A flash of fiction …

…for Friday Fictioneers.



She always was a bit flighty but he didn’t expect her to leave him for a toy boy when she was in her eighties!

She left a load of stuff behind: frumpy frocks and woolly socks, her walking cane, her  Zimmer frame. Hair nets, reading specs, everywhere he looked he was reminded of her. 

Down the road was a shop which sold second-hand bits and pieces for charity. ‘All donations welcome’ said the sign in the window. 

There was only one thing for it.

“Excuse me dear” he called through the door. “Do you accept second-hand husbands?”


image-5Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to John Nixon for the photo. 

Click a Froggie to join in the fun!0


A story

for Sadje’s What Do You See? photo prompt. I’ve broken my self-imposed 200-word limit, but I hope you’ll bear with me and read the extra 74!




imageYesterday was Sunday. I like Sundays because we don’t have to go to school. I go to a kind of school though. It’s called Sunday School and it’s at the church. It’s more fun than real school.

The day before yesterday was Saturday. We don’t have to go to school on Saturday either. I had to go shopping with my mum. She was buying knickers and things. So embarrassing. We did go into McDonald’s though and that was nice.

The day before the day before yesterday was Friday. We played football. Freddie tripped me up and made my knee bleed but I didn’t cry because I’m brave.

The day before the day before the day before yesterday was Thursday. We do painting on Thursdays. We had to paint a picture of our teacher. He looked at mine and said ‘I haven’t got a red nose’, but he has really.

On Wednesdays we do maths, adding up and things like that. I only got nine out of ten because Mrs Wilson said twelve plus seven isn’t eighteen, but it is, isn’t it? 

What was the day before Wednesday? I remember, Tuesday. We have a club after school where we plant things in a garden next to the playground. I saw a wiggly worm once.

I think the day before Tuesday is Monday but I can’t remember what we do on Mondays. But it’s Monday today so I’ll soon find out.

The day before the day before the day before the day before the day before … lot’s of days before yesterday, it was Sunday again. 

I like Sundays because we don’t have to go to school.



Photo prompt image credit; Ben White Unsplash

A short story …

… for my first visit to The Sunday Muse 






0000xEbenezer Black strode slowly down the main street dressed in his frock coat and top hat, cane in hand. Behind him, two magnificent black horses, feather plumes fluttering in the chill breeze, hauled a flower-strewn hearse bearing a wreath-adorned coffin.

Ebenezer Black was the town’s sole undertaker as was his father and his father before him. In 1831 he retired and soon after went to the other place. Since then generation after generation carried on running the family firm.


It is said that Ebenezer Black still appears before folk during their final few hours, standing at the foot of their bed, seen by none but them. He looks on, motionless, dressed in his sombre frock coat, top hat held to his chest, and a measuring tape around his neck.


One morning Robert Black was sitting at his desk opening post and checking emails. The light grew dim, and slowly the image of his great grandfather Ebenezer Black appeared before him,  looking just the way the departing described him.

Later that day Robert Black lost his life in a tragic accident. He was never blessed with children, so nothing remains of the family firm.

Except that is for Ebenezer Black.





Fifty-four words

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




The view was hardly picturesque but when I squinted my eyes, tipped my head on one side, rocked backwards and forwards, imagined raindrops were splashing waves, visualised a setting sun, and hummed a tune, I saw myself sailing towards an island paradise.

Then lost my balance and fell face-down into a stinking stagnant pond.






A flash of fiction…

for Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Stroke.



We’d watch as she moved slowly from place to place seemingly unaware of the world around her, her pallid presence blending into the surroundings.

She disappeared for a while, to where I know not but when she returned she’d changed, and not by a little. 

The change was dramatic.

She’d shed her cloak of grey, and instead of skulking in the shadows, she basked in the warmth of the sun outshining everything around her.

Then with a stroke of her multicoloured wings, she rose into the sky and danced among the sunbeams. 

The change was complete.





Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting

A hundred words …

for Friday Fictioneers.

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As a rule, Willamena’s completely normal, but occasionally she has a moment. She falls silent, stares skyward, makes a ‘whooo’ sound then predicts something!

‘“Whoooo, Galloping Gal will win the 3.40 at Aintree”

“Whooo, Virginia’s having a baby”. 

“Whooo, your phone’s going to ring”. 

She’s always right, though I think she cheated on the last one and sneakily dialled my number on hers! 

The other morning she fell silent, stared skyward, went ‘whooo’, then … nothing! I didn’t question it.

That afternoon I received a get-well balloon … from Willamena! Ooh-err!

I’m pleased to report I’m feeling a lot better now.



get-well-bouquetThanks to Rochelle for hosting and for providing the picture.


Click a Froggie to join in the fun!


A tiny tail!

for Sadje’s What Do You See? prompt.



I was sunbathing on the beach with my girlfriend when Fisherman Fred moored his boat and came ashore carrying a bucket.

‘Look what I found’ he said.

I peered in the bucket and saw a baby waist-deep in water. Then I noticed the child had a tail!

‘It’s a merbabe’ I exclaimed, ‘where did you find her?’

‘She was flapping around in the shallow water looking lost’ he said. ‘I don’t know whether to take her to the children’s home or the aquarium’. 

I suggested he popped it in his bath for the time being.

It was then I heard a voice in my ear. 

‘Wake up sleepy-head’.

‘I must have nodded off’ I said to my girlfriend. ‘You won’t believe the ridiculous dream I just had. I dreamt Fisherman Fred found a merbabe!’

‘How exciting’ said my girlfriend, flapping her tail.



Image credit; Saffu @ Unsplash

Ninety words

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Vernacular and the limit, 90 words.




My mate Vernon likes to blend in with the locals wherever he goes, especially when he’s abroad. He always swats up on the vernacular before he heads off.

In France, “bière s’il vous plait”. 

In Germany, “bier bitte”.

In Italy, “birra per favore”. 

In Turkey, “bira lütfen”. 

In China, “啤酒,谢谢”  

He can order a beer wherever he is!

I met him in Cockney-land, the East end of London, the other day.

“Goin’ down the frog and toad to the rub-a-dub-dub for a pint of pigs ear, cummin?” he asked!




In case Vernon’s Cockney confused you, he was going down the road to the pub for a pint of beer!