Tag Archives: secret

Waving Farewell

15 Feb

Written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction – February 15th 2015

Waves engulfing a lighthouse

“A perfect storm” the newspapers all touted. “It will be the storm of the century” the grim-faced announcer told his captive audience.

On the mainland, buildings are boarded up and residents  evacuated to higher ground. The lessons learned from the great tsunami in 2011 have not been forgotten.

When the word came in that we were to leave our post at Lion’s Head lighthouse but that one of us would have to stay behind to monitor wind speeds and the incoming tides, my decision was made in an instant.

I gathered my four colleagues together and told them to get their gear together as quickly as possible and make their way to our home office which was several miles inland. No amount of arguing would get me to change my mind.

They all shook my hand and hugged me  before driving away, honking the horn as they turned the bend for what would possibly be a final goodbye. Their words echoing in my head as they disappeared over the horizon. “Hero” they said “Brave and selfless”.

If they only knew how far from the truth that they are.  I have no fear of the imminent killer waves, for I know that death will be much quicker and merciful than from  the cancer that is eating away at my brain one painful day at a time. I am a coward.



18 Jan

Written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction – January 18th 2015

A pre-Victorian building that is now one of the major banks in the UK.


It is an unremarkable building, no different from the others around it, but since moving here three years ago it has intrigued me.

Pedestrians will cross the street to avoid passing before it but when I questioned my neighbors about this behavior they became close-mouthed and simply said that I should do the same. A couple of braver souls referred to it as a cult, once they got you in there would be no chance of escape.

Not being overly superstitious I refused to detour past. Walking along the property with abandon, I could hear a light tapping as I passed by. After about a week of this, I ventured a peek..most of the curtains were pulled back and the inhabitants stood smiling at me as they tapped pencils on the window panes. How Bizarre!

As the days turned into weeks I began to bravely wave my hand as I sauntered past and they, in turn, would return the greeting.

One rainy afternoon as I returned home from work I stopped dead in my tracks. An elephant (yes I said elephant) beckoned me from an upstairs window. Unable to resist, I boldly made my way up the walk and knocked on the door of Alaistair’s Home For Wayward Writers.

Wishing For An Early Spring

16 Nov

Written for :

Sunday Photo Fiction – November 16th 2014

Weird shaped icicles

Harold slid Mam’s rocking chair closer to the window and into the patch of golden sunlight that crept across the polished wood floor. He sat down facing outdoors and watched with child-like excitement as the melting snow and ice formed stars along the gutter’s edge. He took a sip of his tea, closed his eyes and made a wish.

“Star light, star bright..” he chuckled out loud. Mam had taught him to wish upon stars but of course not many of his wishes had come true. No matter how hard or how loud he had made them, Mam would still beat him when the smell of whiskey was heavy on her breath. Now at the age of fifteen his life had finally changed for the better.

Pops had gone on a business trip and while he had been away Mam had deserted her son, leaving in the middle of the night with only her purse. The authorities had been called in but almost four months later she still had not been located.

Harold rose from his seat and made his way down to the basement. Behind a wood pile was a long-forgotten chest freezer. Harold cracked it open and stared in at his mother’s body frozen in the foetal position. “We’re in luck Mam” he whispered “ground should be soft enough for digging in less than a month..”


…No Evil…

17 Aug

Written for :

Sunday Photo Fiction: August 17th 2014

73 08 August 17th 2014…No Evil…

He sits at the edge of the cliff and revisits his childhood, remembering his neighbors the meerkats. Thinking about how they would watch him from the shadows and whisper among themselves, never willing to get involved. “A man’s home is his castle. What goes on in their house is not our concern.”

They would raise the volume on their televisions to drown out the noises and avert their eyes from the bruises. “Poor children” they would say, but they never – ever reached out a helping hand.

He shakes his head, trying to erase the memories. Standing up he takes a deep breath and slowly approaches the edge of the escarpment and shoves the lifeless body of his father over the edge.


Cul – de – sac

3 Aug

Written for :

Sunday Photo Fiction: August 3rd 2014

71 08 August 03 2014I know what the neighbors think of me, that I am eccentric. They laugh at me and the painted stones in my garden. Yet they haven’t got a clue.

These are my private joke. One represents Marsha from across the street, always one eye peeking out from behind her brocade drapes. Nothing happens on this cul-de-sac without her seeing it. Then there is Martin my mailman with his ill-fitting dentures that clack together as he speaks. Topping off the trio is Shirley from next door who chases men with her tongue hanging out like a starving dog.

But this is just the tip of the iceberg. On my work table in the basement is an entire community of voodo dolls which look remarkably like their name sakes.

The squirrels and the birds keep me well informed of what the gossip mongers are saying behind my back. I am just biding my time but soon, very soon, I will host a campfire and everyone is invited.

..They Will Come

27 Jul

Written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction: July 27th 2014

70 07 July 27th 2014 Balderdash was in a crisis. Since the closing of the woolen mill a year ago,  half of the townsfolk had moved away to to the big city leaving the tiny town in financial ruin. A meeting was held in Our Lady Of Lost Causes Church as a last ditch attempt to save the community from bankruptcy. When widow Miller hobbled up to the altar the hundred or so people in attendance snickered behind her back. What does an old biddy know?  After clearing her throat and patiently waiting for the noise to die down she presented her proposal. When she was done everyone began to talk at once.

“Genius” said some

” Gobsmackingly awesome” said others

So thats how it happened, that by the light of the moon, the inhabitants of Balderdash constructed the ruins of an “ancestral palace“.

Before you could say “codswallop”,  tourists were pouring in by the bus load. The town flourished and widow Miller opened a kiosk where visitors could purchase the written history of the historically significant site which she herself had written.

Deflating One’s Ego

21 Jul

Written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction: July 20th 2014

Heads up..slightly naughty..

69 07 July 20th 2014

Nancy was insanely jealous of her older sister. Linda would just step out the door and the boys would come running like ants to a picnic while she went unnoticed. “If I could just grow some boobies” she grumbled as she checked her profile in the mirror hoping to see some improvement. Mama told her to stop worrying and just be herself but what did she know?

The girls had just arrived at their grandparent’s for a weekend sleep over and as usual Linda was the center of attention. “Not this time!” Nancy thought ..

After hooking on one of her sister’s bras, Nancy inserted two water-filled balloons. She had been very careful to ensure that they appeared of equal size. She pulled on a tee-shirt that stretched to its seams and stepped into the street and headed to where a group of boys were playing street soccer.

Because of her inability to see her feet, she tripped over someones backpack and fell flat on her face; her “breasts” exploding like an A-bomb.

Gone Fishing

13 Jul

Written for :

Sunday Photo Fiction: July 13th 2014

68 07 July 13th 2014

Henry rowed his boat out to his favorite spot in the middle of the cove. At seventy-five years old it took him a little longer each time he came. No matter, he figured he still had a few good years of fishing ahead of him. It was his fondest wish to catch ” old George” reportedly the largest bass ever seen in these parts. He had never spotted it himself but had heard the stories of fellow fishermen who had almost landed the brute.

Suddenly his pole bent in a large arc as it caught on something far below. “No freaking way..” he thought excitedly as he slowly reeled in his prize. It took monumental effort to turn the handle yet strangely enough the fish did not put up a fight.

Suddenly his catch bobbed to the surface causing him to jump back in horror and nearly fall in the water. He found himself face to face with the bloated body of his wife who he had  tearfully reported missing a month before.

“Damn” he said to himself ” I knew I should have used a heavier stone..”

Prince Charming

15 Jun

Written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction: June 15th 2014

64 06 June 15th 2014Prince Charming

Once upon a time, far away in the land of fairy tales, there lived a young maiden named Clara.

One morning as she was gathering flower petals for potpourri, she discovered a large frog beneath the rose bushes. Overjoyed and remembering her Nanny’s stories, she immediately kissed him smartly on his mouth; then placed him in the well for safe-keeping.

She checked on him several times throughout the day, growing increasingly impatient at his failure to transform into a handsome prince.

After several attempts she flew into a rage. Grasping him tightly she stomped into the kitchen where she demanded that the cook chop off his legs and cook them. The rest, as they say, is history…

Prove It

14 Jun

Light and Shade

Challenge – Friday 13th June 2014

photo by jazza on rgbstock.com
Prove it.
As I made my way slowly through the shadows in the woods,  the  only sound for miles was the  crunching of the gravel beneath my feet and the trees  that rustled their leaves in anger. Hidden in the branches a blackbird began taunting  me. “We saw what you did” he cackled.
“Prove it” I yelled back as I entered the clearing, sunlight reflecting off of the shovel I carried over my shoulder.