A traveller’s tale …

for Friday Fictioneers

*I’ve moved the train below ground for the sake of my tale!




A moving stairway draws me down.

The tunnel taunts me.  To my left, right, behind and before, silent figures stand like statues.

A rush of wind, a rumble, a roar.  A silver snake screeches to a halt.  Doors like gaping mouths, hiss open.  A surging mass spews out in a bid for freedom.  I’m jostled forward. 

Crammed, like sardines in a can, we jerk into motion.  I grip a post.  We sway as one, this way, that.  Nobody speaks.

We are deep underground.  My body’s here, my mind’s elsewhere.  Is this what it’s like?  At the end?

‘… approaching Angel’ shrieks a voice.  ‘Mind the gap’




vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvThanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Jennifer Pendergast for the photo.


Prod Froggie (gently) to see what everyone has made of it!

v (1)

A heavenly tale …

for the Ragtag Daily Prompt which is hosted today by Christine.


better-sweet.regular (1)

action figures Edith VonnegutHonestly, look at this mess. Now listen up!  You cherubs will be the death of me, or someone else if they trip on those toys you’ve abandoned everywhere.

I mean, good folk have made it all the way along the road to eternity,  only to stumble on the stairway to heaven which is littered with your slinkies and action men.  Dying once is bad enough, but falling down the steps and dying again is just not fair.

You know what the Holy Honcho is like.  If he sees this there’ll be hell to pay!  So sort it, NOW!


Picture: Action Figures by Edith Vonnegut

Fifty-three words …

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is peristeronic and the limit, 53 words.




unnamedNext question, define peristeronic.

Very old? 

No, that’s prehistoric.

What you see through a periscope?

No that’s periscopic.


No that’s preterpluparenthetical.

Clue, please.

A pretty bird.

Sexy Sally from number seven?


Another clue?

Think columbidae.

Coo, that’s no help.

Ah,  nearly got it! 


Yes, coo…coo…

I know, cuckoo!







A short story …

for Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt.




worn-steps“It’s certainly a step up from your last place Seb,”  I said as I climbed my way to his front door.

“Indeed it is old fellow,”  he said, my pun having fallen on deaf ears.  “You can leave your shoes here in the vestibule”.  He pointed to a worn rubber mat in the porch.  “Let me give you a grande tournée of Manoir de Sebastian”. 

He flung open a door.  “The parlour”,  he announced,  “or living room to you”. 

We moved on.  “The salle a manger,”  he said leading me to a somewhat cramped dining room, “and here, the cookhouse or kitchen as you’d call it with a scullery sector”.  It just looked a few wonky cupboards an ageing cooker and a sink to me! 

We climbed the stairs – sorry, companionway to the landing – no, the gallery.  He threw open a bedroom door.  “My boudoir”,  he cried  “and to the right, its ensuite”.  All I saw was a single bed and a washbasin!

We went on to the ‘guest accommodation’ (teeny weeny spare room) and the ‘pissoir’ (I stifled a giggle as he showed me his bathroom). 

Minutes later we were back downstairs.  He opened the tradesmen’s entrance, back door to you and me, bid me farewell and closed it behind me. Thank goodness that was over.  Unfortunately in my eagerness to escape, I’d forgotten my shoes!

A flash of fiction …

for Friday Fictioneers




BGI told my friend Rosey that Jack’s new flat has a stained glass window.

‘Has he tried cleaning it with Windowlene?’ she asked.

No Rosey, it’s…’

‘It removed a stubborn red wine stain from my best glass, but it made my Pinot Grigio taste like pee …’

‘Rosey’, I interrupted,  ‘it’s like a picture made of pieces of coloured glass‘.

‘What is?’ she asked.

‘His stained glass win…’

‘He could try vinegar, that cleans glass too.  Perhaps I should have used that on my wine glass, but then my Pinot Grigio would’ve tasted like pickled gherkins!’

I gave up.


dolphin_01Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Jean L. Hays or the picture.

Prod the frog to see what others have come up with.jjjjjj



A short story …

For Sunday Photo Fiction




unnamedStay green, nearly there, stay green … blast, they’ve gone red! 

Had a good day today.  Closed a few deals and had a drink after work with Julie.  Nice girl.  Single too.  Behave, I’m not! 

Come on, change.  These lights always take ages.

What’s tomorrow? Friday?  No Saturday.  Then it’ll be Sunday then Monday and I’ll be back at work again. 

Hurry up lights, I’m bored.

I’ll go shopping tomorrow.  Need some new clothes, bigger ones.  Or I could go on a diet.  I burned 2000 calories yesterday – left the brownies in the oven too long!  Ha-ha!  No, shopping it is.

Shall I jump the lights?  There’s no one about.  Better not.

It’s my birthday next week.  Time goes so fast … except at these lights!  Big one next year.  Birthday, that is.  What shall I do?  Swap the car for a mobility scooter? Now I’m being silly.   Mind you …

 Let’s count down.  Five, four, three, two, one and …. still red.

What’s for supper?  Sausage and mash?  Chateaubriand with dauphinoise potatoes, sauteed portabellos and wilted spinach?  No, sausage and mash.

Oooh, they’re changing.  Ready steady … nooo,  I’ve stalled the engine!  Start damn you, start ….

And they’re red again.


street-nightThanks to Donna for hosting. 

Photo courtesy of Unsplash.