Sixty five words

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Unknown and the limit, 65 words.


chewy.regular (1)

I’m a judge. Not of the ‘your honour’ variety. No, I’ve the privilege of judging the efforts of amateur bakers in the Village Bake-off.

It happened yeasterday! I’d never seen such amazing cakes, cookies and crusty cobs!

One excelled.

 “Who made this fine focac … facoc … fu … Italian loaf?” I yelled.

Nobody owned up, so I said, “Okay, the winner is …  Jane Dough!”  



65 words including the title.


A tale of woe

for Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Remnant.




One for sorrow, two for … sorrow.

She left behind an all but empty basket of insignificant remnants, nothing worth preserving. 

Her life was spent chasing shadows and swimming against an incoming tide; walking a jagged path that led her nowhere. 

Her ideas, her ambitions, all of her hopes cruelly dashed, yet always wise after the event.

Just a few attended her final farewell, ‘she who would valiant be, ‘gaist all disaster’ they murmered.

Three for remember, four for … forget.



six-sentence-stories-1 (1)Thanks to GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting.

A short story

for Friday Fictioneers


She darts between trees, jumps ditches and clambers up slopes; her tear-drenched face ashen with fear. 

She’s dizzy, trembling, tripping, but mercifully distancing herself from the shack in which she was imprisoned for as long as her messed-up mind can recall.

She outwitted him. Just once, but once was enough.

For a moment happier thoughts fill her mind but spill as she trips and tumbles into a muddy pool.

She tries to catch her breath. She can’t. She gasps, thumps her chest. Breathe, breathe.

Gradually her shaking slows, tears stop flowing. Serenity.

‘Free at last’ whispers the breeze as her soul drifts heavenward.



Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Alicia Jamtaas for the picture.

Click Froggie to discover what others have written.


Ninety two words

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Galaxy and the limit, 92 words.




Did I sleep?  Don’t know, I’m too excited.  I crawl from my tent. 

Thousands of people are laughing, wandering about.  Some sit, head in hands, vowing never to drink again!

It’s starting to rain.  We cheer!  The ground’s turning to mud.  What’s a festival without mud?

The crowd’s moving towards the arena where a galaxy of stars awaits.  Guitars are being tuned, drums bashed, mikes checked!  One-two-testing, one-two-one-two!

Almost there.  Ready?

Suddenly the sheer volume is mindblowing.  I’m swaying,  swinging,  spinning,  singing.  I look stupid!  I don’t care.  Nobody cares!

Festival … enjoy!







One hundred words …

for Friday Fictioneers.




dales-photoLook at that odd … thing.

Is it a ball, is it a balloon, no it’s …

That reminds me, I need some oranges.

Mandarins are more appeeling, oranges give me the pip!

Very funny, seriously though I’m going to make some marmalade.

My Ma made marvellous marmalade.

Very amusing Marmaduke. I might make some jam too.

James, what happened when a truck spilt a load of strawberries on the motorway?

Go on, tell me.

Caused a jam!

Your jokes get worse. Say, why don’t we pop to the bar for a beer?

Great idea, I’ll raise a toast to your marmalade!





Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Dale for the picture

Click Froggie to join in the fun!



A quick half-dozen!

for Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Quarter.


I like nothing more than a challenge and have completed many feats of do-or-die over the years, always with a degree of success that left my followers totally gobsmacked.

They said this was a deed too daring, but to the shock and horror of my friends  I took it on, undetered and with optimistic confidence.

I got off to a great start, it was a doddle and within minutes I’d completed a quarter of the task in hand.

Halfway through, I slowed a bit but anyone else would have been proud to have got that far. 

Between you and me, I did begin to struggle a little bit at the three-quarter mark, but I swept back my hair, mopped my sweating brow and exuberantly carried on.

Three, two, one mouthful to go then with a thunderous belch I triumphantly finished two bowls of phaal curry, two tubs of rice, six poppadoms and … wait for it … four whole naan breads!]


six-sentence-stories-1 (1)Thanks to GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting.


Some snaps …

for Wordless Wednesday and others.


Chartwell House in South East England was for over forty years the home of wartime Prime Minister, Winston Churchill. He bought the property in September 1922 and lived there until shortly before his death in January 1965. 

I went for a look last Thursday!

The house




The statue




The studio




The grounds



The end!