first sentence prompt – Millie Thom

Wine and Women – Monday’s Finish the Story

Published on March 10, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom39 Comments

It’s time to have a go at Monday’s Finish the Story. This is a flash fiction challenge which asks that we write a story in 150 words from the picture and first line prompt provided by the host, Barbara W. Beacham.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and this is my story, including the first line prompt:

On March 9th, 2015, three objects were reportedly seen in the skies over the Borracho Todos los Tiempos Vineyards.

Harry Hobson attempted to focus on the lights moving across the pre-dawn sky, unable to decide whether there were five flying saucers or three, and took another swig from his near-empty bottle.

‘What d’ya make of them, Fred?’ he asked the figure slumped beside him against the boulder. ‘D’ya think we’s bein’ invaded?’

Fred belched, opening his heavy eyelids a fraction.’ Nah’, he slurred. ‘Wars bin over more’n sixty years.’

‘A wa’n’t thinkin’ o’ Jerries, Fred. Them’s flying saucers …’

Fred wobbled to his feet and stared up at the sky. ‘Hoo cares about saucers – and we ain’t on ’oliday to look at lights. Wine and women’s all I …’

Harry watched, agog, as Fred drifted up into the sky, surrounded by a bright beam of light. Bleedin’ typical of Fred to go off without him.

‘Make sure yer back afore the vineyard store opens at ten,’ he yelled.

Word Count: 150

To view other entries, click here.

It’s All About The Chemistry

Published on February 24, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom45 Comments

Here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and this is my story, including the first line prompt:

The old typewriter had a mind of its own.

Seventy-four-year-old Mavis Wetherton uncovered her cherished old Underwood typewriter, intent on writing the next chapter of her novel – a detective story, set in 1950s London. She switched on the old Zenith radio, another of her ’50s treasures, just as the Everleys rocked their way through ‘Bye Bye Love.’

The old Underwood worked perfectly, the letters sharply defined. The machine had been over forty years old when she’d acquired it in 1959 – the day her boss has been about to throw it out. She’d simply asked if she could keep it …

The romance had blossomed from there: their 55^th wedding anniversary was later this year.

‘How you get that thing to work beats me,’ Frank said from the doorway. ‘Won’t do a thing for me.’

Mavis smiled. ‘It’s all about chemistry, Frank. Me, my Underwood and the music. Together we hit the right note. Just like you and me do.’

Word Count: 150

To view other entries, click here.

The Fisherman’s Tale

Published on February 11, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom15 Comments

This is my second contribution to Mondays Finish the Story – an excellent flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara W. Beacham. The challenge requires us to write a piece of fiction between 100-150 words from the photo and first line prompt provided by Barbara.

In fact, this was my original effort. Then I had another thought and wrote that out: effort number two. Then, not particularly happy with either of those, I wrote a third! That was the one I published yesterday. Now I’ve had another look at my first story and have decided to give it a go. The second version can stay where it is . . . it’s somewhat ‘darker’.

So, here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and this is my story, including the first line prompt:

Dropping her line into Fool’s Lake, she patiently waited for something to bite.

It wasn’t often that Molly came fishing, more often than not satisfied just living in this beautiful place. But alone by the lake she could contemplate her life: the lies and deceit – and the fun.

Sometimes, thoughts of those things excited her, made her long for the next time. That insatiable urge would rise in her chest, suffocating and intoxicating all at once. How it amused her.

Tomorrow, hordes of gullible fishermen would start streaming in, all vying to win the prize. She laughed to think how they believed the tale: a fish of such proportions as to warrant the name of ‘monster’!

Her sleek black wetsuit with its mermaid-styled rear waited at her father’s hotel across the lake. She would permit the fools a glimpse of tail – perhaps a dorsal fin; enough to engender a tale, encourage the odd snapshot…

Dad’s hotel had positively boomed this year.

149 words

If you’d just like to view some of the other entries, click the link here.

It’s A Man Thing – Mondays Finish the Story

Published on February 10, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom26 Comments

It’s Monday again, the day for Barbara Beacham’s excellent flash fiction challenge, Mondays Finish the Story. This asks that we write a piece of fiction in 100-150 words from the photo and first word prompt provided by our host.

If you fancy having a go at this, click on the link above to get the instructions on how to post and follow the link to other entries.

If you’d just like to view some of the other entries, click the link here.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and this is my story for this week, including the first line prompt:

Dropping her line into Fool’s Lake, she patiently waited for something to bite.

‘Girls’re useless at fishin’. Fifteen-year old David Mullard sniggered at his sister’s outraged face, touching the toe of his boot to her empty bucket. ‘Tha’s been out ’ere all mornin’ an’ bucket’s nowt init yet.’

Brenda’s smouldering eyes fixed on her puny twin, who’d been annoying her for the past hour. ‘Push off afore I count t’ three, or I’ll smash yer ’ead in!’

David considered the matter, deciding that his brawny sister would have no problem bashing his head to a pulp against the jetty. He backed up a few yards.

‘Wait till a tell yer fancyman ’ow daft y’ look in them fishin’ togs. ’Es waitin’ for yer back at ’ouse.

‘What!’ Brenda shrieked, tossing down her rod. ‘Why dint y’ tell us?’

‘Arh jus’ did,’ David said, grinning as he watched her retreating back. He picked up the expensive rod. ‘Now fer a bit o’ man fishin’.’

Word Count: 150

I’ve attempted a Yorkshire dialect this week, with all it’s dropped letters and old-fashioned sounding words like thee and thou – or abbreviations of them. In speech, some words are just missed out altogether, the meaning of the sentence left to the reader/listener’s powers of deduction (or imagination!).

The dialect contains many words derived from the Norse – a reminder of the time between the 9th and 10th centuries when Yorkshire was a part of the Danelaw, initiated in the late 9th century by Alfred the Great. My very favourite person!