Sunday, January 22, 2017


Post 1431. Sunday January 22

“Your key sir. Room 526”

 A porter who had been standing beside me walked away.

“I regret we are unable to carry your suitcase for you sir”

The lift shuddered as it arrived at the fifth floor; the doors half opened then jammed, leaving me barely enough gap to drag out my case. I found room 526. As I tried to insert the key-card, the light above me flickered then plunged the hallway into darkness.

When I eventually got into the room I was aware of a strange atmosphere. Despite the stifling heat, I shivered.

Flight  463 had been delayed by several hours and I felt too tired to go down to the restaurant for supper, so instead I decided to order room service. I called reception and asked for meal 7 with a side order of 4 and a bottle of bottle of number 2.

“2, the Merlot, is unavailable sir. May I suggest  8, the Shiraz?” I accepted his suggestion.

“Your room sir?”

“526” I said.

“Ah, we have a problem, sir. I’ve just been informed that room service is temporarily unavailable”

Then it occurred to me.

My room. 5+2+6=13

My flight. 4+6+3=13

My meal. 7+4+2=13

I called reception.”May I have a different room please?” 

Saturday, January 21, 2017


Post 1431. Saturday January 21

The Sunday Whirl

He never wanted to be a burden, but so it had been from his unwanted birth ‘til today.

          So out he went into the darkness of a winter’s night...

His mother simply couldn’t cope, poor soul. No fault of hers. She'd be better without him.

          ...down the road, climb the fence...

He had reached out to touch her heart but in vain.

          ...cross the field and enter the woods...

He thought it best to leave. He hoped that by doing so his heavy load would be lifted from her shoulders.

          ...up a slope, over some rocks...

By the light of dawn, he would be far away, in another place.

           ...along a narrowing track...

For the first time, he felt able to give her something. Her freedom.

          ...and lost his way at ... 

The end


At this week’s The Sunday Whirl, the given words are burden, birth, heart, soul, hope, earth, light, give, cope, heavy, touch and reach..


Post 1430. Saturday January 21

Sunday Scribblings 2

“See ‘ole Fred over there?” said Arthur placing his pint glass on the bar.

“That Fred or the other Fred? I asked nodding my head in their direction.

“ ‘im” said Arthur. “Fartin’ Fred, not Fred the Bread" 

There are two you see, one being a baker and the other..well, the name says it all!

“What about him?” I asked.

Arthur moved closer to whisper in my ear.

“Watch it Arf” I said. “Folks are gonna think we’re having a hit-n-miss!”

“What, against the bar? I know I have to dash to gents in an ‘urry sometimes but I’d never do it ‘ere!”

Arthur is none too hot at rhyming slang. I meant kiss not...well, you know!

“Well, you know about his...err... problem,” he said flapping his hand like a fan in front of his nose.”Went to see the doc yesterday  ‘e did, and the doc says he needs an enemy. How ‘aving enemies can 'elp I can't imagine. 

“Arf” I chuckled. “He needs an emema, not an enemy! Enema!”

“What’s the 'eck is one of them when it's at ‘ome?” he asked.

“Time to go home” I said, I giving Arthur peck on his cheek and a risky slap to Fartin’ Fred’s bum as I passed which set off one his signature ass-blasters.  I bet all that got the local gossip’s chins waggin’!

Today's given word at Sunday Scribblings 2 is enemies



Post 1429. Saturday January 21 2016

 Sunday's Whirligig

I sit here often. For at the cliff’s jagged edge I can think, imagine and create, whilst wrapped in mellow music. No tourists yet, not ‘til summer so I cherish these moments of positive loneliness.

There’s a scarf snared in a bush over there, blowing in the breeze. Do you see it? Blue. I wonder whose it was. And look there, a bunch flowers tied to a little wooden cross. There’s a label. There are just two words on it.

 ‘John. Why?’ it says. 

They are plastic flowers, so at least they will live on. No longer John, though.

And next to them there’s a dog lead and a little sparkley pink collar pinned to grass. There’s a silver disc attached. Let’s see. Poppy it says. Poppy probably broke free and chased a seagull. Dogs do that up here. I guess the gull flew up whilst poor Poppy flew down. Mistake Poppy.

Six hundred feet below, the rocky beach is peppered with broken dreams and littered with painful memories. But up here everything is perfect; for me at least.

Though not for Poppy; not for John.

The given words at this week’s Sunday’s Whirligig are broken, create, pepper, plank, revenge, music, longer, mistake, cliff, loneliness, everything, and snare of which I used ten.

Thursday, January 19, 2017


Post 1428. Thursday January 19 2017

Our given word at this week's Six Sentence Stories is ...

‘Turn now...turn now...turn now’ bellowed a formidable voice from a loudspeaker as he entered the tunnel.

He continued to march forward, a machete gripped in his hand.

‘Restricted area...restricted area...restricted area’.

Left right left right left right, footsteps echoing.

‘Stop or be killed...stop or be killed...stop or be killed’. Still, he strode on.

There was a hail of bullets, but he stood his ground slashing the machete this way and that, sparks flying as the missiles struck the glistening steel blade and rebounded taking their toll on his unsuspecting foe, then he turned, wiped the machete on his sleeve and sauntered from the tunnel.


Wednesday, January 18, 2017


Post 1427. Wednesday January 18 2017


This is fun. I love tunnels. You speak and they speak back.  Let’s go round the corner at the bottom of the slope. Oh, this is nice. Pretty pictures on the walls.

Pretty pictures...pretty pictures...pretty pictures!

Look, another corner. I wonder what’s around there.

Anybody there?... there?...yes...yes... AND I’M COMING AFTER YOU!


I’m outta’ here...outa’ here...outa’ here.  

This is fun. I love climbing trees. More fun than tunnels. Up we go to the next branch. What was that cracking noise?!

This is fun. I love ambulances. Listen. Bee-baa-bee-baa.........

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting  Friday Fictioneers and Dale Rogerson for providing the photo prompt.



Post 1426. Wednesday January 18 2017

I lived in her shadow for too long. She could do nothing wrong. Admired, loved, applauded.
Me? Ignored, invisible.

Last year she disappeared. Just like that. I should be sad, she was my sister after all. But things have changed. Suddenly I’m needed. I’m all they have. Suddenly the sun is shining upon me.

The tree that cast the shadow was felled.

What happened to her? Where did she go? Nobody knows. Actually, that’s not entirely true. One person knows. The lumberjack knows.

And I’ll take my secret to the grave.

My tale was inspired by the photo provided by Shivangi Singh at Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers