for Shweta’s Six Word Story Prompt where this week’s given word is Date.

 

Hey gorgeous, fancy a date?

Ouch!

 

 

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Intrepid and the limit just 52 words.

 

 

Intrepid, me.  Oh yes.  Fearless, brave. 

My mission?  Rescuing those in peril.  Making the world safer.

I don’t fly or wear gaudy lycra.  There are no movies about me nor superhero dolls.  An unsung hero, that’s me. 

Yesterday I helped an old lady cross the road.  What death-defying challenges confront me next?

 

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for Friday Fictioneers

 

 

The security guy eyed Dave up and down then let him enter the jewellery store. Everything went exactly to plan. Minutes later he slipped out and disappeared into the crowd.  Just the handover left to do.

He waited by the fountain.  She arrived on time. They stood face-to-face.  His eyes flicked left then right.  From his pocket, he discretely produced a box. 

“Suzie darlin, will ya marry me?”

“Fought you’d never bloody ask!”  she yelled.

“Thank Gawd, cost me a month’s dosh!  Just enough left for a burger.  Comin’?”

The MacD’s girl eyed Dave up and down. 

“Oy,  e’s taken”  bellowed Suzie. 

 

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and  David Stewart for the photo

 

 

 

 

Click on the happy couple to see what others have made of the prompt!

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for Wordless Wednesday

Staying close to home again this week.

 

Firstly, Eastbourne pier …

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then off to Newhaven Harbour with its metalwork cormorant statue …

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and fishing boats …

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and the ferry that crosses the Channel to France.

 

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for Shweta’a Six Word Story Prompt where the given word is forever.

 

Forever? Be careful what you promise.

 

 

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for the Ragtag Daily Prompt where Christine has given us the word Journalist to play with!

 

 

Freddie walked into the room wearing granddad’s hat, holding a note pad and licking a pencil. 

“Don’t do that”, said Mummy.

“It’s what reporters do, I saw it on the telly.  I’m going to write stories in newspapers when I grow up”.

“A journalist”, said Daddy.

“No,”  said Freddie, “not lists of journeys, stories”.

Millie starting giggling.  Big sisters can be so annoying.

“One, go to school, boring.” she chuckled, “Two, go to the park, fun.  Three, go to McDonald’s ….”

“Can we go to McDonald’s Mummy?”  interrupted Freddie.

“If you write a story about it, we’ll go,”  said Daddy.

“Okay!”  said Freddie hoping up and down.

That was twenty years ago. Freddie now works for a transport company and compiles lists of journeys for the drivers!

 

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Eighty-eight words for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Downpour.

 

 

Saturday morning it was.  He poured a coffee and settled down with the newspaper.  Not much of interest.

In the sports section, he noticed the result of a football match.  He didn’t realise it had been played yet. The weather forecast was odd too.  Sunshine it promised, not the downpour battering his windowpane.

But it was a picture on the obituary page that startled him, a photograph of himself.  A mistake, surely.

Then he noticed the date at the top of the page.  It was next month’s paper.

 

 

~Magickal Graphics~

for Sue Vincent’s #writephotopromt

 

 

As the sun starts its upward journey painting the sky with its golden glow, most still slumber.  But not me.

On this misty moisty morning, the air I breathe is damp, the breeze that strokes my skin chilled yet invigorating.

The only sound I hear is the swishing of my feet as I stroll  ‘cross the dew-laden pasture. 

I stop to watch a crimson ladybird wandering down a slippery stem, as a bee settles on its pale blue bloom. 

The sudden flapping of wings echoes all ’round as a bird bursts from the lush green leaves of a nearby tree.  To my right an inquisitive fox hesitates, one paw raised and stares. 

I stand for a moment upon a rickety wooden bridge.  With a splash and a flash a silver fish frolics in the glassy water of a reed-edged stream.  Shimmering ripples float in ever-increasing circles upon its surface.  

The heady scent of a new dawn is as yet untainted by the flurry of human activity.  Most still slumber.  But not me.

 

What follows is a version of a nursery rhyme dating back to 1630 sung by the English folk rock band Steeleye Span.  Apart from its title, it bears little relation to my story but I thought I’d share anyway it as it’s one of my all-time favourite recordings!

One Misty Moisty Morning

for Wordless Wednesday

 

 

I crawl from my tiny tent.  There are thousands here. Laughter fills the air.  Some wander aimlessly about, others sit hunched, holding their heads, vowing never to get drunk again.  But they will, and not just drunk!

It’s raining.  Who cares?  What’s a festival without mud?  The crowd’s moving.  There’s the arena, come on! 

Nearly there.  Listen.  Guitars being tuned, drums bashed and mikes checked. One two testing, one two!  

Almost time.  Ready?  Here we go!

The sheer volume is driving everything from my mind.  I’m swaying, swinging, spinning, singing.  I look stupid!   I don’t care.  Nobody does!

Festival … enjoy!

 

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to CEAyr for the picture.

Pluck Froggie’s strings to see what’s going on!

 

for Wordless Wednesday

 

 

A few pictures I took at the wild end of our beach.

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Bexhill- on -Sea,  East Sussex,  UK

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