Liz Young's Blog, page 28

MEMORIAL - a story in one hundred words

MEMORIAL
I was fourteen, running away from my stepfather, ducked in here out of the rain and practically fell over Mike. He gave me one of his coats.It was our home for months till they caught me shoplifting and put me in care, but then the social worker tried it on so I came back to Mike.Five years we had before his cough turned worse. I got us into a shelter but it was too late.The Social cremated him and gave me his ashes. That’s his grave there – the only dad I ever had worth the name.

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This week's prompt photograph was taken by our leader personally - Rochelle - who you will find on her blog at  https://rochellewisoff.com/  From there you can follow the link to read other stories by dozens more writers like me, all of whom hope you will leave a comment and want to read more.

With Christmas coming up, I trust your shopping list includes lots of books? You can buy my latest book, Helter-Skelter, an historical novel, by clicking on the cover image on this page. Or if you like prehistoric adventure, the first in my Living Rock series, A Volcanic Race, is available on Amazon. Read it now before the next one comes out - I will be publishing Wolf Pack very soon.

TREE DANCE - a story in 100 words

TREE  DANCE

When the Council declared the old tree was dangerous, the town mourned. Generations had swung from its branches and eaten picnics in its shade.By popular vote, Hal was selected to carve the remaining trunk, and Running Bear supervised progress from his folding chair.“Be careful what spirits you awaken, boy – trees have long memories.”Hal laughed, but when he surveyed his work that evening, shapes had appeared that he didn’t recognize. Shivering, he hurried home.
In the morning there was a track in the grass, as if many feet had danced around the tree all night.............................................................................................................I had to resist the temptation to write a story about my elder son, who is in the process of carving the trunk of a tree which was felled beside his house. We also have a tree-carving artist who has made woodland creatures to delight the children - and adults - out of felled trees around our village. So much better than reducing a grand old tree to firewood and wood-pulp.Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to J S Brand for this week's photograph.

WHEN I'M BIGGER - flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers

WHEN I’M BIGGER
Why does crying make your eyes all blurry?I’m hungry, but when I asked Mummy for a biscuit she said I’d made her brush slip and she smacked me.
I don’t like it when she paints her models because it makes her busy and cross. She calls me a little pest and tells me to ask Daddy, but I don’t want to.
When I’m bigger I’m going to bite him – perhaps that will stop him hurting me...................................................................................................This week's photo prompt was taken by Jeff Arnold and it made me screw up my eyes trying to get it in focus, hence my story, which happened so fast that it only reached 80 words. I hope you agree that I was right to stop there? Please leave a comment and follow the link from Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  to read other stories.
It doesn't seem possible that it's November already, but my son and grandson's Trick-or-Treat call last night made it clear. I shall have to get a move on with my decorating if our new old cottage is to look its best by Christmas!
Helter-Skelter - how about buying yourself an early Christmas present? My latest novel is on Amazon in paperback or Kindle, (click on the cover at the top of my blog to find it) and would make a great fireside read. Or a beach book, if you're in another temperate zone!

ROMANTIC BONES - a 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers

ROMANTIC BONES
Mum hasn’t got a romantic bone in her body.I asked her once, “You must have fallen in love with Dad?” but she soon shattered that illusion. “I got pregnant with you.”Her garden is full of vegetables – she loathes flowers. “Dead in days and drop mess everywhere.”She said the same when I wanted a puppy – except for the dead part, of course.In a last-ditch attempt to ignite her romantic spark I took her to the famous Exhibition Hall.She stared at the magnificent roof and said, “I wouldn’t fancy having to clean that.”.............................................................................................I think of myself as a romantic, but I have a strong streak of practicality which asks, 'How would one clean that roof?' Possibly by employing my grandson Joe, an abseiler who tackles jobs just like that. At the moment he is in Sydney, working at their famous cricket ground - my husband is green with envy.Thanks to Roger Bultot for this week's photo and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog https://rochellewisoff.com/I have finally got round to opening an Author Page on Goodreads, so if you have read either of my books - A Volcanic Race or Helter-Skelter - do please consider writing a review.    https://www.goodreads.com/author/show... if you haven't read them yet, now is your chance!

BIRTHDAY PRESENT - a 100 word story

BIRTHDAY PRESENT
“Come on, Mum – you haven’t chosen anything yet!”Betty shook her head, too breathless to speak. It was sweet of Joe to take her shopping, and no doubt the Mall was a marvel of modern design, but why did everything have to be so spread out? Ten minutes just to cross the car park before they even reached the shops. Give her an old-fashioned High Street any day.She clutched Joe’s arm. “Just take me to the nearest cafė, darling – I need a coffee.”“But what about your birthday present?”“You choose – I like surprises.”
......................................................................................You'll probably GUESS (see what I did there?) from this story that I don't like Malls any more than Betty does - marathon shopping isn't my idea of fun - so I sympathize with the woman in this photo, taken by Jilly Funell for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to our indefatigable leader Rochelle, who blogs on  https://rochellewisoff.com/

If you enjoyed this story, why not scroll through my archives and read some of the others? At my first ever Author Fair last Saturday I gave away little scrolls with a story on each one, hoping to attract more readers, though it was worth all the effort of printing and rolling them just to see the pleasure on people's faces at being given something for nothing!  

I reached a milestone last week when I sent off to my proofreader the second book in my Living Rock series. All being well, WOLF PACK will be out early in the New Year - watch this space!

PRINCESS - a hundred word story

PRINCESS
“You said no?”“I said no.”“How could you? He’s such a nice boy.”“And so rich.”“That’s not what I meant, but having money isn’t such a bad thing.”“He’s boring and possessive.”“He’d treat you like a princess.”“Yeah, right – give me diamonds and lock me up in his castle.”“But you’re thirty – you might not ...”“Get another offer? Thanks Mum.”“Don’t you want to be married and have babies?”“Give you grandchildren, you mean? When I get married – if I ever do – I want to share my castle with a prince, not a gaoler.” ........................................................................................................I just didn't fancy the idea of living in this building, with its slit windows, minimal light, and no way out, which prompted this week's story. Apologies to Rochelle who took the picture, and who also hosts Friday Fictioneers at https://rochellewisoff.com/I have been extra busy this week, as I am going to my first ever Local Author Fair on Saturday at Crawley Library. Crawley is in Sussex, so if any of you are down that way on Saturday morning, do please pop in and visit my stand, where I shall be displaying - and hopefully selling copies of - my recent book Helter-Skelter, the cover of which is at the top of my blog - click on it to buy your copy.

SHELL GAME - a story in a hundred words

SHELL GAME
Dave was out there as usual this morning in his car, waiting to follow me.I did my normal Tuesday shop then met the girls for coffee, and while the babies played we went over the plan meticulously – we would only get one chance.
After an hour Sally left wearing my clothes, with her shopping in my buggy, Rene tucked my baby in with hers and walked off to the Mall, while I jogged across the park, my face hidden in Sally’s hoodie.
That evening we celebrated in the Refuge – Dave is no match for three women playing the shell game................................................................................................Here we are again, another week, another raft of stories courtesy of Rochelle at   https://rochellewisoff.com/  who manages our group of writers, and thanks to Sandra Crook who took the photograph.For any reader who doesn't understand my reference, the shell game is a sleight of hand trick played with three conical shells and a pea, similar to Find the Lady.
Local Author Fair - and if anyone is in Crawley on Saturday 13th OCtober, come and visit my stall at the Library (opposite Debenhams) where I shall be giving away more of my flash fiction.

LATE FOR WORK - a tale of consequences, in one hundred words

LATE FOR WORK
Gerald pedalled furiously along the dark streets, shot through an amber light, and collided with a delivery van, breaking his wrist.Gerald’s absence left Dennis, the night porter, to set the breakfast bar, and he neglected to turn on the coffee urn.Deprived of her morning caffeine, the Foreign Secretary departed angrily for a Cabinet meeting, but her trailing scarf became trapped in the revolving door. Before Dennis could press the emergency button she was half-throttled. As she was rushed into Emergency, Gerald watched the drama, totally unaware that his failure to get up on time had averted a war.............................................................................It took me ages to come up with a story this week,but I've been busy helping with the local Arts Festival, so I hope you'll forgive any shortcomings.Thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/  Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and to Yvette Prior for the photograph of a lovely mosaic floored lobby.

ALFREDO'S - a story in one hundred words

ALFREDO’S
There’s a secret hidden in the side streets of our town, known only to the locals. Tourists are directed to promenade restaurants with music, free entertainment and lights reflected in the night-dark sea.
On rare occasions some will venture further and discover Alfredo’s, where they will be shown to a table outside – only the kitchen is indoors – and given a carafe of local wine. There is no menu. Alfredo serves whatever his sons caught that day – sardines, swordfish, octopus – with salty potatoes, salsa picanteand tomato salad.
The alley breeze keeps the diners cool, and if it rains there are Alfredo’s famous umbrellas................................................................................................
This week's image - thank you, Dale Rogerson - took me straight back to Tenerife, where there is a restaurant much as I describe here. It is in Los Cristianos, called El Cine, and has been in the same family since the 1970s. We spent many a happy evening there, usually with family or friends. 
Thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/  for hosting Friday Fictioneers. If you follow the links from her blog you can read how other writers interpreted the image.

I have been busy these past few weeks with a house move, and apart from a prodigious amount of painting still to do, we are settled in comfortably for the duration. ie - until they carry us out! See my previous post for a photo.

HANS AND GRETA - a one hundred word story for Friday Fictioneers

HANS & GRETA
Every hour, on the hour, the carved doors swung open and Hans moved smoothly to meet Greta. Watched by townsfolk and tourists alike, they leaned towards each other to kiss, then danced to a foot-tapping peasant tune before parting company.
Behind those closed doors Hans and Greta lived in a comfortless world of jigsaw lights and intricate draughts, fires that never stayed lit, curtains blown frantic by every breeze, and constant chest infections.
One bitter winter day the doors opened on emptiness - relieved only by a hand-painted sign: ‘Couple wanted. Free accommodation. Must be reliable.’.............................................................................................................. Here I am again, after a week off writing while we moved house. We are now living in an old cottage and, although I have some painting and other odd jobs still to do, we are settling in. There are twenty of them, owned by a Village Trust, and we are very lucky to have been offered one.Must dash - I now have a garden and it's in need of some TLC  :)