Monthly Archives: March 2015

Monday’s Finish the Story- Hungry Work

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Here’s my contribution to this week’s Monday’s Finish the Story prompt from Barbara Beacham. Bit over the word limit today, as pizza proved to be quite a difficult prompt to write about. Would love to hear your thoughts 🙂

March 15, 44 BC, Rome, Italy

“Pizza anyone?”

“I can’t believe you feel like eating after what we’ve just done.” Decimus stared at the carnage around them. “I feel sick.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Marc shrugged. “Stabbing is hungry work, and I missed breakfast.. Sure you don’t want anything? Garlic Bread?”

“No, I’m fine thanks.” Decimus looked queasy as he flopped down onto the marble steps. “I’m just going to stick my head in a bucket and throw up.”

“Suit yourself. Anyone else? Albinus? Longinus?”

“I am a bit peckish actually” Longinus looked up from cleaning his hands. “I’ll have a margarita extra cheese.”

“Do they do gluten free?” Albinus was sipping wine to calm his nerves.

“Albinus, pizza is made with dough. Of course they don’t do gluten free.”

“Well get me a salad then. No tomato. I don’t like tomato”

“Fine..Hello? can I order some delivery please. Address is 1 Consul Way. It’s Brutus. B-R-U-T-U-S. I’ll have a large BBQ Meatlovers, Large Supreme, Margarita extra cheese. And a salad, no tomato. Thanks.”

Weekly Photo Challenge – Ephemeral

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This week’s Daily Post photo challenge is to capture an ephemeral moment, which I think is quite apt given that photography by its nature is an art form which instantly captures a snippet of time. Here are examples which convey an ephemeral moment to me..

eph3  A new person enters the world.

eph 2 Falling snow.

eph 1 Fireworks.

epm 4  A baby condor stretches its wings.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: The Invisible Friend

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Here’s my contribution to this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thankyou Priceless Joy for another fun prompt this week!

Oliver Wilde stumbled up the hill, too depleted of energy to take anything beyond the smallest steps necessary to keep himself from toppling over. He stopped and steadied himself on a light pole, waiting for the wave of nausea to subside.

He was in the process of passing out from the smell of his own breath when a loud bang jolted him back to life.

“Hey buddy, over here – in the dumpster.”

Oliver stared at the big blue box sitting in front of him, unsure of his next move.

The dumpster’s lid was slightly open, so he leaned forward to peer inside. “Hello?”

“Can you give me a hand in here?” a voice echoed from inside.

He pushed open the lid of the dumpster to find there was nothing in it except for an empty beer bottle.

I must be drunk, he thought, scratching his head. “I need help”.

Word limit: 151

The Daily Post Photo Challenge – Walls

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Weekly Photo Challenge – Walls. Although late to the party, I wanted to share with you some walls I’ve come across on my travels.

Machu Picchu in Peru is an amazing place. Its purpose remains a mystery, although one theory is that it was  a place of learning.

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The remains of a building along the Inca Trail. After trudging up and down the mountainside for days in the pouring rain, these ruins  towards the end of the journey made it worth the while.

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A wall of ice in Patagonia.

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In stark contrast to the beautiful example above, this is a part of the Berlin Wall which stands as a reminder of the city’s history. Parts of the Wall are scattered throughout Berlin  – this portion was located next to an apartment block, in a residential area.

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Monday’s Finish the Story – White Water Rush

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Here’s my contribution to this week’s Monday’s Finish the Story. And yes, the names are inspired by the Penguins of Madagascar.. 🙂

Finish the story begins with “When the team heard the dam explode, they knew they had limited time to make it to safety.”

“Go go go!”

Skipper turned quickly to look behind him as they raced to get clear of the deluge. Too late. “Brace!”

Throwing down their useless oars they hunkered down, head between knees, as the wall of water hit them. The raft spun out of control.

They slammed into a partially submerged rock, throwing Kowolski into the water. His wet fingers scrambled to grip onto the raft, but the current pulled him under in seconds.

The sound of the waterfall became a deafening roar as they raced toward the edge of the river. The raft flew over the edge, dipping into the foaming rush of water as its helpless occupants were flung out to their fate.

Time slowed down for the three bodies as they fell, arms flailing, lungs burning, to the bottom of the rainbow, and into the arms of the awaiting rescue crew.

100 Word Flash Fiction- Jenkins Strikes Back

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I’m using Chuck Wendig’s 100 word flash fiction challenge to see how Jenkins the butler got on in the Orion Nebula:

A man walks slowly on blistered feet through a ruined world, charred and smoking from its recent demise. His body is covered in soot, blood and sweat. Beneath the grime he is riddled with scars – trophies from his time in the fighting pits. A familiar sound gets louder as he approaches the singularity.

Jenkins? Are you dead? Hurry up, its almost tea time and I’m starving!

He lifts a wortbort off his shoulder, and places it gently on a pile of rubble. Sorry Wobbzy, you can’t come with me this time. With a sigh, he steps back into the wormhole.

White Manor

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Here’s my contribution to this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.

Jessica felt the knot in her stomach tighten as the house came into view between the thick hedges veiling it from the outside world. White Manor. It had been in her family for longer than anyone could remember, growing fat on the memories made within its walls.

She had stayed away for almost 20 years, the last visit being for her Uncle Austin’s funeral. This time she had no choice, as her great- aunt had surprised everyone by naming Jessica as her sole heir. Her relatives thought that she had ingratiated herself to the old woman and taken advantage of her. But Jessica knew that it was the house which had chosen her.

The car crunched to a halt in front of the main doors. Jessica sat while the driver walked around to open her door – prolonging the inevitable for as long as she could. The scent of roses hit her as she stepped out of the cab. She was home.

words: 161

Bad Neighbours

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Here’s my attempt at this weeks Monday’s Finish the Story

Finish the story begins with: “A body suddenly crashed through a plate glass window at the Brigadier’s house.”

“Argghh not again! They said they’d fixed that stupid thing.” The Brigadier wiped egg yolk from his beard as he went to inspect the latest inconvenience.

“Jenkins! Get those inconsiderate Reticulans on the holophone right now. I’ve had enough of this nonsense.”

It was a wortbort this time, mostly eaten of course. They only seemed to throw away the messy parts. This one was missing the half of its body, and was busy leaking all over the Brigadier’s clean white tiles. “And bring a mop”.

Due to an unfortunate set of events involving a quantum physicist and an architect, the Brigadier’s home was built above a wormhole which led to the garbage chute of a family living in the Orion Nebula. He’d shoved a few broomsticks up there, but they just seemed to enjoy eating those too. There was only one thing left to do. Send Jenkins up.

The Heirloom

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Here’s my last minute contribution to Monday’s Finish the Story. Thanks Barbara for the prompt!

Finish the story begins with: “On March 9th, 2015, three objects were reportedly seen in the skies over the Borracho Todos los Tiempos Vineyards.”

March 9 2125 – PJ stared down at his grandmother’s prized possession, carefully cradled in his hand inside its tattered plastic sheath. The faded old photograph showed the arrival of the creatures, over a hundred years ago. He had seen it before, when she brought it out on special occasions to show the family, and as always, it wasn’t the ships which drew his fascination. It was the earth, with its the blue sky, green trees, the red earth – it was so alive back then. He imagined what the breeze would sound like rustling through those trees, what it would be like to taste the fruit which grew on those vines.

The image was his now that his grandmother was dead – to share with his grandchildren one day, to show them how beautiful their home once was.

Word Limit: 135