A Multi Prompt Short Story – Happy Families.

I thought it high time that this story I wrote a couple of years ago received another airing, particularly as the Word of the Day today is Incandescent.

This story was written in response to the following word prompts.

Word of the Day: Woebegone



Shery’s One Daily Prompt: Scorn



Today’s things are: great-aunt, ant, plant

Happy Families

It had been a while since I’d been to the family homestead. It was a rambling clapperboard house that at one time housed two extended families. Now only Mother lived there all alone. Walking up the pathway I passed plant after plant that was withering and dying in that long hot summer. It had been months since we’d had any rain.

The door creaked just like it always did as I pulled it open and walked into the relative coolness of the dark hallway. It smelt of wood and beeswax. All the wooden furniture was polished to an incandescent shine. I felt a bite on my ankle. Looking down I saw a solitary ant climbing my bare leg, which I promptly squashed beneath my fingertips. The long hot dry summer had brought out a lot of ants lately. God, how I’ve prayed for rain.

“Mama, where are you? It’s me Laura” I called out, my voice echoing around the practically empty dwelling.

“Laura, is that you? I’m upstairs dear, In Aunty’s room.”

There were a lot of bedrooms upstairs that were practically untouched, except for dusting, since the previous occupants had departed. Her Great-Aunt Sally had lived in the bedroom at the very end of the landing and for the last few years of her life had rarely left it. It was still full of all her knickknacks and memorabilia.

I walked in to find my Mother sitting on the bed crying. I sat next to her and put my arm around her.

“There, there Mama. Great Aunt Sally’s been dead twenty years, why are you carrying on so?”

“No, it’s not that. There was a storm last night and it blew over that old tree, the one that your Grandfather planted not long after he bought this place.”

I still couldn’t understand why she sounded so woebegone. All this fuss about a tree. I couldn’t help feeling some scorn. It was a lovely tree, but It was only seventy years or so old, not really that old as trees went. I gave Mama another hug, but she pushed me away.

“You don’t understand. There was a body buried there, under that tree. The storm brought it to the surface. It was wrapped in a tarpaulin, but it was unrecognisable. There was a locket with it and in it was this key.”

I looked down at the small, ornate brass key in my Mothers frail old hand.

“What was the key for? It’s too small to be for a door.”

“It was the key to this box. No one could open it when she died but we didn’t think there was anything important in it. Not enough to force it open.”

I remembered the beautiful small box, inlaid with scented sandalwood, that now lay on the floor, open.

Also, on the floor, lying as if it had just fallen from my Mothers hand, was a small leather-bound book. The kind used for keeping a diary or perhaps notes and recipes in.

I reached down and picked up the book. I recognised the highly ornate handwriting from birthday cards I had received as a young child. It was Great Aunt Sally’s writing.

She had written. ‘Why I killed my Sister today.’

The End.

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 15/July/2018

A Justified Conniption – Short Story


A Justified Conniption

Lawrence was a nice kid. He was calm and placid with a keen eagerness to get on with people. Unfortunately, other kids often took advantage of him. They would get him to say rude words to adults telling him they meant something different. He was so beautifully naïve.

In one class at school, he liked to sit next to Samuel. Samuel seemed like a nice kid, he had blond hair and glasses and looked like the Milky Bar kid. However, Samuel was one of those who loved to play tricks on Lawrence. In English, the teacher asked the children to write some fan-fiction about their favourite children’s story. Lawrence didn’t understand what fan fiction was and so he asked Samuel. “Oh, fan fiction is when you write a story with fans in it, you know for hot weather” Samuel replied.

Continue reading A Justified Conniption – Short Story

Wednesday evening reading – My Fantasy Story Part 16

This is the next instalment of the fantasy story I wrote many years ago.

I still haven’t got a title for it, so if you can think of a good one, let me know in the comments. 🙂

If you would like to read it from the start, this is the first part:


Part Sixteen

A High-Mage stood up from one of the side benches and indicated he wished to speak. 

The High Sorcerer gestured to him giving him permission to address the gathering. 

“My Name is High-Mage Deverazza and I am the representative for the land of Torza in the far north-west. Many of us from the far off reaches of the Empire are not aware of what this War in the Land of Re’aldorin was all about and why they no longer have a High-Mage representative on this assembly.”

“Very well” The High sorcerer pointed at Sorceror Kaprical “Please enlighten our members of the event that took place two decades ago in the Land of Re’aldorin, but For goodness sake, Keep it brief!”

“Yes High Sorcerer. The Land of Re’aldorin was itself once an empire ruled by the Emperor Cadrusill. He ruled in name only because his ancestor, Emperor Aldorian the first wanted to unite all the individual kingdoms between the two rivers or Galveria and Armeria under his control and enlisted the Red Magehood to help him. At the time when the problem started the man in charge of running Re’aldorin was the High-Mage Beckerman. He was a fighter-Mage rather than the usual Diplomat. This was because Re’aldorin had been experiencing a few minor uprisings, nothing major but it was felt that a stronger, heavier hand was required. Beckerman’s heavy-handed methods and his failure to introduce much-needed social reforms turned the minor uprisings into a full rebellion that ultimately lead to the downfall and death of the ruling dynasty and much of the upper aristocracy. The old powers, including the Red Magehood, was overthrown and a new military regime took over, known as the Red Army. They now regard Mages as highly dangerous and in most of that land Magic is Illegal. The loss of that land, on the Southern boundary of our territory was devastating. Going back to the prophecy that I mentioned earlier. We know that a great Catastrophe will soon be upon us and resulting from this the Purple Magehood and the other Dark Orders will flourish. This catastrophic event is likely to be linked to the prophecy. This coming of a new powerful Mage. For this reason we sent out envoys to all corners of the world to try to trace this gifted Child of Prophecy. The new mage must either be held captive and controlled or guided so that they become a weapon that we can use in our favour, or else exterminated for the good of the Red Magehood.”

Tiberius Dinantius, The High sorcerer rolled his eyes in dramatic fashion and spoke.

“You have a remarkable ability for explaining in painful detail. Now do you have anything new to report on this issue?”

Carnelius Kaprical looked embarrassed. “Well, no, not as such.”

Suddenly the Sorceress Magda Rubicunda, the head of the Foreign and diplomatic service stood up. Her aura seemed to dominate the room. She was a large and imposing woman.

“Actually I have High Sorcerer.” After receiving a nod from the man in the Dragon Throne, she continued. “One of my most faithful envoys has sent me a report that he has encountered a young recruit with the most tremendous potential.”

She was interrupted by another Man in Sorcerer’s robes. Rhodan Cardax was in charge of the Mage Army. His deep and sinister voice struck fear into the hearts of his enemies and had a reputation to match. 

“Which of your envoys reported this information Magda? We, in this assembly, have a right to know.”

“It was High-Mage Gregory Angstrom, from Argor, in the land of Re’aldorin, if you must know Rhodan. Although you never provide me with the names of your trusted agents.”

“Ah, Angstrom, yes, I remember him. Wasn’t he on the ruling council of Re’aldorin when the uprising we were just talking about occurred?” Rhodan’s tone insinuated what he thought of information from that source.

Magda Rubicunda responded undaunted “Yes Rhodan, Angstrom was on the ruling council, but he was under High-Mage Beckerman who wasn’t under my jurisdiction, being a Battle-Mage, he was under yours wasn’t he? It was Angstrom’s reports at that time which kept us fully informed and his actions and efforts that kept the war from spilling out into the neighbouring countries. The fact that we still have even a slight presence in that land is more of less entirely due to Angstrom. He is now head of the Mage College in Argor, the only one left in Re’aldorin. He has reported that one of the apprentices, a boy named David, had abundant potential although as yet his talent remains latent. Angstrom has arranged that a constant watch be kept on him.”

The High Sorcerer leaned forward in his throne, his eyes suddenly like augurs.

“His name is David? Is that all you can tell me? Do you know when he was born, his surname, or where his talents lie?”

“According to Angstrom, he has no surname, he was the illegitimate son of a kitchen servant. He was roughly born at the same time as the new star so he may well be this child of prophecy. As his magic ability hasn’t manifested itself it is impossible to say where his talents will lie, but as I say, the sheer potential of his powers is immense.”

Magda Rubicunda sat back down in her chair with a queenly air. 

“Thank you Magda, that sounds very promising. Please provide Sorcerer Kaprical with as much information as possible so he can draw up an astral chart for the boy, we will keep an eye on him too.”

Then Rhodan Cardax stood once more to address the assembly.

“I too have some relevant information, Great One. Far to the East of our dominion, in the independent city-state of Cartherys, there is a young soldier, a Battle-Mage who is also roughly the same age as the prophecy and has shown great potential in his training. He has risen remarkably quickly through the ranks. His superiors report that they expect him to reach the rank of Field Marshall one day. His talents for destructive magic are quite brilliant, apparently.”

The assembly began discussing all the potential candidates for this Child of Prophecy. All information was to be given to Sorcerer Kaprical who would create his special kinds of astral charts. 

After this the great assembly of the Red Magehood turned its attention to more mundane matters of wealth and taxes. 


End of Part Sixteen.

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 11/July/2018



The Start of It – A short story, with familiar characters.







Today’s things are: admire, loyal, fireplace

The Start of It.

Audrey Patterson hated wearing black. It was such an unbecoming colour, especially on the old. When she was younger, then it had looked fine on her tall frame, with diamonds sparkling around her neck. That had been during the Roaring Twenties and she had been young enough to get away with it. Now black made her old pale skin look even older. She’d had to wear these dreary clothes though. It didn’t do to wear any other colour at a funeral, especially one of an old friend like Claudia Halifax. People would think she was being callous if she’d worn a brighter colour.

She was very sad to lose her friend. Although Claudia was younger than her and had lived a more carefree existence with her entourage of young men she liked to keep about her, she had admired her a lot.

Continue reading The Start of It – A short story, with familiar characters.

An early martini – A short story.

This was written in response to the Word of the Day: Deviate


The Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Lessen

FOWC with Fandango — Lessen

and Sheryl’s Your Daily Word Prompt: Supercilious


An Early Martini

“You Rang M’lud?” Said the butler in his usual supercilious tones.

“Yes, Burroughs, please get me a strong martini,”

“But Sir, At this hour?” Burroughs coldly asked. He was an excellent Butler and knew his worth, but it meant that he was more outspoken than many would have tolerated. The fact that it was only 9 o’clock in the morning may well have been cause enough to be a little surprised at being asked for a strong Martini, but one did not usually question a member of the House of Lords. 

Lord Halifax just snapped back” Yes Dammit, I need something to lessen the shock.”

Burroughs left the room and returned holding a tray on which a flared cocktail glass stood containing a clear liquid and an olive on a stick. 

Lord Halifax took the drink and threw the olive into the empty fireplace. He then downed the drink in one gulp.

Burroughs wasn’t one to deviate from his usual pompous butler act but seeing his master act so out of character had taken him by surprise. 

“Is anything wrong Sir?” He asked, even allowing some genuine emotion to flow through.

“Yes there is. It’s Lady Halifax. She’d Dead. Go see for yourself if you don’t believe me. Burroughs, I think you’d better telephone the police. Oh and fetch me another Martini.”

Seeing his wife laying there, with her face all blotchy had been more than he could bear. Of course, they had been estranged for years, but that didn’t prepare one for finding your spouse of thirty years clearly dead. It looked like she’d been strangled. She was still wearing the clothes she’d gone to Lady Patterson’s party in. He’d gone to his own bed early and hadn’t heard her come home. 

Sitting down on the chintz sofa, he waited for Burroughs to return with another drink to calm his nerves. 

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 10/July/2018

Multiple word prompt story – The Second Honeymoon, a Monologue


The Second Honeymoon

It’s our third wedding anniversary, a real milestone for us and we’ve decided to have a proper honeymoon. The first one had been a bit of a nightmare.

We couldn’t afford an expensive honeymoon, the wedding itself has set us back a fortune and we still owed the wedding photographer who withheld the photos until we had paid in full.

So, we ended up borrowing a friend’s caravan in North Wales. Now, don’t get me wrong, I like staying in a nice Caravan, a lot of my favourite holidays growing up were in caravans, and I’ve got nothing against North Wales, the scenery is beautiful. However, the weather was atrocious. It never stopped chucking it down with rain and the Caravan leaked. Our marriage nearly ended then and there, but as we still hadn’t properly paid for it we thought we’d try to put the arguments and petty fights behind us. Bruises heal and the insults will be forgotten. We did end up having to go to Llandudno general hospital after I dislocated my Husband’s jaw for calling me a sanctimonious bitch, but he forgave me.

Continue reading Multiple word prompt story – The Second Honeymoon, a Monologue

More Afternoon Reading for You – My Fantasy Story Part 12

This is the next instalment of the fantasy story I wrote many years ago. 

I still haven’t got a title for it, so if you can think of a good one, let me know in the comments. 🙂 
If you would like to read it from the start, this is the first part:


Part Twelve

Augustus Caraffi slept badly. He could feel that events were speeding to some kind of climax. He could sense it in every fibre of his being. What concerned him was that he couldn’t tell if this climax was going to be a blessing or a catastrophe. He suspected that an unseen hand was at work trying to force events. That Wizard they had encountered, whom was he serving? Who was he trying to kill? The old Wizard being on the road at the right moment to catch them was no coincidence. Not many Wizards had the knowledge or skill to cast a death spell. He had spent some years extensively studying the practices of Wizards and Witches but even knowing their ways, he could not see how they figured into the equation.

On top of this worry he had received some troubling news from Argor. The Notorious Purple Mages had come to Argor posing as some kind of Embassy.

Continue reading More Afternoon Reading for You – My Fantasy Story Part 12

Glorious not Notorious – a poem.

People seem to seek fame more

Than they ever truly did before.

The Kardashians, example one,

Lacking any talent, none,

Embrace infamy instead

Becoming something we all dread.

Lacking skills so glorious

They prefer being notorious.

A sex tape carefully divulged

A sordid love affair indulged.

I hope one day they’re relegated

To the cess pool they instigated.

Forgotten like they deserve,

We’ll remember instead the brave who serve,

And those who really entertain

Or leave a legacy humane.

The great and good, the loving kind.

Who die but leave great works behind.

For those we should truly weep

And the notorious we’ll bury deep.


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 27/June/2018