LEANING ON A LAMP-POST - 100 word story

As soon as I saw this photo prompt for the Friday Fictioneers I thought about the George Formby song: I'm Leaning on a Lamp-post, which made me start to think...

Do let me know if you enjoy the resulting story.

Photo Prompt: Sandra Crook

LEANING ON A LAMP-POST

Eddie leant on the lamp-post opposite the park bench so that he’d see her passing by. If she was unattractive he'd ditch his rose and skedaddle.

A beautiful woman sashayed towards the bench. She was carrying a matching rose. Eddie's heart leapt. Should he wave?

He looked down, controlled a giggle and swiped his sweaty palms on his thighs. Be cool and sophisticated. Let her do the work. He took a breath, composed the sexy smile he’d been practising and looked up. 
Her rose lay abandoned on the bench.

Incredulous, Eddie smoothed his comb-over as he watched her retreating back.

I hope you enjoyed my story and look forward to reading your comments.

If you wish to read more Friday Fictioneers stories you can find them listed HERE

If you wish to join in you'll find the all information posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields 

- her blog is listed on 'My Blog List' on the right hand side of this page

LAST LAUGH - A 100 word story

The Friday Fictioneers photo prompt this week made me think about the potential dangers of ice in all its forms.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

LAST LAUGH

The glacier oozed like discoloured toothpaste from mountains topped with snow like crumpled bedlinen.

With Andy droning on about “moraines”, we climbed up beside the glacier before stepping onto the jagged ice. 'Glacier formation is fascinating.'

'Yeah.' I yawned.

Andy found a minty-blue ice cave. 'Come and look at these stalactites.'

'They're icicles, not stalactites. And I'm not entering a cave that could collapse without warning.'

'You think icicles are dangerous?' Sarcasm splintered his laugh.

With an ear-shattering boom ice pinnacles lifted and toppled.

Andy squealed and leapt clear as the glacier swallowed the cave.

I returned his sarcastic laugh.

I hope you enjoyed my story and look forward to reading your comments.

If you wish to read more Friday Fictioneers stories you can find them listed HERE

If you wish to join in you'll find the all information posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields 
- her blog is listed on 'My Blog List' on the right hand side of this page

GRANNY SMITH - 100 word story

Here is my 100 word story courtesy of the Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. 


GRANNY SMITH

PHOTO PROMPT © What’s His Name

She said the apple was named after her. 

In return for humongous slabs of apple pie, we children kept her orchard tidy. The rest of the garden was out-of-bounds.

She warned us about the falling-down shed. 

'It's dangerous.' Her roly-poly smile vanished. 'Don't let me catch you in there.'

When rumours started about the falling-down shed I began to notice other oddities, like how Granny Smith licked children's grazed knees before applying antiseptic. 

I got curious.

While she was busy making pies I crept into the falling-down shed. Behind the bath were bundles of curious children's bones.

A footfall sounded.

I hope you enjoyed my story and look forward to reading your comments.

If you wish to read more Friday Fictioneers stories you can find them listed  HERE

If you wish to join in you'll find the all information posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields 
- her blog is listed on 'My Blog List' on the right hand side of this page

Cupboard Love - a 100 word story

Here's my story based on the photo prompt for Friday Fictioneers.

Cupboard Love

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The waiter had a Gigolo smile and cheekbones so sharp they could slice bread. Rita checked her creased cleavage.

He returned with coffee.
"Thaaank you.” She jiggled her bosom.

The waiter tensed. Oh, she knew that look!

“Madam is welcome.”

His accent was delectable.

“Your English is good, but I could teach you more. I’m very experienced.” She glanced down suggestively, thus missing the horrified look that swept across the waiter’s face as he fled.

Rita smiled. With patience she'd reel this little fishy in.

And she had some tape left in her closet from the last one.  

I hope you enjoyed reading this and look forward to reading your comments.


If you would like to read more stories from Friday Fictioneer contributors click HERE

p.s. a quick plea to Wordpress bloggers whose settings require people to log in to their Wordpress account in order to leave a comment - this prevents Blogger users like me from leaving comments on your stories.

Smoke Screen - A story in 100 words

Here's my story based on the photo prompt for Friday Fictioneers.

SMOKE SCREEN

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Sunlight reflected off dust motes as he picked his way along the ripped pavements, searching for clues.

Every night he stifled under the lazy scuff-scuff of a ceiling fan. In this country of gritty realism his own reality seemed nebulous.

Another day, another week. He trailed from embassy to police station. Empty promises. Empty platitudes. Yet, childlike, he grasped at their assurances.

Bewildered, he asked again and again: how can someone vanish so completely?

Ineffectual and trapped by grief, he remained in limbo, waiting for the city to lift its smoke screen and yield the secret of her disappearance.

I hope you enjoyed reading this and look forward to reading your comments.


If you would like to read more stories from Friday Fictioneer contributors click HERE


p.s. a quick plea to Wordpress bloggers whose settings require people to log in to their Wordpress account in order to leave a comment - this prevents Blogger users like me from leaving comments on your stories.

Jimmy's World - A story in 100 words

Here's my story based on the photo prompt for Friday Fictioneers.

JIMMY'S WORLD

Jimmy blinked, yawned and sat up. Concealed within thick shrubbery, he rose and folded his blanket of newspaper before peering out. His sleeping place must remain secret. Jimmy sported scars to testify the dangers of sleeping in plain view. Unkindness and bounty went hand in hand in this city.

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford 

Jimmy scuffed his way out of the undergrowth and took up his post opposite Bloomingdales. 

He had found the optimal distance. Close enough to attract the pity of punters and far enough not to attract the wrath of the management.

He adjusted his buttocks on the unyielding sidewalk and waited.







I hope you enjoyed reading this and look forward to reading your comments.

If you would like to read more stories from other contributors to Friday Fictioneers click HERE


p.s. a quick plea to Wordpress bloggers whose settings require people to log in to their Wordpress account in order to leave a comment - this prevents Blogger users like me from leaving comments on your stories.

Touché - A story in 100 words

After a summer break from blogging, I thought I'd get back into the swing of things by joining the Friday Fictioneers, whose stories I've been enjoying for some time.

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Ann Hall

Touché

  

Pamela disliked her mother's collections of china and pottery. Shelves groaning with Wade Whimsies were a particular bugbear.

'What do you see in these twee little animal figures?'

'Now, Pammy, look closely at their intricacies.'

Pamela remained unimpressed.

At least the Whimsies were small. The sheer vulgarity of the collection of jardinières appalled her.

'One day you'll love them,' said her mother.

'Never,' said Pamela.

On the day that Pamela picked up the jardinières, courtesy of her mother's will, she found a note inside each one which read: For my darling daughter to learn to love.

Pamela sighed. 'Touché, mother.'

To read more Friday Fictioneer stories click HERE

Taking a Break

My new business venture is currently taking up all my time and energy and I'm finding it impossible to find time to write posts for this blog.

I think the most sensible way to deal with this is to take a break from blogging for a while.

If you want to see my fledgling business venture - a link to my new website is here.

Happy blogging and see you in a few months.

TORRES DEL PAINE - Patagonia, Chile - A Short Story

After a slight hiatus due to spending time developing my new website (not writing related) I am returning to my series of short stories inspired by my photos from my recent South American journey.


The puma sat up on the hillside secure in the belief that he was adequately camouflaged by the surrounding vegetation.

The hare wasn’t fooled but she knew if she sat motionless, the cat wouldn’t spot her.

What the hare didn’t know was that the puma had been scouting the area for likely looking prey and had spotted a small herd of Andean Deer.

Unfortunately for the puma, the deer were ranging over an exposed slope. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to creep close enough to strike and catch one.

He turned his attention towards the guanaco and spotted a baby in the middle of the herd.

Hmm. He would need to isolate the youngster if he was to have any hope of making a kill.

There! The calf was fast asleep. He had found the perfect candidate.

As an added bonus, the parent clearly wasn’t paying attention. 

Now if he could sneak in close enough…

Alas, a Southern Lapwing sounded the alarm. 

Alerted to danger, the guanaco herd loped away.

Frustrated, the puma started scanning the area again.

If he was lucky, he might find a nice, juicy hare for a little snack instead.

I hope you enjoyed my fourth story in my South America series. I'd love you to leave a comment.

PUKON, CHILE - A Short Story

Continuing my theme of writing a story to go with photos from my recent South American trip. Here's the third one in the series. 

‘I’m fed up doing this, Maria. I don’t belong in this park selling these stupid things to the kids.’

‘Stop complaining, Diego, we’re making money.’

‘And the bird isn’t helping.’

‘What are you talking about? The parrot draws in the tourists.’

‘It’s always trying to bite us.’

‘Stop complaining, Diego,’ said Santiago. ‘Do you know how sore this harmonica makes my mouth after busking every day? And for what? Peanuts, that’s what.' 

Santiago wagged his finger at two other buskers who had just joined them in the park. 'Now take Alonso and Vicente. They’re the ones who make money busking along the roads where all the tourists sit outside to eat and drink.’

‘Not to mention the car drivers who pay them to get out of the way,’ said Diego with a laugh.

‘Oh, very funny! Do you have any idea how sore my legs get after dancing up and down the streets?’ said Alonso.

‘And do you have any idea how sore my back gets, carrying and banging that drum?’ said Vicente.

‘Stop complaining, the lot of you,’ said Maria. ‘Be happy that the tourists are here and you can make some money. That’s all that matters.’

 ‘No, Maria. We're earning a pittance. We need better ideas,’ said Diego. ‘So, ask yourself: why do the tourists come to Pukon?’

‘To see the volcano, of course.’

‘Nah,’ said Santiago. He played a little sea shanty on his harmonica. ‘They come for the lake.’

‘Exactly,’ said Diego. ‘We need to run boat tours on the lake.’

‘But the lake already has a big tourist boat,’ said Maria.

‘Yes, a stupid Duck Boat. I have a better idea: pirates!’

Maria rolled her eyes. ‘You’ve been watching that idiotic pirate movie again haven’t you?’

‘I’m going to use it as a theme for boat trips on the lake.’

‘But… the Duck Boat has already cornered the market.’

‘The Duck Boat is toast. I’m going to do up my uncle’s old boat and call it The Black Pearl.’ Diego turned to Santiago. ‘Are you in?’

For a reply Santiago played the opening bars from the movie.

Diego grinned. ‘Alonso? Vicente?’

Vicente joined in with Santiago on his drum and Alonso pretended to climb the rigging.

Maria shrugged. ‘Oh, why not? Let's do it,’ she said.

'Really?' said Diego. 

'Aye, aye, Captain,' she said, laughing.

Do let me know if you're enjoying this series of short stories and I'll see you again in a couple of weeks.

GAUCHOS IN PATAGONIA - A Short Story

It was an annual event. A chance to do a little business.

A chance to meet old friends.

A chance for the local ranches to showcase the quality of their meat.
Who doesn't like a barbecue?
Matias and Pedro couldn't carve the meat fast enough for the hungry attendees.

Matias paused. It wasn't even midday and he was tired already.

Pedro looked around, wandering when the rodeo was going to start.












He spotted his cousin strutting across the cordoned off arena. Did this mean they were preparing to begin?

Pedro grinned in relief. This is why he was here, never mind the family get togethers, it was the horsemanship he wanted to see.

More gauchos were keeping their horses' fidgets under control by riding them around the arena.

Would the rodeo ever begin?

Pedro got word that they were waiting for the stand-by ambulance to arrive. Nothing was allowed to start until the ambulance was on-site. 
Pedro grimaced, 'it's quite something that Health & Safety has spread it's insidious net to the arse end of Patagonia,' he thought.



I hope you enjoyed the second story in my South America series and I look forward to reading your comments.

LIFE IN RIO DE JANEIRO - A short story

I've been mulling over how to document my recent trip to South America. Instead of simply posting a few photos with captions, I'm going to use the photos as prompts for stories. 

They weren't getting any younger. Their money had run out again so her husband was out touting for any work he could get. She took the opportunity to relax and have a leisurely strip wash.

When her husband had cobbled together a shower, she had tried to show her appreciation, but she knew the contraption wouldn’t last. Sure enough, within a few weeks it had broken beyond repair. She didn’t mind. A basin of water had always done the job.

In just one month Carnival would be upon them. She smiled to herself. So many ways to make a bit of money during Carnival, even if they were rarely legal. Why should she care? All those rich tourists would be ripe for the picking.

Talking of tourists, she could hear another bus load winding up the narrow favela street on their way to see Christ the Redeemer, the mighty statue which had stood sentinel over the city since the 1930’s.

The tourists wouldn't see much of him in the mist and rain today, but the weather never seemed to stop them. 

She wrapped a raggedy towel tightly across her breasts and looked out of her window. The bus inched past her building.

‘Go on,’ she thought. ‘Have a good gawp at us.’ She smiled to herself again. ‘What you don’t realise is that we’re gawping at you and your ridiculous, empty lives. Lives so empty you pay good money to visit a statue you can barely see in the rain and take a look along the way at how we slum dwellers live. Do you feel sorry for me?

Hah! Well, let me tell you something – my life is richer than yours will ever be.’

The tourists always gave her a good laugh.

Thanks for reading my blog. Your comments are always very welcome. See you in a week or two.

Happy St Patrick's Day

Since the 17th Century the Irish have celebrated a religious feast day in commemoration of their patron saint on the 17th March every year. 

Parades are held in towns and cities all over Ireland and in many parts of the world.

I went to my local town's parade this afternoon which was well attended despite the rain.

Dancing to traditional music was fun to watch.













Live entertainment in the supermarket made a pleasant change.

Last year everyone enjoyed the parade in the sunshine.

Do let me know if you've enjoyed this little snapshot of our special day in the Emerald Isle. 

Have a great weekend.