keiths ramblings

    Young Tyler was gazing from the window. ‘What are you looking at?’ asked little Kate. ‘The man in the moon’ ‘Don’t be silly’ said Kate, ‘The moon’s made of cheese’ Mummy walked up behind them. ‘The moon’s a balloon’ she said. ‘No it’s not’ giggled the kids. ‘Tyler thinks there’s a man in… Continue reading Friday Fictioneers

  Our feet are bare but the mossy ground is as soft as lambswool. The mist looks ghostlike, doesn't it? It's floating, drifting, tickling the treetops. Look, a busy bubbly stream. Watch it go! Let's touch it, let the ripples kiss our fingers. That's nice. There's some wiggly fish, do you see? Over there. No,… Continue reading FFfAW

Personal issues prevented me from writing and posting tales over the past few weeks, but I'm back! Here goes..... Reflecting on the past. Thinking of what might have been, what could have been, what should have been. Time had blurred the pictures in her mind. Images once vivid were vague, memories once deep,  shallow. Then a glance… Continue reading Friday Fictioneers

    My wife is obsessed with cleaning. Hoover here, scrub there, wash the garden path, shampoo the cat. The other day she had her head in the washing machine. ‘What are you doing?’ I said. ‘Washing it,’ she said ‘your filthy clothes have been in here’ Last week she complained the flower beds looked… Continue reading Sunday Photo Fiction

  In the mansion beyond the red brick wall fires crackled, tables groaned with food and servants fetched and carried. Daily, footmen prepared the master’s carriage for his visit to the factory where he walked between clanging machines, his loyal workers stooping as he passed. Days were good back then. Five scruffy urchins played in… Continue reading Friday Fictioneers

  Little Millie has a special talent. She can wiggle her nose at a flower bud, and watch it open. If she frowns at an ugly slug it slithers off as fast as its slime can carry it. She can smile at a spider and sit down beside her, and get her to tickle her… Continue reading Sunday Photo Fiction

Friday Fictioneers . . Is the palette level? Near enough Good, We’ll put pipes along the bottom then another palette on top. Great idea. Let's put some twigs there, then this palette. No, that one. OK, now some guttering, then the palette I was originally going to use. Looking good. Next, this one, then some… Continue reading 100 Words

He rose at dawn, tidied the lounge and polished the silver. He ironed the newspaper, prepared breakfast, opened the curtains, greeted his Master, laid out his clothes, and ran his bath. Butterworth was a  loyal worker, but under-appreciated. Soon he would leave, unannounced. He rose at dawn, tidied the lounge and polished the silver. He… Continue reading Friday Fictioneers

  Beatrice returned home having enjoyed tea, finger sandwiches and dainty cakes with her lady friends. She swept through the front door and glided down the hall brushing a speck of dust from a shelf and straightening a vase as she passed. ‘I’m home George’ she sang as she entered the lounge. Her smile dissolved… Continue reading Sunday Photo Fiction

Sunday Photo Fiction   Billy’s ambition was to be a famous ventriloquist and perform on the stage of a West End theatre. He made it to the West End, but only to the pavement outside a theatre where he stood with one hand up a monkey puppet’s bottom, the other shielding his mouth. He called… Continue reading It’s Sunday again!