Friday, 31 August 2012


Everyone said I was lucky. They moved me into the apartment,after the second fall. They told me I’d get used to it, that I’d love it. Theysaid it was nice. Look at the view, they said. There were carers who would comeand see me every day. They would bring me food. There were lots of other people.I’d soon make new friends. There were doctors and nurses, 24 hours a day –every day. It would be great.

What did they know. The clouds change. It gets light, itgets dark. Time passes, but it’s not my home.

100 words created for Friday Fictioneers based on the picture.

Tuesday, 28 August 2012

The Dinosaur

written for Trifecta week forty.
They said he was a dinosaur. He was out of date, past it. They moved him into a small cubicle at the end of the corridor and left him alone. The only reason they let him stay; well, he had built the plant, singlehandedly, from nothing. He was one of the first to automate all the processing, so that it could be run from a central control room. He had done that, when all other plants were run manually. Also, they liked having him around. They could measure how great they were, by comparing the way he did things, to their way. He had no time for computers, the internet and mobile phones. He did everything manually, with calculator, pen and paper. He was a visible monument to their triumph. So it was fine for them, as long as he kept to his cubicle and left them at the controls. They knew what to do. They could keep the plant running better than he could. There was no room for history.

But how wrong they were! When the cooling system blew, the electricity went and the backup generators failed – all at the same time. They were left flapping like fish out of water. They had never seen a situation like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t in the manuals. No power, so no access to the online -----databases. Under the weak glow of the emergency lights, they sat in stunned silence. When he came walking out of that cubicle at the end of the corridor, his footsteps echoed in the silence. He entered the control room. Silently, they lowered their heads and moved aside, as he assumed his old position.

The word is dinosaur in the context:

Sunday, 26 August 2012

Menage a Menagerie

Trifecta Writing Challenge Trifextra week thirty.

"This weekend we want you to write a 33-word response using the name of an animal as a verb."


Rabbit away at a task
Or bear it and grin but don't ask
To bee or to fly
In the end I should try
Not to duck
Or you'll call me a goose

Thursday, 23 August 2012


Today, I watch the mist rolling off the hills. Yesterday I watched smoke machines pouring vapour across the stage. Now, I’m up at daybreak to start the day. Then daybreak signalled the time to go home. Now, clean air, sunlight and days outdoors. Then, a room full of cigarette smoke, strobe lights and darkness. My companions are birds and insects. Then I had my fans and my crew. I have silence and space, when before I had the beat and the crowd.

It would have killed me, so I left. I dream of returning. Will it kill me to stay.

Created for Friday Fictioneers, 100 words based on the picture.

Tuesday, 21 August 2012


Thirty Three words written for Trifecta week thirty nine.


Of glass, of stone, of ice
Also made of gold
Warm or cold, felt or less
It can ache and burn
Be in your mouth or on your sleeve
It is your heart

The word is Heart:
personality, disposition <a cold heart>

Thursday, 16 August 2012


I returned to the village. The water had subsided. Everything was gone. The people, the livestock, the houses; all gone.
I knew what was going to happen. I knew that the skies were going to open. I knew that the land would be inundated. But when I tried to tell them, they drove me away. Called me a heretic, a madman, a prophet of doom.
I had come to save them. I had come to warn them, but they didn’t want to hear. They couldn’t listen. And in the end they made me go.
Now this is the only sign.
Photo by Lura Helms
Created for friday fictioneers. 100 words based on this picture:

Wednesday, 15 August 2012


Written for Trifecta week Thirty Eight:

I was originally going to reuse a piece (Shells, to which I unashamedly direct the reader) written a few days ago, for Friday Fictioneers (to which I also unashamedly direct the reader), however I decided that really I should write something original.

I have not written a piece like this before, so criticisms and comments are welcomed:


Home to work. A lifetime in less than an hour, and this is just one day.

Dog walking person or person walking dog. The same each day. A vertical triangle: human, lead and ground, an apex of white fur and claws. Going nowhere, going everywhere.

Pavements and alleyways. They walk side by side, man and dog. Companion, confidant and friend. All purpose, a place to start, a place to end.

Trendy cafes, the boardwalk. A dog shaped accessory, perfect accompaniment to the morning latte. Newspaper, headphones music, perfect isolation.

No dogs, just concrete and skyscrapers. A throng converging, a human conveyor belt. Funnelling into offices, shops and restaurants. Destination reached.

It is all part of my home, my city and my life. I am proud.

The word is home
b : habitat

Saturday, 11 August 2012


For the trifextra challenge:
1 word
3 uses
33 words
To celebrate the landing of Curiosity.

Mars god of war
Searching for new battlefields
Turns to the planets
If there was life on mars
He could stop for a while
But emptiness mars all hope
So his journey continues

Friday, 10 August 2012


Holding the shells in my hand I feel sad. They are beautiful, but their emptiness, makes me sad. I think about the inhabitant, now gone. Maybe some poor hermit crab will find shelter.  But it will only be transient.
I am that hermit crab. I come to the beach because I have no home. I spend my days wandering the streets looking for food, water, a place to sleep. The beach is one of the few places where I can be happy. I can forget about my dismal life. But now the beach has made me sad. Where can I go.

Created for Friday Fiction based on the picture Shells

Wednesday, 8 August 2012


Panic. The landing was perfectly on schedule. Yet the feelings welled up from his very core. Spreading from the pit of his stomach. Upwards and outwards right to the tips of his fingers and toes. The skin on the back of his neck. His hair stood on end. His mouth was dry.

The flight itself was uneventful. Started on time. No delays. Nothing unforseen to interfere with the journey. The landing was a little rough, but that was not the cause of his anxiety. The door was now open. He knew that finally he had arrived. Taking a deep breath he descended the ladder. Terror turned to elation as he uttered the words:

“That’s one small step for man........

Written for trifecta writing challenge:  incorporating the word "flight"