‘Five miles. Average pace ten minutes and thirty seconds per mile. Total duration fifty-two minutes and thirty-five seconds. Last mile duration eleven minutes.’

Paul fumbled with his smartphone and found the ‘stop’ button on his running app.

‘Run complete. Congratulations,’ the calming American female voice told him.

He sat down on the low wall of the narrow bridge. It was peaceful in the middle of the forest. He could only hear the sound of the water rippling under the old stone bridge.

Hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees, Paul took in gasps of fresh air. Gradually his breathing returned to normal. He wiped the sweat away from his eyes. Six weeks into his new fitness regime it wasn’t getting any easier.

He was dying for a cool shower and an ice cold drink. The serene water looked tempting, if it was only a few degrees warmer. He imagined jumping straight in. Standing up he leaned over the edge, his hands resting on the top of the wall. Continue reading “A HELPING HAND”



‘Are you pedalling back there?’ puffed Archie as the tandem bicycle crawled up the incline.

‘Of course I am,’ Agnes lied, giving her pedals a few cursory turns for appearance’s sake.

They reached the crest of the hill. Archie pulled on the brakes. Agnes jolted forward at the sudden stop.

‘Why have you stopped?’ she asked.

‘Just need a minute to get my breath back.’ Archie pointed to the valley ahead of them. ‘Wonderful view.’

‘Not from where I’m sitting,’ said Agnes, who had spent the last hour watching Archie’s oversized behind wobbling in front of her.

‘I did ask if you wanted to go in front. Perhaps we should have got two separate bicycles.’

‘Don’t be silly. It’s been much more fun like this.’

‘Have you got the camera? Get a photo of the view.’

Agnes tutted and clambered off the bicycle. As she raised the camera, Archie pedalled past her, picking up speed on the downward slope.

‘Pub’s at the bottom of the hill,’ he called back. ‘Enjoy the walk.’

Copyright Dorothy

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. 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.

Click here for more adventures featuring Agnes and Archie: THE AGNES AND ARCHIE STORIES


Gary’s alarm woke him at 7am. Gloria rolled over. He really should get up and go for a run. It was the only morning this week he’d get the chance.

As soon as his foot poked out the bed, he felt the chill in the air. No, he could afford to leave it this morning.

He started to feel guilty. He should do some exercise. Even a short run would be better than nothing. Christmas was coming – he had to lose weight so he could eat what he wanted over the festive season.

He stumbled out of bed. He put on layers of clothing and looked outside. Frost lay over everything, thick like snow.

He crept downstairs and stepped out the door. There was a thud as Gary’s foot slipped on the frosted step and he landed on his back, followed by an audible bout of swearing.

Gloria came downstairs half an hour later to find Gary slumped on the sofa, still wrapped up in his running clothes.

‘Decided not to go after all?’ she asked.

‘I think I’ve damaged my coccyx,’ Gary answered with a pained expression.

‘Well, I did say maybe running wasn’t for you,’ Gloria said, and headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on.


Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). For more details visit HERE.

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


      **An exercise in dialogue writing – write a converstaion between a parent and their teenage child**

       ‘We need to talk to you about this school report, Joseph,’ said Joseph’s father, turning the volume down on the football game on the television and addressing his son who had walked into the room after an evening out with his friends.

            ‘Of course, Father,’ Joseph replied. ‘I expected as much.’

            ‘A D-minus in Maths isn’t good enough. Why are you failing Maths when you have straight A’s in every other subject?’

            ‘I have no idea, Father.’

           ‘Your teacher, Mr…’ Joseph’s father squinted at the scrawled signature at the bottom of the school report. ‘Mr. Unstable?’

            ‘Mr. Dunstable.’

            ‘Yes, Mr. Dunstable. Your teacher, Mr Dunstable, thought we should offer you some incentive to improve your Maths grade.’

            ‘I wouldn’t trust much that Mr. Dunstable says.’

            ‘Why not?’

            ‘He’s unstable.’ His father stared at him. ‘What sort of incentive?’ Joseph asked. Continue reading “DIALOGUE”