writing challenge – Page 5

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.

One Last Run – Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Published on March 13, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom25 Comments

Flash Fiction for for Aspiring Writers is a writing challenge, kindly hosted by Priceless Joy. The challenge asks us to write a piece of fiction from the photo prompt provided in around 100- 150 words. It encourages participants to comment, constructively, on other entries, so supporting each other’s writing. If you’d like to join in with this challenge, follow the link in the title of PJ’s, blog: Beautiful Words to see what to do. The challenge runs from Wednesday to Wednesday every week.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

. . . and this is my story:

Mickey Riordan passed the security officers supervising the boarding passengers at the top of the Bavaria’s gangplank, and grinned. He’d done it again! This final stop at Cologne, one of the Rhine’s many ports, had resulted in his fifth little bag of diamonds.

Back in his cabin he locked the bag in the safe with the rest, all to be delivered to the ‘big boys’ once they’d docked in Amsterdam. Then it was off to the airport for his homebound flight. With the payoff from his third and last ‘run’ he’d be able to buy that big house with the swimming pool in London.

Contemplating a hot shower, the knock on the door startled him. Probably the steward with the extra towels he’d ordered …

‘Mr. Riordan?’ one of the two burly policemen asked.

Mickey nodded, visualising the next ten years in clink. He could kiss that posh house goodbye.

Word Count: 150

If you’d like to read 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.

Fifteen Minutes Late – Picture it and Write

Published on March 8, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom19 Comments

Picture It and Write is a weekly writing challenge, posted every Sunday by Eliabeth, the author of Ermiliablog. The challenge is to write a piece of fiction or a poem in response to the photo prompt supplied by the host.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

and this is my story . . .

‘You have got the ring …?’

‘You asked me that two minutes ago, Rob, and my answer hasn’t changed since then.’ Adrian grinned at his brother, the jittery bridegroom. ‘What kind of best man would I be if I left it behind?’

Robert tugged at the unfamiliar bow tie at his throat: it seemed to be driving him insane. Adrian knew it was all down to nerves; standing before the altar, all eyes fixed on him. The lad from the Council Estate was marrying into money – big money – and was feeling somewhat overawed …

Adrian glanced behind at the wedding guests. The bride’s family were blatantly snubbing the lesser mortals to their right. Adrian hated their supercilious sneers and wondered how Robert would cope with it all, particularly as Anthea’s parents seriously disapproved of her choice of husband.

‘She’s fifteen minutes late already,’ Robert croaked.

‘Probably changed her mind … run off with the butler …’

The sudden commotion put an end to Adrian’s jest. Anthea’s chief bridesmaid was hurtling down the aisle towards the bride’s parents …

Robert yanked off the ridiculous bow tie as all was revealed, a look of utter relief on his face. Anthea had simply changed her mind and run off with the new chauffeur.

‘Drinks are on me,’ Robert yelled, heading towards his smiling mum and dad.

If you would like to read other entries click on the link here.

Unleashed – Picture it and Write

Published on March 3, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom25 Comments

Here is this week’s photo . . .

and this is my story . . .

The river roared across the unsuspecting land like an unleashed beast: a raging, untamed torrent, devouring all in its path. The mid-March air had lost its penetrating bite, snowmelt in the hills resulting in the river’s angry swell.

Sweating after miles of rapid flight, Culann stared at the frothing water, the stepping stones engulfed by vengeful, swirling eddies. There was no possibility of him going back – nor was there any way of crossing.

He jogged on, following the river upstream, the land gradually rising as he neared the hills. The first sounds of the tracker dogs intent on ripping him to shreds reached him …

Panic surged and he bolted, ignoring the painful stitch in his side. As the gradient steepened the river plunged over a series of rock-strewn rapids, but beyond, the stream narrowed and became shallower, its flow less turbulent. Culann removed his shoes, tucked them under his arm and scrambled down the grassy bank. He waded in, gasping at the water’s glacial embrace, and headed slowly upstream.

Sharp pebbles gashed his bared feet and after only thirty yards he could bear no more. He clambered up the opposite bank, careful to leave no indication on the grassy slope.

Confident that the baying hounds would lose his scent, he embarked on the twenty mile trek to the coast. He just needed to convince the master of an outgoing ship that an extra hand would be useful …

The fat purse stolen from his brutal master sat comfortably at Culann’s belt. It ensured his passage home. And freedom: like that of the unleashed river.

If you would like to read other entries click on the link here.

Folk Tales – Friday Fictioneers

Published on February 28, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom37 Comments

Friday Fictioneers is a flash fiction challenge which asks that we write a story in no more than 100 words from the photo prompt kindly provided by the host, Rochelle Wisoff Fields. To join in with the challenge, or find out more about it, just follow the link on the challenge title above.

Here is this week’s prompt, copyright Dawn Q. Landau . . .

and this is my story . . .

Local folk claimed these woods were enchanted; magical creatures played in their midst. Faye smiled at that. She’d frolicked amongst these trees since she was a child, had playmates aplenty. But could they be considered magical …?

Occasionally, she’d emerge to wave at passing trains but the passengers never seemed to notice her. Perhaps the billowing smoke from the steam engines hid her from view. So she’d drift back amongst the trees … until the next tooting whistle.

The stray dog had become her newest friend. He’d follow her for hours, provided she didn’t flap her wings too hard.

Word Count: 98

If you’d like to read other entries, click on the little blue fellow below:

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.

A Good Makeover – Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers

Published on February 21, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom21 Comments

This is another new challenge for me and it certainly looks to be an interesting one. I think it’s a really brilliant idea of Priceless Joy’s to have a challenge for ‘aspiring’ writers. The challenge involves writing a piece of fiction from the photo prompt provided in around 100- 150 words. It encourages participants to comment (constructively, of course) on other entries, thereby supporting each other’s writing. If you’d like to join in with this challenge, follow the link in the title of PJ’s, blog: Beautiful Words. The challenge runs from Wednesday to Wednesday every week.

Here is this week’s photo . . .

wpid-photo-20150218105243646 — Photo copyright: Dawn M. Miller

and this is my story . . .

From the opposite side of the road, Nora Wainwright massaged her aching back and surveyed the Bookstore: her destination, as always, at 10.30 a.m. on weekdays. Her friends weren’t due for another hour and she had time to kill.

She considered the store’s new frontage; the façade it presented to the world. At 72, Nora could do with one of those: a good makeover. Nothing too drastic, mind, no surgeon’s knife and complete image change. She’d still look like Nora Wainwright – just as the Bookstore had kept its original, sash-style windows and ornate relief. A new hairdo, some modern clothes and makeup would be nice. She glanced at her well-rounded midriff. She could lose a few pounds, too… Her gaze drifted up to the Bookstore’s second floor, the mouth-watering confectionery in the coffee lounge.

Nora headed across the street, intent on considering makeovers whilst enjoying her first cream bun.

Word Count: 150

Labyrinth – Friday Fictioneers

Published on February 6, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom37 Comments

It’s time again for the Friday Fictioneers, kindly hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This is a writing challenge which asks that we produce a piece of fiction in 100 words from the photo prompt given.

Here is this week’s photo, copyright Melanie Greenwood . . .

. . . and here is my story:

I tumble into a deep, dark place, removed from the laughter and light. I traipse the labyrinth of my mind, engulfed in a maelstrom of questioning thoughts. Yet, like swirling tendrils of shadows along my path, answers reach out to taunt me, then melt away to obscurity.

Why am I lost, alone in the bleakness of night? Will the sun never rise in this covert place? Why has my youthful body deserted me, left me in these serpentine depths?

But wait! A light shines down on this maze: my escape to the world beyond … and reunion with my body.

Word Count: 100

This is a little different to the pieces I’ve been writing recently. I was particularly drawn to that single beam of light in the photo. I almost wrote somethig historical (my favourite genre!) but changed my mind at the last minute. Too late to change things now – I’m about to post!

To read other entries, click on the little blue fellow below:

Picture It and Write – Druid Path

Published on January 31, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom25 Comments

Here is my contribution to this week’s Picture It and Write Challenge. This is a weekly writing challenge, posted every Sunday, by the author of Ermiliablog. The challenge is to write a piece of fiction or a poem in response to the photo prompt given. I’m rather late with this one, as the next one will be out tomorrow!

Here is this week’s photo prompt . . .

…. and here is my piece of fiction:

In the sombre grey light before sunrise, the column of white-clad priests moved along the leaf-strewn path in respectful silence. Behind his father at the head of the train, Gueiridd kept his hooded head bowed, focusing on the swirling mists enveloping his feet. Passing through each elaborately twisted spiral of willow, he feared his tormented screams would erupt. For like the great stone circles of his forbears, the spirals symbolized the all-powerful Sun-god, the source of all beings.

Gueiridd dared not glance behind, could not watch his beloved being dragged to her fate. Her only crime was that of loving him; loving the son of the merciless Arch Druid, Morcar. Once they reached the sacred grove, Brietta would be sacrificed to the Sun-god.

Chanting now, the column streamed through the ring of ancient oaks to a clearing within, slowly circling the granite altar at its centre. As Brietta was laid upon it, the Sun-god rose from the Otherworld, casting golden rays through the sacred grove.

Morcar raised the sacrificial knife…

‘No . . .’ Restraint abandoned, Gueiridd hurled himself at his father. Prepared for this likelihood, two dagger-wielding priests leapt to restrain him. Gueiridd’s howl rang through the grove as Morcar plunged the sacrificial blade deep into Brietta’s chest.

The thought that he would be next came as relief to Gueiridd. He would meet his Brietta in the next life. And the Sun-god would be doubly appeased this day.