HAPPY NEW YEAR

Originally written and posted in August, it seemed a good idea to reblog it now that it’s more appropriate for the time of year. Happy New Year everyone and all the best for 2017.

Iain Kelly

She glanced at her watch again, then out the window at the black sky. From the street below they could hear the crowd counting down.

The man tried to shout through the tape over his mouth, jerking his body on the chair he was tied to.

3…2…1… Midnight struck. The first firework soared into the sky from the castle overlooking the city. As the first bang filled the air, she shot him. The noise from the gun was lost amidst the fireworks.

She sat at the window and watched the rest of the display. One less bomb-maker in the world. Not a bad way to start the new year.


vijaya © Vijaya Sundaram

Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above, thanks to Vijaya for the photo).

For…

View original post 6 more words

Advertisements

WHY DO WE FALL?

Sarah felt like an idiot as she was lifted onto the horse. Her face resting on the warm hair of the horses’ neck, she felt her feet being pushed into the stirrups. Cautiously, she lifted herself and sat upright in the saddle. The horse twitched and pulled underneath her.

‘All yours,’ her father beamed at her with pride.

Two years since the accident. She remembered the pain as her spine and legs were crushed underneath the fallen horse. The months in hospital after waking from her coma. The rehabilitation. Accepting that she would never walk again. The determination that she would ride again.

Her hands rubbed the smooth flank of the horse. She tapped it and felt him respond by stepping forward. A few steps clenching onto the reins, another tap and the horse began to trot. That would be fast enough for today.

The breeze blew in from the sea, the spray gently hit her face. The horse splashed through the tide water on the wet sand.

Sarah smiled. She felt alive again.


photo-20161226154623024

Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story, in around 150 words based on the weekly photo prompt. For more information visit HERE.

To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

COLLECTED SKETCHES

To mark the end of the year, and as a first attempt in the world of self-publishing, I’ve gathered together a collection of short stories and flash fiction from my blog and published it on Amazon Kindle and as a paperback. I hope you can find the time to have a look.

I’m grateful for all the people who visit my blog to read my efforts and encourage me to keep writing – thank you one and all – and I look forward to continuing this adventure with you all.

COLLECTED SKETCHES – Available from AMAZON.

cropped-header2.jpg

GRADUATION PARTY

Balloons hung on the streetlight outside the Patriots Diner. Neon shone in the grey dusk. Warm lights inside glowed.

Sam stood behind the counter. A police car sped past, followed by an ambulance. He had stayed open in case he could be of any use. There would be no celebration tonight.

‘The police are now confirming there are 16 dead, including 10 students and the gunman, named as Michael Bradford. We understand he was a student at the school in his final year.’

Sam clicked the radio off, locked the door to the diner and extinguished the bright neon lights.


diner-roger-bultot
© Roger Bultot

Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).

To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

A COUNTRY HUNT

Weak and broken, George stumbled on across the moor. The heavy mist that shrouded everything was a hindrance and a help – he couldn’t see where he was going, but neither could they find him.

He held onto his stomach where the blood flowed from the bullet wound. The hounds were getting closer again and he heard the distant horn call signalling that the hunt was on once more. He didn’t have enough energy for another chase.

Out of the mist the Lord’s country manor loomed. Servants who made it back would be spared – those were the rules of the game. No one had ever returned before.

George felt his legs go weak beneath him and stumbled over some roots. He felt the jagging prickles of a gorse bush slash at his skin as he fell to the ground. He heard the joyful whoops of the riders as they gathered round their prey.

*

At the front door of the manor, Samuel, the new House Boy, arrived to take up his new position.


photo-20161219154654337
© Joy Pixley

Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story, in around 150 words based on the weekly photo prompt. For more information visit HERE.

To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.