Liz Young's Blog, page 27

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY SEVEN

Today's challenge from National Flash Fiction is to write a complete story in 50 words or less. It's not easy to get a beginning, middle and end into so few words, but I've done it. Do please leave a comment to let me know I'm not talking to myself!


MAGIC
At the sound of raised voices Tree Fairy sighed. “They’re fighting again.”“They’ve forgotten the Christmas light,” said Tin Soldier. “Keep watch while I fix it.”When he lit the candle, spicy scent filled the room and the angry voices stilled.Tree Fairy blew Tin Soldier a kiss and he blushed.

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY SIX

Today's challenge is to write a story in the present tense from two points of view.
BELLA
I was christened Bella, but everyone calls me Bell. This was fine until I started secondary school – now, every time the bell rings to change classes, this horrible boy Ryan shouts, “Bell – they’re playing your tune!”
That Italian girl Bell just kicked me! She rises to the bait every time and the other kids think it’s funny, but she’s got no sense of humour.
He shouts it again today - “Bell – it’s for you-oo!” and everyone laughs. I loathe the very sight of him, and it feels like I’ll never be free of him. Until now, when I’m sitting in biology and I see this wall poster – I’m sure I’ve seen that plant somewhere.
Funny – Bell isn’t glaring at me like she usually does. She’s pretending to ignore me, staring at a stupid poster on the wall. I’ll catch her at the Home bell – that’s always the loudest.
The fence around the bomb-site is a doddle to get through, and I find the plant straight off. I pick some berries – carefully - and wrap them in a tissue before putting them in my pocket. Ryan won’t know what’s hit him till it’s too late - school dinners are definitely bad enough to disguise the taste of belladonna.

TIMETABLE - 100 words for Friday Fictioneers

TIMETABLE
The island’s steep lava flows sprawled into the Atlantic like giant starfish arms, each inlet battered by waves that had gained strength across a thousand miles of ocean.
Manuel had grown up here, knew it intimately, and he had a foolproof plan. Rob the village store just as it was closing, then escape along the railway line and hide in the tunnel as he had when he was a boy. The police, having to use the winding road, couldn’t catch him.
Unfortunately, in the years he’d been away, the train timetable had changed. Jumping to the side wasn’t an option.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 This week's photograph, thanks to Dawn M Miller and https://rochellewisoff.com/ , reminded me of La Gomera, one of the Canary Islands. It doesn't have a railway, but the road around the island is cut through each starfish arm and skirts precipitous drops to the valleys. That's the mostly yellow one on this map!
I have taken on another challenge this month - one from National Flash Fiction, to produce an Advent Calendar of flash fiction using a different prompt each day. Feel free to scroll through my archives and read them.

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY FIVE

Today's challenge is to write a piece of dialogue in 5-12 time - ie: five words to one speech, twelve to the next, with no speech tags. Hope you like it.

DUMPED
“What’s up? You look stressed.”“Where do I start? Have you got any wine in the fridge?”“Only Prosecco. Will that do?”“Perfect. Simon’s dumped me for that tarty girl from the coffee shop.”“We knew she spelled trouble.”“She was after him from Day One – he didn’t stand a chance.”“You’re not sorry for him?”“Nah! I’ve got my eye on that gym instructor. This Prosecco’s good.”
“I’ll open another bottle. Ciao!”

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY FOUR

Here I go with Day Four of my Advent Calendar, and today's prompt from National Flash Fiction asked for a story based on a recipe, with instructions to detail the whole recipe. As I love cooking, this was easy to write. Let me know how your scones turn out!


MAGALY’S SCONES
Life has become much more lively since Magaly arrived.Invitations to tea in her bungalow are so eagerly sought after that it is rumoured she’s had to keep a rota. Anyone who upsets the rhythm of our retirement village finds their name dropped from her list. Last month Barry Evans allowed his dog to foul the footpath and didn’t clear it up – he’ll be lucky if he gets another invitation this year.
Magaly is an excellent cook and has mastered many of our English favourites along with her own, but her cheese and herb scones are exceptionally good. She is happy to share the recipe – best butter rubbed into wholewheat flour, baking powder to make them rise, and a fist-sized lump of Cheddar grated into the mix along with a handful of herbs. It’s the same way I make them, but there’s a subtle difference.
I stayed behind last week to help her wash up, and there was a packet on the table bearing Columbian stamps. I sniffed it when she wasn’t looking.Now I know why her scones make her tea parties go with such a swing.

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY THREE

Today's prompt from National Flash Fiction is about mirror images - to write about a two characters, one like myself and one my opposite. As I am old and methodical, my opposite number is young and disorganised!


THE  BENCH
It’s not actually my bench, but I’m here every day, rain or shine. Henry would miss me if I didn’t come, and I’d miss our little chats. If I talk to him anywhere else they’ll put me in a nursing home, and I’m not going – can’t bear the smell of those places.
So it was shock to find a young man sprawled out on it – sunbathing, no less – and I was a bit sharp with him. I was sorry then because he looked about to run off, so I patted the bench beside me and offered him a biscuit.
Unemployed, of course, but he’d been trying. Trouble was, he hadn’t gone about it systematically. Sitting there, we drew up a plan. He’s promised to come back next week and report progress.
I told Henry all about him – he’s a good listener. Nor surprising really – he can’t say much from six feet under.

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY TWO

Today's challenge was to write about my writing routine. Hah! My life is too complicated to have one, so I reverted to yesterday's prompt and chose a poem by Edward Thomas.


NONE SO MUCH AS YOU  
The world is a dark, echoing place when you’re on your own. Each wind that comes blows through the voids in your life, searching out every weakness, chilling each midnight fear.
All it needs is for one person to notice you – one kindred spirit to touch your soul – and the light returns, warmth blankets you against the cold, and fear subsides.
I am still hoping for that moment of recognition. I glimpsed it once but I let it slip through my fingers. Never since then has anyone come close – none so much as you.

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY ONE

Advent Calendar - National Flash Fiction issued a challenge for December. That for December 1st is to use the FIRST words of a book or poem as the LAST words of a piece of flash fiction. I chose a line from a poem by Emily Dickinson.
THE POTTER and THE SLAVE
The slave-master yanked the rope that bound Yani and shouted, “Who will bid a hundred for this lovely young virgin?”“She’s ugly,” a wit called out, “And she won’t be a virgin after a night in your cells.” The crowd guffawed and the slave-master squeezed Yani’s arm. “At least she’s strong, and as it’s a feast day I’ll let her go for eighty.”“I’ll take her,” a man said and the hammer fell.
Petrus was old and his home in Stabiae was humble – an open-fronted pottery with one room above – but a fig-tree shaded the well in the yard and the kitchen was cool. Also, Petrus was gentle, in bed he was grateful, and when Yani gave birth to a son, he freed her.
Marcus was a month old when Petrus announced, “I am going to sell pots in Surrentum.” A warm breeze wafted from the north but Yani shivered. “I will come with you.” Petrus stared as she packed their belongings into the cart – he had heard childbirth made women strange. “Shall I bring my wheel?” he joked.Yani glanced at the mountain and clutched Marcus. “You can buy another – now hurry!”
They were ten miles away when Vesuvius erupted – a still volcano life that flickered in the night.

SILVER SPOON - a story in one hundred words

SILVER  SPOON
Arnold sat in the village pub, sipping a whisky and enjoying an hour of anonymity, when an arrogant young voice called from the other bar, “Another round in here – and be quick about it!”The landlord went to serve them, his body language eloquent with disapproval, and Arnold’s whisky was suddenly tasteless.
Next morning his son stared at the breakfast table through bleary eyes. “What’s that?”“That,” Arnold said sternly, “is an oilcan. It reminds me that I only own an oilfield because I worked hard. It’s time you did the same – you start in the workshop tomorrow.”----------------------------------------------------------------This week's photo of someone's treasured collection comes from Nick Allen by way of Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  and, as usual, I am late on parade. Though why Thursday should be considered 'late' for Friday Fictioneers is a conundrum i have yet to understand :)
After a few hours baking Justice League fairy cakes with my granddaughter yesterday, I achieved the impossible - I inserted page numbers into my next book, starting on the fourth page!! So, as it has already been approved by my proof-reader, WOLF PACK, the second in my LIVING ROCK series, might even be published this year.
Meanwhile the first book, A VOLCANIC RACE, is available on Amazon in print - which would make a lovely gift to wrap for somebody - or in ebook for your Kindle.
Also on Amazon is HELTER-SKELTER which I published as Elizabeth Young to make clear it is in a different genre - historical fiction. You can find it by clicking on the link on this page.

EROSION - a 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers

EROSION
Val glared across the table at Dennis. “You can’t leave me – we had such dreams!”“You had dreams – I just had to work all hours to provide the cash.”Val clenched her fist round her coffee. “While I kept the house nice and raised the kids.”“Nagging me incessantly, like water eroding rock. You’ve worn me away till there’s nothing left.” Dennis began spreading marmalade meticulously to the edge of his toast. His hand was shaking, Val noticed, and reality hit her like a brick – she didn’t want to lose him.
She took a deep breath. “Let’s talk about it.”.....................................................................................This photo was taken by Dale Rogerson and posted on Rochelle's blog   https://rochellewisoff.com/  as a prompt for Friday Fictioneers.  It's such a lovely view that I struggled to find a story to fit, but here it is at last.
I had an unexpected boost to my esteem yesterday when my stepdaughter told me she was finally reading A Volcanic Race, my first book published last year, and was loving it. 'So well written,' she said, with only a hint of surprise in her voice! Families, eh? I am soon to publish my third book, the next in my Living Rock series, called Wolf Pack, yet only a handful of my large extended family have read any of them.
Which reminds me - Christmas is coming - why not buy a copy for yourself or a friend? They are available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle versions.