My half-dozen…

for Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Meter.





I was having a good day until I returned to my car only to find my so-called friend Rita the meter maid sticking a parking ticket on my windscreen, and despite my plea for leniency, she said she couldn’t make exceptions for acquaintances! 

Soon after I got tripped over by my mate Mike’s prancing puppy, Bill berated me for forgetting his birthday and when I tried calling my pal Pete, I dropped my phone in a puddle whilst prodding the wrong number.

The ‘dead certainty’ horse I bet a fiver on still hasn’t reached the finishing post (thanks a bunch for the tip Tom) and Jock knocked my beer off the table shattering glass all over the pub floor. 

Believe it or not, when I jokingly told my friend Rosey she looked like a witch in her new black dress she bopped me on my conk!

Only one thing for it, I’ll run a comforting bath, light some candles, loll in the warm foaming water and sip malt whisky from a crystal glass whilst listening to some soothing Beethoven and watching my real friend drifting between the bubbles.

At least I know my little rubber duck will always be there to soothe my weary soul.




Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge with apologies for one of my friends dropping the logo!

It’s Wednesday…

…so it’s time for Friday Fictioneers!





A luxury residency the agent called it as he strutted around clipboard in hand, me in tow.

“Look at that, look at this, look up here, look out there!”

I obediently looked at that, this, here, and out there. It was an, erm, interesting view!

“A pontist’s dream” he gushed pointing at the bridges spanning the river.

“A what-ist?” I asked. He ignored me and continued.

”This room’s lovely, that one’s spacious, this one’s…”. I could hardly keep up! 

“Isn’t it wonderful?” he bellowed.

“It’s not for me”, I muttered, looking for the door. 

Was it that door or this door…


00Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Roger Bultot for another window picture – he offered us a different one on February 1st 2017, and the story I wrote then is right HERE!


Prod a Froggie to join in the fun! 0

A lot of letters…

…for Sadje’s What Do You See? prompt.






Alphabet Land is an odd place. For a start, most countries have one capital, but Alphabet Land has 26. It is governed by the Vowels that skilfully hold together its diverse community of Consonants. 

Most lead separate lives, but some of them live together quite naturally. C’s and K’s get on well as do Q’s and U’s. There are several P’s with S’s who are silent partners. Twins abound, double D’s and double T’s being among the most common.

Recently there was a problem with a crowd of brutish X’s and Z’s whose actions were becoming intolerable.

An emergency meeting of the Vowels was held where it was decided that they needed to be separated.

The first to offer their services were the Hyphens, after all, they were used to keeping groups of letters apart. The Full Stops thought they could possibly call a halt, and the Colons and their junior partners the Semis felt that they might at least be able to slow things down a bit.

Unfortunately, their efforts to halt the X’s and Z’s wicked ways were unsuccessful and so the  Brackets were sent to catch them. They were taken to court and warned they’d be sentenced if they refused to abide by the Law of the Letters.

They promised not to congregate in a crowd again.

The Numbers had been brought in from an adjoining state to help decide if their pledge added up to anything and some had certain doubts, but as the Plusses outnumbered the Minuses it was decided to set them free. 

Outside the court, the Y’s questioned the decision, and unsurprisingly the P’s held a meeting of their own in the toilet.

Right now all is calm and quiet at Scrabble Square and Crossword Corner.



for Shweta’s Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Luck!




For the uninformed (as was I until just now) sorting words in lexicographical order means they are arranged firstly by the first letter of the word, then for the words whose first letter is the same, we arrange them within that group by the second letter and so on just like in a language’s dictionary. 



Seventy-two words


for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Revenge.





“Don’t you dare”, I said, “I know that look, you’ll regret it!”

She knows she won’t, she always gets away with it.

Yesterday she filled my Oreos with toothpaste. Last night she set my alarm for 4am.

My revenge attempts always fail like when I stretched cling film across the toilet, then used it before her forgetting I’d done it!

Look, a coin on the doorstep. O-oh, she’s superglued it.

“Just you wait!”.



Seventy-two words excluding the title


for Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Verge.




I’m on the verge of launching my world-changing invention, something we didn’t realise we needed but will soon wonder how we ever managed without.

It‘ll probably earn me a coveted Nitwit award, the New Invention Winners Trophy, after all, the inventor of the knock-knock joke won a No-bell prize!

Being creative has its disadvantages though, for too often when I’m with a group of friends in the pubby-wub my mind switches from companionable mode to contemplative, usually when it’s my turn to buy a round of drinky-poos which on second thoughts could be considered advantageous!

As I was saying, my invention will change life as we know it and take the world by storm, not literally, of course, I’ll leave that to climate change.

The invention of the pick-axe was groundbreaking as was dynamite, the guy that thought of the wheel was wheely great, and how the inventor of the clock knew what the time was  I can’t imagine, but just wait and see what I’ve got planned!

In the meantime, if you’ve got any suggestions as to what my invention could be, let me know ‘cos right now I don’t have a clue!



Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting.

One hundred words…

for Friday Fictioneers




A lone figure trudged up the grassy slope dragging a near-empty wooden cart carrying his meagre worldly possessions. He stopped just inches from the cliff’s edge.

As he watched frothing waves crashing over jagged rocks he tried gathering whatever thoughts remained.

Squawking gulls swooped and dived. If he’d possessed the gift of flight then maybe he could have looked down on his life and seen where it went so terribly wrong.


Today, atop the cliff sits a rotting wooden cartwheel. Somebody must have brought it up from the rocks below, someone who once knew him, once upon a happier time.


image-3 (1)Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and Sandra  Crook for once again letting us use her picture.


Click Froggie to see what others have written.



A short story…

for Sadje’s What Do You See? prompt


I spent a couple of hours this morning writing a pun-filled piece for today’s challenge. Then, I remembered a short story I wrote back in March 2017 and thought I’d give it another outing instead.



At the manor, a log fire crackled before a food-laden breakfast table. Maids fetched and carried, servants moved discreetly. 

Outside, a coachman readied a gleaming carriage for his master’s trip to his factory.

His workers tugged their forelocks as he walked twixt clanking machines, a handkerchief pressed to his face.

Times were good.


At the decrepit tied cottage, a chill wind whistled through broken windows. Five scruffy urchins played on a filthy floor. 

Their mother, large with child, struggled to feed them. Hopefully, her husband would earn a shilling today to buy food tomorrow.

Recently a child died and was buried in a pauper’s grave. They couldn’t pay a doctor.

Soon their eldest would be six and sweeping chimneys at the manor.

Times were hard.


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