Archive | December, 2013

The lookout

31 Dec

Sunday Photo Fiction: December 29th 2013

40 12 December 29th 2013

Sir, I have bogeys at six o’clock

yes sir, coming in from the east

five sir, flying in formation

straight towards our location sir, please hold for identification

confirmed enemy aircraft, I repeat, enemy aircraft confirmed

air raid sirens have been activated

Warren, this is the last time I am calling you for supper. Shut of that video game and get down here immediately.

Sir, the enemy has landed. I am forced to surrender.  Over and out.


26 Dec

Friday Fictioneers :

27 December 2013

Copyright - Douglas M MacIlroy

Photo Copyright – Douglas M MacIlroy


Excitement builds as midnight approaches. Dawn of a new year, new beginnings, promises made and soon  forgotten.
Fatigued by the effort of feigning happiness so as not to spoil Christmas for everyone around her, Margaret is already fast asleep.
It has been this way, since the age of five when an act of cruelty brought  the reality of Santa and the joy of the season crashing down. Fifty years later she is still barely able to keep the tears in check.
Yes tomorrow will be a good day. Decorations will be put away and the masquerade ball will finally be over for another year.

Tidings Of Comfort And Joy

22 Dec

39 12 December 22nd 2013

Sunday Photo Fiction: December 22nd 2013

Two little children sit in front of the tree, mesmerized by the reflection of the lights in the golden balls. They are much too young to understand cancer and medical bills, unemployment and poverty. All they know is that tonight is the big night, Santa will somehow find his way in to their tiny appartement and leave gifts under the tree.

Mother shoos them off to bed warning them to keep their eyes tightly shut as she reads them “The Night Before Christmas”. They are fast asleep before she gets to the last page.

Wiping away her silent tears she returns to the living room, bending over she slides two beautifully wrapped gifts from under the sofa. “From Santa” the cards read.

Each box holds a hand-made sweater that has taken her many a late night to knit. The yarn of the softest wool purchased with the sale of her engagement ring.

She places the gifts beneath the tree knowing their father looks down from heaven , pleased with what she has done. “Merry Christmas Paul” she whispers as she turns off the lights.


May the best gift you receive be the joy of family. Merry Christmas to all.

Button it up Grannie – A Rant

19 Dec



Does being of a “certain” age give a person immunity to say whatever they wish?  Because you are over the age of seventy-something you give yourself the right to use racial slurs and voice your opinion on everything and anything without impunity. Is this acceptable behavior even today?

The person I speak of has no qualms about what spews from her mouth. When told of the death of a child she responded with ” oh well, they can have another”. No sympathy ? O.K. got it.

This woman dislikes immigrants, gays, the mentally disabled, politicians ( I’ll give her that one ), and most people under the age of forty.

Yesterday when she used the word ree-tard ( she likes to stretch it out ) I called her on it, telling her that it was rude to use that term. She stared at me and answered ” What do you want me to call them, that’s what they are?”

Honestly I was taken aback. Are we supposed to ignore their behaviour because they are elderly. I highly doubt that it is because they don’t know any better, I think it is their way of letting us know that we can’t and  won’t change them.

So, folks, what is the cut-off point where the brain stops working and the mouth continues to move and the filth from your mouth becomes socially acceptable ?

St. Nick ( P.G. 13 )

17 Dec
Now onto this week’s Trifextra prompt. Charles Dickens, in A Christmas Carol, wrote “There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humour.” We are giving you exactly 33 words to make us laugh out loud and spread some festive cheer.
My gift to you is a limerick:

There once was a man called St. Nick

who was famous for being lively and quick

while his wife was his treasure

he gave her no pleasure

so she threatened to cut off



darn… would you look at that..I ran out of words..

Trifextra: Week Ninety-Eight
Trifextra: Week Ninety-Eight
Now onto this week’s Trifextra prompt. Charles Dickens, in A Christmas Carol, wrote “There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humour.” We are giving you exactly 33 words to make us laugh out loud and spread some festive cheer.
– See more at:

Albert and Frank..

11 Dec


13 December 2013

Copyright - Adam Ickes

Photo Copyright – Adam Ickes

Albert was a testament to the cruelty of life. He had outlived his wife, only child, and now his grandson.

Whenever he passed the church he would avert his eyes, his anger with God consumed him. He eventually became friendly with the elderly gardener who tended the flower beds at the rectory.

Every afternoon Frank would head over to Albert’s home for coffee and a chat, respectfully leaving his dirty boots on the doorstep.

One such afternoon Albert suffered a massive heart attack and lay dying in Frank’s arms.

“God will not want me” he whispered

Father Francis made the sign of the cross on Albert’s forehead

“He will understand”

Into the light

9 Dec

Sunday Photo Fiction: December 8th 2013

37 12 December 8th 2013

Photo copyright: A. Forbes

Into The Light

Each time the scenario is the same. I move toward the soft glow of the pink light, intrigued by the reflection I see in the center. The only sounds that accompany me are my heavy breathing and the clicking of heels on the cement floor. My heels?

As I get closer the reflection becomes a window through which I can see a man who looks like a much younger version of my father. He holds a girl- child tightly by her wrist, compelling me to move closer to try to hear what he is saying. I have never gotten this close before.

I reach out to slide…

A snapping of fingers propels me back  to the Psychiatrist’s sofa where I lay shivering, exhausted, and angry.

“I cannot allow it” she says calmly from the other side of the room “you are not  yet ready to open that window”.

I weep

Trifextra: Week Ninety-Seven

8 Dec
Trifextra: Week Ninety-Seven
On to the weekend prompt. This weekend we’re asking you to add thirty of your own words to the following three words for a total of thirty-three. Good luck!

fall-leaves-treeThrough my myopic heartache I failed to notice their beauty. Now leaves lie decomposing at the bottom of the basin, their dazzle of colors faded to the yellows and browns of my depression.
Trifextra: Week Ninety-Seven

Boys Will Be Boys

4 Dec

Written for Friday Fictioneers ..come join in the fun !

Link here: 6 December 2013

Copyright -Randy Mazie

Photo Copyright –Randy Mazie

Boys Will Be Boys

John and Josh are too young to understand the significance of growing up  in Dauphin County, all they are interested in is the abandoned garage on the other side of the fence.

For the last week they have been keeping a secret, they have found a way to pass beneath the barriers without sounding the alarm.The building is now   headquarters. From there they will save the world, like superman.

Mother decides to look in on her sleeping boys, they seem exhausted lately and this worries her. Opening the door she sees the twins glowing brightly in the darkened room.

Smiling gently she crosses her three arms. What can you do? Boys will be boys.

The Dating Game

1 Dec

Once again, we have been given an awesome photo to work with..What ? No pigeons ?

Sunday Photo Fiction can be found here:

Sunday Photo Fiction: December 1st 2013

36 12 December 1st 2013

– Photo by Alastair Forbes

The dating game

Debbie had a mad crush on the client she was presently serving. She knew his order by heart, half-caff / decaf no sugar. He had never wavered from his choice of beverage in the months she had served him. Every Monday and Wednesday 9 a.m. sharp.

As he turned to walk away he suddenly turned back

There will be a party on Saturday night. Would you be available to go?

Of course

Give me your address and I will send a car to pick you up at 7:30

Taking the napkin with her hastily scribbled information from her sweaty palm he walked away without another word.

Saturday arrived and Debbie had taken great care with her appearance. She’d had her hair and nails done at an expensive salon and had chosen her best dress. Looking in the mirror she was quite pleased with what she saw.

The car picked her up at the appointed hour and after a short drive , they pulled into a long entryway  flanked by imperial lions. To her surprise the car continued around to the back of the imposing mansion to where Mr. Wonderful awaited her outside.

As he escorted her indoors she realized that they were in the kitchen.

You can hang your coat over there. The aprons are on the back of the door. Please begin by serving the hors d’ouvres