Liz Young's Blog, page 25

WHEN GOD WAS A BOY - a story in 100 words

WHEN  GOD  WAS  A  BOY
Peaceful’s ancestors were goatherds when God was a boy – his grandfather maintained it was goatherds who visited the stable when Jesus was born, but the gospellers called them shepherds because goats were too common.
Peaceful loved his work. It was usually undemanding – you walked, the goats ate everything in sight, you moved on. He much preferred the gentle clonking of their bells to the honking of car horns in town.
But today the graveyard needed cropping, the fence would contain the herd while he ate his mother’s Christmas dinner, and he’d got a decent wifi signal on his phone.

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I hope you all had a lovely Christmas / holiday / festive season, and are now back to what passes for normal in your world. I complicated my life by accepting a challenge to post a Flash Fiction Advent Calendar, which is in my archive for December if you care to look. There were times when the daily prompt in itself was an added challenge, but I kept going to the end!

Thanks as always to Rochelle, who even posted a prompt on Christmas Day! Do follow the Blue Frog trail from her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  to read other stories prompted by Randy Mazie's photograph.

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 25

HAPPY CHRISTMAS to all my readers, friends and followers! This is the last window of my Christmas calendar, and I'm missing Apollo 13 to write it. I was up early to fetch my mother for the day and there's not been a free moment since, but I am determined to finish the challenge. Today's was to write a story with myself in the centre, and I had to write a feel-good story on this day of all days., didn't I? I hope you like it, and will continue to read the stories I post on my blog each week. Also, when you buy my latest book WOLF PACK, or either of my other two novels, A VOLCANIC RACE and HELTER-SKELTER (which I wrote as Elizabeth Young) do please consider leaving a review on Amazon. It would make my year in 2019. 
NOT  AS  PLANNED
Christmas has never been the same since the kids left home – just Keith and me, a turkey crown, a bottle of red, and the Queen’s speech. We went to a hotel one year, but all that forced jollity was appalling so we didn’t repeat it.
This year was going to be more of the same until Fate took a hand – or rather, took myhand. I was coming out of the Co-op after buying a carton of cream to pour over our individual Christmas puddings, when a woman coming the other way let her dog lead wrap round my ankle and down I went. She was full of apologies and drove me to hospital, then home again with my wrist in plaster and, long story short, invited us both to Christmas dinner.
It was bliss - a house full of enticing smells, warmth and noise – and with my wrist in a plaster I couldn’t lift a finger to help  

ADVENT CALENDAR DAY 24

The challenge today was to write a story without dialogue - a silent night of sorts - but I've been too busy to write anything new, so here's an adaptation of a seasonal story I wrote two years ago.


NOT ALL SANTAS
I still believed in Santa until he took off his red coat that time and hurt me. When the moonlight lit his face I saw he was my own Dad.I was too young then to stop him, but this year I couldn’t face Christmas again so I packed my bag and headed for the motorway service station.
I almost didn’t get into Brad’s truck when I saw he was wearing a Santa hat, but I was more afraid of Dad catching me, so I chanced it and got in.
Then Brad stopped at this transport cafe and bought me dinner and I thought it was bound to be payment time soon, but he just sat there, showing me photos and talking about what he’s bought his kids.
Not all Santas are monsters after all.

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 23

The Night of the Radishes (Noche de Los Rábanos) is an annual event taking place on the 23rd of December in the Market Square of Oaxaca, Mexico where artisans make and display beautiful scenes out of carved radishes.  Can we take some radishes of our own and shape them into something surprising?
Find some writing that you did for any purpose other than creative expression.
This could be a shopping list, job application, essay, half-finished letter, financial report etc
Have a read over it and use its words to craft a story. 
The above was today's challenge!A while ago I translated some documents from Spanish for a friend. By adding the parts in italics I now present you with today's story.
LAND TRANSFER
Part the First. THE VENDORS are the owners of a plot of agricultural land – though we’ve never been able to grow anything worth selling - with an area of approximately 40 hectares – mostly too steep even for goats - who in their turn transfer ownership – with a heart-felt sigh of relief - to THE PURCHASERS -  for whom we thank God on our knees every night. The said land comes with the following neighbours:-To the North               AlfonsoTo the East                MariaTo the West               JoseTo the South              Manueland we wish you joy of them. For our part we will be happy never to clap eyes on any of them ever again.Part the Second. THE VENDORS give for sale the perpetual transfer of ownership – that means they can’t change their minds - to THE PURCHASERS – for whom God be thanked - the ground described in the first clause - 'roughly described' might be more accurate!Part the Third. This contract – drawn up by my nephew who charged an extortionate fee so he’d better have made it water-tight or there’ll be Hell to pay – to be completed by the payment of the sale price of the property – which these foreigners think is a bargain but is ten times what that robber our neighbour Alfonso offered.Signed for the VENDORS: Rafael CostaSigned for the PURCHASERS:  George SansomRight – now they’ve got the deeds and we’ve got the cash, the sooner we disappear the better.

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 22

Today's challenge began with a sketch of a woman reading a book, with a child sitting beside her looking in another direction. That was enough to lead me into sketching out this story.


ON THE TOP DECK
It was years since Fiona had been on a bus, but Sophie wanted to go to Hamley’s so they’d taken the train to London. It was difficult finding the correct bus stop and then the wretched child had insisted on climbing to the top deck. Still, at least there were vacant seats up here.
Fiona took her phone from her bag and began checking her messages. They were mostly shared jokes and pictures of puppies in Santa hats, but she didn’t want to miss anything.Sophie grabbed her arm. ‘Mum – look at the reindeer in that window!’‘Careful!’ Fiona snapped, ‘You nearly made me drop my phone.’Sophie turned back to the window, her lips trembling and her eyes moist.
Instantly Fiona was a child again, riding a bus with her own mother. Through the window she’d spotted a group of lambs leaping over a hay-bale, but her mother was too engrossed in her book to look. Fiona’s throat tightened now at the memory.Slipping her phone into her bag, she put an arm round Sophie’s slender shoulders. ‘Let’s see how many Christmas trees we can spot before we reach Hamley’s.’

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 21

Today I am using even fewer words than you are used to reading in my blog posts.
We were challenged to write three complete but connecting stories using SIX, EIGHTEEN and TWENTY-FIVE words respectively. So here goes - I suggest you take a breath between each story to get the full effect!


NOW At his funeral Rani didn’t weep....................................................
TEN YEARS EARLIER ‘You must not shame the family.’‘But he beats me.’‘If you leave him I will kill you.’......................................................
TEN YEARS BEFORE THAT ‘You willmarry him.’‘But he is old.’‘He is rich – your children will want for nothing.’‘If I refuse?’‘Your father will beat you.’...........................................................That's all folks!! - please don't go without leaving a comment.And did I mention I have a new book out? Click on the WOLF PACK cover at the top of this blog to go to my Amazon page. Happy Christmas.

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 20 - A Modern Christmas Story

The National Flash Fiction challenge was to write an emotional story without using cliches. After battling round Tesco's and trying to mend a broken drawer, I failed to come up with anything new, so instead I offer you another chance to read the Christmas story I wrote in 2016. 




IF IT HAPPENED NOW
“What’s up, babe? Your latte’s getting cold.”“I’ve gone off coffee, Joe – get me an orange juice instead.”Joe returned from the counter wearing a worried frown, “You’ve been moody all week and now you’ve gone off coffee – are you breaking up with me?”Mary couldn’t meet his soft brown eyes. “You might want to dump me when I tell you – I’m having a baby.”“I’m going to be a dad? That’s brilliant!”“It’s not yours.” The words dropped like a stone between them.Joe leaped up so violently that other customers stared. “Whose is it then? I thought you loved me.”Mary shrugged helplessly. “I do love you, Joe, but I didn’t have a choice.”“You mean someone forced you? I’ll bloody kill him!”“It wasn’t like that." Mary looked up at Joe, willing him to believe her. "This angel turned up out of nowhere and told me God’s been watching me and decided I’m the right one to have His baby. The angel said this baby will save the world one day.”“And you expect me to believe that?” Joe’s voice dripped scorn.Mary shrank back in her seat, her hands protecting her belly, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m having a hard time believing it myself, but I swear it’s the truth. I’m dreading telling Mum and Dad.” Joe sat down slowly and wiped her tears away with his calloused carpenter’s thumbs. “I can’t deny it’s a hell of a shock, Mary,” he said gently. "It's the wildest story I've ever heard, but I believe you - somehow we’ll work it out.” He grinned suddenly. “I’ve always wanted to be a dad.”And right there, in an ordinary coffee bar in an unremarkable town, Mary and Joseph were enveloped in a glow that the barista swore later resembled the wings of an angel............................................................................Please don't go without leaving a comment!

ADVENT CALENDAR DAY 19 - ONLY WORN ONCE - a story in 100 words

Today I am combining my Advent Calendar with my weekly Friday Fctioneers' flash fiction.The Advent challenge was to write a story, changing it as it progresses so that the ending is a surprise even to oneself. I suspect the lovely people who set these challenges have twisted minds!SO - as the FF photo was first published five years ago, I have resurrected the story I wrote then, and changed it. Several times. I was thinking of making it a murder but it didn't turn out that way!
ONLY  WORN  ONCE
He removed the wrapping paper. "They're great - the right size, too," but he couldn't hide his disappointment. She smiled with relief - she couldn't afford the Berghaus boots he'd wanted. "You can wear them on holiday.”
As he expected, the boots rubbed, and halfway through their first hike he removed them, claiming his feet needed to breathe."Look at the view," she said."Never mind the view - I need a leak,” he said and vaulted over the wall. Not surprisingly, the hundred-foot drop killed him.She coped well with the shock, finishing her holiday by the pool. 
When she arrived home she sold the boots on Ebay – ‘Only worn once’...........................................................................................Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  and to Adam Ickes for the photo of the boots. Looking back through my archives, I think the original of my story may even have been my very first stab at FF.As our next photo prompt isn't due until December 26th, I will take this opportunity to wish all my readers a very Happy Christmas, and to remind you that a book makes a wonderful gift, to give to someone or to keep. My latest book WOLF PACK is now out on Amazon in print and ebook - you can find it by clicking on the book cover at the top of my page. WOLF PACK is the second in my Living Rock series, the first of which was A Volcanic Race.

ADVENT CALENDAR DAY EIGHTEEN

The challenge for today is to write a story with a list, without any connecting phrases - just the bare list. It didn't inspire me with much enthusiasm, but in the end I wrote the kind of list one might make before a Christmas spent away. I hope you can visualize the family I imagined?
Things to Take to Gerry’s Pink jumper M&S for MumDad - flat cap / must be grey dogtooth checkGerry - denim shirt / pref. Dark blueSamantha – smellies / Body Shop?Tiffany - goth make-up or skull necklaceOllie – defo deodorantProsecco / Baileys / Mint chocsGaviscon / ParacetomolCigarettes / Hip flask of brandy / Phone!!! .................................................................................

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY SEVENTEEN

Today's challenge breaks one of the Cardinal Rules of Writing - we were asked to write a story with LOTS of repetition in it. We were also invited to add a poetic slant but, what with shopping, cooking and gardening to do, the title of my piece will have to suffice. I am sure every parent out there will relate to this story. 
JINGLE BELLS
‘Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!’Jingle Bells is not my favourite Christmas song at the best of times, but Jingle Bells at five in the morning is taking the piss. I yelled ‘Shut up!’ and the noise stopped – for about five minutes. I was just dropping off to sleep when I heard Jake start up singing Jingle Bells again, in what he fondly considers a whisper, so I gave up and went downstairs to make a cup of tea.
I’m a dreadful parent, I know. Jingle Bells is the song Jake is learning for the school concert, but I’ve listened to him sing Jingle Bells in the car on the school run for a fortnight, and teatime has been accompanied by the musical rendition of Jingle Bells. To be honest, Jake hasn’t got the tune of Jingle Bells quite right, and when he sings ‘Jingle bells’ at full volume, Mrs Smith from next door bangs on the wall.
The moment the concert is over I am going to ban Jingle Bells for the rest of the festive season, even if I have to throw Jake out into the snow – or at least send him round to his Nan, who I am sure would delight in hearing him sing Jingle Bells ad nauseam.