Had she done the right thing?

She had no idea. Others would judge her.

She only knew she had done what she thought best.

The water was icy cold on her feet. It reached the bottom of her dress, weighing the light linen down. The light gold sand swirled around her ankles.

The red on her dress dissolved into the water.

She stared at her hands then cleansed them, dipping them into the sea.

Behind her the sound of sirens faintly broke the morning still.

The cold water rose above her waist causing her to inhale sharply at the shock.

She only knew her children were no longer within his reach.

As the sun began to rise on the horizon she held up her thumb and covered the orange circle. Just like that she hid the brightest star in the Earth’s sky.

Would that what she had done could be so easily erased.

Buffeted by the lapping waves, tasting the salt on her lips, the water embraced her fully.

Copyright Footy and Foodie

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.



The forensic investigators had gone. The security forces had abandoned the scene. Demolition signs and safety warnings adorned the perimeter fence that surrounded what was left of the museum.

I stumbled through broken piles of furniture, shattered glass and mangled steel. Rubble and dust covered everything.

They told me she may never be found. If she had been standing next to the bomber there may be no remains. They had tested all the samples they had lifted. Results were inconclusive.

My daughter was listed as missing presumed dead. I searched on through the wreckage.

My life lay in the ruins around me.

Copyright J. Hardy Carroll

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.

The scenes from Manchester are very much in my mind this week. My thoughts are with everyone involved, especially the parents and children. My apologies if this piece upsets anyone reading it.


The taxi pulled up at the end of dirt track. Gabi Henriksen got out and asked the driver to wait.

She walked over to the figure standing at the edge of the cliff. The wind blustered, blowing her blonde hair across her face. The waves crashed onto the rocks at the foot of the sheer drop.

‘I thought I might find you here,’ she said.

Detective Anders Sand turned and gave his young partner a sad smile. ‘You are getting to know me then.’

‘Do you want to know?’

‘Guilty?’ Sand said. He turned and looked back at the jagged rocks below.

Gabi nodded. ‘Sexual assault and rape. Sentencing in two weeks.’

‘He’ll get ten and be out in five.’

‘The judge said he would take into account the suicide.’

‘It should be a murder conviction. Hanne may have jumped off this cliff, but it was him that drove her to it.’

They stared at the jagged rocks and the swirling sea.

‘I have a taxi waiting,’ Gabi said.

‘You take it. I’ll make my own way back.’

Gabi left him standing staring out over the cliff into the clear blue abyss.


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

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

This month I am taking part in the A to Z Challenge 2017 – a post each day based on the letters of the alphabet and a theme. My story is a case featuring Detectives Anders Sand and Gabi Henriksen. You can visit my A TO Z CHALLENGE 2017 page here to read the story.

As this challenge will take up a lot of my blogging time I may not get round to commenting on everyone’s posts, but I hope to find time to read all your stories as usual, and still be able to participate in Sunday Photo Fiction each week.


The press and public were behind the fence that circled the property, far enough away to prevent them seeing inside the old house.

Horowitz looked out at the growing crowd. News had spread fast.

He had got the call as he was about to end his shift. A dead body, suicide. He recognised the address.

Now he looked at the faded entertainer slumped behind the desk, gunshot wound to the temple. Note on the desk ending ‘Please forgive me.’

The investigation would take time. The grounds would be dug up. The truth about the rumoured bodies would finally be known.

© J Hardy Carroll

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.


Having been named after the 32nd and 26th Presidents of the United States of America, Franklin Theodore McDairmid had not lived up to his father’s expectations. Only his father called him Franklin, his mother and grandparents always called him Frank, at school he was Frankie, at college Frankie T. or Frankie T. McD, around the neighbourhood he was known as simply F.T. McD. The reduction of his name as he progressed through life mirrored his father’s receding hopes for his only child.

Continue reading “AMERICAN BLUES”