mondays finish the story

Teamwork – Monday’s Finish the Story

Published on March 24, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom47 Comments

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

Here is this week’s photo . . .

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

When the team heard the dam explode, they knew they had limited time to make it to safety.

Dave made the split-second decision that offered his team the only hope of survival. Ahead lay the series of rapids they’d been preparing to negotiate: too late now to escape the river’s fast-flowing pull. Behind them the raging dam waters neared.

‘Blades down!’ he yelled from the helm, thrusting his paddle into the billowing foam. ‘We’re in this together, so control this baby!’

The raft plunged over the dip … straight into the clutches of violent eddies that sent them spinning into jagged rocks. The raft tilted perilously and water swamped the craft. Two men momentarily disappeared, only practised survival skills preventing them from being swept into the suds.

They hit the pool mere yards from the bank as the deafening roar reached the dip.

‘Swim for it!’ Dave yelled.

‘Great teamwork, guys,’ Greg hollered down as they scrambled up the bank. Sound effects OK? River rescue practice tomorrow …’

Word count: 150

To view other entries, click here.

The Double-Crosser – Monday’s Finish the Story

Published on March 17, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom44 Comments

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

Here is this week’s photo . . .

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

A body suddenly crashed through a plate glass window at the brigadier’s house. It plummeted past Brigadier Humphreys, lounging on the balcony below. He sped upstairs and into the room, his lower jaw quivering in outrage.

‘What the deuce is going on?’ he demanded, glaring at the shattered window.

‘Relax, Brigadier,’ Mike Jewson soothed, his Texan drawl pronounced. ‘You’ll be reimbursed real well for use of your place once we’re done.’

‘B … but the body …?

Jewson shrugged. ‘No worries, man. Best way to deal with the double-crosser, is all.’

Charles Humphries glanced about the room, taking in the amused faces and their fancy equipment. ‘But you can’t just murder someone, it–’

‘ – was necessary, Brigadier,’ a tall, suave man in tux and bow tie cut in. ‘Agent 008 at your service,’ he added, grinning. ‘He was threatening British Security.’

‘Ah, that’s different then,’ the brigadier murmured as he left.

‘Go retrieve the dummy, Hank, then we roll with scene two.’

Word count: 150

To view other entries, click here.

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!

Holed Up – Mondays Finish the Story

Published on February 4, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom46 Comments

Due to family circumstances I’m a couple of days late with this week’s Mondays Finish the Story. This is a flash fiction writing challenge involving writing a story of 100-150 words from the photo and first line prompt kindly provided by the host, Barbara Beacham.

If you fancy having a go at this yourself, just click on the link above and get typing! Instructions about how to post your story are on the page.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

and this is my story, including the first sentence prompt:

Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River.

‘He’s holed up in that thar’ shack,’ Billy murmured to his brother as they unstrapped the Winchesters from their saddle packs. ‘Almost a month, ol’ Jesse reckons.’

Casey swept his brow with his sleeve, squinting into the blazing sun. ‘Way I see it, we go in and get the varmint now. He’s taken two good men down already – two too many, I say.’

They crept towards the old prospector’s shack. It made an ideal hideout: good hunting in the scrubland and a ready water supply. Billy checked his rifle. ‘We shoot on sight. If Jack’s as wily as we’re told, he’ll be a waitin’ fer us. And we ain’t taking no chances.’

Casey frowned. ‘So why’d Jesse call the varmint Jack?’

‘Reminded him of his Pa, I guess. Real big guy, he said, fast as lightning and a killer bite.

Biggest Diamondback Rattler he’d ever seen.’

Word Count: 147

She-Wolf: Mondays Finish the Story

Published on January 27, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom22 Comments

This is my second story written for this week’s Mondays Finish the Story. This is a flash fiction writing challenge which asks that we write a story of 100-150 words from the photo and writing prompt provided by the host, Barbara Beacham.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and this is my second story, including the writing prompt:

She was unaware that she was being watched.

Jake kept the she-wolf in focus through the rifle’s telescopic lens. She was a beauty, and he hated what he had to do. But she’d been taking his livestock for the past week. At first just the odd chicken, but now she was trying her luck with his calves. She was a loner, he guessed; no nightly howls of a pack. But he’d lay bets she had cubs to feed at this time of year: mid May they’d likely be needing their first meat.

Her eyes fixed on the calf staggering at the edge of the herd, just twenty yards away, the she-wolf sank on her haunches. Jake’s finger curled round the trigger.

The she-wolf leapt forward, her powerful jaws closing round the calf’s neck; sharp canines sinking deep into tender flesh.

Jake watched in admiration as she dragged the carcass into the bushes. Back to her hungry cubs.

Words: 149

El Lobo – Mondays Finish the Story

Published on January 27, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom19 Comments

This is my third week of taking part in the flash fiction writing challenge, Mondays Finish the Story, hosted by Barbara Beacham. The challenge involves writing a story of 100-150 words from the photo and first line prompt kindly provided by the host.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

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

She was unaware that she was being watched as she focused on the mail coach careering down the narrow valley. The rockfall would soon be within their sights and the screeching of wheels and whinnying horses would be her cue to move out. She grinned, anticipating the payrolls soon to be hers.

Townsfolk called her El Lobo. The Wolf. She liked that. It amused her that the fools assumed her to be a man. They knew her as Kitty, the pretty, young schoolteacher, all dimples and smiles. She’d honed her skills well over the years, knew exactly how to stalk her prey, target the weakest amongst them. They deserved no better, after all, for hanging her father. The first El Lobo

She adjusted her mask and spurred her restless stallion into motion. Then the shot rang out and she dropped like a felled beast.

The sheriff smiled. El Lobo had been unaware that she was being watched.

Word Count: 149

Fifteen Yards and Panicking – Mondays Finish the Story

Published on January 20, 2015January 14, 2016 by milliethom30 Comments

This is my second week of taking part in flash fiction writing challenges and I’m finding them quite addictive. (Who am I kidding? They’re totally addictive!) This challenge is Mondays Finish the Story, hosted by Barbara Beacham. It asks that we write a story of 100 -150 words from the photo and first line prompt -both kindly provided by the host.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and this is my offering, including the given opening sentence:

They finally made their escape.

The four by four slewed to the right as it rounded a tight bend, scouring the muddy bank with a screech of tyres before spluttering to a halt. Jack struggled to restart the engine then hit the throttle. The vehicle lurched forward, just as the beast rounded the bend.

At his side, Tom squinted at their pursuer. ‘Fifteen freakin’ yards and it’ll have us for a Scooby Snack!’

Jack shot him a venomous look. ‘The throttle’s already at its bleedin’ limit! What d’you expect me to do . . . crash the car, good and proper?’

The beast was on their offside now, all evil-eyed and roaring. Jack squeezed the throttle, just as the T-rex hurled itself across the chassis, five yards from the finishing line.

Tom pressed another coin into the slot. ‘Two wins each and your “No Result”,’ he said, smirking. ‘And the last go is mine.’

Word Count: 149