Wednesday 14 December 2016

100 Words: The Art Appreciator

Tonight he felt like Picasso and Caravaggio, tomorrow would be a Hyde Park stroll for Hadid, then beyond for Leighton.  No doubt a few sights, too, along the way.

For now the cat padded the West End, away from the late night drunks.  Since the Tube had started running all night at weekends, he had begun to ride into town and check out the galleries.  Not the insides, of course, that would be ridiculous, but the posters outside, to discover more.

Reflecting later: Caravaggio: too grim; Picasso: too strange.  "But I liked the photograph of the guy in the hat".



Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Cat.

I've written a few cat stories; or stories with the word cat in them (one of them for Thin Spiral Notebook not long ago!)

Monday 12 December 2016

100 Words: Safe Return

23rd July 1943: Returned safely from a successful raid, no casualties, minor damage.  Hamburg left behind in flames.  Warmed us all.  


It was years before I linked my memories of bombing with the annihilation we inflicted in return.  

We only saw buildings burning.  No civilians; no women or children.  

It was just.  It was not the same.

In a residential district rebuilt as commercial, weekend empty, I imagined the scenes.  

I saw the girl who had died in my arms, who I had sworn to avenge, dying again and again as the neighbourhood burned around me.  

Were we ever just?


Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PTOMPT © Lucy Fridkin
PHOTO PROMPT © Lucy Fridkin

100 Words: Safe Return

23rd July 1943: Returned safely from a successful raid, no casualties, minor damage.  Hamburg left behind in flames.  Warmed us all.  


It was years before I linked my memories of bombing with the annihilation we inflicted in return.  

We only saw buildings burning.  No civilians; no women or children.  

It was just.  It was not the same.


In a residential district rebuilt as commercial, weekend empty, I imagined the scenes.  

I saw the girl who had died in my arms, who I had sworn to avenge, dying again and again as the neighbourhood burned around me.  

Were we ever just?


Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Justice.

Tuesday 6 December 2016

100 Words: Magic Words

In some systems, sometimes requiring appropriate tools, the right words can do anything.  Sometimes they form rhymes, sometimes they are just a phrase, sometimes it is the true names of things that give you power over them. 

I’ve tried them all. 

So I was surprised to see an advert in the paper for a correspondence course and summer school in learning the words of magic.

I wrote off, attended in person to get the pronunciation correct.

I spat out snake oil and cracked weasel words but only found magic in the words spoken with someone met on the train home.



Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Words.

Tuesday 29 November 2016

100 Words: When dinner goes on too long at the wrong time

#Dinner#


Why does dinner on these days go on so looooooooong.


#Dinner#


Why do they have to be so formal?


#Dinner#


Haven’t they heard of TV dinners?  My friends all have them.


#Dinner#


Why, right now, would they make me eat all my vegetables.  


Even those I’ve hidden.


#Dinner#


Yes, open mouth, you can see I’ve had them all.  


Ah, plate going away...


#Dinner#


This is the one time I don’t want pudding.


#Dinner#


No, not ice cream, but the hottest pudding ever… but… ouch… gone…. 


#Dinner#


All sweetness and light.  


“Can I get down now, please?”  


RUUUUUUN!


#BATMAN!#


Phew.


Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Dinner.

Monday 28 November 2016

100 Words: What's behind the door? and What's behind the door

I used to walk past that simple wooden door with its chain that said something but did little.  I knew I should not approach and go through the door, yet that which was supposed to stop me was so pathetic it seemed more like an invitation.

From the age of six I would wonder what was behind that door.  At 13 I found out.


Randomly choose an ending: Either 1) a, 2) b, or 3) c


Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT © CEayr 
PHOTO PROMPT © CEayr



100 Words: What's behind the door? and What's behind the door (a)

I used to walk past that simple wooden door with its chain that said something but did little.  I knew I should not approach and go through the door, yet that which was supposed to stop me was so pathetic it seemed more like an invitation.

From the age of six I would wonder what was behind that door.  At 13 I found out.


There was nothing spectacular, though. 

When I picked the lock and opened the door I discovered the building was a facade only, a construction hiding an exposed section of railway.

If it weren’t for the chain…


Return to pick another ending.


Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT © CEayr 
PHOTO PROMPT © CEayr


100 Words: What's behind the door? and What's behind the door (b)

I used to walk past that simple wooden door with its chain that said something but did little.  I knew I should not approach and go through the door, yet that which was supposed to stop me was so pathetic it seemed more like an invitation.

From the age of six I would wonder what was behind that door.  At 13 I found out.


There were ten of them. 

Dark wizards, all, with piercing eyes and crooked, gnarled wands. 

Come to uncover our plot, they asked with a wicked grin before releasing me back into the world as a frog.


Return to pick another ending.


Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT © CEayr 
PHOTO PROMPT © CEayr


100 Words: What's behind the door? and What's behind the door (c)

I used to walk past that simple wooden door with its chain that said something but did little.  I knew I should not approach and go through the door, yet that which was supposed to stop me was so pathetic it seemed more like an invitation.

From the age of six I would wonder what was behind that door.  At 13 I found out.


I met a man who didn’t want to be bothered.

A fascinating man who’d made himself lonely following a much too full young life.

We became firm friends and I accompanied him in his final years.


Return to pick another ending.


Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT © CEayr 
PHOTO PROMPT © CEayr


Saturday 19 November 2016

100 Words: After the Proposal

I want to show you how my body transforms, why we cannot spend every night together, why I sometimes sport bruises and cuts, why I often run out on you during films or halfway through dinner.  Why I’ve never let you down here.

Take the keys, do not let me out of this cage.  Once changed this will be easy but as it starts I will call out in pain and the animal inside will try to persuade you before I lose my speech.

I’m sorry, but if you want to marry me you must know everything about your wife.  


Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Transform.

Wednesday 16 November 2016

100 Words: 100 Notes

He sat with his cello, bow held ready in mid-air and started to run, within his mind auditorium, through every possible combination of 100 notes until he found one that fitted and, returning to his own place and time, played that combination out loud before committing it to notation paper.

Such was his life.  A methodical existence for a methodical man.  He never knew if any of it was any good, or even if anyone else ever liked what he produced.  He merely had this compulsion and could not function if he did not churn out his 100 Note compositions.


Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudeberg 
PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

 

Monday 14 November 2016

100 Words: Distant Vigilante

I keep watch from above, crawling across the rooftops, taking note, remembering faces and events, waiting.

No one in the city looks up, only down, avoiding stares or focusing on themselves.  I am well hidden, even against the colourful tiling.

I follow the crime, mostly, all kinds, the financial districts and alleyways take up much of my time.  And the police as they avoid the same places or turn a blind eye.

I take pictures, make reports, file them with the authorities and newspapers.  Not a lot happens.


You think I should go down there.  I am not that kind.


Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook 
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook


Friday 21 October 2016

100 Words: Beachcombing in Hidden Cove

Each item tells a story- for each item collected, something fantastical happened.  Such was the magic of summer visits to Hidden Cove. 

I picked up a lot more but I only kept the pieces that pair with a memory.

I remember the first and last times, especially.

When I saw a Merperson conversing with a Merlungh, its scaly-legged freshwater cousin, I stared hard, then smiled for hours; my Grandparents understanding when they saw my bemused face. 

When I had to destroy the secret tunnel and hide the cove forever, though.  Then I wept.  By then I had seen too much.


Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Fuller 
PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Fuller
 

100 Words: Colin; The Grouchy Cat?

“Colin’s a grouch, a mopey cat, pay him no mind,” I told them as Colin stood sulking by the door after I’d evicted him from his favourite armchair, his eyes staring accusingly through his grumpy face.

He didn’t get the reaction he wanted, though, as we cooed at his expression, “Aw, how sweet you are, Mr Grouchy!” our friend told him.

Colin glared up at her, turned and departed through the catflap as we laughed.

**

“Why do they talk down to me like that, like I’m a kitten, and always think I’m grumpy when I’m not? 

“Well, I am now.”


Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Grouch.

On Wednesday, when I wrote this, I wrote more of an "evil" cat ending.  Yesterday I decided that was a bit cliched and I wrote this ending this evening.  I found this one much harder and think the original may have been a bit better still.  

What do you think?

100 Words: Untitled

“Colin’s just a grouch, a mopey cat, pay him no mind,” I told them as Colin stood sulking by the door after I’d evicted him from his favourite armchair, his eyes staring accusingly through his grumpy face.

He didn’t get the reaction he wanted, though, as we cooed at his expression, “Aw, how sweet you are, Mr Grouchy!” our friend told him.

Colin glared up at her, turned and departed through the catflap as we laughed.

**

“These humans will one day pay for their insolence,” Colin thought as he found the warm spot outside the kitchen, “Pay very dearly indeed.”

Wednesday 19 October 2016

Return to Birmingham, 4th May 2016

I got lost the moment I arrived.  The new station was not as I remembered.  The dark and dingy shopping centre that had covered it was now a light and airy, bright windowed affair.

And I didn’t know the way out.  I felt lost in a way I never have before in a place that should have been familiar.  

So much has changed.  As 3 year veterans, I remember us pouring scorn when Selfridges appeared to herald this future.  Now I feel somewhat bereft.


Back then, from the train, you could see a Victorian, columnated building that was isolated in a sea of concrete emptiness.  I used to wonder what the building had been and what it was now, if anything.

I found out today, I went up close because that area is now mostly developed; and was my destination.

The building is still unused, though a plaque, almost as old as me and looking as dated as the building, informed me that it had more of a past here than me; and, it later transpired, more of a future too.


If I was an idiot, I would feel sick; I would claw at the history books and try to bring back the Birmingham that I knew.  My nostalgia would cloud my mind and dim my view.

As it is I smile at this new place and I put the old, dusty tapestry back in the attic, where it belongs, before returning to the living room.


Written for entry in The Bridport Prize, 2016.

Tuesday 18 October 2016

250 Words: 20.8.5.14 17.6.13.4.8.3.21.6.15.4.22.19.6’7.8 9.1.15.15.23.3.1.13

2.14.14.20.18.23.16.10 13.8.10 23.2.19.8.1 12.13.23.17 18.22.20.7 22.17.16 25.4.7.10.17.8, 20.8.5.19 16.11.2.13.24.11.13 3.21.1.18.10.1 11.12.8.25.19.6.16 9.12.19.2.13 4.25.10 17.1.8.14 2.16.13.5 3.5.22.13.18.2; 16.3.19.6 3.22.14.7 22.20.11.7.6.15 10.22.13.22.9.18.3.16 1.16.20.12.26.4 13.16.17.26.3.16.4.  23.20.15 24.19.3.23.8 9.21.6.20.9 15.13.16.26.12 26.1.22.25.16.12.26.3 11.24.14.12 2.23.10.16.23.15.21.9 24.25.20.23.14.10.24.6; 19.16.19 1.22.13.24.9.23.1 7.26.25.1 13.11.26.25.20 14.15.23.8.5.18.5.14. 

19.10.19.6.13.8.22.2.21.3 10.22.22.4.10.5 8.5.7.1.5 15.16.15.20.6.15.20.6.8 10.2.5 22.19.17 21.23.20.9.26.8.10.24.12 5.6.11.25.26.5.24.20 19.16.17 4.7.14.11.7.24.7.21.15 11.25.22.2 3.14.23.26.24.12.2 18.10.16.7.25.11 18.15.17.11.17- 22.18.7 9.8.6.19.7 9.6.14 18.4.10.1.19.11 11.14.15.23.19! 

12.26.23.6.18, 11.22.22.1 26.17.18 4.2 24.26.9.9.10.19.18, 5.2.5 10.11.22.21.6 3.24.23.22.19 2.6 4.8.6.6 7.2.2 8.9.16.3.19.15 5.20.5.22.24.8 (13.26.16.1 26.14.12.15.18.20 12.3.12.21.3 13.18.15.11.4.13 24.20 3.26.11.11.3.22.12).  4.7 23.15.4.18.25.14.3 15.12.17 1.12.13.7.12.14 12.7.2 25.8.14.25.12.4 12.13.12.17.3.12.17.3.16 8.22.15.8.18 19.15.13.14.26.9 25.10.8.9.19 17.22.2.26.17.15.3.13.6 19.2.3.9.21.22.12… 9.20.9 2.14.14.22.14.13.17 2.15.20.8.8 10.26.17.20.20.17.9.22.2.19 2.15.5.10 4.5.6.1.20.15.13 25.18.16 8.22.19.15 22.4.16.8.11 8.23.1.19.20…

“20.13.2’1.15 7.18.16.17.7 12.19.20.9.16 3.14.2 12.14.11.18.11.7.1.15.8 5.15 11.24.20.22.13.2.8.7.16,” 17.14.8 11.25.26.5.2.10.10, “13.6.21’20.16 25.6.7.22.12 23.11.8.2.1, 5.24.16 6.25.21.13.14.11, 13.6.1.10.6 17.6.25.7.”

**

12.7.16 2.16.13.17 2.17.24.15.19.14.6.17.26.15.7.4.17.18 3.6.13.22.6 20.24.16.7 5.7 1.16.3.17.16.14.5.11 1.10.5.3.9.23.15.  8.19.16.25.17 10.7.2 10.9.16.16.17 1.10.13.2 17.5.2.2 12.14.18.19.12 5.12.23.16.25.5.16.15.1 25.17.25.14.17.4.18 19.10.13 25.26.10.13 7.16.5.23.23.20, 6.3.5 9.18.24.17.7.7 19.4.9 23.2.25.25.2.22.14.5.13.2 15.10.5 3.15.13.16.18.5.8.5.14.4.7 9.12.6.22.21.11.2 2.3.1.18.23.16.2.10 8.25.5 10.15.5.6.4.10.17.9.6.19.2.3.13.6.8 12.17.10.1.10.12.3.14.1.2.14.  22.2.17.1 18.6.3.15 26.2.5.18.15 10.7.7 2.3.10.1.14.13.19 3.5.20.17.21.21.18 14.2.25.19 5.2.2.26.9 23.16.11 15.12.25.4, 5.19.16.3 1.3.6.19.10 6.3.4 23.16.6.7.20.21.22.17.17.6.7; 15.24.1.20 11.8.9 20.13.16.2 20.3.9.2.18.14 22.10.7.9 22.16.10.18.


23.18.15 5.19.3.23.3 3.26.13.14 10.6.10.1.14.12 10.1.2 5.6.16.14 16.9.20.4.5.16.25.14.16.14 7.4.18 23.6.9.4.22.21.15 7.3 12.24.13.14.12.  9.10.15.17 1.26.17.15 2.20.3 7.19.17.20.16.13.7.5.24.9.8.6 11.3.9 12.1.24.13 3.7.25.14 23.21.10.21.10.21.22.6.25.8 17.8.8, 20.5.3.4.14 17.13.11.3.18.6.7.12.5.13 17.6.25.9 21.8.24.14 1.17.21.24.20.13.2.  19.4.17 24.2.20.6 1.15.12.9 3.21.9.9.17.23.21.18 2.16.9.2.16 21.13.19.10.2.6 17.5.24.24.9.22.19 10.12.16.17.13 18.15.2.15.1. 

12.3.24.16.15.16 24.10.21.9.5 7.20 3.15.4.5.23.8.5.5.12.17 18.5.21.2 20.3 26.5.1.12 16.13.15 16.13.2.9.9.2.1.6 12.23.11 3.9.8.9:

From.5 the.10 boy.8 at.8 B2.3; a.18 nothing.17, a.8 pawn.18; who.19 seeks.12 you.3 to.8 be.3; my.12 Ada.7, my.15 Queen.


20.6.17.5.6.11.3 1.11 8.16.16.22.5 9.24.21.2 26.19.22.3 1.10.16.9.25.20, 16.3.19.20 2.3.10.1.3.14.13.11 14.9.4 19.12.21.7.12.2.15, 21.18.5.4 6.14.5.5 2.11.6.4.10.24.17. 

**

3.2.17.19.2 10.8.17.4.9.2.17.10.21.20.13, 23.11.8.13 13.8.25.10.21.8.14 1.19.18.8.9.22.9.8.17 15.10.11 14.15.19.25.11.18.12.20, “4.15.5.19.14 7.3.1.19.3.2.19.6 24.9.7 21.9.10.20.9 15.6.15.2.9.4 13.19.15.6?”



Written for entry in The Bridport Prize, 2016.

Wednesday 12 October 2016

100 Words: Not enough light

I went to investigate with an oil lamp that cast a flickering halo of light- all the snapping, shuffling and animal whining occurring beyond its limit, leading me ever further on; away.

I thought I was saving a dying creature, my ears guiding as I watched the aura of light that alerted me to the dangers immediately ahead and causing me to lose track of where I was so that, when I heard my daughter call, I could only run blindly back until I flooded the hut with light and found her missing.


That is when I became a monster.



Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields 
 PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


Since exchanging some tweets a couple of years ago now, myself and some fellow Librarians have been writing and producing a podcast set in a strange University Library; well, Librarynth.  

The first episode is available to listen to now on Soundcloud.  there you will find Mrs Strangeways, Lara the Lost Library Assistant and Eddie Roam the reindeer that provide wifi, among others..


100 Words: Aftereffects

Their brains lightly smooshed, they walked along talking quickly, such was their eagerness to continue getting to know one another; a fluency forged online having been found as smoothly in real life.

The only question was how quickly would they move?

Walking at arm’s length, each wondered if they should reach out and take a hand.  And, if they did, would a kiss goodbye, or, goodness gracious, if that was OK, an invitation home occur?

“No,” something, or someone, under the smooshing said, “You’ve had too much wine to decide; and all the time in the world.  Just hold hands.”


Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Wine.

Since exchanging some tweets a couple of years ago now, myself and some fellow Librarians have been writing and producing a podcast set in a strange University Library; well, Librarynth.  

The first episode is available to listen to now on Soundcloud.  there you will find Mrs Strangeways, Lara the Lost Library Assistant and Eddie Roam the reindeer that provide wifi, among others..

100 Words: Aftereffects

Their brains lightly smooshed, they walked along talking quickly, such was their eagerness to continue getting to know one another; a fluency forged online having been found as smoothly in real life.

The only question was how quickly would they move?

Walking at arm’s length, each wondered if they should reach out and take a hand.  And, if they did, would a kiss goodbye, or, goodness gracious, if that was OK, an invitation home occur?

“No,” something, or someone, under the smooshing said, “You’ve had too much wine to decide; and all the time in the world.  Just hold hands.”


Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Wine.

Since exchanging some tweets a couple of years ago now, myself and some fellow Librarians have been writing and producing a podcast set in a strange University Library; well, Librarynth.  

The first episode is available to listen to now on Soundcloud.  there you will find Mrs Strangeways, Lara the Lost Library Assistant and Eddie Roam the reindeer that provide wifi, among others..

Wednesday 5 October 2016

100 Words: Clan

My Nan turned to me, a glint in her eye that I only ever saw at weddings accompanied by a mischievous, cheeky smile, and said, “Do you think there’ll be a punch-up?”

With our clan, it wasn’t possible, nor was it probable.  It was flipping inevitable. 

What I didn’t know then was that Nan always started them. 

About a month before.

The only person with everyone’s ear, she started the rumours in good time to let them bed down and breathe in a little truth. 

Once the foundations were laid, the only questions were: How many, How ferocious, How soon?


Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Clan.

100 Words: Everything Is Going To Be Alright (Peace)

There I could believe it.  A place of peace and tranquility; alone and apart.

Somewhere it was easy to forget the zombie hoards, escaped animals and humans who had gone full psychopath.

A place where it seemed there was still law and order.


We had managed almost two years of visits before we lost that space.  A miracle, really, when you thought about it.  Especially given the lion incident.


The psychos kept it for only a week before the zombies took over.


Bill hands me a pill and I know everything will be alright, that peace will return to us.  



Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr
PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr


Wednesday 28 September 2016

100 Words: Untitled

I saw a storage facility on TV and recognised potential.

In each room something different, each organised to the nth degree.

Bliss (well, Dewey), it would be.


I became very rich, very young, and quickly realised my dream.

Just one room at first, each collection given its own section.

Then a couple, three, four… you get the picture.


Now I have my own purpose built facility.  Hundreds of rooms organised by my own custom Dewey (Melvil was a little too Nineteenth-Century-Minded for me).

Across them, vast collections of things.  If you can think of it, I’ve probably got them all.



Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (apologies for the Library Classification scheme joke but #iamalibrarian):

PHOTO PROMPT © Amy Reese
PHOTO PROMPT © Amy Reese

100 Words: Sing me to sleep

When I can no longer move, sing me to sleep.

When I only sit and stare, please sing me to sleep.

When I can no longer talk, write, wink.. converse with you at all, then sing me to sleep.

And when I can no longer hold your hand, squeeze or hug you, please sing me to sleep.

Take me and sing me to sleep.


Please.


Unless we have kids.

If we have kids, please park me in the corner of the room so I never miss a thing.

And sing me to sleep, I want to always hear your voice.



Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Sleep.

Upon reading the prompt, the song Asleep by The Smiths entered my head, and I could not get away from it; and from there came my title.

Sunday 25 September 2016

100 Words: Getting my fair share

We shared the food the usual way: divided into bowls, each one assigned a playing card.  Then we drew cards from a second pack to determine who got which bowl.  Only way to avoid arguments over who got the biggest portion.


I always seemed to draw the smallest portion.  Steve the largest, then Darrel.  


By week six I was sure it was fixed.  And I was desperate for meat.


I killed those two first, the other three when they found me spit roasting them.

Their bones buried deep, the food should last much longer as I wait to be found.


Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Share.

100 Words: Under Neon Starlight

Under neon starlight we hold hands and walk along the strip, our fifth meeting since the days of reading messages from one another on computer screens, our faces lit by their pallid glare, as we smiled our first joint smiles.


Now, our faces and arms change colour- alien green, sea monster blue, blushing red- as we smile ever bigger smiles.


Under neon starlight we consummate our love, light guiding the way before we learn it by heart; or because we moved too fast to turn off the lights.  


In a world of artifice, I think we have found real life.


Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Tuesday 13 September 2016

100 Words: The Reclusive Writer

He would not accept the term, “Mind Palace,” and refused to believe in imaginary worlds.  The writer, though, wrote nothing down whilst “writing” almost constantly.

Instead, within his head lived the plans and dreams that formed the basis for an entire fantasy world.  A new Gormenghast, perhaps, or Narnia.  If he could make it any good.  

And there it stayed.  An encyclopedia of unordered daydreams he was too scared to commit to paper or screen.




A Dark Warrior stalks my mind.  Reminding me and stalling me.  I seek his guidance and he walks away leaving me a trail of stories.


Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Recluse (after three months of failing to take part, this seemed too good a word not to get back in)

Sunday 26 June 2016

100 Words: Immortality

I dreamed of eternal life and godlike powers and thought I would be able to make that dream come true.  For years, I worked away in my lab until I had my final formula.  I drank it down merrily, toasting the divine life.

I have had eternal life for 150 years, have super strength and speed and, on occasion, can fly.  

I also have an insatiable taste for blood and sunlight burns me so badly I wake only after dark.  


Would a God keep themselves hidden beneath an Australian cattle ranch existing existing only on cow blood?  I think not.


Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Divine

100 Words: A Divine Questions the Divine

Practising my sermon in front of an empty church, I say nothing and think about recent events that have divided my congregation and seen many deported.  All as British, human, as me.

As a child I would sit out there and think that there must have been a magical time, back when the Bible was written, in which God was active on Earth, maintained contact with us and created all that I have followed; before leaving to let us to look after it.  

Now, I feel that, if He really cares, He should start such a magical time once more.


Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Divine

100 Words: Untitled

At sunset I remembered a film in which a zombie, still aware of his former self, lived aboard an abandoned jetplane.  He got his heart beating again but I felt mine had stopped forever.


I let him take the flight and spent the night at the airport’s viewing platform, watching the sun go down, the planes land, takeoff and taxi around, the sun rise again through bleary eyes.


Alone and facing an unknown future, my phone started to vibrate and shook me out of myself.

My sister, the only person who had stood by me, started my heart once more.


Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:


copyright-Rich Voza

Copyright-Rich Voza



Wednesday 15 June 2016

100 Words: Our last evening

The show was not very good and we left soon after it started and slowly ambled along in the June evening sun.  We walked along the seafront, through the whalebone arch and sat sharing a bag of chips while watching the sun set behind the Abbey.

On the way back to the Royal Crescent, you talked about watching out for vampires and I laughed at you.

I shouldn’t have.

They might not have been resident in Whitby but they’d seen us laughing as we left that stupid show.


I wish I’d proposed that night and not saved it for York.



Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

Copyright -John Nixon 
Copyright -John Nixon

100 Words: Forever Circling

The first man to receive life in prison stared out the tiny window of his cell-slash-spacecraft.   Strapped very firmly into place to pay for his crime, Gerry was kept alive in perpetuity by a plethora of machines.  

Throughout his constant orbit Gerry rarely lost sight of home and, when he did, he knew it would not be long before what should have been a distant speck, but that was cleverly blown-up by reactive lenses, would come back into view.

His only hope was for a change in heart back home and either a rescue mission or a relieving laser vapourisation.



Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Forever

Tuesday 14 June 2016

A life floated downstream

The remains of my life floated quickly away down the river in a suitcase, sent off to sea.

My body should have been with it.  Instead, I returned home without the possessions I had chosen to die with.


At that time home was a home between homes, a room lined with boxes hastily filled and sealed with tape. As I did so, I planned my own demise, filtering out the items I intended to take.

The room was in an otherwise empty and secluded block of tiny flats; one of many in one of the many abandoned parts of the city.  I wasn’t meant to be there so, on my return, I set fire to the boxes and began my return to your arms.


I broke into a car like I used to back when it first happened, but unlike then, I drove slowly and carefully away from the burning buildings and into the inhabited zone.  Along the streets that used to throng with people, buildings that used to be so bright, and tried to remember the sounds we would hear there.


Upon arrival at our home I sat outside staring at the steering wheel, the radio on, tuned into static, to try and get my head right.  Eventually I managed it and I left the car, walked up the garden path, opened the door, paused; climbed the stairs, turned the corner, walked past the bathroom and the spare room and paused again, for a long time, before entering our room to find you exactly where I had left you.

I laid down next to you and placed your arms around me, holding my breath against the stench, for you were not as I had left you, and closed my eyes, again remembering the sounds of before, hearing your voice tell me what I should have done.


I carried you out to the street and stole a fresh car, one with enough petrol still in the tank, and carefully placed you in the backseat.  Together we drove, this time listening to Amnesiac, though only in my mind, back to our bridge.  I spoke to you one last time, told you what I needed to tell you, before placing you onto a boat.  Finally, I pushed you away and watched as you floated calmly away.


Maybe I should have joined you, maybe our bodies should have floated down the muddy river together, but I didn’t just back out of my own suicide to do the right thing by you.  

As far as I know, I am the last human alive; 

but what if I am not?  

That thought, that single thought, flickers dimly in the back of my mind and keeps me alive.


Having cried once more for you, I left the riverbank and went back to the car.  I knew that our inhabited zone was empty so I picked up our old A-Z, still full of the markings we had made when we first made this plan and began to drive to the next nearest inhabited zone.  


Written for the Light and Shade Challenge from the following picture prompt, which is in the Public Domain: