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

Haunted Dreams – A very short poem in response to multiple prompts.

This poem was written in response to the Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge from the Go Dog Go Cafe:

Tuesday Writing Prompt October 23, 2018

and also the word prompts:



I hear night’s whispers softly in my ear

Raising the spectre of haunted dreams

I raise the flag, surrendering to fear.

Nothing is ever quite what it seems.


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 23/10/2018

100 Word Story – Friday Fictioneers – The Tower of Dreams.

PHOTO PROMPT © Jilly Funell


She grew up seeing that tower across the bay and it taunted her. The orphanage was on the seafront in the town of Ryde on the Isle of Wight. Everyone seemed to want to go to the Isle of Wight, on holidays and weekend breaks. She would see families walking along the pier or playing on the beach. Life seemed to torment her with things that were beyond her reach.

Finally, she’d saved up enough money and escaped the Island. She was standing at the Tower of her childhood dreams. This had represented everything to her as a child. Freedom.

[100 words]

This story was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

See here:

19 October 2018


Freedom of Expression Tag: HOPE

I have been nominated by Adi, at The Rendezvous Club, please check out her blog, and her poem about Hope, here:

Thank you very much for nominating me for this. 🙂

Here is what the creator of this tag has to say about it:


Every week (Thursday) I will pick a topic, post photos or quotes or lyrics or a poem or an article about the “topic” and nominate 3 bloggers, who in turn will post about that topic (in whichever way they want) and nominate 3 bloggers of their own, spreading “FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION” far and wide.

It’s all about you being the BOSS and choosing the best way possible to express and depict your understanding of the theme of the day. Fun, ain’t it?”


1. Thank the Selector and do not forget to tag/create a “ping-back!”
2. Attach the tag photo.
3. Post about that topic (in whichever way you want – it could be a photo or a quote or a poem or an article) for the dedicated “Topic of the Day.” No rush!
4. Select 3 bloggers to take part in “FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION” Tag! Let’s spread some positivism around.


I am generally an optimistic kind of person and so ‘hope’ is something that resonates with me. I was looking about for a bit of inspiration and came across this post that really sums up what Hope is all about.

Let your hopes, not your hurts, shape your future. - Robert H. Schuller

I would add that having Hope is the second step in creating a brighter future.

Firstly you have to Dream. You have to have a dream of what you want in life. What you want to achieve and how you want your world to change.

Secondly, you have to Hope. Hope that your dreams will come true.

Thirdly, you have to acquire Confidence in yourself and draw on Energy and with a bit of Wisdom and Knowledge you can surely turn your hopes and dreams a reality.

The pessimists amongst you may think what a load of rubbish, but I’d say try it first, then you can moan and criticise.

Why haven’t I achieved it all? Sometimes you don’t know what your dreams are or you lack the confidence. That was me, but I think I am getting there, now.

I hope I make it. 🙂 I hope you do too. 😉

I would like to Tag:


Laura M Bailey


The Britchy One

Thunk Thoughts And Things I’ve Learned This Week

Word Prompt – Dreams like Satin (A Villanelle style poem)

I sit beneath the trees of green

the cool dark shade beneath the leaves

and think of all that I have seen.


The blissful joy of loves new dream

Like a magic spell the heart weaves

I sit beneath the trees of green.


I ponder what life could have been

before lying satin tongue’s deceive

I think of all that I have seen.


The tears have washed my body clean

but still a while my heart grieves.

I sit beneath the trees of green.


Could I have known the unforeseen?

the heart denies what eyes perceive

I think of all that I have seen.


Asleep I slide on satin dreams

what lies the heart and mind believes

as I sit beneath the trees of green

and think of all my eyes have seen.


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 02/June/2018


Picture by Pexels.

A Queen Dream

What’s in a name – the stork’s been! 🥂


As you may be aware Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge has just given birth to a little baby boy. We are still speculating about the name. My feeling is that they will call it Albert Phillip. I may be wrong. As I pointed out to my friend whose blog post I have linked to above. I have heard no rumours and I have no insider knowledge. Although I have a frequently recurring dream that not only have I met the Queen (which I haven’t) but we are the best of friends. 

The dreams started about fifteen years ago. One evening without warning I settled into sleep only to have my first dream by royal appointment. 

It just involved being asked to enter a very ornately decorated room. There seated in a comfortable looking chair sat the Queen. I suppose I should specify that I mean, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom of Great Britain (cue the trumpets).

In the dream she is very smiley and pleasant and asks me to sit down in the chair opposite her. She then offers me tea and cake (would be rude to refuse) and we have a lovely, pleasant discussion about the problems of the day. 

I remember waking up feeling like I had had a Royal encounter. 

Then I had several similar dreams, including one where the Queen invited me to sit down at her very grand Grand Piano and play her a tune. I should point out that although I can play the piano, I am by no means sufficiently proficient to perform for Royalty, or indeed any audience beyond a few kindly meaning relatives. I remember it was after the Queen’s sister Princess Margaret had died and she said to me (in the dream) that the Piano hadn’t been played much since her death. In my dream I gave her an excellent rendition of some Chopin that in real life I would have made a complete fudge of. 

More recently I had a dream whereby I accompanied the Queen, as a friend, to a public event. I remember following her up onto a podium where a band promptly played the British National Anthem (God Save the Queen) which it has to be said is rather a dull pedestrian affair, not stirring like the French Marseillaise or the US national anthems. The Dream Queen leaned over to me as the band was playing and confidingly said “I don’t really like this tune at all”. Then she gave me a wink!

One day I suppose I should speak to a dream expert about these night-time regal assignations with our dearly loved monarch, or perhaps even a psychiatrist. 

In the meantime though, they are rather fun. She serves very nice tea and scones.




Sometimes it seems my dreams

are beyond glass screens

They are so high and so wide

I can’t push them aside.


These tantalising dreams

You can hear my screams

the frustration’s too much

To see and not to touch.


I gather together

like armoured leather

my strengh and resolve anew

and try to run through.


I rebound from the wall

bruised yet I stand tall

the dreams taunt me alas

through this great wall of glass.


I glance down at the ground

at this Mallet, I’ve found

the mallet made from my skill

Iron hard like my will.


Forcefully I make my door

Glass shards crash to the floor

and with triumphant screams

lovingly embrace my dreams.


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 22/April/2018


Daily Prompt: Mallet