Thursday 14 December 2023

100 Words: Fast Track

The banks of flickering candles hold the prayers of the people, their warmth pushing the wishes high up to heaven.  Each holds a hope or a dream or a wish.  Something that has been asked for, wholeheartedly.

Sitting in a pew a small girl watches others as they pray and light candles, fixing in her mind exactly what she would say if she had a coin.

In her heart, though, she says the prayer.  

Unseen by anyone, an angel sits beside her and whispers that it shall be done.

Moments later, Oliver-style, she meets the couple who would adopt her.




Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 


PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Rouchard

100 Words: Pessimistic

The banks of flickering candles hold the prayers of the people, their warmth pushing the wishes high up to heaven.  There the angels sift and sort, arrange thoughts and prayers, wants and desires, wishes and hopes, whether selfish or selfless.  

It is the prayer of a small child that catches the eye the day this story takes place.

But there is nothing they can do.  All the angels do these days is collect, record and file.

The child will have to wait and hope, pray that those in power on earth will change their minds and do something to help.



Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 


PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Rouchard

Thursday 30 November 2023

100 Words: Life from Death

The first time I walked to the shop instead of using the car I saw a squirrel standing on the top of a fence taking seeds from the centre of a sunflower and eating them from its tiny hands.

I stood transfixed, watching this intimate and tiny wonder all alone.  Just me on Church Landway amazed by what I was witnessing.


I never looked back, I never fixed the car.  

Now it has bloomed into life, just as I have by walking and taking public transport: meeting people and seeing things that would not be possible while driving the car.




Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 


PHOTO PROMPT © Fleur Lind

Wednesday 15 November 2023

100 Words: Grow vines to bypass the walls

Traditions that became ever more iron clad built walls throughout the town keeping its communities apart.  Separation bred hatred and hatred threw stones that injured, maimed and killed indiscriminately.

And so it went on until a watercan, left accidentally on a wall, periodically filled with water and seeds before spilling them onto the ground.

Great vines grew over the walls and curious youngsters began to climb.  Children began to play together, share sweets and be welcomed in for lunch where more and more similarities were found.

New traditions began to grow and word began to spread.

And the walls fell.



Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 


PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Tuesday 10 October 2023

100 Words: Not just another yarn

Hands old and young knitting and clicking, the rhythms making long scarves take shape.  Over the top laughter provides the melody to the erratic beat.

Suddenly, the oldest clears her throat to silence the group before announcing:

Listen and never forget.

When the fascists came we all fought.  I was just 13, but I did my part.  I knew in my heart what my needles could do and what must be done.

She picks up her knitting again, leaving everyone to think.

Slowly the beat begins again, now more rhythmic and in line.  And no one speaks for some time.



Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 



PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Thursday 28 September 2023

100 Words: The Sad Cardboard Box Jellyfish

Floating across the wall: a picture of a cardboard box upset at being dumped into the ocean and becoming a jellyfish.  It hadn’t asked to become sentient or a living warning of dumping rubbish in the ocean.  It was sad for the ocean and for itself, doomed to forever drift the seas of the earth, with no hope of the end it had always desired: of being recycled.


Until.


A school of fish arrived, broke up into a shoal, and started to feed.  The sad cardboard box jellyfish slowly began to disappear.


It didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.




Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 


PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

Friday 21 July 2023

100 Words: An Analogy for the Empire

They never really taught us about empire and no one ever talked about the effects still being felt.  Growing up I only ever heard good things.  The things that were only good for colonists.

While in a rickshaw, I looked forward and watched the man pulling me forward.  Those old, golden days were much like this, I thought - if I’d had a rifle pointed at his head.

Until that moment I had been walking around full of satisfaction, of pride.  It turned to sickness before I stopped the ride, had a brief chat with my driver, and started to learn.



Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 


PHOTO PROMPT © Amanda Forestwood

Friday 14 July 2023

100 Words: In The Haberdashery of Thoughts and Ideas

Inside the Haberdashery of Thoughts and Ideas I found a book.  A book with a purple cover within which was a collection of photographs for story prompts.  A scattering of joker cards, ancient ruins, a ferry headed for harbour, a strange looking forest - there were so many to see and choose from.  

And each page folded out to reveal stories created from that prompt.  Each concertina with an empty panel ready for more.

They say the book updates itself every week: a new picture, new fictions, from fictioneers, both old and new.

And the name of the book?

Friday Fictioneers.



Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 



PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

My Original The Haberdashery of Thoughts and Ideas: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.


Friday 24 March 2023

100 Words: Don't Wait. Do.

Sometimes it felt as if I had been dealt nothing but Jokers.  No cards of use had ever fallen into my lap.  I waited.  And waited.  But waiting won’t do.  Something the naive and privileged don’t realise.  They expect.  I checked myself, I don’t expect kudos, I learned and I did.  I stood and I built and I grew.  I struggled and came through as most people have to do.  But once, and sometimes I think about this and it makes me feel sick, I just thought things would happen.  That life was a simple game to play.  It’s not.



Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 


PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

Initial Idea: Trumps was our game.  7 cards in the first hand, then working down to 1.  One suit the trump, the leading card next most powerful, highest card put down wins.  So many rainy days passed this way.

Four of us then, siblings growing together finding ways through the long holidays and weekends.  Monopoly was another favourite.  And Cluedo, Buccaneer, other card games.  Sometimes a board games olympics.  


Now it is Solitaire all the way.  And mostly on my phone.  Can’t quite bear to get out the physical cards anymore.


Friday 17 March 2023

100 Words: Turn Left

Turn left, come in, enter my emporium.  Your future I will sell to you.  Visions of most perfect clarity, rendered before your very eye, that will show you your path, make clear what you will have to do.

I entered, I saw, I discovered, I locked the door behind me.  

You see, once revealed, the future is set.  Once seen, it cannot be undone.  Just like the past the future becomes.

But, stuck up in my own head, watching my life again as if on a cinema screen, I cannot warn you of this.

I cannot scream:

“DON’T TURN LEFT!”



Written for Friday Fictioneers, and ultimately a very short rewrite of this story, from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 



PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin

Friday 10 March 2023

100 Words: The Explosion Above the Table

There it sat above the table, an explosion frozen in mid-flight, its light casting shadows over us all as we looked on, shocked by the revelations revealed.


Wind back over forty years to that very room.  Five couples, a bowl containing sets of keys, a house of cards being unknowingly built.


I’d always thought I looked a bit like “Uncle” Bill, always felt he treated me a little differently to the others.  That my father was more distant with me.


As the explosion faded and we all came back to ourselves, the tears began to fall.  My new life began.




Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 



PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

Wednesday 15 February 2023

2/17/2003 - Who wants wars? Dinosaurs! and 2/14/2003 - Hey!

Hi. It is monday now and I shall tell you all about Saturday. On that day, I got up at 8:00 or something crazy, got dressed etc and went to get a bus to London from our Uni Guild so I could join the anti-war demo. woo-hoo. Twas a cool day all around. We (my whole household) were on a coach largely full of local socialists against the war. We were on Kim’s coach. She, I discovered later, is a member of the SWP, which explains her over enthusiasm at the whole thing. She tried to sell me and Nathan copies of Socialist Worker and wondered why we weren’t as excited as her.

Typically, we arrived late (it was made extra hard to turn up on time as the march was started early) and we could not even drive to our official start point and so walked from Baker Street to Piccadilly Circus where the two (possibly three) marches alll converged. We could hear them from half way up Regent Street, the noise was amazing. When we saw them it was even more extreme. You could see three streets full of people with banners all united in voice merging into into one. Twas way cool. We then joined them and marched slowly down Piccadilly to Hyde Park. Again, it was cool. So many people. We just walked along marvelling at the people from all walks of life, each with own banners, people from all over the country, from every religion and class- fantastic. We also spent much time laughing at the humerous banners (eg: War is Crap; Bush Is Just Another Word For Cunt; Who wants wars? Dinosaurs! Use Brain Not Brawn).
Once at Hyde Park we went within and wandered across to the rally. I really wiah I had climbed a tree just to see how big the crowd was. I never got a clear view of the stage itself and where we were we could not even see the screens very well, and these were a good few hundred metres back from the stage itself. The speeches were good, espeicially Harold Pinter, jesse Jackson and Ken Livingstone. Pinter kicked ass, I believe his opening line was “American barbarism will destroy the world,” and he continued in this vein, coming out with similar slogans that drew cheer after cheer. Jesse Jackson (he is a black preacher and once ran for American President) made a fantastic speech, though a bit long-winded about stopping all kinds of predjudice and promoting peace. He later returned to dance with Ms Dynamite. Ken Livingstone also made a fine speech having a great dig at George W. Bush. At one point, someone (possibly Ali G…) invaded the stage yelling “Stop the congestion charge, this is a hijack.” Ken responded by saying how lovely it was to walk through London without having to contend with traffic.
After Ms Dynamite sung a song, we left to find our coach. When we got back to the entrance, people were still pouring through the gates (In between speeches it transpired that people were still at the start points and that around 2 million was the estimated amount of people in London that day). One of the highlights of my day came at this point when we saw the Iraqi Communist Party marching into Hyde Park plus a banner imploring Cherie blair to stop war by stopping having sex with her husband- this banner then ended by simply saying Lysistrata- I was quite impressed and laughed a lot.
That’s about it, though it took about one and a half hours to find our coach, but we were back by ten and so could have a pint, go home and watch Match Of The Day. Huzzah for all, and STOP THE WAR!
cheers
james 



(Beforehand:


2/14/2003 - Hey! 

Woo-hoo, Valentine’s Day! Stayed up until 2am writing things that will never be seen! Stoopid ideas! I got an idea for a book/series of books while having a lab class on primate skulls. I want to be a writer and spend all day writing.

An extract from the IoS Sunday Review interview with Robert “3D” Del Naja and Damon Albarn:
“The Conservative Party probably wish they had asked Del Naja’s permission to play “Man Next Door” at a policy launch in 2000. It didn’t, and Massive Attack sued, releasing a statement which pulled no punches. “We’re completely fucked off with the Tories,” it said. “how dare they use our music to promote their bullshit?”

Indeed. Life OK, still boring. Dissertation occuring. Grm is a weirdo and nothing he says makes any sense to me. Not really, but that blog concerning The Sun and france really made no sense to me in parts and seemed to contradict itself. Heigh-ho. Interesting stuff about to occur. My gym induction is this afternoon. I am hoping not to have a heart attack of any description. Tomorrow I am going to London in order to walk around a bit, possibly ending up in Hyde Park. My entire house is going (well, all the people who live in it- including our Jewish refugee) and we are getting a coach there and back for a mere ?6- I only wish that they were running every time I wanted to go home! Anyway, I am looking forward to that. That is all really, I will update on Sunday or Monday with Saturday’s news. Till then, I shall bid you good morrow.
Love
James

Demonstrate!
“If the government has any sense of democracy,
then they will listen to their electorate”

As with the firefighters I feel
It?s my only democratic right,
The only way to have my opinion,
My voice, heard by the centre.
For I cannot suggest new laws,
Changes to the system of govt.
I cannot even second them,
Or ever really hope to do so;
And I certainly cannot, or will
Ever be able to, pass them.
All that I can do is walk
As part of an organism
In the name of millions and
Under banners, slogans, words
Expressing how we think on this.
Together we?ll stride confidently,
Meet in two separate places,
Before joining in a circus
And march united in song
To drive a stake right in,
A spanner into their works.

But will our voice be enough?
Over one million could be there.
77% according to a Mori poll.
If that doesn?t change anything
Then something is very wrong indeed.
The OED my have shuffled to suit
But I?ve no intention of following suit.
I?ll do what I can until I feel I
Live within a true democracy:
Some sort of mix of this and Athens,
More than one person in No 10,
Ways to level it all out again,
Bit like I may have said before:
Dreams of ?06 to ?11 and ?45 to ?51.

If they do not listen, of they ignore,
The British Government needs to
Be answerable to the electorate.
No longer an oligarchy able to
Shy away and act all on its own,
Able to hide in London and do
Its (and America?s?) bidding without
A second thought as to the
People that put them there.
Meetings with the Queen should
Be papers printed and made
Available free of charge on the net,
And in every daily newspaper.
Even trying each and every PM,
MP and Lord in a court of law
Post-office would not be a bad thing.
Whatever, if they do not listen
To a voice that is a majority
Then we should all move house.

And so we?ll march to stop war,
Stop their march to kill innocents
And s search for what came from us
Or will only be found at home.
March as the electorate of a nation
With a message for our government
Who; if they?ve sense, will listen.

(9), 12-14/2/2003
copyright james atkinson
cheers
james 

)