Saturday, October 01, 2016

Sunday's Whirligig

Posted Saturday October 1

His vegetables always won awards at the village produce show. From the smallest brussel sprout to the massive orange pumpkin he wheeled in his barrow to the village hall each autumn, he was always the prize winner.

Yet unbeknown to us, beyond his polished brass doorknob lived a different person. Since his marriage apparently ended in acrimonious circumstances, a happy and contented soul he was not.

Partial as he was to a drink or two, no one foresaw what he was to do that chill winters night. He sat before the blazing log fire in the Dog and Duck listening to his dreams crackle then disappear in a cloud of smoke; his hopes sizzle then fall as grey ash. I saw him shuffle a handful of photographs, then take one from centre and gaze at it for what seemed ages. I watched as he dropped something into his glass before swirling then swallowing its lethal contents.

Next year there is to be a new top prize at the village produce show; a special award named after the man behind the mask, the man none of us really knew.

For Sunday's Whirligig where the given words are swallow, doorknob, sizzle, marry, partial, swirling, orange, shuffle, blazing, crackle, vegetables and smallest 


Thursday, September 29, 2016

Six Sentence Stories

Posted Thursday September 29

What is that dreadful smell?

I've checked the cupboard, I've sniffed inside the fridge,  I've stuck my head out of the window, I've  shoved the dog in the garden (he’s known as the Fartmaster!) and I've even checked my armpits but I just can’t work out where it’s coming from.

It’s absolutely rank.

I tried flapping a tea tray, I sprayed an aerosol, lighted a perfumed candle, heated up a spicy curry (I love the smell of a vindaloo, don’t you?) chucked the Fartmaster’s basket out the back door, brewed a pot of coffee (Columbian, my favourite) and  even played Natasha Bedingfield’s ‘Smell the Roses’ all to no avail.

Something really honks!

If you are expecting a fragrant end to this tarradiddle, then I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you, and if this disgusting odour has infiltrated your pc/laptop/tablet/phone  I can only apologise on its behalf, whatever it is!

For Six Sentence Stories where the cue is Rank


Sunday, September 25, 2016


Posted Sunday September 25

For Sunday Photo Fiction where our  picture prompt features a border of beautiful narcissus blooms.

Some people are born narcissistic, others achieve it! Me? I tend to keep myself to myself. I don’t like to boast about my achievements.

How many people can claim to have climbed Everest un-accompanied? Not many of you I guess. And I’d bet none of you have swum the English Channel, then straight-away walked up a French beach and eaten a dish of frog‘s legs! If I asked you to recite a Shakespeare soliloquy backwards could you do it?

Right, let’s make it easier. Hands up all those who can bite their nails? Not finger nails – toe nails. Can you belch the national anthem or produce a rabbit from a hat?

Well I have to admit that I’ve never climbed a mountain – walking upstairs requires a half-way rest! As for swimming the channel, err, no. I‘ve eaten frog’s legs on a French beach though, and I love ‘em, but not dripping wet whilst wearing  speedos and covered in goose fat! And I have trouble reading Shakespeare forwards!

But the toe nails, the musical burping and magic tricks? Well, actually I can’t do those either.

So what I’m saying is, I couldn’t be a narcissist even if I wanted to.

Word count 200

Saturday, September 24, 2016

The Sunday Whirl

Posted Saturday September 24

It was a blind date. After all, I was free so I thought ‘why not?’ I was to meet Emma at a party. ‘It will be a scream' her text said. 'You’ll love it’

Standing outside the warehouse for a minute or two, I heard jangling music and merry laughter from within. Time to enter.

I pushed open the heavy metal door. The music stopped. I saw nothing, just blackness. I heard nothing but my heart pounding in my chest. Suddenly a beam of light shot toward me assaulting my eyes. I found myself creeping forward into the darkness. 

The door slammed closed behind me. A second dazzling shaft illuminated a macabre figure in a tailcoat seated at a piano, top hat upon his head and white gloved hands hovering above the keys. His ashen painted features faced me, bloodshot black-rimmed eyes staring into mine. His crimson mouth broke into a menacing toothless smile.

Another beam, and another creature stood before me; doll-like with little blonde pigtails tied with pink ribbons, a white face with blushing cheeks and little red rosebud lips. She tripped from foot to foot throwing petals from a basket into the air. 

'Emma? Is that... you?' I stammered. The lights went out. She disappeared. The pianist disappeared. I disappeared,

Someone unseen grabbed my arms, another my shoulders. I realised I was surrounded. They tugged and pushed and I tried to resist but then submitted. I found myself standing before a glowing crystal pot of swirling water. Somehow  I knew what I had to do. I rinsed my face and bathed my hands, then wandered into the pitch-black yonder. 

I’m holding a party tonight. Why don’t you come? It will be a scream, you’ll love it.

For The Sunday Whirl where the given words are - scream, date, will, mess, after, chest, you, rinse, submit, ashes, pot and free


Friday, September 23, 2016

Sunday's Whirligig

Posted Saturday September 24

It was a scorching day and several of us where attempting to chill in the Bicycle Arms’ garden.

‘Did you hear what Katy did?’ panted a breathless Rosey as he rushed up to us. By the excited look on her face I guessed she was busily spreading the hottest news of the day.

‘Who’s Katy?’ asked Jim.

‘You know’ said Rosey ‘Katy the former’.

‘Former?’ I said.

‘Yes’ said Rosey ‘She used to be a farmer but she’s not any more’

We all groaned and grinned assuming it to be a joke. The confused look on Rosey’s face suggested it wasn’t.

 ‘So, what did Katy do?’ someone asked.

‘ know...err...stole something from the supermarket’ said Rosey hopping from foot to foot.

‘Oh my gourd!’ muttered Posh Poppy.

‘Katy?’  intervened a chap slouched at the next table. ‘Surely not’

Rosey started rummaging through her bag scattering its contents all over the place.

‘What are looking for Rosey’ asked Jim.

‘My hay fever capsules’ she said‘ ‘I’ve had a pollen overload’ 

'An excitement overload more like' chuckled Charlie.

'Aaa...chooo! Ewww, sorry Sam. Oh dear, you can't drink that. I'd better  get you fresh one' 

That was a week ago. It seems that Katy inadvertently failed to pay for one item in her basket at the self service checkout. Rosey was there at the time and watched from a distance as a security guard approached Katy. Needless to say, my friend Rosey jumped to the wrong conclusion. Apparently it was all sorted out amicably and Rosey bought Katy a large Chardonnay and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps by way of apology!

For Sunday's Whirligig where this week's given words are - spreading, hops, gourd, capsules, pollen, hottest, crooked, former, intervene, shoplifting, katydids and scorched.

To read 66 more tales about My Friend Rosey click HERE!


Sunday, September 18, 2016

The Sunday Whirl

Posted Sunday September 18

We are not fooled by your guise sir. ‘Tis you, as certain as 'tis day. Try as you might sir, we have your number. For ‘twas you that laid the straw; that set the fire this Spring past.

Poor Ned still bears the scars of that dreadful day. Though smitten by your jagged rock then gagged and bound, he writhed free. Champion though he be, he had not the means to quench the terpsichorous flames that cruelly robbed him of his dwelling place, his wife, his beloved family.

You imagined we would not discern you sir. Did you not? How wrong could you have been? For you, deplorable sir, the die was cast that fateful day. And now, the nethermost depths of your repugnant basket are reached. ‘Tis us who will strike the final blow; 'tis us.

Take this.....sir!

The Sunday Whirl. This week's given words are basket, deplorable, fire, spring, straw, us,writhe, smite, try, guise, champion and dye