from the Thermos flask.  The steam rose creating a mist across the wind shield of the car.

From her vantage point in Langdon Cliff car park she watched the ferry port.

The last time she came here the grandchildren were small. They’d laid out a blanket, ate crisps and sandwiches and drank cans of coke.  The children had shrieked with laughter and played by the cliff edge while her heart was in her mouth that they would take a tumble.

They didn't.

Today she was on her own.  Her grandchildren were too old to picnic, too old to spend time with her, too old to sit and watch the comings and goings of travellers, holiday makers, lorry drivers, business men and women, going and coming back from France or further afield in Europe, using Dover to Calais as a short hop.

The tears came unbidden then as she remembered her courting days, walking with a strong breeze following them on the way and blowing them back to the car park.  Holding hands, catching their breath as the wind took the words away.

Today words were not needed.
Word Count: 193

Sunday, 7 February 2016



Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner is a weekly writing challenge designed for both the flash fiction newbie and the more experienced writer. It is the desire of this challenge to allow writers the opportunity to clear the cobwebs from a more tedious and involved project. Becoming a part of a new and growing writer’s community might be just what the doctor ordered to rejuvenate your writing juices.

Photo Prompt for Week #6 – 2016

The opening sentence for the February 5th, Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: “You lookin’ at me?” (You may reword the quote using proper grammar/etiquette. if you like.)


Are you looking at me?

They think they can talk quietly, as though no-one in the world can hear what they are saying, little do they know that my ears can hear every word they utter.

Little do they know the truth will come out.  The secrets may be kept for a short while but all is transmitted back to headquarters where conversations are monitored.

I may look innocuous on this wall, my body gone but I once reigned over wooded acres, keeping my herd safe from intruders and poachers.  So intent was I on keeping my does and foals safe I was caught myself.

Now I serve a bigger master who stuck me on this wall and then placed bugs in my ears.

People stare at my antlers but miss the wires snaking up inside them.  Every night at closing time my tapes are rewound ready for the next day’s secrets and lies.

The illicit lovers, thieves and bandits, plotters against the world, vagabonds, toffs and snobs, all have schemes, scams and plans.

I've seen it all and heard worse.   

Word count: 184

Tuesday, 26 January 2016

Sun Flowers

FFfAW – Week of January 26, 2016

50th Challenge
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Week of 01-26 through 02-01-2016

This week's photo prompt is provided by Sonya, owner of the blog, Only 100 Words. Thank you Sonya!
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 at
*8. Please keep your stories no more than PG 13 rating.
9. Remember, half the fun is reading and commenting on each other's stories.

Here is my flash:

Dorothy came round the corner, her bones were aching, her feet hurt and her arthritic hands gripped her stroller tightly.  Pushing her weekly shop ahead of her she stopped to take in the sight before her.

Sunflowers.  How were these growing outside a wall in an urban street?  It always amazed her how nature did what it did.  In all her 70 odd years she hadn't seen them growing tall and strong through the cracks in the pavement.   Such determination these tall stems had. 

Dorothy thought it was a bit like her own life. She was always reaching out, trying to grow and now in her twilight years she was finding new ways of developing her mind and creative skills.  The physical abilities were long gone but her mind was still as sharp as ever.  She took out her mobile phone, snapped a photo and sent it to her granddaughter and wrote: 

‘Sunshine for my sunshine.’

Monday, 25 January 2016

Enough is Enough


The Six Easy Guidelines
§  A photo prompt and an introductory sentence/ topic is to be used as your ‘muse’. They will arrive promptly at midnight each Friday morning.
§  Include the photo prompt and its credits with your story on your blog. Use of the introductory sentence/ topic is optional. Some followers like the introductory sentence ideas.
§  All stories are to be crafted and honed to under 200 words in length.
§  Each flash fiction piece should have a clear beginning, middle, and end. No serial stories. It is harder to stay abreast of a serial story. (Please keep content PG-13.)
§  Post your flash fiction response by clicking on THE BLUE FROG. Follow the given directions.
§  It is the desire of this blog to begin a new writing community. Plan a day to visit the writings of our challengers to enjoy our creations and to provide a little positive feedback.

Your Photo Prompt for Week #4- 2016

The opening sentence for the January 22nd  Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner:  “Enough is enough.”

Enough is enough
Life is so very tough
She couldn’t go on anymore
Waking up was such a chore
Dragging one foot in front of the other
Trying to be a wife and mother
Dodging the blows that came her way
Night after night, day after day.

Enough is enough
Life was so very rough
He didn’t mean to lose his temper
Sometimes he just couldn’t remember
Times before when she loved him more
Greeted him with a smile at the door
Now she scowled and cringed at his voice
Was there another choice?

Enough is enough
Too much stuff
To endure these fights
Occurring every night
When he was older and bigger
He would stop his dad’s anger
He would take his mum away
One day.

Enough is enough
The lad was always so gruff
Mrs. Pearson worried about the boy
So white and pale and coy
The headmaster didn’t care
She needed to share
Her concerns with the welfare people
It would be a long uphill battle.

Enough was enough
Time for the bailiff
They took the TV
And the settee
But not the mother
Or the father
It was far too late
To stop the boy’s hate.

Word count: 200

 Sally Stackhouse 25 January 2016

Monday, 26 October 2015


This is a unique flash fiction challenge where we provide you with a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. Your challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. Don’t forget to use the opening sentence… This challenge runs from Monday to Sunday! Get creative and have fun finishing the story!
Please include the photo with your bit of flash and a link back to this post. Do not forget to click on the link below and add your link so that others can enjoy your story too! Now let’s have some fun!

This week's picture and prompt:

Finish the story begins with: “I watched the vulture looking at me hungrily as I lay on the ground bleeding and injured.”


I watched the vulture looking at me hungrily as I lay on the ground bleeding and injured.

It was those stupid shoes that I had insisted on buying and wearing tonight.  They pinched my feet, squeezed my little toes and made my heels ache.  I hadn't dared take them off in the restaurant because I knew I would never get them on again.

Three o'clock on a cold Sunday morning I tripped on the drain cover and went over, banged my head and twisted my ankle.  I gashed my hand trying to save myself and could feel the wet, sticky blood seeping out of palm.  Gravel rash will be very sore later on. 

I must have dozed off or fainted because I opened my eyes to see a red beady eye looking down at me as the sky became lighter with the sunrise.  

I'm afraid I swore out loud at the ugly bird and was mortified to see a policeman tutting at my coarse language.

Word count: 150

Thursday, 22 October 2015


Our lovely hosts Denise and Yolanda who work very hard hosting this bi-monthly challenge

This month is themed for Halloween.  This is not my genre and I struggle to do anything horror wise so my offering is rather tame compared to other entries.
Here are the guidelines:

For this challenge, share a childhood fright that might or did turn into an adult fear, real or imagined.

To start the fun you can:
1.    share a favourite frightening tale, movie, novel, photograph or painting that will leave us quaking in our boots
2.    in a short paragraph describe how it scared you, and why it did and or still does today
3.    then you can:
a.    submit your own scary piece, 1000 words or less, in any format or
b.    share a photograph or painting that captures the horror you've felt.
Open to all genres - Fiction works can be - Adult, YA, MG. All entries maximum 1,000 words.

1.   Sharing something that happened in my middle teens (15/16 years old).  I lived in a small village in the South East of England. 

I had two best friends and we spent time in each other’s houses, girly stuff, chatting about boys, playing records (yes it was that far back that they were on vinyl) or listening to pirate radio stations when we could pick them up on the transistor radios.  It was all very innocent and naive compared to the teenagers of today. 

Patsy and I lived in council houses, I was at one end of a long winding avenue and she was at the other end, down the hill and nearly out to the main road.  Mary lived in a house in the churchyard.  Her parents were quite bohemian for village tastes and they weren't born and bred villagers.  It was a huge house and the front door led on to the path up to the church.  The living room window faced out on to the graveyard.  Situated on a hill the house was divided over three or four floors.  The kitchen was in the basement, a large cold room with a walk-in pantry and a huge wooden table set in the middle of the flagstone floor.

Mary had a lot of freedom, Patsy and I thought, being allowed to invite friends over and go out and about all the time.  One evening we had been talking about spirits and ghosts and had seen something about an Ouija board.   We decided to try it.  Mary obtained an Ouija board, I think she found it in her parent’s book shelves and we decided on a night to try it out.

During this time there had been some scandal in the village (my memory of the actual events is rather hazy all these years later) concerning rumours about a certain chap in the village.

We prepared the table, candles, an upturned glass in the middle ready to use.  We placed our fingers on the glass and in the semi-dark room started asking questions.  ‘Is anybody there?’  The glass moved to the square marked ‘yes.’

We shivered in anticipation.  After several more questions, spelling out answers that were true we asked the burning question. ‘Did he do it?’  The glass moved to ‘yes.’
We were all cold by this time and broke the circle.  
We accused each other of moving the glass, all vehemently denying doing any such thing.  I know I didn't sleep very well that night and we never mentioned that evening to each other again. 

The white house you can see beside the church was divided in two and Mary lived on the side by the church, you entered through the lynch gate up the path and then turned in to her front door. 
© Copyright Stuart Logan and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

Here is my 1,000 word entry


Sean opened the back door and called out as he entered the house.


‘Hello darling,’ his grandmother replied.

His Nan was always pleased to see him, no matter when he dropped round.  He came round several times a week after school but could only stay for half an hour or so.  Now he was living with his dad and his dad’s new family and not his mum it was quite strange but his Nan never held it against him.
Sean took off his school blazer, hung it on the hook with his back sack, kicked his shoes off and sat on the kitchen stool watching his Nan prepare her evening meal. 

I'm going to do trick and treating on Saturday,’ he said swallowing a mouthful of crisps.

‘Don’t knock on my door then ‘cos I won’t be opening it on Saturday.’

‘Don’t you believe in Halloween, Nan, with witches and ghosts and zombies and all that stuff?’  Sean finished his drink as his Nan poured herself a cup of tea.

‘No my dear.  It is so commercialised and scary.’

Sean laughed.  His Nan was scared of all sorts of things, especially spiders and scary films.  She was a bit of a wimp really.

They moved in to the living room so that Nan could sit down and drink her tea.  Sean continued asking questions, whether she believed in ghosts, had she seen one ever, ‘cos she was quite old now.

After pretend swatting him with a cushion, Nan looked at him and said, ‘I could tell you a few things but they are nothing like you see on the telly.’

‘Have you seen a real-live ghost then?’

Nan said, ‘it can’t be a ghost if it was real and alive now could it?’

They both laughed.

‘A few years ago we were staying in a holiday home out in the countryside and I had this feeling that somebody was watching me.  All around were just fields and greenery, a few hills in the distance, there was a ruined church down a country lane which we were going to visit. Ghosts are not always seen, Sean, sometimes you just feel them or even hear them.’ 

Photo credit: 
Sean looked in amazement at his Nan; she was being really weird now.  She went on to explain. 

‘You can get a ‘feel’ for spirit, some people have seen images, shadows, wisps of something, sometimes people can hear a voice in their head and sometimes they just get a picture of something in their mind.’

Sean said, ‘I don't understand what you are saying, Nan.’

Nan carried on.  ‘OK let me think how to say it.  This cottage was attached to the grounds of a big manor house which the estate let it out to holiday makers and tourists.  As soon as I walked in the door I felt the air change.  I was breathing cold air, very cold air as if you’d just turned on the air conditioning in the car, that sort of coldness.  It was a late summer’s day; I just thought it was cooler inside because of the thicker brick walls.  It was only in one place in the living room if I moved elsewhere the air seemed normal.

Then as I looked out of the window I caught a glimpse of something across the field, a shadowy figure flitting across the stubble.  Now this was in the daytime so it was quite unusual.’ 

‘Did you see a ghost then?  I thought they only came out at night.’  Sean was quite astounded at what his grandmother was saying.

‘Ah now that is the myth surrounding the other world.’ Nan sat and thought for a bit and then looked at Sean.  ‘Would you like a piece of cake?’

A slice of Victoria sponge each, in between mouthfuls Sean asked about the ruined church.

‘Oh yes, the ruined church,’ Nan swallowed her last mouthful of cake and finished her cup of tea.

‘If you go there in the day time you can have a look around, careful not to step on the tombstones. If you go there during at night, especially if the moon shines down through the clouds as they flit across pushed by a gentle breeze, if you stand still and listen you can hear an owl hooting, a fox baying and a whisper among the trees that ripples along the lake beside the grounds of the church.’

Sean’s eyes became rounder; he sat forward in the chair hanging on his grandmother’s every word. 

‘Not much remains of the church but the rumour is that Richard Plantagenet was the illegitimate son of Richard III, he lived at Eastwell Manor and a memorial or tombstone is possibly in the grounds of the church.  Perhaps that is who I saw that day.’

‘Did you really, Nan?’ Sean isn't quite sure whether to believe his grandmother or not.  ‘So are there zombies then?  If there are ghosts there must be zombies.’

His Nan laughs. ‘I don’t think so.  They are just stories and horror films.’

‘But what if they were real and came out on Halloween, what would we do then?’

‘Lock your doors and don’t go out at night.’ His Nan winked at him.  Sean really didn't know what to believe.

‘How do you know if you've seen a ghost?  Do witches exist?’

So many questions unanswered. 

‘People used to think that witches were evil crones, casting spells on people they didn't like, turning people in to frogs and toads and mice and rats.’


‘In the olden days that is what people believed whereas maybe they were just people who knew the old folklore and what to pick in the woods to make medicines.  Don’t forget, Sean, they didn’t have Google back in those days to find out things.’

‘Nan, you are so silly sometimes.’

Sean jumped across to the sofa and gave his grandmother a great big squeeze. 

Now it was time for him to get ready to go home.

 If you want to know more here are two links: