Sunday, 16 April 2017

THE REPORT - SUNDAY PHOTO FICTION



Each week a photo is used, donated by one of the participants of Sunday Photo Fiction, and the idea is to write a story with the photo as a prompt in around 200 words. The photo doesn’t have to be centre stage, there have been times when I have had to read the story a few times to spot where the prompt is hidden. Please include a mention and / or link to whoever donated the photo.
This week’s picture prompt is from Jade M Wong

Photo credit: Jade M Wong 


THE REPORT

Chloe’s mum opened the envelope. Chloe sat at the kitchen counter trying to eat her biscuits as though she didn’t have a care in the world.  Her fingers tightened around a glass of cold milk, slipping on the condensation.  End of term reports were so nerve racking.  She should be used to them by now, after all she was 12 years old, but this was her first major one from this school.   

Her parents thought a new school in a new town would help her out.  Chloe wasn’t so sure.  Her mum wasn’t giving anything away, she read slowly, taking in every word, perhaps even reading each sentence more than once.  That can’t be good.

Chloe tried to swallow, biscuit crumbs sticking in her dry mouth.

Alice looked at her daughter and she smiled.  ‘Your English teacher says you have such a vivid imagination, he was really impressed with your story about a dragon clock.  Wait till I tell your dad what a good report you’ve got this time.’

Relief washed over Chloe.  She knew it wasn’t her imagination.   She really had seen a clock with a dragon with red eyes and green wings. Truly she had.

Word count: 197

Wednesday, 12 April 2017

PIZZA - FRIDAY FICTIONEERS

FRIDAY FICTIONEERS

Hosted by Rochell





THE FOLLOWING IS THE PHOTO PROMPT – 100 words maximum

Photo Credit:  Dale Rogerson



PIZZA 

That is disgusting.  Gran wrinkled her nose at the mess.  The half-eaten pizza, all sorts of things cluttered on the work top.  She rolled up her sleeves, donned her pinny and started tackling the detritus.  Picking up the soggy box to deposit it in the bin, she was stopped in her tracks.

 ‘GRAN, STOP.’

She whirled round, as much as her arthritic knees allowed her to nearly dropping the offending item.

‘I want that for my breakfast.’ 

Her tousled headed, six foot grandson leered down at her, smiling endearingly.

Sean dropped a kiss on her cheek.

‘Thanks, Gran,’ he mumbled.

Word count: 100

A BUSY DAY - Wednesday Stories

Writing Prompt for Wednesday Stories 4/12/17
·       April 6, 2017
 Debb Stanton from Inner Sunshine hosts this creative writing weekly, using photo prompts and random words or a combination of both.  If you want to join in the fun please click on Wednesday Stories below. 

In 600 words or less, please write about this photo and use all 10 words:

principal, kite, asylum, loaf, committee, father, cup, athletics, river, station

Here is my story using the prompt:

A Busy Day

Nora answered the telephone, keeping an eye on the rascal sitting midway up the staircase.  He was such a scamp but she couldn’t live without him.  

‘Hi dad.’ 

‘Nora,’ boomed her father’s sonorous voice.  ‘I need you to pick me up from the station.  My train arrives at 6.30p.m. then I’ll need a lift to the River Room at the Conningbrooke Hotel.’

Nora checked the calendar on her wall, ‘dad, I can’t do it, I’ve got a committee meeting myself tonight.’

Well how rude and typical Nora thought as she heard his mobile click off in disgust.  How can a mechanical object sound disgusted?  She laughed at herself for that notion.  

Scamp was still sitting on her stairs, he’d better not be moulting, she didn’t want white hairs all over the freshly painted staircase.  Her cleaner would have a fit when she came in on Monday morning.   Ana was a godsend, a brilliant find but when Nora found out what a life she’d had she was happy to give her a job.  She came over from one of the Eastern European countries a few years ago as an asylum seeker to gain a meaningful life.  In actual fact she had a brilliant mind and was a leading academic professor in a posh university before things became so bad that she and her family fled for their lives.

One of the principal reasons Ana told Nora that they braved the horrific journey was so that her and her husband could give their children a better life.  They thought England would be the best place to do it as they were already fluent in the language.  They had considered the USA but thought a smaller country might be friendlier.

The phone rang again.  It was turning in to a busy day.   Nora smiled as she recognised the caller ID, her sister, Ivy. 

‘Nora, I’ve come up with this brilliant idea,’ gushed Ivy.  ‘We can have a kite flying competition for the kids at the athletics club.  We could make it a fun day with lots of other activities and get all the kids involved, not just the members.  We could give prizes for the best design, they highest flight, the longest flight.’

Nora tried to interrupt her sister, she was worried she wasn’t breathing.  

‘Take a breath, dear.’

Ivy carried on with her idea, all fired up with enthusiasm.  One thing you could say about Ivy and her husband Ted, they may not have any children of their own but they loved being around young people and bringing out their potential.

After that flurry of activity Nora felt the need for a sit down and a cup of tea.  She might even have a slice of currant loaf, after all it was nearly eleven o’clock.

Scamp came running down the stairs, bounded into the kitchen and sat at her feet, a beseeching look on his face.  He’d heard the wrapper being opened on the cake and was waiting expectantly for a crumb or two to fall on to the kitchen floor.

Nora’s mobile phone pinged with a message from her dad.  Brusque and to the point as always, he was going to get a taxi and make his own way to the hotel.  Nora sighed in exasperation.  One day he would realise that she had a life of her own to lead, she wasn’t a replacement for his wife nor his P.A.   She knew he loved her and Ivy in his own way but both the sisters thought a little more consideration from him would go a long way.

Word count: 597


Wednesday, 5 April 2017

WEDNESDAY WRITERS - ALICE

This week's WEDNESDAY WRITERS prompt is a choice of photo prompts.






Using at least three of the pictures and a maximum of 500 words our task is to craft a story.

ALICE


Scuffing through the autumn leaves in her wellington boots, forgetting for a moment or two that she was an adult, a grown up, a responsible human being with responsibilities for not only herself but other people. 

She looked down at her feet, feeling the cold seep up through her woollen socks, creeping up her shins into her kneecaps.  Then she saw the daisy.   A daisy peeking through the dead leaves.  The meaning wasn’t lost on her.  In all dark days there was a glimmer of hope, new life dawning, so come on, girl, she chided herself get it together.

Head up high, shoulders squared, Alice started back towards home.  She would get through these next few days. She would show them all.  No matter what they thought of her she would not dissolve into a useless heap, a female who couldn’t cope, one who cried and cried.  She was done crying.  She was done feeling sorry for herself.  She was done being the victim.

With renewed purpose Alice set about the housework, dusting, polishing, sweeping and hoovering until the living areas gleamed and sparkled.  It was an hour and a half cycle on the washing machine and she was very proud of all she’d achieved in that time.  Now it was time to hang put the washing on the line.  The wonderful breeze would dry the laundry in no time.  She smiled to herself as she started hanging items out, pleased as punch that she’d purchased wooden clothes pegs and not those garishly coloured plastic pegs that broke and snapped their springs as soon as you put them under any pressure.  Sheets and duvet covers were too heavy for them but the wooden ones, apart from being nice and tactile to the touch, could cope with anything.  


As she hung each piece of clothing she chanted her mantra over and over again.  ‘Peg the tops from the bottom and bottoms from the top.’  She didn’t suffer from OCD, honest, she said to no-one in particular as there was no-one in the garden to hear her anyway but really why people didn’t comply with this simple rule of hanging wet washing out was beyond her.  Again she chanted under her breath ‘tops from the bottom and bottoms from the top.’

She stood back and surveyed the whirligig washing line – perfectly hung out washing.  What more could a girl want? 

Well quite a bit actually she mused.  For example, those gorgeous peek-a-boo golden shoes, set off with a bow on the front she saw in the shop window last week. 


They were so delicious, she didn’t really care how much they cost (because she could never afford them anyway) neither did she care if she could actually walk in them.  She would just display them on a shelf in the living room and look at them every day.  She may even stroke the outline of them now and then probably in the pretence of giving them a dust or a polish.

Word count: 499

Monday, 3 April 2017

COCKLES - SUNDAY FICTION





Each week a photo is used, donated by one of the participants of Sunday Photo Fiction, and the idea is to write a story with the photo as a prompt in around 200 words. The photo doesn’t have to be centre stage, there have been times when I have had to read the story a few times to spot where the prompt is hidden. Please include a mention and / or link to whoever donated the photo.

This week’s photo is from A Mixed Bag.
 
Photo credit:  A Mixed Bag

COCKLES
The tide was out, a murky and gloomy day but the conditions would be just right.  Gathering up the necessary equipment, she only need a trowel and a bucket but making sure she dressed appropriately as she had seen her grandfather do, Sarah pulled on her wellies, a waterproof anorak and quietly left the house.  It was still early with the sun trying to peek through the mist or low cloud.  She was lucky today, nobody else was out on the beach.
 
Sarah looked over to the cliff edge, she’d been warned time and again by her father and grandfather, to always be aware of the tide and weather conditions.  She may only be 11 years old but she’d been out with them both on numerous occasions and took what they said to heart.  This was her first time on her own and it was just a tad scary.

Sarah took a deep breath and started the long walk across the sand looking for the tell-tale trails of the cockles.  Half an hour later her pail was full.  She was so proud of her catch and only hoped she wouldn’t be in trouble for leaving the house without telling anyone. 

Word count: 200

Friday, 31 March 2017

Cephalopod Coffeehouse: March 2017





The Armchair Squid says: 

Welcome one and all to the Cephalopod Coffeehouse, a cozy gathering of book lovers, meeting to discuss their thoughts regarding the works they enjoyed most over the previous month.  Pull up a chair, order your cappuccino and join in the fun.  

Here is my 5* review: 


BLURB:
Is it chance that brings Fay and Persephone together?

Or is it the restless and malevolent spirit who stalks them both?

Once rivals, they must now unite if they are to survive the mysterious trail of roses they are forced to follow into a dangerous, war torn past.

The Rose Trail is a time slip novel set in both the present day and during the English Civil War. The complex story weaves through both eras with a supernatural thread. 


My review
5*
365 PAGES

This is a time slip novel covering the present day and the English Civil War.  The transition between to two time zones is well written, no confusion for the reader as to which time stream we are in. 

In fact I felt more involved in the ‘past’ story than I did in the ‘now’ story.  The past has been well researched although I don’t know a lot about this period in history it all rings so true – the characters are fantastic with traits that you like and dislike which also applies to the ‘present’ characters who have their own issues to contend with as well as being able to connect with the past.

A combination of love, tragedies, friendships, past and present, lashings of historical aspects, religious bias, controlling natures all combined with the supernatural give this novel a wonderful page-turning quality.

The descriptions of the supernatural (for want of a better word without giving spoilers) is, for a wimp like me, scary in some places but in keeping with the nature of the story.


Well written and totally believable. 


Wednesday, 8 March 2017

WINTER WEDDING - WEDNESDAY WRITERS



Wednesday Writers
Writing Prompt for 3/8/17
·       March 2, 2017

This week’s challenge from Debb is slightly different:
1.      Think back to when you were 10 years old.  If that causes a problem, make something up.  
2.      Tell us in a narrative, story or poem what did your 10 year old self think about SNOW?
3.       If it helps you, use the bad grammar and less-than-perfect spelling that a 10 year old might have.
4.       Do not limit yourself on the word count, and write at least one sentence; the only thing we are NOT interested in would be a novel.  
Everyone is welcome to try the challenge.  Mail your piece to stantonsunshine@gmail.com by Monday noon, 3/6/18, then check back on Wednesday to read all the entries.  Questions?  Just write me – thanks!




WINTER WEDDING

We didn’t know if we would get there on time.  The snow had come down overnight covering the roads in a blanket of white.  Mum was getting agitated.  She shouted at my brother and myself while dad went out to start the car.  He sat there with the engine running, he said it was to warm up the car for us all but now, many decades later, I wonder if he just wanted to get out of the house.

We had a journey of about an hour before we arrived at my aunt’s house where we were all going to get changed.  This wedding had been planned forever it seemed.  My grandmother had been going all day and all night on her Singer Sewing machine trying to get my bridesmaid dress and my brother’s pageboy outfit ready before we left.

I was so excited. Outside looked so pretty, crisp and clean, flakes of snow falling gently on my hair.  I tried to lick the snowflakes to see what they tasted like.  My brother and I had a competition to see who could hold a snowflake the longest before it melted.  I don’t think either of us won but it didn’t stop us from bickering about it.

We arrived eventually, bags and baskets were carried in to Aunt Ivy’s flat about the shop.  She was still working in the shop, she wouldn’t close the shop until the very last minute.

All the adults seemed cross so I just sat quietly on the sofa until it was my turn to have my hair done.  My brother played with his cars.  Finally we were all dressed up and bundled in to the cars.   The sun came out and melted the snow from the ground as we drove through the lanes to the church. 

A winter wedding.  My first time as a bridesmaid.  I was quite nervous.  I didn’t want to trip up, the dress was longer than I was used to wearing.  The two pageboys were smart enough but I thought I was the bee’s knees in my long red velvet dress, a red peaked bonnet on my head and my heads kept warm in a muff. 

Then I saw the grown-up bridesmaids.  They were so elegant I wished I was their age.  Their hair was in a bouffant style.  Their muffs matched mine but they didn’t need a cord to keep it around their necks, they knew how to hold them.  We were given brooches which were pinned on the white faux fur collars of my dress and the other small bridesmaid’s dress, the two adult bridesmaids (the bride’s sister and the bride’s friend) wore their brooches on their dresses.  The two page boys wore red velvet bowties and braces and stood to attention for the photos shoot. 

My very favourite photograph is the one where my grandmother is sprinkling confetti over me – I felt so special that day.  

The church was picture perfect and the photos taken by the lych gate bring back memories of a wonderful day for a ten year old girl.  Perhaps the snow could have stayed for a while to make the photos more romantic but for ease of everyone and those who had to travel it was a bonus that all the snow had melted away and the sunshine came out to play.

Photo credit: Sally Stackhouse      


Photo credit: Sally Stackhouse
Photo Credit: S

Photo credit: Sally Stackhouse      


The three pictures below are of Hollington Church in the Woods taken from Google Images