writing challenge – Page 6

Radcliffe Hall

Published on January 30, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom21 Comments

Friday’s the day for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s, Friday Fictioneers flash fiction challenge. This requires us to produce a piece of writing in no more than 100 words from the photo-prompt provided. Although it’s quite a challenge to write a mini-story in so few words, I really enjoy doing it!

Here’s this week’s photo, provided by Ted Strutz . . .

. . . and here is my offering:

‘Mr. Digby.’ The elderly widow’s arrogant tone cut through the estate agent’s spiel. ‘I’m well aware that the celebrated Radcliffe’s once owned this house – and of the property’s value. I’m also aware of its scandalously high asking price. Undoubtedly you could sell it to someone prepared to overlook its dilapidated state in view of the prestigious address … although it also needs completely rewiring.’

Mr. Digby followed her censorious gaze to the antiquated socket, reconsidering his options. ‘Make me an offer?’

Sarah Drummond née Radcliffe smiled, her eyes sweeping the elegant room. ‘Mummy will soon be home,’ she whispered.

100 words

Click on the blue frog to view other entries.

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

Friday Fictioneers – Rosie

Published on January 23, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom48 Comments

It’s the day for Rochelle Risoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers flash fiction challenge. This asks that we produce a piece of writing in 100 words. It’s definitely a challenge to write a story in so few words – but also great fun.

Well, here is this Friday’s photo . . .

boatpilxr_-antiqued — Copyright Georgia Koch

. . . and this is my offering:

The customer moseyed alongside the old barge, eyeing her with disdain. ‘Yer sure this tub still floats?’ He scratched his head, mumbling. ‘It’s nowt but a pile of old junk. ’Ow much?’

‘Had an offer, ‘alf hour ago. Twenty grand.’

The expletives meant little to Archie. He’d rather keep Rosie than sell her to someone like that. A lick of red paint and she’d look good again. Young. They’d sail the Canals and remember the first Rosie, the Gypsy girl he’d loved for so long. She’d still be waiting for him; up there. A year, tops, the doctors said.

Word count: 100

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

Quadrangle

Published on January 16, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom43 Comments

Today I’m taking part in Rochelle Risoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers flash fiction challenge, which requires participants to write a piece of fiction in 100 words or less from the photo prompt provided. It’s my first time doing this challenge and I found it good practice in eliminating unnecessary words. (Yikes! Rambling’s a hobby of mine.)

So, here is the prompt . . .

. . . and this is my respone to it:

It was a small area, when one considered the size of the house. A simple, open-aired square, like some Daniel had seen in old Roman ruins. When the sun was low it was shaded, best suited to his dark moods.

The hired assassin made a superb job of his elder brother and parents’ murders, shooting Daniel in the shoulder to deflect the blame. The house was his now. He kept the dining table laid for them, so they’d know he hadn’t hated them: he’d just wanted this house, with the quadrangle. And the hoard of Roman coins buried beneath it.

Word count: 100

You can read other entries to the challenge here

The Twenty-First Birthday

Published on January 15, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom13 Comments

I’ve decided to take part in Ermilia’s Picture it and Write Challenge. This is a weekly writing challenge in which participants are asked to write a paragraph of fiction or a poem in response to the photo prompt given. It can be in a different language, as long as a translation is provided. The challenge is organised by Ermisenda Alvarez, the author of Ermiliablog.

This is this the photo prompt for this week . . .

. . . and here is my first contribution to the challenge:

Whenever he gazed into a mirror, he saw him; statue-still at his side and staring back. When he turned away, so did the image. Enrico was not afraid, just confused as to why this had started happening. His twin had died before their fifth birthday. Now, Enrico’s twenty-first loomed.

Enrico had never come to terms with the events of that day. He and Miguel had wandered off to the river with their little fishing nets. Miguel had lost his footing and plummeted into the water. Panicked, Enrico had fled for help, but by the time Papa reached the river, it was too late. No one had blamed Enrico for what happened – yet he had always blamed himself. If only he’d tried to pull Miguel out of the water before running for Papa…

He reached out to touch the mirror and his brother’s fingers reached out to meet his. As the frisson of reunion surged through him, Enrico saw the accident through his twin’s eyes: his head smashing against the river-rock that had killed him. Miguel had already been dead before he slumped into the water. Understanding swept through Enrico. Miguel didn’t want him to suffer misplaced guilt any longer.

‘Enjoy your life as a man, brother,’ was the last message Enrico received as the image faded into nothingness.

Homework – Mondays Finish the Story

Published on January 12, 2015November 24, 2015 by milliethom47 Comments

I’ve decided to participate in Mondays Finish the Story. This is a challenge which involves a photograph and an opening sentence to be finished within 100 – 150 words.

So here is my first offering!

Finish the story begins with: “Racing down into the atmosphere, the unidentified object crashed, leaving behind one heck of a huge crater and a plume of smoke that could be seen from miles around.”

Mrs Jenkins stopped the DVD, her stern gaze sweeping the class over the top of her spectacles.

‘Tell me what we’ve just watched.’

Fifteen-year-old Michael cringed as her eyes rested on him and he took a steadying breath. ‘Something crashed into the earth . . .’

‘And what did you think it was?’

He shrugged. ‘It came too fast.’

‘Hmm,’ Mrs Jenkins murmured, her steely eyes still on him. ‘Have a guess.’

‘A flying saucer?’

The teacher’s lips pursed. ‘What else could have come from outer space?’

Michael knew what it could have been but not what it was called. ‘A huge rock,’ he broached.

Sarah’s hand shot up. ‘A meteorite,’ she chirped cockily. ‘Or perhaps just a fragment of one. We can’t tell how big the crater is.’

‘Good. So tonight’s homework is: What are meteorites? In by tomorrow.’

Michael groaned. His mother was the worst teacher ever.