Category Archives: Short Story Writing

Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction Challenge: The Somonyng


The Somonyng

What can I do but follow? I’m an old dog now and they’re my home. Wherever they go, I go with them.

It’s been like this, since … Ceaselessly wandering, my humans. They have no choice, but that’s long forgotten, except for cellular memories, urging.

They call it many things, the restlessness. Career move. Downsizing. Looking for a better life. Continue reading

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The Mysterious Matter of the Hydden Optician


In between eco printing and writing flash fiction, I’ve also been scribbling away at a trine of short stories (with illustrations – mine), that I’m going to publish shortly as an ebook. I put the finishing touches to Leaves, Three Short Tales yesterday morning and gave myself a couple of hours off to catch up with dreadful, and dreaded domestic affairs. Continue reading

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Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Story Challenge: DS Squared Et Cetera


DS Squared Et Cetera

“Lovely approach to her tomb.”
“Approach?”
“Maze.”
“The pathways are dead ends.”
She looked. “Meaning?”
“Legend says the maze symbolised the unbridgeable divide between the living and the dead.”
“Why have you brought me here?” Continue reading

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Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction Story: Bloodtide Sunday


Every Friday writers worldwide gather round the virtual fireside of Rochelle Wisoff and share stories of 100 words, prompted by a common photograph, and exchange constructive criticism. You don’t have to write to read. Click on the blue frog at … Continue reading

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Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Short Story: The Tapestry


The boat had grounded in the half-shadows of a willow. The wild flapping of the flag on the mast had drawn his attention.
“I thought it a trapped bird. Strange flag.”
“A tapestry,” she said.
“A madwoman’s creation, Elaine.”
“Mad? Look, here is the moon’s reflection, shattered by the water. Here, the sun, sharded. Here, the stars, broken, all reflected in her mirror.” Continue reading

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Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction Story: Fish’n Chips


Fish’n Chips

His parents didn’t come to the wedding; their gift a garish orange dinner service – cheap fairground prize won long ago.
“Carnival glass is collectable these days,” Adi had said, generously, adding,“they’ll come round. Patience.” Continue reading

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Unbundling: My Second Batch of Eco Prints, Short Story Writing and Allotmenteering


I’ve been itching for the week to pass so I could open up my second batch of eco print bundles.

The first picture shows half of a long narrow band of the jacket lining fabric (probably cotton) that I used for some of my first eco prints. This time the colour is more pronounced. Again, I bound the bundles with sari silk and the colour has transferred. I also sandwiched in some rusty staple gun staples. I found a whole boxful in the shed that have lain around for a long time and are no longer fit for purpose. The frieze – as I’m calling it – looks like some sort of music notation. Continue reading

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Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction Story: Reminder


Every Friday authors worldwide gather round the virtual fireside of Rochelle Wisoff and share stories of 100 words, prompted by a common photograph, and exchange constructive criticism. Readers’ comments are also welcome. This week’s photo has been provided by Kent Bonham. Thanks, Kent. Your photo inspired the following very late entry from me this week.

Remains

“Found something?”
That was Tod. We were in a junk shop, hunting for stuff to ‘upcycle’.
“Plaque.” I showed him.
“‘Souvenir of Cornwall,’” he read out loud. It was printed beneath a postcard. To its right was a slot for a photo. Continue reading

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Friday Fictioneers Flash Fiction Challenge: Parked and Hitched


Parked and Hitched

“Driver parked the truck and vanished.”
“Abducted by aliens.”
We roared with laughter. The waitress glared.
“My ancestor ran off to California – gold rush era. Just disappeared.” Continue reading

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Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction Challenge: The Grand Tour


I went travelling. The Grand Tour, they called it. All the rich young men went and marvelled at ruins, as fashion dictated. Continue reading

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