Multiple Word Prompt Story – The Welcome Party

Muffin, sunrise, lemon curd

The Welcome Party 

The day was planned out way in advance. She was a born planner. Every detail had been meticulously thought out.

As the first rays of the sunrise glowed around the edge of the bedroom curtain, she rose and began to get ready. 

There was so much to do, but much of it she had prepared in advance.

Her fridge was packed full of party food. There were little cocktail sausages with tomato ketchup dip. Mini Pork pies and sausage rolls. She had also made plenty of vegetarian alternatives, mini quiche’s and cheese and onion tartlets. She had also made a huge jar of her special lemon curd

Looking out the kitchen window, she saw the blue skies that promised a dry and sunny day. She gave thanks for that. It had rained constantly since she had moved into her new home just a month before but her prayers were answered and the day looked to be bright and sunny. 

Putting a red and white polka dot apron over her teddy bear print pyjamas, she turned on the oven and prepared her batter to make muffins and scones.

The muffin recipe came from her Aunt who lived in Boston. She said it was a family recipe handed down from generation to generation. 

She herself was half American and half British. Her Mum had come to study in London and met her Father who was born there. They liked to carry on the traditions of both sides of the family and so making Muffins and Scones for a garden party was just second nature to her. 

To celebrate moving into her new house and in a spirit of camaraderie and neighbourliness she had sent out invitations to all her neighbours inviting them to a garden party. It was to be fancy-dress but she’d made clear that it wasn’t mandatory. She thought it would be a good way of working out which of her neighbours were fun and game of a laugh and which were a bit quieter. 

While the muffins and scones baked in the oven, she quickly put on her make-up and costume. She decided to dress up as Cinderella at the ball. Her white wig and silvery gown shone with brilliance, from all the little glass crystals sewn all over it. 

She just managed to get to the oven in time before everything was burnt. A couple of the muffins were a little darker than they should have been but she had some lemon icing that should hide that quite nicely. 

She just had time to lay all the food out on her side table before her doorbell rang. 

she felt an upwelling of excitement. How many would turn up? What would they come dressed as? All those thoughts buzzed around in her head. She pulled open the front door to find just one person standing there. 

He looked a bit taken aback at the sight of her standing dressed as Cinderella. He was wearing navy blue overalls. Clearly, he wasn’t the dressing up kind. 

Before he had a chance to say much, she whisked him indoors and started plying him with food. 

She’d suggested Midday as the arrival time for the party, but so far only that one man had turned up. 

“Would you like a muffin?” She asked him.

“Oh, yes please. Thank you. This is all very nice. Is it your birthday?”

“No, It’s my moving in party. I invited all the neighbours but so far you’re the only one to turn up. My name’s Melissa, by the way.” She held out her hand. 

He took her hand in his rather calloused and rough one and smiled “My names Jack, but I don’t live around here. They’re all terribly stuck up around here, you know. No one talks to each other, I’ve noticed. I live on the other side of town.”

“Oh, then what are you doing here then?” she blushed.

“I’m the Gas man. I just called to read the meter.”


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 28/November/2018

So tell me, did you see that coming? 🙂 

Multiple Word Prompt Story – A little Sprinkle of Fairy Dust.

daughter, dreams, love

Susan and her daughter sat in the waiting room at their local hospital.

Jenny had never been to the hospital before, well, she’d been born in one, of course, but since then she hadn’t been in one, and her memory didn’t go that far back.

Her Mum sat next to her and wiped away a tear. Jenny was sad too. They had a phone call that morning from the care home that her Grandad lived in. They said he had been found unconscious on the floor of his room. He was in a coma. Jenny couldn’t help thinking it was a funny sounding word for something so sad. Her Grandad used to sit her on his knee and tell her stories. All kinds of stories, but the ones she loved best were the ones with fairies in. Grandad had said, she must always believe in Fairies, and dreams. They are real and dreams do come true, he always said. 

She loved her Grandad very much. 

“Mrs Henderson?” A stern looking lady in a nurses uniform and dark hair swept back into a bun was speaking to her Mum.

“Sorry, Yes?”

“Your Father is still in a coma, I’m afraid, but he is in a stable condition. Would you like to follow me” The Nurse started walking off down one of the many corridors. Her Mum grabbed her daughters hand and quickly followed.

When they walked into the room, Jenny saw her Grandfather lying on the bed, with lots of wires and tubes coming out of him. His face was very pale and his eyes were closed. He looked like he was sleeping deeply. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” The stern nurse said and closed the door behind her. 

Her Mum sat in the chair next to the bed and picked up her fathers hand and held it tightly. 

Jenny stood next to her mother and held her hand too, creating a chain of love

The minutes passed, and Jenny watched her Grandfather’s chest rise and fall gently. Aside from breathing, the only other sound was the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor. She found it reassuring. Her Grandfather was not dead, he was alive, he was only sleeping. Any minute he would open his eyes and smile at her, like he always did. 

But the minutes passed and nothing happened.

There was a gentle tap on the door and another nurse came into the room. She had a friendly, docile nature, not stern like the first one had been. 

“Excuse me, Mrs Henderson. Do you mind signing a few forms?” the nice nurse said.

“Oh, OK? Can I speak to the Doctor too?” Susan stood up and then turned to her daughter.

“Just sit there Jenny, There’s a good girl. I will only be a few moments.”

Jenny sat down in the chair her mother had just vacated and picked up her Grandfathers hand. It was heavier than usual, somehow. All the lines and wrinkles of that hand were familiar to her, as was the faded tattoo of an eagle that was on the back. Her Grandad had got that tattoo when he was a young man in the army. What he called, the ‘Call-up’. He said all young men had to spend time in the army, but it had been after the war. He’d spent most of the time peeling spuds. That’s what Grandad called potatoes. 

Jenny just couldn’t take it any more. She gave her Grandfather’s hand a vigorous shake. 

“Wake Up Grandad! Why won’t you wake up?” Jenny put her head down on her grandfathers shoulder and cried.

Then she remembered a story he had told her, about fairies and their special magic. He had given her a bottle of magic fairy dust as a present last Christmas and she kept it with her always in her pocket. Just in case she needed it. She pulled out a small phial of silver glitter and with a sprinkle here and there, covered her grandfather and the bed.

“Magic Fairy dust, wake my Grandad Up!” She cried. 

‘Beep, Beep, Beep’ went the heart monitor, just as before. Nothing had changed.

The door opened and a tall man wearing a long white coat came in with her Mother. 

“This is Doctor Jessell, Jenny, he’s going to look after Grandad. It’s time we went home now. How about, as a treat, we pick up some fish and chips on the way home? Would you like that?” 

“Oh yes Mummy, they’re my favourite.” 

Susan grabbed her daughter’s hand and they walked out of the room, leaving the doctor behind.

Jenny suddenly pulled away. “Why not wait a bit longer, Mummy? Then Grandad can have some fish and chips with us?”

Susan knelt down and pulled her daughter close. 

“I’m sorry, Jenny. Doctor Jessell doesn’t think he’ll make it. He banged his head hard and they think there may have been some bleeding on the brain. We have to remember all the good times we had.”

As they clung to each other in the hospital corridor, suddenly a door opened and Dr Jessell came striding towards them.

“Mrs Henderson, I’m glad I caught you before you left. He’s awake! Not long after you left, he opened his eyes and spoke. We are just running a few tests to make sure everything’s OK and we will have to monitor him for a couple of days, but there doesn’t seem to be any brain damage after all.”

They walked back into the room. The old man gave them a weak smile and spoke softly.

“Alright Suzie? Why am I all covered in Glitter?”

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 26/November/2018

Multiple Word Prompt Poem – Imagination or Prediction?

I stand at the horizon,

And see a strange new dawn.

A soldier filled with compassion

No longer behaves like a pawn.

They release a poor animal

Caught in a heinous trap,

And decides to fight for freedom

Not for lines drawn on a map.

It’s not real, just my imagination’s show,

But I have faith that one day soon, it may become  so.

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 24/November/2018

Faith, fight, freedom

Multiple Word Prompt Poem – Hide from the World


Japan, tranquil, koi

Hide From the World

I wanted to sequester myself away today,

Hide from the world and curl up in a ball.

I can’t find the right words I want to say,

I’ve drawn a blank, I’ve hit the wall.

I feel all jumbled inside, that’s why I hide,

I’ll just draw the curtains and have a snooze.

I don’t want to talk, or discuss or confide.

And I certainly don’t want to watch the news.

It’s all doom and gloom and dark despair,

The percentage of people below the poverty line,

And the homelessness; it’s not that I don’t care.

If I had another property, they could have one of mine.

I need to de-stress, to relax and unwind.

Maybe I’ll get some koi carp from Japan

I could gaze at the pond, so tranquil and find

I feel no better off than when I began.

I’ve decided to follow the advice that I said

I’m going to do the one thing that feels right.

I’ll switch off the T.V and head up to bed,

And have a good sleep, so I bid you good night.

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 16/November/2018

Daily Writing Challenge – Poseidon’s Birthday Surprise.

This story was written in response to The Haunted Wordsmiths Daily Writing Challenge.

The picture above is part of the challenge and also the following words:

king, power, eternal

I have also included the following word prompts:

King Triton’s birthday was fast approaching and he did not want to think about it. Four thousand years was a long time to be alive, but he knew he wasn’t immortal like the Gods, he would one day wither and die, and so every birthday was like the ticking of his own personal death clock.

He also didn’t know what he wanted as a present. Not another one of those concerts that his daughters loved to put on for him. They enjoyed singing but he didn’t have the heart to tell them that they actually sounded dreadful. He’d heard seagulls that could carry a tune better. 

He was chairing another meeting to discuss the problem of the seas getting hotter when he had the idea. His prime minister, an old bottle-nosed dolphin called Flipper, was in the middle of a speech.

“We have sent uncountable delegations to the humans to tell them to quit pouring chemical after chemical into our oceans, but they have continued despite our warnings….”

“That’s It!” Interrupted the King. “That’s what I want for my Birthday, an end to all the pollution.” 

The Prime Minister rolled his eyes. He was a dedicated public servant who had spent his youth working undercover with the humans and knew them better than anybody. It was that experience that had caused him to be elected Prime Minister. He knew that it wasn’t as simple as ‘wanting an end to pollution’. There were many humans that also desired that wish, but they were outnumbered by those who put money and profits before nature. 

Patiently he said “Very good, your Majesty. I have been working to achieve that. It’s not as simple as that, I’m afraid.”

The King stood up from the table. “I will ask Poseidon. I haven’t bothered him for aeons and he owes me a favour or two. I helped wipe out Atlantis for him when he asked me to. He owes me Big Time!”

The King walked up the steps to the Temple, he felt a little guilty because he hadn’t been as devoted as he should have. This was his first visit for a while. The golden statue of Poseidon stood on it’s plinth at the far end of the temple. It towered above even him. 

“Oh Eternal Poseidon, God of the Sea, here my words and come to me.”

He felt the power and awe overwhelm him as the God’s presence entered the room.

“What is it my child? Long have you let me slumber and I am grateful for it, speak and I will grant thy wish.”

The voice echoed and boomed around the white marble halls decorated with coral, scallop shells, pearls and other treasures of the deepest oceans. 

“I wish an end to this pollution, Oh Powerful God. It is my birthday and I desire this above all things.”

“Consider it done Triton. This will be my Birthday present to you.”

The Gods presence departed and then the great freeze started. 

Poseidon caused the worlds oceans to freeze. The sea creatures survived by diving deep into the under water caverns. There were enough pockets of oxygen in those deep caverns to keep the dolphins and other air breathing sea animals alive. 

The great freeze lasted just long enough for the humans to be wiped out. Then the sea thawed and returned to normal and without the humans, there was no more pollution. 

King Triton was aghast at the devastation that Poseidon had wrought.

“Oh God, why did you destroy the human race? I only wanted an end to pollution.”

“I have granted your wish, Triton. Be more careful what you wish for. You wanted an end to pollution and destroying the humans was the only way.”

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 14/November/2018

The Singer – The Sequel


Yesterday I wrote a short story based on this picture and the word ‘Sultry’ in response to the challenge set by Laura M Bailey on her blog  – See the link below:

I had a few very encouraging comments from my blogging friends that they wanted to hear a bit more of the story, and so here is the sequel.

I hope you enjoy it:

The Singer – Part Two

He pulled on his raincoat as he stepped out of the nightclub. It was still raining heavily, so he turned up his collar and stood with his back against the brick wall. The guttering provided enough of a shelter from the rain for him to light his cigarette. He could still hear her voice, slightly muffled, from inside the building. She was singing another old classic, “That’ Old Black Magic”. It reminded him of the spell she had cast over him when he’d first laid eyes on her.

‘How many years had it been?’ he pondered as he took a puff of the cigarette. ‘Must be ten years ago now.’

Her hair had been shorter then, and blonde. She wore less makeup back then too.

It had been at his local fair. He’d gone along because he’d had nothing better to do and there were usually opportunities to be had whenever crowds gathered. His ordinary appearance became a camouflage in those sorts of places and he enjoyed the anonymity and the advantages that gave.

She’d been singing then too. A Cole Porter song “I’ve got you under my Skin”. He felt her reach across that crowd to him. She was singing to him and him alone. He fell instantly in love with her. She had won his heart.

He had found out a little bit about her. She was a local girl who loved to sing. He sent her flowers and chocolates. He even sent her a valentine card. They even went on a date to an Italian restaurant. Then she turned cold toward him, sent back his letters and refused to see him when he turned up at the bar she worked at. How could she entice him one minute then reject him the next? He couldn’t take that rejection. She even went so far as to go to the police and get a court injunction on him. He wasn’t going to give up that easily. He managed to get into her apartment one night. He only wanted to talk, just to explain himself, he loved her. She had to understand that. He wouldn’t have hit her if she hadn’t screamed.

So he spent a few weeks in jail. That didn’t bother him, it wasn’t his first stint, but when he came out she’d gone. Moved away. He had been hunting for her ever since.

Now, he’d found her, at last.

He took the cigarette end out of his mouth and threw it on the floor then crushed it to pieces with his heel.

He walked down the alley behind the club and found the rear entrance unlocked. No one was around. He jumped when a metal trashcan fell making a loud clang that echoed in that narrow alley, but it was just an alley cat. Like him, really, he smiled at that though.

He opened the door into a dark space that was clearly used for storage. There was a room with a gold star on it with ‘Claudia Van Horn’ emblazoned across it.

He could hear her still singing on stage. Her rich, throaty voice was belting out the finale of her final number. Carefully he crouched down behind a large crate of beer to wait patiently for her to finish.

It wasn’t long before he heard the roar of the audience, giving her a standing ovation and saw her stumble rather listlessly back to her dressing room, closing the door behind her.

Like a panther, he leapt from the shadows and within moments had slipped into her room. The nightclub was closing and the customers were making a racket as they finished their drinks. Some of the crowd were attempting to copy the songs they’d heard. It was a raucous din, but it played into his hands.

She was seated in her chair in front of the mirror and hadn’t heard him open the door but when it clicked shut she turned around.

He stood there with the belt from his raincoat in his hands and just stared.

This close he realised the makeup was even heavier than he thought. The years had changed her face slightly; her features were no longer quite as fine, still attractive, but not as youthful as they once had been.

Her mouth fell open and she gasped his name “Joe?”

“That’s right honey, it’s Joe. It’s so nice to see you after all this time, Christina. You thought by changing your name you could escape me? We were meant to be. When will you accept that?”

She tensed as he started walking towards her pulling his belt tightly between his fists.

“What are you going to do Joe?” she said, quietly. He knew he didn’t have long before she would scream. He had to act quickly.

“I can’t bear the thought of you running away from me again. You won’t run away this time” He said and pounced.

Her leg came up hard and caught him between the legs.

He screamed and fell to the floor and then the dressing room door slammed open and a female police officer stood there with a gun pointed at him. “Freeze” She shouted.

Then Christina laughed coarsely and reached up and grabbed her long red hair. It came off in her hands. It was a wig.

He realised that he had been wrong, it wasn’t Christina at all.

The policewoman kept her gun pointed at him with her right hand and with her left removed her cap, revealing short blonde hair and the face that was etched in his dreams, this was Christina.

“You didn’t know I had a younger brother? Meet Clay, he’s a drag artist. Oh, and I’m a police officer now. I knew you’d be after me again someday and I decided that rather keep running in fear, I was going to get you. I joined the police to help save other women from people like you and I knew one day I would see you again and I wanted to make damn sure I was ready. I reckon that’s Strike Three.” She turned to two other police officers standing outside and said: “Book him boys”.

The End.

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 13/November/2018

Valentine, heart, fair



Multiple Word Prompt Story – Driftwood Dry

This story was inspired by the following word prompts:

FOWC with Fandango — Dry

cloud, fluff, whipped cream


Friday dawned but he couldn’t get that taste out of his mouth. The taint left by one of the most unpleasant weeks he’d had in a long time.

He started the week with a Father, a Partner and a job. One by one they’d all gone.

He felt like a dark cloud had entered his life. He felt his life ebb away through his fingers like a slowly dying river during a dry spell.

Dry was the word, he felt as dry as driftwood.

So, his father had been ill for months and the prognosis had been clear, but there is always that little spark of hope in the back of your mind that thinks maybe he’ll defy the odds. Maybe he’ll get better.

He hadn’t really been that close to his dad growing up. His mum was one of those larger than life characters who held the family together by force of personality and with her aura of love. His Dad was just there, in the background. When his Mum died suddenly though, he had become close to his Dad. They had both lost their rock.

Then they went back to their separate lives. His Dad started going to Bingo and He’d met his partner and they’d set up a house together.

Then the magazine he wrote for acquired a new owner. A new owner with a new agenda. The articles he wrote were not compatible with this new agenda and more and more he found that his articles were not being included in the final draft. It was only a matter of time before they laid him off. Why pay for a writer whose work isn’t getting published?

It couldn’t have fallen at a worse time. His Father died in hospital on Tuesday and on Wednesday his partner decided to move out. OK so they hadn’t been spending much time together lately, so he wasn’t interested in sex anymore. With everything going on, he had trouble being interested in anything at all. So, Steve moved out Wednesday, he’d found someone who appreciated him better.

Then Thursday he was called into the boss’s office and sacked. Technically he was freelance, so they just decided not to renew the contract, but he had focussed on this job and hadn’t submitted any writing to any other journal for months. His income was bound up in this one role, and he’d lost it.

As he took a sip from his Cappuccino he choked, the whipped cream had gone off. He threw it away and made himself a cup of instant then he stared at the blank computer screen. His fingers poised over the keys but failed to move.

Completely dry; he couldn’t think of anything to type. His head was full of fluff.

His mobile began to ring across the room. The sounds of Pharrell Williams song Happy rang out rubbing salt into his wounds. His instinct was to ignore it. It could be Steve asking to come around and get more of his stuff. He could do without that. Let him wait for a bit. Then it rang again so he picked up the phone. It was his Agent ringing.

“Hey, Jack, how’s things?” His literary agent always sounded upbeat and full of life even when he was turning down draft after draft of the novel he had been trying to get published for years.

“Oh, Hi Keith. I’m not in a great place at the moment” Jack responded.

“Great, Great, listen, I have some good news for you”

Keith wasn’t the kind of person who actually listened to what someone said, his own thoughts were more important.

“What Keith?” The brusque response had no effect.

“Your book, I told you that final draft was brilliant,”

Jack couldn’t let this statement go without challenging it, “You said it was even worse than the last draft I’d sent you. You said you would see if any publishers would be interested but you didn’t hold out much hope.”

“Well, it grew on me and, my friend, what’s more important, the publishers want to see you first thing Monday morning. They love it! I hope you are up for writing the sequel because they are prepared to pay big money for it.”

Jack could barely contain himself enough to write down the details of when and where to meet.

“See you Monday,” he said.

Then, feeling a renewed sense of energy, he began typing chapter one of his new book.

The End


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 02/November/2018