Dream

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This week the prompt over at Sunday Scribblings is Big Dreams. Dreams don’t come much bigger than this!

It had been an amazing night. A wonderful party, fantastic food and great company. Champagne sparkled, wine flowed and cocktails dazzled. Now as they drove home she slept in the seat next to him as he headed into the night

The empty road stretched out before him like a silver ribbon as the moon cast a glistening sheen over a frosty landscape.

Swaying trees looked down like angels, and wispy clouds hanging in the heavens beckoned him. A million twinkling stars drew his gaze skyward, as if promising something better beyond. A voice on the radio seemed to whisper his name then gave way to stream of soothing music. It was like a dream, a beautiful dream.

But was it a dream or even a premonition? Was it reality? She survived the accident, but he simply disappeared. Did he flee the scene or did he go to another place? A place only he has seen.

Click here to find this weeks prompt at Carry On Tuesday

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brighton's little shops

wordless wednesday
thursday edition!


(click on pics to enlarge!)

bag shop

dress shop

shoe shop

chocolate shop

this and that shop! 

Scary story!

This week the prompt at Carry On Tuesday is the opening words of Michael Crichton's novel State of Fear - 'In the darkness he touched her arm and said....'

She sat reading a book, bathed in the light from a little lamp on the table at her side. It as quiet, very quiet. With every turn of the page the story gripped her more and more. A tale of suspense and fear. She shivered and wrapped her comfort blanket tightly around herself. She was so absorbed that she didn’t hear the door open, and was completely unaware that she was being watched.

He crept closer and closer to her and without a sound reached across and flicked the switch on the lamp. She gasped and her book clattered to the floor. In the darkness he touched her arm and said
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BOO!

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Danger, low flying pig!

This week our prompt at Sunday Scribblings is When Pigs Fly. I don’t normally do this, but I really can’t resist reprinting a very short piece I wrote on this subject last year! If you saw it then, then please accept my apologies for being lazy! I probably will come up with something original tomorrow!

I think I have a pretty good idea about what will happen in the future. I have to admit that none of my predictions have come true yet, but it’s only a matter of time. The other night my friends laughed when I told them that next week............ well, never mind what it was, you'll find out for yourself  in a few days time. Suffice to say they said it could never ever happen. 

When I left to go home they were all making oink-oink noises and flapping their arms! ‘I’ll show them’ I thought. At three in the morning I was awoken by an emormous crash!

A bump in the night

It gave me a fright

I jumped out of bed

And tuned on the light

Guess what I saw

Just there by the door

A confused looking pig

Prostrate on the floor!

The poor pig had stars spinning around its head and it was looking at me through crossed eyes! I was a little confused I can tell you! At first I thought it was a dream, but I did that pinching myself thing and it hurt, so I guessed I must have been awake. Then I noticed there were bits of my ceiling all over the carpet and an enormous hole above my head!

I looked up to the sky

And realised that I

could prove to my friends

that pigs really fly!

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Rosey the book!

I’ve been talking about for ages, and finally I’ve got around to doing something about it! My Friend Rosey is now in print. You can see it and read a few pages if you click here. It’s only a skinny little book and hardly likely to fight with War and Peace for shelf space, but I’m quite pleased with the result. I just hope Rosey will be too!

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Watta lotta words!

Guess how many posts I've posted?

Thanks for reading them!

The job

This week Sunday Scribblings has asked us to write about Ethics!

It was the chance of a lifetime. Jobs like this one rarely came up. It was the talk of the canteen. Such a shame that old Archie snuffed it, he was still young. But he did have a plumb position in the company and envy had always run high. Now a successor was to be sought and later that day an email from the boss, Lord Ponsenby appeared on the junior manager’s screens inviting applications from employees interested in parking their bums in Archie’s rapidly cooling black leather, executive, all-singing, all-dancing, electrically adjusting, winter-warming seat!

Graham was quick off the mark with his grovelling ass-licking submission! Colin was minutes behind, promising his unstinting loyal support for the company and a pledge to maintain the high standards for which Archie was renowned.

 By the end of the day the boss’s computer was groaning under the weight of fifty or more requests from minor managers and minions eager to nail their name to Archie’s office door.

It was however a two horse race. Greasy Graham stood staring out of the window of his fifth floor office, wringing his hands. He wore a self satisfied grin on his face and raised his eyes to the vacant office seven floors above. Conscientious Colin sat at his desk hidden behind a mountain of books and documents relating to the company’s two hundred and fifty year history. Ethical Colin who would succeed in his mission by fair means not foul. But he somehow knew that Graham would slither and slide himself into this most excellent position. He needed a plan.

The next morning at eight thirty sharp Lord Ponsenby arrived at his office. Today was to be the day that Archie’s heir was to be chosen. He hung up his coat, placed his bowler hat on a peg, and then spotted a bottle of his favourite Island Malt Scotch Whisky sitting on his desk. Taped to it was a business card. Graham’s business card. But Lord Ponsenby was a man with high moral principles and a bribe would do nothing to influence his decision. Indeed, a bribe such as this only made his decision easier.

And so, Colin got the job. Colin who for the first time in his life threw his ethics out of the window and taped one of Grahams business cards to a bottle of Lord Posenby’s favourite Island Malt Scotch Whisky.

This weeks prompt from Carry On Tuesday can be seen by clicking on the logo. Please join in.
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The painting

(Fiction)Friday

Sheila didn’t know she had an Aunt Dorothy. When she asked her mother about her, even she had trouble placing her. Perhaps the solicitor who wrote to her had made a mistake. Maybe Dorothy gave him the wrong address. But there can’t be that many Sheila Spooners. And why was she left a painting of all things? The whole thing was a mystery.

When Sheila and husband John arrived at Aunt Dorothy’s house, the solicitor was waiting at the gate. He didn’t speak. He just touched the rim of his hat then beckoned them toward the door. He escorted them inside. It was dark and smelt damp. It was like going back fifty years. Under their feet, threadbare carpet. The walls clad with faded flower pattern paper. The solicitor took them into the room at the rear of the house tugged back the faded striped curtains. Sunlight filled the room and there, above the old tiled fireplace hung a painting, a dull and gloomy picture of a Victorian lady sternly staring back at the onlooker.

It was fixed to the wall with a screw in each corner. The solicitor produced a screwdriver and without saying a word offered it to John. Sheila and John looked at each other. Why had they been left this dismal picture? What would they do with it? It might have some value, who knows?

John shrugged then set about removing the screws one by one. He lowered the painting down to floor and then he noticed a small cavity in the wall where the painting had hung. He could just make out what appeared to be an envelope deep inside. He called Sheila over and she peered into the hole. Perhaps the painting was not the only thing Aunt Dorothy had left in her will.

Sheila plunged her hand inside. An icy cold draught chilled her fingers. Suddenly an unseen hand grabbed her wrist..............

may be continued!

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public inconvenience!

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Wordless Wednesday

public inconvenience!

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Sorry it said

This weeks prompt at Sunday Scribblings is Message

Everything had gone. Drawers yawned open, empty. The robe door hung ajar,  her garments vanished. The dressing table was bare, all the little pots and boxes of colours and smells taken away. He bent down to try to capture a little of her fragrance, and lingered as he breathed it in. For a second he thought he saw her , sitting there on the bed. He wiped a tear from his eye and she was gone. 

His phone rattled and bleeped in another room. He rushed to get it. New Message it said on the screen. Fumbling with the buttons, his heart pounding in his chest, he found himself looking at her message. ‘Sorry’ it said. Just one word, ‘Sorry’. He pressed Reply and typed a single word back. ‘Why?’ he wrote.

He stood trembling, the phone clutched in his shaking hand. It burst back into life, another New Message. But it only contained one word. ‘Sorry’ it said, just ‘Sorry’

Picture by LeMis for DeviantART 

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You can find the new prompt  for Carry On Tuesday by clicking HERE! 

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My friend Rosey has written a piece for SS this week. You can read it at Rosey's Posey

Low tide

Wordless Wednesday