Liz Young's Blog, page 19

GARDENING LEAVE - a 100 word story

GARDENING LEAVE
Lynne was digging absently, her mind on her latest plot, when Ron’s voice broke into her train of thought. “What’s for dinner?”Lynne sighed. “I’ve already told you twice – stew and cabbage.”“No potatoes?”“There weren’t any – shelves stripped bare.”However early Lynne went shopping, the locusts beat her to it. Putting food on the table was hard enough without Ron’s constant whining. She stabbed her fork viciously into the compost heap and continued plotting.
A few months later Lynne’s novel was finished, the garden was awash with green, and Ron had potatoes coming out of his ears.
.......................................................................................................................

For some reason I couldn't copy the photo on Rochelle's blog, so I've used a copy of the lovely painting she did from the same photo - I hope that's okay? To read what other writers made of the image, go to    https://rochellewisoff.com/  and click on the frog.

My story is not - repeat NOT - based on fact, just on daydreams! I hope you are all well, and if the virus hits you, get well soon. We are self-isolating as much as is possible - we do need to eat. Thank goodness the Off-licence is considered essential by Boris and his government! Cheers!

BILL'S FOLLY - a 100 word story for today

BILL’S FOLLY
It took Bill a month to build the tower, block by block.Bill’s Folly, the town called it, but he ignored the jibes. He packed his battered car with tins and packets, bought a primus stove and bottled water. The day he hired a crane the whole town turned out to watch his car creak skywards, trailing a rope ladder.
His pockets bulging with last-minute purchases, Bill climbed the ladder and pulled it up behind him.“You want pensioners to self-isolate? Fine – but you’ll get a bucket-load of my shit every day to remind you I’m still here.”
..........................................................................................................From this story you'll probably guess that I'm over 70 and not happy to be termed 'elderly'! After a last trip to the garden centre today to buy vegetable seeds, my husband and I will be self-isolating - I just hope the weather is good for gardening! Keep well, all of you who so kindly read and comment on my weekly story, and thanks to Rochelle who keeps us going. 

FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH

FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH


“Hidden in the forest,” was all the witch would say, before her thin lips clamped shut so tightly that her nose met her chin. But Matilda was determined to retain her beauty, and searched obsessively until, one dark winter day, the skeletal trees revealed their secret.
She drank deeply each full moon, and as the years passed she remained unchanged. Her children grew and had children of their own, but Matilda outlived them all.
Finally, alone, and shunned by superstitious villagers, she made one last trip to the fountain.  They never found her body...................................................................................................................C E Ayr's photo gave me an idea for a story immediately, but I had to go shopping first. Luckily the story stayed in my mind till I got home and put the dinner in the oven. Now I must hurry to post this before it burns!If you'd like to read other stories, go to Rochelle's blog and follow the froggy link. https://rochellewisoff.com/And if you're stock-piling for a possible spell in self-isolation, don't forget to buy books! I have four books on Amason now - the latest, LANDSLIDE, you can get simply by clicking on the image at the top right of my blog. The first two in my  LIVING ROCK series are A VOLCANIC RACE & WOLF PACK, or there's my historical novel HELTER-SKELTER.

BLACK MARKET

BLACK MARKET
“How much? It’s only a cabbage!”“Suit yourself - it’s no skin off my nose.”“I’ll take it, but it’s daylight robbery.”“It was moonlight, actually. How are you off for spuds?”“I could use a few kilos.”“I’m rationing them – I can only let you have two.”Danielle scuttled indoors before the neighbours saw her buying black market vegetables, but if her husband didn’t get his meat and two veg her life wouldn’t be worth living. She turned on the television, hoping to hear better news about the virus.Self-isolation with a bad-tempered man was worse than a prison sentence................................................................................................Roger Bultot's photo of empty shelves is chillingly apposite in view of the reported stock-piling some people are doing right now. Even I bought a carton of long-life milk 'just in case'. And we're being careful to wash our hands more often, but we're not panicking - more people died this week from a dozen other causes than of Covid-19.MORE EXCITING in my life this week is that the third book in my LIVING ROCK series is now published. You can buy LANDSLIDE on Amazon in print or ebook by clicking on the cover image on the right. If you haven't read the first two books yet, A VOLCANIC RACE and WOLF PACK are still there waiting for you!

THE ROAR OF THE GREASEPAINT

THE ROAR OF THE GREASEPAINT
Lucy was just nineteen and ripe for plucking when the actor stayed at her aunt’s boarding house. After a week of stories about his glamorous world, she packed her bags and followed him.But scrubbing greasepaint from his collars wasn’t glamorous, and the thrill of being backstage soon wore thin. She wasn’t even good enough at sewing to help the wardrobe mistress.When she caught him kissing his leading lady, she got a bus home and married the boy she’d left behind.He was a much better father to her child than the actor would ever have been. ..................................................................................................In the midst of preparing for publication Landslide, the third book in my Living Rock series, I've taken a break to write this week's 100 words.My first husband had just dipped his toe into the world of amateur dramatics when we met, and twenty years later the 'roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd' tempted him to turn professional. I still remember scrubbing the collar of his one white shirt and drying it on a radiator overnight for the next performance!Thanks to Dale Rogerson for her evocative photo, and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog, https://rochellewisoff.com/

SPARROW REMEMBERS

SPARROW REMEMBERS
Stolen from her bed in the cold white darkness of a Canadian winter, Sparrow’s last sight of home was the sun rising beyond the grain silo beside her house.Instead of attending school, she chopped wood, broke ice for water in winter, suffered mosquito swarms in summer, and endured nights under a stinking blanket with her captor.She was thirteen when another little girl appeared – then she remembered that image.With the child on her back she trudged east, scavenging for food, hiding from strangers, focussed only on one thing – the vision of sunrise over her parents’ farm.
.....................................................................................
Dawn Miller's photograph may well have been taken in Canada - it reminds me of the country around my son's home in Ontario, where he lives with his Canadian wife and two small daughters. So my mind instantly put together Canada, little girls, and the photo's focus to create my story.
You can read what other writers made of the image by following links from Rochelle's blog.  https://rochellewisoff.com/

BUT YOU SAID.... a story in 100 words

BUT YOU SAID...
“But you said you loved me!” Sonya stared unseeing at the crashing waves, willing herself not to cry.“Everyone says that – I didn’t think you’d take me seriously.”Sonya fumbled for the door handle and stepped out onto the sodden turf.“Get back in the car - you’ll catch your death!” Matt grabbed her arm but she wrenched it free.Her eyes blurred with tears and wind, she turned and ran. She didn’t even see the cliff edge, and Matt was powerless to stop her as she tumbled to the rocks below, taking her unborn child with her........................................................................................Only the rain blurring Rochelle's photo made it interesting, so I went with that - hope you like my story? If so, please do leave a comment. I see far more 'page views' than comments and I always wonder what people thought when they read and moved on silently.We've had some rain this week in UK, as you may have heard. I drove through huge puddles on my way to buy a new bed this morning, but that is nothing compared with the devastation in other parts of the country. With the coronavirus invading our shores as well, it's been a dramatic fortnight. But on the other side of the world the Australians are greeting heavy rain with huge sighs of relief.

HOMECOMING - a story in 100 words

HOMECOMING
They landed at midnight to avoid the protestors, simply glad to have arrived. Guards took them to an anonymous building where they were stripped and examined for any signs of the plague, then after scalding disinfectant showers they were given flimsy paper gowns.“Where are my own clothes?” Lee asked.The answer was curt. “Burnt.”Herded through the eerily empty terminal like lambs being driven to slaughter, Lee was grateful no-one was around to witness their humiliation.
Then they stepped off the escalator into a dull roar of sound, and behind a glass wall a hundred flashbulbs popped..........................................................................................................The UK citizens who arrived from Wuhan this week were treated less harshly than this, merely being put into quarantine for a fortnight. They all signed their agreement to this step before they flew, and are being provided with every comfort, yet still some are complaining already! Two weeks is nothing compared with the nightmare that people are living in China right now.Ted Strutz's photo is puzzling, and I wonder if my story is anywhere near the truth? To read what other writers made of it, follow the frog link from Rochelle's blog.  https://rochellewisoff.com/........................................For anyone who missed my contribution to Friday Fictioneers last week, my excuse is that I was helping my 95 year old Mum to pack and move into a care home near me. She is making friends there already, and I have been in to see her several times. Joining in with the occupational therapist's chair exercise routines quite wore me out!!

NUTS! a story in one hundred words.

NUTS! Moira crept round the shops, hiding her bruises behind her hair. Derek had ordered macadamia nut ice-cream – where on earth did he imagine she’d find that?After an increasingly frantic search she tracked some down in the deli, and finished her shopping. At home she added a few more nuts and made a curry – he liked it hot enough to sear his taste-buds.
When Derek collapsed, gasping for his Epipen, Moira slipped along the back lane to throw the tub in a skip before calling an ambulance. It arrived far too late, of course, but that was hardly her fault. .................................................................................................It's taken me 24 hours to think of a story for this domestic image taken by Na'ama Yehuda, so I hope you think it's up to scratch! If you would like to read how other writers interpreted it, follow the Frog link from Rochelle's blog https://rochellewisoff.com/

GREENHOUSE - a story in 100 words

GREENHOUSE
Zena dressed the children carefully – trousers, long-sleeved shirts, wide-brimmed hats, sunglasses, Factor 100 on exposed skin.“Are we going to the beach, Mummy?”Sometimes Zena took them for a picnic under the ruins of the pier, but keeping them in the shade was exhausting. “No – today’s a surprise.”
When they reached the Dome Zena bundled them up in warm jackets - air-conditioning kept the temperature down to a cool 40 – but their awe at their first sight of a tree made the journey worthwhile.With tears in her eyes she told them, “This is how it used to be.”.....................................................................................................This story may very well be prophetic, the way we're treating our world at the moment. I shudder for my grandchildren. There are countries still too poor to do their share of the repair, but the richer countries should be picking up the slack, and they're not. I was born in Australia, so the dreadful fires there are breaking my heart. Enough of politics! Thanks to J Hardy Carroll for the photograph, which reminded me of a tropical rainforest dome I visited in Australia 30 years ago, and the thoughts combined to inspire this story. Thanks also to Rochelle, our genial host on Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/