Flash fiction - Himalayan Call

Today is that last day of NaNoWriMo and although I am meeting up later with other writers from Luxembourg, there will be a lightness in my step and typing as I passed the 50,000-word goal a couple of days ago. Hoorah!

So, this morning, I needed another reason to get creative, and what better than a Trifecta write? Don't know what Trifecta is? Get your arse over there right now: www.trifectawritingchallenge.com. Anyway, usually I am behind the scenes, but this weekend it's a community judged 33-word free write. Here's mine:

Himalayan Call

Flames swaddle the village, orange gashes the only colour against the black mountain night. Until later, the tiger steals through, searching, sniffing for charred meat. 

The warning bell tickling in the wind, irrelevant. 

33 words

Click on the bike to read some fabulous writers. Who will you vote for?

Silent Sunday 24-11-13

Flash Fiction - Hello World! Hello...??

Julia is feeling indecisive this week over at Julia's Place so the prompt we're given to write in 100 words or less is: DECISIONS, DECISIONS, DECISIONS.

It was easy to write a story for this week, considering what's happened (see below!)

Hello World! Hello...??

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t planned it. All that practice. All that work. All that preparation. All that excitement. The expectation building until, finally, it overflowed one long day that turned into night that turned into the next day and in the cold, yellow light of morning, at last, he was here.

Their son, gurgling and smiling and wrinkly and cute.

They covered him in love. They covered him in kisses. They covered him in tiny blue blankets. 

But, decisions, decisions, decisions…

They didn’t have a name. 

This week I became an aunt for the second time, but the first time on my side of the family. My little brother became a dad and his son was born. It was all very exciting but boy did they make us wait for his name! Three days later, we eventually got it and I cannot wait to meet Samuel Alfred! 

Please click on the icon to read more entries.

The flag on the floor

It's a picture prompt this week for the 100WCGU writing challenge at Julia's Place. As soon as I saw it, certain words came to my head. They are not my words and I have never written them down before.

They were written by a boy in my GCSE history class in 1995. We were studying the First World War and were given the task of writing a short poem. He read this out loud to the class and I have always remembered it. I can't remember if he gave it a title or not, so I have taken liberty with that.

In the wired and connected world we live in, I am not interested in using his words to connect with him again, so he will remain anonymous. I wonder if he even remembers what he wrote. If he does, and ever stumbles here, let him know those words touched me when I was fifteen and still do today, especially on this day of remembrance.

The Flag on the Floor

When the standing berry gets shot,
We pick it up and march on.
But we didn't today.

We left the flag on the floor.


Read more at Julia's Place HERE

Silent Sunday 10-11-13

Flash fiction - Every Other Sunday

After a lovely week away touring the Black Forest in Germany (highly recommended) I am back to writing. It's all about punching out words of my novel for NaNoWriMo. Four days in and so far so good. I wasn't sure how much time I would have for other creative flash fiction pieces, but the prompt at Julia's Place is so good this week I had to have a go. We were simply given the photo below. Please click the 100WCGU icon afterwards to read more entries.

Credit: Jane Hewitt
http://www.janehewitt.blogspot.co.uk/

Every Other Sunday

Father and son arrived at the next pond.
“What’s that man doing in the water, Daddy?”
“It’s not real, Jason. It’s art. Like the previous one. It makes you think.”
“Hmm.”
He let Jason stare at the boots, quietly, to get a sense of the message. His ex-wife probably never took Jason anywhere where bigger questions were asked. It was all Disney and ham sandwiches. 
“Can he breathe?”
“Jase, it’s not a person. The artist is showing –”
The water broke and up popped a man spluttering, keys aloft.
“Daddy didn’t think enough, did he?” Jason said and walked on. 

100 words

Silent Sunday 03-11-13