The man on the door had given us a look, a look that said ‘are you crazy?’. He was over six-foot, wider than the door he blocked with dark black skin taught over fearsome muscles.

Vero sweet-talked him round. ‘He’s with me, ain’t no bad thing going to happen, you’ll see.’ She batted her eyelids, stroked his muscular arm, seduced him the same way she had me. It was impossible not to fall for her.

Eventually he shrugged. ‘It’s your life.’ He opened the door and let us pass. I thought I heard him mutter ‘cracker’ as the door closed, but I wasn’t going to pick a fight with him.

Vero took my arm and we walked down a dim, tight corridor. The air was damp and the smell musty. At the far end there was an opening that glowed like some portal to another world.

The sound of Vero’s heels clicking on the stone floor echoed around us until they were drowned out by the growing noise as we approached. It was the sound of joy, of happiness. There was laughter, chatter, exclamations, shouts. Above it all was the reason we had come: the music. Continue reading “A BETTER WORLD”



The first freeze of the winter brought patches of treacherous ice.

Archie watched the school children sliding joyfully along.

Behind him, Agnes hummed Christmas songs as she hung baubles on the tree.

‘Tis the season to be jolly, tra-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.’

Archie imagined what he would do with the large icicle hanging from the tree in the garden.

Tickly tinsel was wrapped round his head.

‘That’s it, I’m going out.’ Archie threw on his jacket.

Agnes watched Archie storm up the path, slide on the ice and end up sprawled on the ground.

The school children pointed and laughed uncontrollably. As did Agnes.

Copyright Dale Rogerson

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 stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

Other short stories featuring Agnes and Archie can be read here: THE AGNES AND ARCHIE STORIES




My cat, Marcela, gave birth to kittens – Huey, Dewey, Louie, Donald and Daisy.

This event led directly to my car accident on the 4th of December.

I was running late due to several factors: My alarm didn’t go off as Marcela had knocked the clock off the bedside table; the boiler had packed in so I had to boil water to wash; Marcela had mistaken my clothes for her litter tray – the only clean shirt I could find was a horse-themed one.

I grabbed my coat and ran to the car. I slipped on the icy driveway, but carried on, limping to my car.

I managed to start the car after several attempts. As I did so, Daisy jumped from my coat pocket and clawed at my face. I panicked, hitting the accelerator instead of the brake. The car, sliding on ice, ran over my front lawn and collided with my house.

I have sent an identical claim to my house insurance company – Brick-A-Break Insurance.

Copyright Enisa

Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story in around 150 – 175 words, based on the weekly photo prompt. Thanks as always to the challenge host Priceless Joy. For more information visit HERE.

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


There was no magic in what he did. The snow made it easy to track the footprints. So long as it did not snow again before nightfall, he would find his prey.

The creek had not frozen over yet, the bubbling water still trickled through the land on it’s journey to join the mighty Yukon. The running water was the only sound apart from the crunch of his steps.

He followed the paw prints away from the creek, up into the bare trees of the surrounding forest. The sun had begun to drop behind the branches. Soon he would have to find shelter for the night.

A flurry of wings broke the serene atmosphere, a loud squawk and a dusting of snow fell on him, knocked from a branch above. He looked up and saw the Raven. Unlike his Hän ancestors, he could not take seriously the mystical stories handed down to him. The coal black spiritual trickster hopped on the branch, an inquisitive eye looking at the young warrior. In return he raised his small axe and shouted. The Raven took flight. Continue reading “SPIRIT”


On the wall hung the cracked television they couldn’t watch because there was no electricity.

The kitchen had an old cooker and refrigerator but without power they were merely  metal cupboards.

And now this.

‘What do you think? Our new bathroom suite.’

‘Where did you get them from?’

‘Found them. Minor defects but perfectly intact. No more hovering over a hole in the ground for us.’

‘We’ll still have to shovel the crap out and there’s no water.’

He looked at their dilapidated cottage with it’s crumbling walls and rickety doors.

‘One step at a time, darling, soon be back to normal.’

Copyright What’s His Name

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 stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.