5 sentence fiction Endings

Endings  5 senetence fiction

I've definitely caught the writing bug now as here is a 5 sentence fiction entry which I may adapt for day 4 rebirth in the 12 days of Christmas blog hop. Hope you like and sorry it's been a while. xxx

It wasn’t the end but the beginning, the start of a new life; that’s what she had been taught so why did she still cling on to the last threads of life? Her teachings and meditations had prepared for this moment and her soul was ready for the next chapter but was she?

So many questions filled her tired mind but then he was there, in her head, her heart, reminding her what was to come as he patiently waited for her to return so to continue on their journey; cruelly brought to an abrupt end when he had been taken away twenty years before.  

Only her death now could restart the journey; a new place, time, body but the soul always there, her constant, her being, her essence to finish what was meant to be with her Tom.

She looked to her wedding ring on her frail hand, never removed since the day Tom placed it upon her finger and she smiled knowingly as her eyes closed, her breath shallow, but she was now ready as it wasn't the end but only the beginning. . .  

What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week Lillie will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction

#12 Days of Christmas Blog Hop

Day 3 Music

 Winter's Song

The winter set in, as bleak and dark as any other, and like every winter, the village closed its doors at the setting of the winter sun. Fear wrapped itself around every adult as they tucked their children into their beds for the night. Stillness descended.

Natan lay awake, staring into the pitch black. And then he heard it. He strained his ears. The gentle tinkling sound filled the night. It was enchanting and Natan crept out of bed towards the darkened window. Nothing stirred but the tinkling of bells seemed to be right outside. Against all warnings, Natan opened the door. The crunching of the snow magnified in the silent night but still Natan walked, following the bells, not feeling the bitter wind that whipped his skin, not feeling the cold, wet snow on his bare feet that were turning blue. All he felt was his heart beating in tune with the tinkling bells; a winter symphony joining his bitter march.

Soon the village was far behind, his tracks nowhere to be seen with the fresh fall of snow. A tender voice began to serenade through the wind as the bare trees thrashed their branches against Natan’s skin. But all he felt was the warmth of the music.

Finally, Natan found himself standing in a great hall.

“Thank you for joining me. I do get lonely up here.” An icy voice penetrated deep into Natan.   

“Where am I?” He shivered, feeling the bitterness of the night.

“Surely your parents told you about me? Warned you not to open the door, not to follow the bells and the singing?”

“I want to go home.”

“My dear child, you are home.” Natan stared and noticed ice statues standing around the room. He felt a coldness pierce his heart as he stiffened and realised too late he was to become another permanent ice fixture of the palace. . .

317

Thanks to Inky fingers herself, Ruth and Jar of Fireflies for hosting. xxxx

#12 Days of Christmas Blog hop

Day 2 Love
The First Gift of Christmas

      Ruth remembered the day well. She never believed in love at first sight, thought it was made up for people who confused lust with love in the regret of the morning after. But a shopping trip to New York changed all that. She met Nick. Their hands touched as they both reached for the same scarf, both pulled away sharply until they looked into each other’s eyes. There wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, no embarrassment. They smiled, decided to go for a coffee and forgot about the scarf.
      Ten years later, Ruth carefully wrapped a cashmere scarf for her husband Nick as he was getting ready for work.
“I wish you didn’t have to wear that” Ruth huffed, not hiding her annoyance as Nick pulled on his uniform. It added pounds to him; hiding his lean frame in the ill fitting suit.
“You say that every time.” He kissed her. She stroked his soft clean shaven face, nuzzled herself into his neck.
“I have something for you.” From under the pillow, Ruth pulled out a golden package and handed it over.
“Aren’t I supposed to give the first gift of Christmas?”
“And aren’t you supposed to be fat with a real white beard?”
“True.” He opened the package and his face broke into a grin. “Just what I wanted.” The scarf wrapped beautifully around his neck before it was completely covered up by the false beard. “How do I look?” Her handsome, trim Nick was no longer recognisable under all the red and white but the twinkle in his eyes was still there just as it was ten years ago when they first met. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
       Ruth didn’t mind sharing her husband for one night with the rest of the world, after all it was Christmas.

299


Thanks to Inky fingers herself, Ruth and Jar of Fireflies for hosting. xxxx

#12 days of Christmas Blog Hop

Day 1 Snow

Playing with Snow

A fresh blanket of crisp, white snow smothered the land as far as the eye could see. Laura pressed her nose against the coldness of her window; the circle of footprints she had made only last night now a foot under the cotton candy carpet. Sighing heavily, she tumbled back into the warmth of her bed. Yet another day of digging the driveway, another day of children throwing snowballs and building more snowmen, turning into a snowman army in every field and garden.

The weather was the news and had been for the past seven days of constant snowfall during the night. Shelves were bare, goods were not reaching towns and all Laura’s Christmas deliveries were stuck somewhere in transit. With Christmas Eve only tomorrow, panic was putting it mildly. There had been nothing like it; ever. The whole country from the tip of Cornwall to the northern tip of Scotland was covered in snow, with no end in sight. It seemed like the end of the world as all theories and prophecies were thrown around carelessly like confetti, but no real explanation given.

Laura opting for the radio until the ironic ‘Dreaming of a White Christmas’ came on. Angrily, she launched it in to the garden where it disappeared into the deep snow with a dull thud.

“Are you satisfied now?”

“Guess so Father. Humans are weird yet wonderful. I never tire of playing with them” Jadis replied as she stared below at her winter wonderland creation and Laura cursing towards the skies.

“They do make it easy for us Jadis. But remember what they wish for isn’t necessarily what they want.”  Jadis understood her wise father and waved her arm elegantly over her wonderland creation and watched intently as her snow disappeared without even leaving a puddle.

299

Thanks to Inky fingers herself, Ruth and  Jar of Fireflies  for hosting. xxxx

Character 5 sentence fiction

Tommy tightened his dirty, cold fingers around his gun with bayonet ready; ready for the onslaught of the efficient German guns, not that his bayonet was a match for those guns. He was sixteen and was eager to fight for King and country when he lied about his age and signed up, filled with pride, patriotism and duty to kill the Hun and all he had was this gun.

Now, he stood trembling in the chilly early morning air as the mist lifted off the quagmire of barbed wire, debris and the fallen; everything still, not even the rats were scurrying in the trenches this morn.

The line was ready and the silent ticking of the clock was as loud as his thumping heart which was as loud as the bombs that had rained down on them the day before, so loud he worried the Hun would hear him, but it was a comfort also for it meant he was alive.

And then the lonely sound of the whistle came and Tommy, along with his comrades who were now his family took to the rickety wooden ladders and climbed up into no man’s land as the German guns started their battery of fire; character building they said when he signed up as the mud and shrapnel flew up around him  . . . .

This may appear somewhere in my NaNoWriMo but at the moment it is a piece for remembrance on this day 11/11. Lest we forget. xxx

What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week Lillie will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.

Zombie Run

Zombie Games

Jason stood, waiting, watching and planning; planning which one to take out first. He tightened his grip around the handle of his chosen weapon; a sword he had spend hours sharpening and cleaning that it shone like a diamond. Standing alone, he blocked out all sounds and focused.

He heard them first. The rasping, gurgling and moaning. The dragging of heavy feet across the fine sand. Then he saw them.  Slowly, a group of about fifteen headed his way on the prowl for food. A rotting stench filled Jason’s nostrils but he knew that would pass once you got used to it and he was. He edged closer towards the group of moving rags.  And then they smelt him; the thin layer of sweat covering his body, the pure blood pumping through his body, the meaty flesh of a young active brain.

Filled with a burning hunger, each zombie now moved with purpose towards the food. They were fast but Jason was ready. Instead of holding back, he moved forwards, his sword raised and he swiped. One Zombie was down; a fallen heap as the head rolled. The only way to kill a zombie was either blowing its head off or decapitation; Jason preferred the latter as he was trained to fight hand to hand combat. Another zombie fell, another and another. It was just too easy. But zombies were stupid; walking dead driven by hunger with no sense of anything other than smell for food.  As long as Jason knew where they all were, there would be no surprises. And he knew exactly where they were as his sword danced through dead flesh, fountains of blood covered him but still he marched forward. Blood soaked sand covered his boots as he stepped over limbs, heads and torsos. Only three left. With a single wipe, he felled two. Now it was one on one. Taking time to clean his sword, Jason surveyed the carnage as the final zombie stumbled blindly towards him.  Time to toy. Jason stood, his sword by his side. Closer the zombie came, snarling, spitting blood and staring with dead, unseeing eyes. A bloodied hand reached out, so close as it tried to grasp at the living flesh. With a flash of metal, the zombie head was on the floor as the body fell in a puddle of blood. Lifting the head up high by the scalp, Jason held it up for all to see.

The stadium erupted into loud cheers and flag waving. Flowers were falling at his feet. It was never ending as the sound vibrated right through him.  But he was used to this celebrity status; Britain’s top sportsman, the world’s best in the new sport of Gladiators verses Zombies.

The Zombie Apocalypse hadn’t turned out to be as apocalyptic as feared.  Thanks to Super Soldiers and the tenacity of the human race, it fizzled out before the Zombies could take control.  And a new sport and hero was born.    

496

Written for the Zombie run over at Jezri's Nightmares  with Lisa McCourt Hollar

End of An Era

I can't quite believe it is here. Tomorrow (Friday 26 Oct 2012) is the last day for my Hubby in his job with Harrods after 20 years! Yes 20 years!!! We knew it was coming; despite the redundancy being voluntary he didn't really have any other choice. But since handing in his 60 day notice, the time has just flown and when he gets up at 4am tomorrow, it will be for the last time! Obviously to celebrate this, he will wake me up to share this momentous occasion with him . . . . . Cheers. I look forward to it.

  No doubt falling back to sleep will be impossible after getting up to feed the cat who, on hearing the alarm will think it's breakfast time. It's like Bagpuss in this house; when Hubby wakes up so does everyone else . . . Except No 1 Son who would sleep through the Zombie apocalypse and then get the hump at missing it!

 Anyway, back to Hubby. 20 years. Wow! When he first turned up at 'The Corner Shop' in 1992 as a greasy, long haired 20 something he had no idea it would be such a huge part of his life. . . . .


In January 1993 a bomb exploded from a litter bin on the Brompton Road outside Harrods. Hubby was on duty on the door where the litter bin stood. The bomb smashed and blew in the windows. No one was hurt. Hubby saw out the rest of his shift  and then went to the pub where the world and his wife bought beers all night for him.

And then in 1996, his life changed forever . . . . . . .  for the better (of course) . . . . . . . I had arrived like a breath of fresh air, like the Tazmanian Devil, like a whirlwind (take your pick) and Hubby didn’t know what hit him! I love this store! I indeed was a kid in a sweetshop/toyshop/bookshop/bakery and the handbags!!!!! (But that could be another story if I convince Hubby to part with some of his money for a Chloe or Burberry or Chanel . . . . . the list is endless). He went from the 'I don't want a relationship eternal bachelor' to being a couple. (Hee, hee).


Then in the summer of 1997, Diana, Princess of Wales began dating Dodi, the son of 'The Boss' of  'The Corner Shop'and then August 31st happened. Amazing scenes along the Brompton Front with a sea flowers never ending. The amount of people in the dead of night was just as many as during the busiest part of the day. And then after finishing the night shift, we walked over to Kensington Palace to view the flowers and sign the books. To this day I have no idea what Hubby wrote in the book.


In 1998, I left Harrods to have No 1 Son. Harrods was the place where No 1 son had his first haircut which was a painless experience and where we bought his first pair of shoes.

 Obviously since I left, life for Hubby at work has been rather quiet. Well, apart from winning a couple of golfing trophies. But it has been an important part of our lives. Without it, we would not have met or met some wonderful lifelong friends.

I can’t believe Hubby is leaving but am pleased he is I guess. The long days and travelling are getting harder. Although I shall miss the bonus Christmas pudding and other gifts.  But I won’t miss those white shirts or the 4am alarm . . . unless we're off on holiday!


Happy last day at Harrods Hubby!!!



xxx

#poemwalk2012

I couldn't resist having a go at this. I'm not a poet. So this could be a carcrash. But I fancied the challenge. I have gone on an imaginary walk for this; noway would I go walking in the woods at night . . . don't you know there's Night Stalkers out there. . . . .

Hope you like despite not actaully going on a poem walk other than in my head.

Oh yes, nearly forgot. Thank you to bullishink for hosting another crazy writing opportunity!

Here goes. . . .

The Night Stalkers

Slipping silently behind a cloud, the Child’s Moon felt safe as darkness reigned.

Jagged shadows moved, creeping forward, reaching and stretching like a witch’s grasping hand.

Ever consuming but always hungry.

Never satisfied but always full.

The cloud drifted forcing the moon to cast her innocence on the stalkers of the night. Ribbons of light shimmered in the once murky mist as the Shadow Stalkers scurried. 

Life returned. Padded paws prowled. A heartfelt howl to the moon echoed through naked trees. Thankful to roam. Sniffing at the air; the scent of prey filled her nostrils. Silently she ran through the biting wind but welcomed its presence. For when it was pitch black, even the wind stopped breathing.

An owl swooped. A warning as storm clouds rolled in, thunderous in their intent, bidding the darkness to return.  Shadows loomed, patiently waiting. The air grew still. Blackness hungrily swallowed the last shining tip of light.

The Child’s Moon could do no more, smothered, suffocating in the squall, longing it to pass before the rise of her glorious sister.  But the Shadow Stalkers feasted.  For it was their night.

186

3 Miles of Smiles, Chat and Tea

Surely it's worth sponsoering a quid just for wearing the wigs!

I’m not sure of the focus of this blog today as it has been a pretty awesome day for many reasons. (I'm also not too sure for a title for it either!)What started out as a fund raising event has turned into so much more and a blog seemed a fitting way to capture my thoughts of the day and those involved.

It started with a charity walk for Macmillan, a charity who cares for and supports those living with cancer. It was a walk of only 3 miles but it was the first time this event had taken place for this charity. But I’m sure not the last!

Kick off was 11am at a pub for registration and collection of our t shirts to wear on the walk. The sun was shining on this fabulous mid October morning and it was warm! Pretty good considering when I got up at 7 there was a frost covering the ground! The sea was a gorgeous blue and there was not a cloud in the sky; perfect for a coastal walk from Brighton Marina.

Not bad for Mid October!!! Brighton Marina Oct 14th 2012

14 of us took part in our group plus 2 dogs and a friend’s little girl. We chatted, took pics, laughed, met other people, chatted some more, drank tea, laughed some more and had a thoroughly good time whilst raising money.

On finishing the walk, we received a medal and a certificate as well as wearing big smiles for our sense of achievement. That smile has not disappeared. People’s generosity has seen to that.

We did it!!!!!

When I got home, I had discovered that Number 1 Son had cleaned the house from top to bottom; loaded and turned on the dishwasher, shiny kitchen and hoovered- the 8 legged beastie that has been under a book for the last 4 days has now gone.  Yay! Hubby will be pleased when he gets home from work and I’m beaming because I don’t have to do it! Thank you! I’m now cooking No 1 Son his favourite dinner! What a lovely home coming. Not that 3 miles tired me out, but I thought No 1 Son did this for me. . . . Sadly not . . . . . He wanted it nice and sparkly for his dad when he got home.  

Then, with only 3 quid to go from hitting our target, a school girl donated from her pocket money. It just blew me away.

And then, a very dear friend whom I have never met made a donation. I came across this person through blogging, well writing really and from then on she has become one of my greatest supporters when it comes to my work. It amazes me how you can create such strong friendships without actually having ever met; such is the power of the written word! And to think when I first saw 5 sentence fiction, I ummed and arred about entering. But glad I did with ‘Wicked’ as I have met some truly wonderful writers and friends.

And to top it off, our target of money raised for the charity walk has long been busted and it keeps rising!

I think doing the walk as a group has really helped; we all know the same people for a start which can make raising money tricky if doing it individually. There’s only so much to go round and being skint is part and parcel of life right now for many of us; which just makes the giving more amazing!!

So thank you to my fellow walkers who made today such fun! Thank you to all the people who have sponsored us. Thank you to all those who have pledged to sponsor us on payday. Thank you to No 1 son for cleaning!! And thank you Macmillan Nurses for doing what you do. You’re amazing!

Love Me. xx

Me and the Mad American. xxx

 http://www.justgiving.com/Angela-Manvell   Visit our page. It's open for the next few weeks. xxx

Men are not from Mars . . . . . They’re from B&Q!

Well, another weekend has passed us by in the blink of an eye. It was a lovely weekend what with Hubby off again (I’m getting spoilt as it’s the second weekend in a row and he’s off next weekend too! Woo hoo).

Hubby decided that he wanted to visit the DIY stores to have a nose at the bathrooms as in the next few months the 1970s pink bathroom will be no more! Hurrah!!!!  And how prepared he was with his measurements and springy tape measure.  Cute! Very impressed! But even more impressive was the fact that we both liked the same designs/colours/styles.  It was lovely mooching around together, discussing and planning. I even played silly buggers when Hubby went off for some quotes and I was hiding from him in the kitchen department. Has to be done. And I fell in love with the black SMEG larder fridge! Absolutely gorgeous.

And then it went downhill. We entered the world of power tools! Hubby’s face lit up like a kid at Christmas at the sight of all the drills and chain saws.  I couldn’t see it. Within an instant I was bored! A moment ago we were admiring the pretty lighting, shiny taps and floating toilets and then the next . . . . Drills! I don’t get it. And when he saw this humongous drill that looked like only Arnold Schwarzenegger could lift, I swear he began to dribble!

Arnold Schwarzenegger

I couldn’t even lift the darn thing off its display peg! Hubby made it look so easy and this is my theory as to why men do not suffer with bingo wings! The weight of this drill is ridiculous! How are you meant to actually use it! But men manage it and it really does give the arms a work out. I nearly dropped it when Hubby handed it to me. No wonder their arms are so toned!

Then we moved to the chain saws . . . eek! Should I be scared that Hubby gets a wicked glint in his eye? I know I am! And I’m just slightly concerned that the price of these toys is silly money!

And then he looks at the drill bits. And in all seriousness he turns to me and says “That’s a good looking set of drill bits isn’t it?” WTF! (excuse my french). As opposed to what?  A Chloe handbag?  A bar of Galaxy?  The shoe dept in New Look?  Heat magazine?

“Yeah, they’re lovely.”  I replied with a smile. But he knew. Could sense my complete lack of interest and how on earth would I know the difference from one drill bit to another?  What a dumb arse question.  I just want a lovely, sparkling new bathroom. How it gets here and put together is not my concern . . . .  Just as long as the little house fairies sprinkle enough fairy dust to do it right.  

Love me x

 Sorry been away for a few weeks. No reason really. Just enjoying life but nice to be back. xxx

Masquerade Day 29

A tongue in ceek look at Masquerade as time is short and I just can't think of anything creative to write. Sorry but enjoy this anyway. Last day tomorrow so will make the effort to finish on a high. x

Masquerade

 My post is slightly late today because I have been sucked into Celebrity Big Brother.  It is the definition of masquerade. The people in the ‘house’ are not who they seem and they forget that we are watching and can vote. However it is a game they all want to win. But there can only be one winner so the shenanigans start; flirting, back stabbing, allegiances. It’s all there and to be honest it is rather entertaining.

The biggest masquerade is that it is called ‘Celebrity' Big Brother when there is not one ‘celebrity’ in there.  


99

Frogs Day 28 Frogginess

Ok, so after a few seriously heavy pieces, I've decided to do light and fluffy. And because I have no idea what to write about when it comes to frogs, I have generated a list of frogginess. Horrid things although cute in fairy tales and cartoons.   

Randoms on frogginess 

1)      My Hubby says I am as mad as a box of frogs!

2)      I have never tried frog’s legs. Apparently they taste like chicken.  But have eaten snails which also taste like chicken, just a bit chewier.

3)      I refused to take part in the biology lesson where we had to dissect a frog.

4)      Frogmella was an affectionate joke nickname given to me when working at Harrods.

5)      I love Paul McCartney’s song “We All Stand Together” (The frog Song) . The video is so cute, here 

      6)   Kermit is not my favourite Muppet. I like Beaker and Animal

 





100

History Day 27

Here's my entry for History; an alternative history which is also 92 words over but I couldn't omit anything as then it wouldn't have the impact.

Through a Child's Eyes

The crowd was growing by the second, filling every inch of the square. There was a buzz of excitement as we waited for our speaker, our leader who promised us the world and had delivered. A huge roar erupted, such was the force, my ear drums could bleed but I didn’t care as I sat on my dad’s shoulders. I was a part of history. I stared in wonder as the crowd hushed and hung on to his every word.

 ‘His speeches of empowerment, victory and pride give patriotism a new name’ said my dad. ‘He oozes charisma, motivating us all to be better people for our country.’  I wanted to be a better person, I wanted to please. Most of all I liked that my daddy was home again and smiling.  But I wasn’t sure of the man getting so excited that he shouted and stared madly into the crowd. However, I couldn’t help but get swept along with all the euphoria he created; our leader of the Fatherland and now the world, although I couldn’t stop thinking that Adolf Hitler was a pretty small man to rule the whole world.   

192

Seeing Day 26

Yikes!!! Only four more writes then #BlogFlash 2012 is over! Here's my entry for day 26; Seeing. x

With each skillful stroke of the pencil, the portrait was taking shape; the image was proof of Jodi’s memory. She was seeing it clearly now as every minute detail gave the image life, like looking at a photograph such was the depth of detail. It was amazing how realistic it was considering it was all created by memory, without him, the muse for want of a better word, in front of her.

She shuddered at the thought.

“Everything ok Jodi?” She nodded. “Won’t be long now until your description is out there and we catch him” offered DCI Blackwood confidently.

 99

Day twenty-six of the jump-on-board-for-blogflash2012-30-days-30-prompts-30-posts/ coutesey of Terri Giuliano Long. Pop along to her page The Art and Craft of Writing Creatively for wonderful tips and advice on writing and for reading the entries from wonderful writers.

Blue Day 25

I’ve already written about it as my favourite colour day 3 blogflash2012 so what else can blue be?

It can be Violet Beauregarde from Charlie and The Chocolate Factory after eating the gum.

  It can be used to describe cold; lips turning blue.

 It can also describe a feeling. Feeling blue, down in the dumps, miserable. I seldom feel blue but today I did.  I hated it.  So I took my sorry arse off to the gym for a good run to banish the blues for another colour. Blue maybe my favourite colour but it is definitely not my favourite feeling.

97  


Day twenty-five of the jump-on-board-for-blogflash2012-30-days-30-prompts-30-posts/ coutesey of Terri Giuliano Long. Pop along to her page The Art and Craft of Writing Creatively for wonderful tips and advice on writing and for reading the entries from wonderful writers.

Into The Woods Day 24

This is a continuation from day 13, Forest where Toby was faced with a tree of shoes. . . . .

Into the woods where you will find safety from the Ground Dwellers

Into The Woods

“The Ground Dwellers come.” Toby turned away from the shoe tree and looked up, seeing a rope bridge between two trees. Who could possibly use such a tiny bridge? As his eyes followed the bridge to the trunk he saw a small door and a tiny hand beckoning him to come. “Pick a pair of shoes. Quick”  

Homes of the Ground dwellers

“Why?”

“They will bring you up, save you from the Ground Dwellers. They approach. Quick!” Toby casually pulled at a pair of old boots.

He heard a continuous shrill.

Scrambling into the boots, Toby floated up, hoping what awaited him was far better than what was down there.

 105

Day twenty-four of the jump-on-board-for-blogflash2012-30-days-30-prompts-30-posts/ coutesey of Terri Giuliano Long. Pop along to her page The Art and Craft of Writing Creatively for wonderful tips and advice on writing and for reading the entries from wonderful writers.

Cooking day 23

What's cooking?

The recipe seemed easy to follow and her effort was looking pretty good. However, Miranda would not be tasting. This was something special, created just for him. It had taken time sourcing the ingredients with weird and wonderful names but it would be worth it. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.  Well, the steak hadn’t worked and that was supposed to be his favourite. Not wanting to waste any more time, Miranda knew the only way to get Ian was with the Love Potion and he wouldn’t know anything about it. . . .

97

Day twenty-three; jump-on-board-for-blogflash2012-30-days-30-prompts-30-posts/ coutesey of Terri Giuliano Long. Pop along to her page The Art and Craft of Writing Creatively for wonderful tips and advice on writing and for reading the entries from wondeful writers.

Holiday Day 22

I would love to scan my own pics in at some point just to show the beauty of the place as it was then. A gorgeous holiday I took with a friend. xx

Holiday

The best holiday I ever had; Thailand. 2 weeks, £500, sun, sea, sand and lots of wind! Yes the resort was so windy, the sand kept whipping at our skin. So we decide to ditch, get the guide book out and go and find the paradise we expected. 4 hours on a smelly, stuffy train; the only two westerners on it, followed by a boat trip and then we were at our paradise island. No light pollution, no wind. The generator switched off at midnight, plunging us into complete darkness save the stars that completely covered the sky like someone had been constantly pricking it with a pin. I’d never seen so many stars; shooting stars too. The toilet was a bucket; the accommodation very basic but I didn't care. No commercialism, no high rises and no shops, cars or amusements. The beach, a bar and the sun. Perfect!

 151- oops gone over again but it was just so awesome! A once in a life time expereince of which even 151 words is not enough. 

Day twenty-two; jump-on-board-for-blogflash2012-30-days-30-prompts-30-posts/ coutesey of Terri Giuliano Long. Pop along to her page The Art and Craft of Writing Creatively for wonderful tips and advice on writing and for reading the entries from wondeful writers.

   

Night 5 Sentence Fiction

Night Time

Night is here. Isobel is alone in the house, her house which she loves. Yet she feels insecure because her husband is not here, away working at night when he should be laying beside her, sleeping; the sound of his breathing a comfort and a gentle rhythm to entice sleep. 

But instead, she hears the house groaning and creaking under the blanket of darkness where she strains her ears just to make sure, strains her eyes against the dark for a hint of an unwanted shadow. .

Isobel is more awake now in the middle of the night, eyes wide, listening . . . . . imagining . . . . . worrying . . . . . until finally sleep drifts in, fighting successfully against her fears and winning; the sound of her heavy breathing a sign that at long last she is at peace with the night.

What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week Lillie will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction

Night Ride Day 21

It's a bit late (what's 50 minutes amongst friends!) but after missing two days, I didn't want to miss a third. Now to find the time to catch up on everyone elses last three days and try and keep up. xxx

Night Ride

We rode through Sussex, the country lanes narrowing, winding and empty save for the roar of the motorbike. We stopped, turned off the engine and listened. Silence. The only light a single beam from the bike until that was turned off. Plunged into darkness we stood alone on the desolate lane, the buzzing of insects our only company.  I felt vulnerable and nervous yet was experiencing a sense of freedom I’d never felt. The air was fresh and unspoilt. The throaty sound of the bike shattered the peace but provided safety and excitement as we continued on our night ride.

Day twenty-one; jump-on-board-for-blogflash2012-30-days-30-prompts-30-posts/ coutesey of Terri Giuliano Long. Pop along to her page The Art and Craft of Writing Creatively for wonderful tips and advice on writing and for reading the entries from wondeful writers. 

WIld At Heart Day 18

A Tiger's Tale

I don’t understand why I’m here. This is all so strange. The surface is hard when I should be feeling the softness and warmth of the forest floor.  I should be able to run free for miles and miles without having to turn a corner once. Hang on what IS a corner?  And what are those strange things staring at me? In the forest, they would be dinner, but I have to be nice otherwise I won’t get fed. My heart should be beating to the rhythm of the jungle but instead I am here; bored, restless and held prisoner.

100


Day eighteen; jump-on-board-for-blogflash2012-30-days-30-prompts-30-posts/ coutesey of Terri Giuliano Long. Pop along to her page The Art and Craft of Writing Creatively for wonderful tips and advice on writing and for reading the entries from wondeful writers.  

Graveyard Day 17



A place to reflect, remember and give respect.  But it is much more. A graveyard is a place to give thanks to those who gave their lives in far off lands so we can have the life we have today. It is a place to never forget the bravery of those who will never come home.

I will never forget hearing the Last Post at The Menin Gate, Ypres in Belgium. Every night at 8pm, there is a ceremony in honour of British Commonwealth soldiers with no known grave. Their sacrifice in WWI will never be forgotten.

97

For more information go to

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ypres.

 http://www.ww1battlefields.co.uk/flanders/ypres.html

Different World Day 16

It hadn’t rained in months which saw the rising seas ebb away. This was good as farmers reclaimed the land but it was death to the last seeds that were sown in vain. Crops were failing to grow on the parched unfertile spit of land that once was bursting with life. The last chance had been and gone. It was time to look at other resources to feed the people. The people had stripped all from what the land had to offer from energy to animal to mineral to vegetable. Now there was only one resource left for survival . . . . . . . to stem the hunger . . . . . . . and it was human. 

107

Idea from Hubby who is all doom and gloom ( but he say's based on scientific fact - gulp) on the destructive human race and the fate that awaits us. . . . . . . . . .Thanks. . . .  . . . . . . . . I think.

Day sixteen;  jump-on-board-for-blogflash2012-30-days-30-prompts-30-posts/ coutesey of Terri Giuliano Long. Pop along to her page The Art and Craft of Writing Creatively for wonderful tips and advice on writing and for reading the entries from wonderful writers.

Pic 'FreakNews'

Books Day 15

Excitedly yet delicately, Amber turned the fragile page of the old, musty leather bound book. She knew it was forbidden until she was of age. The magic inside was of the most powerful and dark kind but that wasn’t enough to stop her.

Only one tincey wincey spell; what harm could one spell do? Her sister, April, had already used it successfully and Amber was far more talented than her older sister when it came to casting spells.

And there it was. Amber took a deep breath and began the incantation.

“Stop!” But as Amber looked up, a surge of energy grabbed her and she was pulled into the book before April’s eyes. The book snapped shut and April was alone. . . .

124

Oops, gone over the word count, but needs must and all.

Day fifteen and half way through the  jump-on-board-for-blogflash2012-30-days-30-prompts-30-posts/ coutesey of Terri Giuliano Long. Pop along to her page The Art and Craft of Writing Creatively for wonderful tips and advice on writing and for reading the entries from wonderful writers.

My Favourite Books as a Child Day 14

As a child

·         I wanted to go On The Ning Nang Nong  to see the cows go Bong.

·         I wanted to peek under the Quangle Wangle's Hat  (202ft) to see his face.

·         I loved hearing about The Owl and the Pussy Cat sailing off in their pea green boat and I wanted to meet the Piggy Wig with a ring at the end of his nose.

·         I loved From A Railway Carriage  by Robert Louis Stevenson. I loved how my mum read it to me to the rhythm of a train.

 I loved  sharing with my son when he was little.

103

Just over the word count today. Hope you enjoy the links to some wonderful books/poems.

Forest Day 13

 Into the Forest

There were stories.  This was why the forest was avoided. There was no bird song, no rustling of leaves, the buzzing of insects were absent. The forest was still. Even the wind ceased to exist.

Toby knew this when he accepted the dare. Deeper into the forest he walked; the only sound his breathing and the crunching of dry leaves underfoot. Despite being void of life, Toby found the forest beautiful. His mind was free, his thoughts clear. He felt peaceful. . . . . . until he looked up. He stopped in wonder and stared. Shoes . . . . .  children’s shoes were hanging from the branches. . . .

 99

 Day thirteen of the jump-on-board-for-blogflash2012-30-days-30-prompts-30-posts/ coutesey of Terri Giuliano Long. Pop along to her page The Art and Craft of Writing Creatively for wonderful tips and advice on writing and for reading the entries from wonderful writers.