TEA, NO SUGAR - a story in 100 words.


Steve was building a fence to stop old Mrs Williams sticking her nose in their business, and after a while Lisa brought him a mug of tea.
He gulped a mouthful, spluttered, “Stupid bitch - no sugar!” and swung his fist, forgetting the hammer until it was too late.

Steve acted on instinct. He drove into the forest and buried Lisa’s body deep, then went home and finished the fence.
He told Mrs Williams Lisa had run away but she suspected otherwise. So did the police.

Two months later the spores he’d carried home on his boots put him in jail.


 This story was prompted by the image, which was posted for Friday Fictioneers by  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  You can read dozens more stories by following the Blue Frog link on her blog.
My daughter-in-law would be able to tell whether these are edible or not - reading some of the other stories this week, nobody else seems certain!


DEAF JED - a story in 100 words


For twelve years Deaf Jed cleared his ten-mile stretch of track. He cut back invading undergrowth in spring and summer, carted away sacks of leaves in autumn, swept snow in winter.

Tired of the daily trek from town, he built himself a shack with timber that fell from the wagons, and lived there happily with his dog.

Scruff could hear the trains that Jed couldn’t and kept him safe - until that day in forty-three when he smelled a bitch in heat.

Trains no longer run on that track, but people say Scruff still patrols his stretch, whining for Jed.


Thanks, as always, to
for the photograph that prompted this week's story. 
Follow the blue frog trail on her blog to read other writers' takes on the prompt.




When Great-aunt Vera had her stroke we raced to see her. 
Propped up in bed, impossibly small, she gripped my hand. “I’ll be dead by Sunday.”
I choked on a sob but she shushed me.
“I’ve left you everything on one condition – you must smash that vase.” She patted my cheek. “It was always there when I visited but I know you loathe it.”
We laughed and promised.

After her funeral we positioned the camera against the night sky, drank champagne from Vera’s vase and then dropped it.
Shards exploded with light and in death the vase was beautiful.

That was another piece of Flash Fiction for Friday Fictioneers prompted by a photograph on this blog - https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  Follow the Blue Frog trail on her blog to read more stories.


ON THE VERANDA - a 100 word story

Here I am again with another 100 word story prompted by a photograph on Rochelle's blog. 
See https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  and follow the Blue Frog icon to read other writers' takes on the same prompt - it always amazes me how different our stories can be!

In the first weeks of this year I have been blessed with two gorgeous granddaughters to add to my two handsome grandsons. Millie was born in England on January 8th and Natalie was born in Canada on February 7th. The subject of infant immunisation is therefore very close to my heart.


I can see Susie and Jake playing next door and I'd like to join them but they don’t play with me now.

Last summer we were together every day – splashing in our pool, making cookies with their mum, kicking a ball – until we got ill. The doctor said it was measles and we should have been vaccinated, but our mums hadn’t had us done.

The whole town rushed to get the jabs but it was too late for some of us. Two babies died and Mum says I’m lucky I only went deaf, but I don’t feel lucky – I'm just lonely.


THE PRINCE - a 100 word story


The neighbourhood was in uproar and Petey watched from the garden, thrilled by the blue flashing lights. Eventually his mum called him inside for tea. “Your friend Lucy’s missing.”
 Petey ate a chip. “Mum – how long is a hundred years?”
“A very long time, darling.”
“More than one ordinary sleep?”
“A lot more – why?”
“Because Lucy’s sleeping for a hundred years.”
His mum sat down with a thump. “Petey – do you know where she is?”
Petey waved his fork nonchalantly. “Course I do – I’ve got to chop through the hedge and kiss her.” He pulled a face. “I’ll go after tea.”

Thanks as always to https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ for the photo that prompted this story. I almost wrote one about my Pa, whom the scent of box hedges always brings to mind, so here is one of my favourite photos of him, taken many years ago.


CUTTING THE LAWN - a 100 word story

Back in Tenerife after a lovely two weeks in England with family, especially the new arrival Millie. She was a teeny 4lb 13ozs - that's just over 2kilos - but three weeks later she has already gained weight. She is the prettiest baby you ever saw and a delight to us all. Now all we need is for Millie's cousin to be born in Canada, which should happen this week, and we can relax for a while!

I have written absolutely nothing for three weeks, so the Friday Fictioneers' weekly challenge hosted by  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  is a great way to dip my toe back in the water.

“Get your idle bum off that sofa and cut the grass!”

Terry glared, but he plugged the lawn-mower into the old kitchen socket and soon the sound of the machine filled the afternoon.

Sandra was making tea when the power blew.
Terry stormed into the kitchen and flipped the trip-switch back on. “Where’s the toolbox? I ran over the cable.”
“Unplug the mower before you fix it.”
“I know what I’m doing, woman.”

Sandra stood motionless, holding the teapot and breathing slowly to calm herself.

When she heard the scream she waited several long seconds before she pulled out the plug.


SEARCHING - A 100 word story

This post is being done in a mad rush on Friday morning - I have to be at the airport in half an hour to catch a flight to England, where my daughter has just given birth to a beautiful baby girl after eleven years of trying. Here she is at an hour old.

Thanks to http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  for the photo that prompted the story, which I also wrote in a mad rush over my morning cuppa!


Frank  searched for years.
Every vacation he covered hundreds of miles - along freeways, up and down innumerable side roads, stopping in each town and city, enquiring at every gas station, always with the same question.
“Have you seen this girl?”

Marjorie took their remaining children and left, so Frank quit his job to join a trucking company.
He asked other drivers, questioned every cafe owner, showed her photograph everywhere.
“Do you know her?”

He was despairing until he saw the road-sign with the faded cards stuck on it.
Her name and a town.
“Dad. Forgive me. Here I am.”