Liz Young's Blog, page 13

BIG ORANGE BALL

 

BIG ORANGE BALL

“Who gave permission for that monstrosity?” Joe asked in the bar.

“The Mayor has a new car,” Bill said.

Heads nodded sagely – it figured.

“Ten dollars to go inside – I hear it’s anti-gravity or something.”

“Someone has to try it out.”

 

Mick passed the hat round for the cash, Joe drew the short straw. He waved nervously before disappearing inside the dome. There was a sucking noise.

“That sounded like a vacuum cleaner,” Bill said.

“Nah,” said Mick, “More like a drain plunger.”

They were still arguing the next day, after the orange ball had vanished.

They never saw Joe again.

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What on earth that big orange ball is for I can only imagine - which is the point of Friday Fictioneers, I suppose. So here is my interpretation of Dale Rogerson's photo. Presumably she knows?  To read other stories based on the image, follow the frog link from Rochelle's blog   https://rochellewisoff.com/

 

CAR CRASH

 

CAR CRASH

Ellie was stacking shelves – fast-movers at eye-level, own brand goods down low, luxury items up high, and was arranging the top shelf when someone smacked her bum. She whipped round to slap him, unfortunately still holding a tin.

The supervisor, clutching his cheek, escorted Ellie to the manager, who said sorrowfully, “I’ll have to let you go.”

“But it’s his fault for smacking my bum!”

“A pretty girl like you must be used to that.”

“You can stick your job, you sexist pig!” Ellie stormed out.

                 .....

“How was your first day?” asked Mum.

“Same as always – like a car crash.”

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Maybe because Rochelle -  https://rochellewisoff.com/ - used my photo this week, it took me ages to think of a story to fit, but here it is, finally. I couldn't fail after completely doing so last week, could I? 

And now I've got this weekly challenge done I can return to the novel I am struggling to bring together - always a difficult stage when you're half-way through, know where you want to end up, but can't quite see the route. But my spirits were lifted considerably this week by a message from a woman who bought a complete set of my LIVING ROCK series a few months ago, asking for another set. Which must mean she enjoyed them enough to want to give a set to a friend. Result!!

STORM CLOUDS

 

STORM CLOUDS

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said, “Clear the air.”

I got my coat – I’d be safer with people around.

But the seafront was deserted, and I didn’t know which was worse – the black storm clouds threatening thunder, or his black mood with its undertone of violence.

He dragged me along and I stumbled, banging my knee on the railing. “Don’t be such a wimp,” he said, striding ahead, and I ducked into a shelter just as the storm hit.

The flash was so bright I didn’t see him fall.

I waited to be sure before I called the ambulance.

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A perfectly violent ending for a violent man - I must be feeling in a murderous mood today :)  Thanks to Na'ama Yehuda for the atmospheric photograph, and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers indefatigably for so many years.

We are all hoping for the recovery from ill health of Ted Strutz, one of our number who supplied last week's prompt. Get well soon, Ted. 

 

FOREIGN PARTS

 

FOREIGN PARTS

Stir-crazy doesn’t begin to describe it.

Day after day, month after month, stuck indoors with the same person, the weather too dreadful to venture out for more than essentials. Driving five miles for a vaccine jab was the most excitement I’d had all year.

So when the government relaxed the rules on foreign holidays, I was first through the travel agent’s door.

‘Where do you want to go, Madam?’

‘I don’t care – anywhere on the green list.’

And now I’m thoroughly lost - guess I should have added, ‘Somewhere I can read the signs.’

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Yet another street photo that, initially, only prompted a desire for a change of scene. But here we go with another bit of Flash Fiction. In fact, if circumstances allowed, I would pick somewhere I could use my Spanish before I forget it all! 

My husband and I are now fully vaccinated, and he's had his second cataract operation, so there's a faint possibility we might venture abroad this summer, even if it's only Across the Sea to Ireland - *cue song* - where my eldest child lives.

Thanks to Roger Bultot for the photo and to Rochelle, as always, for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/

EDNA

 

EDNA

Edna was ninety-four, and Dave had tried everything to get her to move nearer to him. “It’s a long drive every week, Mum.”

“I’m not leaving my bungalow,” she said yet again, “It’s full of memories of your dad, and besides, I know where everything is.”

“But you’re lonely with all your friends gone,” Dave reminded her.

Edna poked the fire, her face set in those stubborn lines he knew so well, and then the idea struck him with the force of a sledgehammer. “We’ll move your house to our back garden,” he said, “Problem solved!”

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I've not been very imaginative this week but I have a valid excuse - I've been busy gardening. Also my husband has a cataract operation booked for next week and has to isolate till then, so I've added the walk to get his newspaper to my daily tasks!

Thanks to Ted Strutz for the image that prompted this week's story - you can find others by following the frog link from Rochelle's blog which is here.  https://rochellewisoff.com/

AFTER THE STORM

 

AFTER THE STORM

Once the storm had passed, Lewis surveyed the wreckage. The whole thing lay in ruins, irretrievably broken.

He picked up a chair, remembering how the two of them used to sit happily watching the sunset, a bottle between them.

That was the cause of tonight’s trouble – after they’d finished one bottle he’d asked her for another, and she’d accused him of treating her like a waitress. She shouldn’t have spoken to him so disrespectfully.

He fetched the bottle for himself and sat down to drink, watching the calm waters of the bay, which gave no hint as to what lay beneath them.

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Another photographic prompt from Dale Rogerson, who  must live with a camera permanently attached to her hand! I hope this picture wasn't taken in her own back yard. Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog. https://rochellewisoff.com/

My story this week was written between the numerous examinations necessary before my husband can have his second cataract operation which, after being on hold for 18 months, is now scheduled for May. Then, we hope, he can have one pair of glasses rather than two!

MALE & FEMALE CREATED SHE THEM

 

MALE & FEMALE CREATED SHE THEM

The ship lay in stealth mode, hovering on silent jets a mile above Earth.

The crew prayed before beaming their precious cargo into the still waters of a clear lagoon, and watched as the eggs flared briefly before sinking out of sight.

Nurtured by Earth’s waters, they would grow and change to fit this alien planet, before emerging to live, unremarked, among the indigenous population.

Only they would recognise each other, and mate to send their offspring into this world, their own planet nothing but a glowing cloud of space dust.

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Of course they are eggs! I expect I won't be the only Friday Fictioneer to interpret David Stewart's photograph as such, and you can find out for yourself by following the Frog Link from https://rochellewisoff.com/

I am feeling rather pleased - in the past few weeks I have been asked twice for copies of all four of my LIVING ROCK series of books! If you would like to buy them, they are available on Amazon, as is my little book of poetry for children. (See top of this page for the link.)

NEEDS MUST

 NEEDS MUST

Pub landlord Clive had erected an open-air shelter for his customers, many of whom were waiting when he opened his doors after lockdown, and there was instantly a party atmosphere. Those who had booked tables for the evening found the afternoon crowd reluctant to leave, and by nine pm the place was heaving.

When the downpour started, everyone scuttled beneath the shelter, social distancing forgotten.

With his licence at risk, Clive hoped that the inevitable needs after hours of drinking would send the diehards home, but he’d reckoned without their ingenuity – and the ornamental bucket in the pub garden.

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My husband went to the pub on Monday but, with the temperature freezing, I opted to stay at home. I shall go when the weather is warmer, though only for one drink - the thought of not being allowed inside the building is daunting when one has a weak bladder!

Thanks to Anne Higg for this week's photo prompt, and to Rochelle at   https://rochellewisoff.com/ for continuing to host Friday Fictioneers - sometimes the prompt is all that wakes up my writing muse!

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST - allow me to remind you that my book of poems is now available on Amazon. My illustrations are just asking to be carefully enhanced with coloured pencils, so why not treat yourself ? Just click on the cover at the top of the page to order.

CRISP PACKETS

CRISP PACKETS

Jin opened the shutters, broom already in hand, but the alley was clean! He looked down the row, but he was first to open. He returned inside, shaking his head.

Each morning for a month was the same, until one night he stayed to watch.

A boy, maybe eight years old, collected all the rubbish, eating every scrap of food. Unseen, Jin followed him to a back-street shack.

Inside, children were melting drink cans to make jewellery – Jin had seen them selling it in the street – and in one corner a baby slept on a crackling sack filled with crisp packets. 

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This story popped up the moment I saw Brenda Cox's colourful photograph, but I had great difficulty fitting it into the 100 word limit - I hope it worked! Go to Rochelle's blog to follow the frog link and read other stories.  https://rochellewisoff.com/

FAMILY WISDOM

 

FAMILY WISDOM

It’s okay to chew on your chicken bones

So you don’t waste all that meat –

Just remember it’s not considered polite

When the Queen invites you to eat.

 

I learned this way back when I was a child

And repeated it to all four of mine;

Now my granddaughter knows not to chew at the Palace –

Old wisdom has passed down the line.

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I have no idea why this poem evolved from Jennifer Pendergast's photo - food and a family of four children, perhaps - but this is my offering of a less-than-one-hundred-words story for this week! To read other stories you can follow the frog link from Rochelle's blog:  https://rochellewisoff.com/

Allow me to wish you all a Happy Passover and a Happy Easter, hopefully with a few more friends than you were able to see last year. And also to remind you that my little book of gently humorous poems is out on Amazon - just click on the cover image at the top of this page.