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.”



And to mark the occasion I won a small competition on a writers' forum with this 200 word story, prompted by the word GLITTER. I make no apology for the fact that my background theme is again Christmas - in Tenerife the festival isn't over until after tomorrow - EL DIA DE LOS REYES - Kings' Day. 
So - Felices Reyes to everyone, and may 2015 bring peace and prosperity to us all.


At the cry of a newborn the villagers rejoiced – a new life was always worth celebrating but on Christmas Eve it was a double blessing. They clustered round as his father held him up.
“What will you call him?” a woman asked.
“Jesús, naturally,” Josef answered.
An hour later a dog barked and was instantly silenced, but it had been tied up deliberately far from the village and had done its job before it died.
Josef woke his children with his hand over their mouths. “Run and hide in the caves,” he ordered and they slid silently away, Maria close behind them carrying her baby.

The villagers cowered deep in the caves while rebels burned everything and then rampaged through the forest, slashing wildly with glittering machetes. Maria’s children clung to her skirts and Jesús whimpered.
The rebel leader stopped, listening.
The villagers watched in horror as Maria, with tears pouring down her face, held her hand over her baby’s mouth.

“They have gone,” the lookout reported eventually but the cave remained silent – Maria’s baby lay limp in her arms.

Then the air moved as if wafted by angel wings, the tiny chest heaved, and Jesús lived again.


STABLE - a Christmas story


“We have a son! I will teach him to be a good carpenter.”
“Are you sure? I know you promised but . . .”
“Hush, wife – I meant every word – now sleep.”
She lay back on the straw holding her son to her breast and slept until voices woke her.

“Find another shelter – my wife’s just had a baby.”
“We know; we were told to come – we’ll leave the flock outside.”
She moved her veil aside to show the child, and weathered faces worshipped while his baby hands bestowed blessings.
“You’ve seen him,” Joseph said, “Now leave us in peace.”
“We all wish for peace,” they said and departed, leaving a lamb behind – mother and baby snuggled into its warm fleece and were comforted.

Later, more visitors came, rivalling the star-shine with their gifts, and as Joseph hid the treasures from thieves his last doubts vanished - Mary’s story of an angel was true.

That night Mary woke weeping. “I had a dream,” she sobbed into Joseph’s arms and he said, only half in jest, “Not another one!”
“I dreamed he was sold for thirty pieces of silver.”
“Our son will be a simple carpenter, wife – who would sell him?”

There's no 100 word challenge this week, so I chose a story that I wrote a year ago in response to a different forum's challenge to write 200 words inspired by the word SILVER.
The photograph I have used is of the crib at Reina Sofia Airport in Tenerife, where I live.

Thank you for reading my blog, and for the lovely comments I have received over the year.



We had a lovely Christmas Day - drinks with friends at the local bar followed by dinner with my daughter and son-in-law.

We had a lot to talk about - we're hoping to move back to England next year and they plan to retire early and grow potatoes in Ireland!

We shared the cooking, ate our starters on the terrace and retired there after dinner for more drinks by candlelight. Next year we hope to be drinking our brandies by an open fire.

On Boxing Day we caught up with the rest of the family over thousands of miles thanks to the miracle of Skype, and then we ate a Mexican supper with Venezuelan and Italian friends - a truy international Christmas.

And now life can return to what passes for normal in our neck of the woods. First I must post this week's 100 worder for the Friday Fictioneers - see http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ for the link to other writers. Then I shall send off the short story I wrote for a competition over the holiday, and finally return to the rewrite that seems to be taking forever!

If you're still here, thanks for sticking with me, and I wish you a happy and successful 2015.

My story follows this lovely photo taken by a fellow Friday Fictioneer Bjorn Rudberg, and if you'd like Christmas stories, read my post for 30th December - "Stable".

The tsunami didn’t care that Felicity was a celebrity and Maria a servant – it swept them both off the terrace. Maria clung to a tree, holding Felicity with her strong old arms, until the next wave dragged them away.
As they stood in line for the golden stairs Felicity said, “You can’t come this way, Maria – use the servants’ entrance.”
In a little cove Maria discovered the worn steps of her childhood and ran lightly up them, straight into her mother’s arms, and at the gates she heard Felicity desperately demanding; “I’m a celebrity – let me in here!”


B4911 - a 100-word story

They marched past the citizens in proud ranks, their armour polished to a shine even the General couldn’t fault. The only sounds were thousands of feet hitting the ground and the rustle of the watching crowd. Glancing left, B4911 saw his brothers and sisters waving and stood taller.

The General called a halt at the upper level and spoke.  “Troops! On this momentous day you have nothing to fear. The ancient records say that we are the only species able to survive a nuclear blast.”

B4911 swallowed nervously and stepped outside. Whoever wrote the records hadn’t known about arachnid mutation.
I very nearly wimped out of this week's 100-word challenge when I saw the photo prompt, but then this story popped into my mind. I hope you like it - do please leave a comment, even if it's only "Ugh!"
Thanks (I think!) to http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ for the disgusting photo. Follow the blue frog link on her blog to see what other writers made of it.


CHOICES - a 100-word story

“Marry me, Hanna,” Yakob begged daily, “And we will make many beautiful babies.”
Yakob had dark, expressive eyes, but he was only a fisherman, whose hut crouched on the beach with its roof weighted by rocks. Aaron was ugly, but he would inherit his family’s bar.
“Build me a house first,” Hanna said, “And I’ll think about it.”
Then a storm spread Yakob’s hut all along the beach, and Hanna searched frantically through the debris until she found him.

Now their daughters take tourists on fishing trips and their sons run a beach bar where Yakob’s hut once stood. 
Thanks again to http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ for the photo that prompted this story.
Follow the blue frog link on her blog to read many other interpretations of the image.
Our Tenerife apartment is for sale - click on the page on the right to look at the photographs. We plan to return to England before our grandchildren are too much older!