Saturday, April 18, 2015

Le Princesse

A silvery sparkling sea rolled into the golden sandy cove where beneath the boughs of a swaying palm sat a bejeweled  mermaid, Queen of all she surveyed. In her arms she held her merbabe, Le Princesse de la Mer.

‘It's time for you to go my child’ said the Queen. ‘For I am tired and you must  take my place’

‘Where must I go?’  asked the child

‘Over the horizon’ said her Mother.

‘How will I know when I am there?’ the child asked.

‘You will know little one. You will know’

And with that the Queen was gone. The child looked around but saw no one. She was alone.

She swam through rainbows of fish and  forests of coral. But the elusive horizon came no closer.

‘How far is the horizon?’ she asked a dolphin. ‘As far as you can see and more’ he said.

Which way is the horizon?’ she asked a starfish. ‘That way child’ he said pointing in five directions.

‘How long will it take?’ she asked an oyster. ‘How long is a string of pearls?’ it replied.

‘I’m tired, may I ride on your back?’ she asked a sea horse. ‘No young one’ he said. ‘I can play no part in your journey’

She was exhausted and clinging to a passing piece of driftwood fell into a deep deep sleep.

A while later she awoke, rubbed her eyes and saw before her a glistening rock on which sat a bejeweled golden throne.

Mermaids appeared from every direction, then circled around her frolicking and laughing with joy. Forming  a nest of arms they gently lifted the child high above the rolling azure waves.

‘Take your place upon the throne Princesse de la Mer’ said a voice from above.

‘For this is the place over the horizon, this is the place where you belong'.

Enjoy our Sunday off! On Monday I'll have a humorous tale for you about My Friend Rosey who has featured in more than 100 stories on my blog over the past seven years. It's simply called Questions


Friday, April 17, 2015

The Obituary

There was nothing much of interest in the local paper. Until that was, he saw the result of a football match which he thought wasn't happening until next Saturday.

The weather forecast seemed odd too. It was the longest period of wet weather he could remember, yet it said ‘the current spell of unseasonably warm and sunny weather is set to continue'.

Then on the obituary page he saw a photograph that made him stop dead. He was looking at a tribute to himself.

The words started spinning and everything around him became a blur except for the date at the top of the page which came into sharp focus.

He was reading next week’s paper.

Tomorrow I will be posting fairy story called La Princesse

Picture: Keith's Ramblings at Ribbet


Thursday, April 16, 2015

No name, just a number

  It's Day 14 of the  Blogging from A to Z  April 2015 Challenge 

Slipping in and out of the shadows, hiding in dank doorways then sliding into view when a crawling car appears. Dressed to allure, revealed enough to tempt.

    She came here on a promise from her home overseas, lured by a job, a home  and a future. Little did she know what awaited her.

    Concealed at a safe distance, her sinister pimp skulks in the shadows, checking  up on his terrified victim as she plies his loathsome trade.

    One day she will disappear, unknown, anonymous; no name just a number.

    She’ll be replaced by another,

    and another,

    and another.

Picture: Scared by Oboj Kovshi at deviantART

Something to think about in tomorrow's story. It's called The Obituary

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

The mêlée

Daniel has accused Caroline of cheating on him.

“Don’t shout at me like that Daniel.

I said don’t shout at me!   

No I didn’t meet him Daniel.

I told you I did not meet him. How many more times do I have to say it?

Daniel, I’m not lying. It’s no good going on and on at me. I’m not listening to you any more.

Don’t shove me. I’ve warned you. Get your hands off me now Daniel. I’m not going to tell you again. 

How dare you hit me you bastard!

See how you like it”.

"Oh God Daniel, I'm sorry.

Daniel, speak to me, don't just lie there.

Dan, it's not funny. Open your eyes.




Picture: Anonymous from Google Images edited by Keith Hillman on Ribbet

Tomorrows piece will be a very short and poignant a tale of our times. It's called  No name, just a number.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015


Now listen to me. I’ve been very patient, but I really think it’s about time you stirred yourselves. I know its cold, but if I can put up with it, so can you.
We all like a lie in from time to time but this is ridiculous. This time last year you and your mates were up and alert despite the late spring. This year you are still tucked up in your beds. 
If the daffodils can raise themselves so can you. I know they were a bit slow at surfacing this year, but now they are all on parade and beginning to wonder where you have got to.
Being a tulip  doesn't give you any privileges you know. I just looked in on the hyacinths and although they were understandably reluctant to raise their heads above the soil they have at least made an effort. 
Are you listening to me? This is your final warning. If you don’t get up and open your petals right now you will find yourself joining the weeds and clippings on the compost heap. 
I’m counting. One.....two.......three........four...........

Back to the grim realities of life tomorrow with a very short vignette called  The mêlée

 I also have a blog on which I write poems and stories for children. It's called Once upon a Time and it's right HERE!

Monday, April 13, 2015

Knock knock

“Knock knock”

“Who’s there?”


“Disguise who?”

                         “Disguise in love with you!”

It was something they did every night. John got home from work much later than Lea, and they always went through their knock-knock routine before she’d open the door and let him in.

The following evening

“Knock knock”

“Who’s there and why are you putting on that funny voice?"  Lea giggled. "John?"

“Knock knock”

“Stop it John, you are scaring me”

Lea opened the door, just a little, and a man in a black hoody pushed his way in and slammed his fist on the light switch plunging the flat into darkness. He shone a torch upwards from beneath his chin.

“Get out” Lea shoved him back towards the door. He staggered  but held his ground. Still with the torch lighting his face he lowered his hood. Suddenly she recognised him as the man she’d escaped from two years earlier. She froze with fear. He turned the torch on her.

“I said I’d find you Lea. I did tell you”

“What the hell do you want Mike?”

“Now that’s stupid question Lea. I've come to collect what is mine. I’m taking you home”

Later that evening

“Knock knock” Nothing. “Knock knock” Louder.

“Lea, open the door sweetheart” Still nothing.

He used his key to open the door. Lea was nowhere to be seen.

A complete change tomorrow when I'll have little bit of  light hearted nonsense for children and the young at heart alike! It's called Listen

Sunday, April 12, 2015

...or was it meant to be?

Written for this week's Sunday Scribblings 2 where the given word is painful

His birth was long
his life but a brief moment in time
The act of a cruel God

...or was it meant to be?

Her tears of pain
became tears of utter despair
Did her God forsake her

...or was it meant to be?

Picture: Killer tears by Dawn Croft at deviantART