Monday, 29 July 2013

My Daily Picspiration Entry Under The Bridge

I have been invited to write for Daily Picspiration where you can choose from two pics to create a story. This week, I chose both pics to write from to create a story called Under The Bridge which is also the title of a Red Hot Chili Peppers' Song. The song came into my mind as I looked at the pictures so I had to choose both.
I can't wait for my next writing challenge on Daily Picspiration which will be in a fortnight. xxx


Here's my story   Under The Bridge

‘I don’t ever wanna feel like I did that day’. . . . . The song played over and over in her head as she wandered through the night; barefoot in the cool, soft grass but it might as well have been shards of glass for all the comfort it brought. He promised to never sing that song, or at least the last verse, which was understandably hard for a tribute band, but she had her reasons and what’s more, he knew. He knew what happened under that bridge two years ago. He knew the loss she had suffered. He knew the deep meaning behind the lyrics and how they took her back to the degradation, isolation and loss fuelled by failure and guilt.

“Babe, it’s just a song. It’s been two years. Can’t you see it as therapy?” He placed a sweaty hand on her bare shoulder which she instantly swatted away like an annoying fly as her eyes splintered with tears.

Therapy! She trudged forward in an effort to release her fury with every stomp. Therapy! What did he think she’d been doing every Monday night, without fail for the past year and a half? It wasn’t some jolly tea party! Baring her soul to what were once complete strangers was not her idea of a fun night out! Now, she couldn’t live without them; they were her new addiction. The ones who really knew her suffering, her guilt she carried around with her like a loaded shot gun. And there he was, unleashing the torment.  

 “It’s the best song! The audience love it! I can’t ignore the fans babe!” He tried again with the hand, this time pushing away a random strand of her dark hair that always fell awkwardly over her face; she used to like him tucking it behind her ear but again, she swiped his hand away. “You have to move on Babe, with me. I need to move forward.” And that was the moment she knew it was over. She wasn’t ready to move forward. She knew he was protesting she stay; saw the strain on his tired face but all she heard was that song, every word causing her heart to tie itself up in a tight knot . . . ‘Under the bridge down town’. . . creating an image in her mind like she was back there. . . .  seeing the blood . . . . the convulsions . . . .  the eyes rolling back . . .  the chest stopping. . .

The rising sun began to reveal little by little, her whereabouts. Ribbons of morning red provided a backdrop to a forest that was beginning to come to life and then she noticed the gentle sound of running water. She’d walked all night, didn’t have a clue where she was but knew it made her feel peaceful. Knew she had been led here.

A bridge lay up ahead. It wasn’t pretty and certainly didn’t fit the surroundings with its chunky concrete blocks for walls and ugly pipes on show. But then neither did she.  She didn’t fit in anywhere. She had tried and had failed. She peered over the edge. A sheer drop to the river below faced her. A way out. That was why she was here. She had been given a way out. It was more than coincidence. Fate had brought her here. The song had brought her here, to a bridge. Like her sister, two years ago, it would all end, under a bridge. Prettier surroundings than an inner city bridge where gangs loitered and junkies shot up their next or last fix. . . . unlike her sister . . . . her poor innocent younger sister . . . .who should not have followed her there . . .

“I’ll give you yours Megan, if you can do something for me,” teased Jazz as he toyed with her fix with one hand, unzipping his trousers with the other. Kneeling down in the wet, under the bridge where to anyone else the stench of urine would make you vomit violently, she took a deep breath.
“Megan!” She knew that voice! Why was Eliza here? Why had she come? Grabbing Megan’s arm, Eliza yanked her up. “You have to stop this Meg’s! Please! I don’t want to find my sister in the gutter with a needle sticking out of her arm.”
“Hey lady! This is between me and her!” Jazz shoved Eliza but Eliza stood her ground, even when Jazz pulled a knife, even when he threatened to finish them both. . . . . .

Megan took a deep breath as she stood on the edge of the bridge, unable to shift that night out of her mind but she knew she had to relive it before she. . . . .

. . . . .There was a gurgled scream as  Eliza’s grip broke, clutching her throat in an instant as she slid to the floor, her hands now a rich red, dripping like paint from a brush, her eyes wide with shock.  A bloodied hand reached out. . . . grasping Megan’s punctured , bruised arm. . . . before reaching up to wipe away  tears that escaped from Megan’s sunken eyes. . . . Megan watched as her sister’s life seeped in a sea of red surrounding them both, as the tiniest of smiles appeared on Eliza’s lips. . . .      

Megan looked up to the clear blue sky, to Eliza, knowing Eliza had been watching over her, knowing Eliza was at peace and knowing she would very soon find her own peace.
A rumbling echoed through the valley. Without hesitation, Megan stepped onto the track, feeling the vibrations of the oncoming train swell through her entire body. Closing her eyes, Megan stood firm, welcoming the train with open arms. Screeching consumed the valley followed by a sudden silence. Opening her eyes, she was greeted by the looming train, not more than five feet away where the driver sat on the step, wiping his brow, unable to speak.
“Sorry,” was all Megan could utter as she walked past him then stopped. Looking up at the side of the engine her mouth dried up at the big red swirly writing, “Eliza?” she barely whispered.
“All engines . . . . . have names . . . . .  love,” he panted. “You’re lucky to still be . . . . . here.” Megan smiled and carried on walking, over the bridge, not once looking down under the bridge, knowing Eliza would always be near.


Friday, 26 July 2013

Flash!Friday #34 Snap!


“Happy anniversary!” Ben exclaimed as the car ascended through wispy clouds, revealing  crisp blue skies. “I’m so glad you had hypnotherapy to do this. It means so much to me.” He kissed her hand as she pressed her face against the glass, beaming from ear to ear at the majesty surrounding her. “Of course, all I have to do is snap my fingers. . . . . You’d have a heart attack . . . . . It would be the perfect murder.” She laughed nervously. Snap. . . .   


70-80 words this week for Rebekah Postupak's Flash!Friday.  For more short stories set in the clouds, hop over and visit. xxx

Sunday, 14 July 2013

5 Sentence Fiction Locked (Part 6 of my serial about Zoe Saxon)


With a charming smile and an ever tightening grip on Zoe’s arm, he escorted Zoe out from the safety of the buzzing bar, looking to everyone else like a couple out for the evening ; but the quiet of the night magnified her situation as a rear car door opened, making the expectation very clear but bleak.      

She sat, hands clamped on her bag, the lipstick occupying her thoughts as the man buckled up, expecting Zoe to do the same; taking the opportunity to snatch her bag.With a loud click, the luxurious car became her moving prison as he casually studied the lipstick, revealing its true intentions; a bemused expression sweeping across his smooth face before he turned a stern expression towards Zoe.

“I’m wondering, Miss Saxon, how you intended to get close enough to me to use this?” he mused as he held aloft the lipstick blade before tossing it out of the window, revealing  a thick blackness; no street lights, not even an inviting glowing warmth from a desolate farm house.

“Relax Miss Saxon, I’m not going to kill you . . . . .”,  Zoe waited for the ‘yet’ but she was visibly taken aback when he continued, “but I do need to tell you that trying to kill me is a mistake as I am one of the good guys . . . . . . which means dear Zoe . . . . . . you’re on the wrong side.”  

And there you have it ; part 6 using the prompt locked from Lillie Mcferrin's 5 Sentence Fiction where you will find many other fantastic stories from fab writers. 

Here are the links to the previous five parts:

Part 1: Accident     Part 2: Desolate      Part 3: Blades      Part 4: View    Part 5: Flight        

Saturday, 13 July 2013

What's In A Name?

Well a lot actually if you're Royalty. . . . 

I know, I know, another Royal baby blog! But as a Royalist and self proclaimed Disney Princess, I feel I need to throw my two bobs worth in and comment on this historical event.                

‘Historical event?’ I hear you cry. She’s not the first woman to give birth or the first Princess or Duchess for that matter! However, it is the first senior Royal birth in 30 odd years. It is also the first time that if a baby girl, she will automatically ascend to the throne even if she has a football team of younger brothers! All hail the new constitution that changes the stuffy, old fashioned and sexist law that women are pushed back in favour of sons! This is not Henry VIII’s Tudor court where Queens were beheaded because of the lack of son’s! And  let’s just remember the most famous monarch of all Henry’s children, if not in history, was his daughter, Elizabeth I! I’m hoping he was proud and not turning in his grave!

And I bet Princess Anne will be the first to congratulate the little bundle of pink; second child to the Queen, pushed to the back of the queue behind her two younger brothers and their kids! Shameful!

Then of course there are the names. Obviously, they will need to choose carefully. Can’t have any Cheryl’s, Kylie’s or Phoebe’s on the throne (I bet Posh Spice is secretly yearning for a girl and the possibility of a Princess Victoria). Princess Phoebe reminds me of Friends and people of a certain age will be reminded of Princess Consuela Bananahammock (which is actually in the urban dictionary!) so Phoebe is definitely out despite its obvious charms.

There is also the obvious choice of Diana; in Roman mythology meaning, heavenly or divine. She was the goddess of the hunt, the moon and birthing. But, despite its qualities, it is not a name that I can imagine will make certain members in the family jump for joy. I’m sure Camilla would choke on her G &T with that little reminder. (I was team Diana so apologies for any bias). But Diana is a family name and there’s no getting away from the fact that every time you see William, you see Diana. He is his mother’s son in more ways than one. Maybe a second, third, fourth or even fifth name is a possibility, after all it will only ever be mentioned twice; the christening and a royal wedding. (Excited at that prospect already!)

So you can see the reasons for calling this an historical birth other than the fact he or she will be born to the heir of the throne. And let’s not forget that in the event of a girl, Harper Seven Beckham will have a playmate who, later in life she can swap fashion tips with; making an exciting prospect for ‘heat’ magazine and celebville.

But all we know is the baby is due in July. That’s 31 days of conjecture, press packs, paparazzi, speculation and blogs (sorry). What we do know is that as with any Royal, the baby will come when he/she jolly well wants to and is good and ready!

In the event of a boy, that will mean three generations of King’s after well over half a century of the Queen who is still going strong! (Yay)                                             

But I wonder. With the birth of the new Royal and the heir to the throne secure and what with Prince Philip being ill lately, will Queen Elizabeth be thinking of handing over to the new generation and the A word? (Eek)

It is possible (in our wildest dreams!) but again, more speculation. It is after all a job for life and there’s plenty of life left in the Queen! (Yay!)

All that remains is to watch the media circus gather momentum and wish Kate and Will’s the best of luck as well as all the other pregnant ladies out there who are no doubt feeling more than uncomfortable with this heat wave we’re basking in. I hope all your bundles of joy are healthy little prince and princesses which is what every family wishes whether a boy or girl.

And Phoebe really is a cool name!  J     

Friday, 12 July 2013

Flash! Friday #32

The bell tolled. Every pitiful moan, desperate cry and aching scream ceased for the tolling of the bell as it escorted a wretched soul to its fate. Once the bell fell silent, a rousing cheer echoed through the walls, down every passage, through every cell to where Jack lay on a bed of straw, not moving other than his chest heaving slowly as he stared up at the stone ceiling.   
His shackled feet were bloody from sores that were left untreated; dried up, crusty blood covered the chains and the floor which made a tasty treat for the rats that scurried around freely without fear, even nibbling at Jack’s toes before he violently kicked them away. Other than that he was still, counting the tolls, imagining the drop as the rope tightened around his neck, wondering how long he would swing before he was no more.
He shuddered. 
But, he had no one else to blame. It was his fault entirely that he lay inside the four walls of the prison without seeing the blue sky since his arrival, which he guessed was seventeen days ago going by the meagre lump of rock hard, stale mouldy bread he was given once a day.
But was it worth it? A wry smile crept over Jack’s dirty, handsome face, remembering how he was most feared, most talked about and most admired.  The bounty on his head had never been seen before. That was cause for celebration, not commiseration.  
He was the famous highwayman. He would live on, long after the tolling bell. With that thought, Jack spent his last night sleeping peacefully. 


Flash!Friday and this week is all a matter of perspective from Rebekah Postupak where you can visit for more tales and different perspectives on the picture. xx 

Thursday, 11 July 2013

Thursday Threads "I'll See You There Darling."

“It’ll be perfect Della,” gushed Craig as he clasped Della’s hands, staring into her eyes that reminded him of dark pools of chocolate waiting to me devoured. Her gaze met his; his crystal blue eyes glinting like the sea on a hot summer’s day. She liked that. It was her favourite childhood memory; visiting the seaside with a bucket and spade, burying her father up to his neck in cold, wet sand before eating jam sandwiches that crunched with every sandy bite.

Then one day, he was gone.
Her mum had said he died.
But in her teens, Della saw him with a new family and in that moment her trust splintered until Craig.
She believed in him, so when he said it was ‘perfect’, it was.   

“Now are you ready?” Craig asked getting to his feet. He was so tall, masterful, and powerful. Della followed into a large hall where others sat; his followers eagerly waiting for him; their charismatic leader, promising Nirvana.   

She joined the circle, sitting cross legged; her eyes never once leaving Craig’s. Everyone else had a goblet and sipped. Craig handed her his goblet, folding her hands around it.

“Della, one sip and your pain and suffering will cease.” He watched as Della raised the goblet to her pink lips and sipped; grimacing at the metallic taste. “Good girl.”
“Nirvana,” she whispered, holding Craig’s hand.
“I’ll see you there, darling.” He winked and sipped.
Goblets clattered to the floor, followed by silence.


Thursday Threads!!  This week's prompt was 'I'll see you there darling" and I pretty much had an idea straight away and wrote. Thanks for reading. If you want to see what other amazing writers have come up with, then please visit Siobhan Muir at The Weird, The Wild and The Wicked 

Sunday, 7 July 2013

5 Sentence Fiction Flight (Part 5 Zoe as yet untitled)


With clicking heels against the ancient cobbles of the town square, Zoe sauntered to the bar well aware of the man’s eyes following her closely which caused her stern composer to break into a calculating smile. Sitting on a bar stool, she watched the barman at work who then presented Zoe with her favourite drink; a white wine spritzer with a dash of lime; her poise cracked but she recovered quickly, a plan of escape forming in her mind as she had most certainly been compromised. Without taking a sip of her much wanted drink, Zoe casually walked towards the exit, the rigid grip on her clutch bag the only evidence of the tension rising; she needed the security of her hotel room, to regroup and find out how he knew about her and, possibly her intentions.  

A smooth, large hand gripped her wrist, pulling her in close, tightening all the time as his face lent in to her’s, his lips softly brushing against her ear, his whispered words sending cold shivers down her spine.

“When at last we meet Zoe Saxon, you’re taking off without even sipping your drink; tut, tut.”   

 This is part five of a little story where I am fitting in the prompts for Five Sentence Fiction from So far, the prompts seem to be fitting in nicely with the plot of Zoe, a female assassin. I try to make each 5SF a stand alone tale but i you want to read the others or have missed one, then follow the links below to find out about Zoe and her mission. xx

Friday, 5 July 2013

Flash! Friday #31 Aftermath

Silence wasn’t something to welcome. It signalled the start of a futile search for survivors. Strewn across the once lush green fields was the endless sight of carnage. Not one surviving groan could be heard across the wisps of smoke from the smouldering corpses.

Covering his mouth from the overwhelming stench of death and with a heavy step, Kyle began the grisly task of recovering dog tags and weapons; ammo was dangerously low and he knew peace was just a respite.
Not many of the enemy had been hit but even one should be seen as a slight victory; one less predator in the skies, one more chance of surviving the pointless war. 

Kyle looked to the mountains; the enemy’s unbreakable territory where under the advancing shadows of dusk they came, flooding the sky with ferocious fire and sharp talons that ripped flesh from bone.
Nothing stopped them.

 But this was their land, their territory. Kyle was the warring invader, sent on an impossible mission to defeat and conquer for the riches and minerals buried deep under the mountains.

A dragon soared, silvery wings splayed as he circled over the massacre, letting out a mournful cry. Kyle understood completely.


Thursday, 4 July 2013

Thursday Threads #77 Find A Warm Body


Thursday threads time!!! This week . . . . . . . . . find a warm body. . . . . This is what I have come up with. For more tales, visit Siobhan Muir over at The Weird, the Wild and the Wicked.                     

The Balance of Nature

“Are you sure about this?” Greg asked, trudging after Tess through the cemetery carrying a shovel and a bulky rucksack. “There are rules and you’re upsetting the balance of nature.”

“Yes,” Tess hissed. She’d had enough of Greg trying to talk her out of her plan, trying to get her to talk about her sister’s death. Who wants to talk about the most painful experience of your life where your sister was flung through a car windscreen?

Since finding the book buried amongst a sack of musty clothes in the charity shop, Tess had been consumed with the idea of being able to bring her sister back. And after three months, she had tracked down all but one of the ingredients.  

Placing everything on the damp grass, Tess checked off her list as Greg dug; he felt he owed Tess something; he was driving the car, braking sharply to avoid a dog and Lisa wasn’t buckled up.  

He finished digging and sat swigging a beer as he watched Tess finish her potion. He picked up the fragile book, written in a swirly script, making it difficult to read especially in the dim candle light under a moonless sky.

“Tess?” He watched as she toyed with a knife against the palm of her hand. “It says-”

“I need to find a warm body; I know,” she whispered as he slumped into the hole, the knife buried deep in his chest. “And you’ll do nicely . . . . . . . . Balancing nature . . . . You for my sister.”


Wednesday, 3 July 2013

Five Sentence Fiction View (Part 4 Zoe)


Zoe leant out over the balcony, absorbing the breathtaking scenery, the sweet fresh air and the welcome silence. It was hard to believe something so beautiful, unspoilt and peaceful existed in Zoe’s world but here she was, relaxing in what could only be described as paradise.

The distant chimes of a church nestled in the mountains jerked her back to her reason for being here; it wasn’t some jolly holiday of cheese eating and wine tasting.

If only!

By the end of the chimes, Zoe had left her hotel room, clutch bag in hand, little black dress flowing gently in the cool breeze as she now had her eye on another view; the face from the photograph staring back at her from across the square. .  

This is part four of  a little story where I am fitting in the prompts for Five Sentence Fiction from So far, the prompts seem to be fitting in nicely with the plot of Zoe, a female assassin. I try to make each 5SF a stand alone tale but if you want to read the ones before it, then follow the links below and find out about Zoe's mission . . .. xxx

Robbie Williams. Wembley Stadium. Saturday 29th June 2013.

Robbie Williams. Wembley. Sat June 29th 2013

Finally! After months of waiting, I was now standing in Wembley Stadium waiting for the gig of a lifetime . . . . . Robbie!!!! I had already seen him last year at the O2 but I was told that Wembley would be bigger, better, louder and just awesome. Of course with Olly Murs supporting, it was a double dose of boy power, pure pop and dazzling entertainment.

Olly’s set was just over half an hour where he mentioned Robbie Williams a gazillion times. Yes, we get it Olly. He is your idol and you’re now lucky enough to be on tour with the main man. The cheeky chappy did not disappoint with all his hits and some new ones. But the crowd went into a real frenzy every time he mentioned RW.  The crowd was 86,000 strong; a sell out and I’m sure Olly was lapping up every second and dreaming of headlining such a huge crowd one day. He loved it! And we loved him!

The noise was deafening. And when RW was first spotted, the crowd went into melt down. I had never heard anything like it. But then he zip wired down! The noise was impossibly loud, consuming every part of me as Robbie introduced himself as he always does “Robbie f*****g Williams!” at the top of his voice and then into Let Me Entertain You. Ever the show off, the entertainer, the sex symbol!

He's looking right at us!!!!!
Now let’s be honest. All Robbie has to do is turn up; showing bucketfuls of attitude, showing oodles of love for his fans and showing us that he is The One as he struts his stuff.  He doesn’t even have to sing really.  We did that for him on his anthems. When 86,000 are all singing together, it’s spine tingling. In fact, he asked us to sing him home. So while he buggered off either to a chauffeur driven car or private helicopter, we were all singing Angels at the top of our voices, everyone in time, showing just how much we love Robbie and his songs! It was absolutely electric. After two hours of Robbie with singing, shouting, screaming and crying (yes I eventually shed a tear during Angels when others around me had blubbed right from the beginning including Little Sis) it was time to leave with sore throats, goose bumps and a T- shirt! 

My first gig T- shirt!!!  
Yes please! 

The start of many now!

I didn’t want it to end!

I didn’t feel ready for it to end.

I could have sung and danced all night! I didn’t want to go home to a sleeping house when I had so much to share!!!    

But we had to get to the tube station. . . . .

The hour long walk from the Stadium to Wembley Park Tube (usually ten minutes) was brilliant. Everyone spontaneously burst into Rock DJ and Angels as we waited to be allowed into the station. It’s always like this so was to be expected and it is part of the night, making an hour's walk seem half the time and making it such fun! 

It was the best night ever and I would dearly pay to see Robbie perform again. He still has it; the X factor, the style, the charisma, the cheek and the love for his fans. He has the ability to hush and excite an audience with just a word. He is funny, cute, rude yet charming and he knows it. . . . which makes Robbie one of the best live acts to see. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!      

And then we got on public transport . . . . . . .for an epic 4 and half hour journey  which usually takes two. . . .but that’s another story which I shall leave for now as this is all about the wonder of Robbie!! xxx


The gorgeous Wembley arch looking down on the vast crowd