50 Word Thursday #93 – A Dream come true.

“… after that, he had to make his way all down the parade to the West Pier” – Brighton Rock, Graham Greene.

It was something he’d dreamed of all his life. It was his fantasy.

It wasn’t going to be easy, he’d have to catch a bus all the way into town and then, after that, he had to make his way all down the parade to the West Pier.

He worked hard on the farm, sleeping rough in the barn at night seemed to accentuate his desire to achieve his dream. Finally, he’d saved up enough and would elect to walk rather than take the bus.

On the pier, the Ferry waited. His ticket off this island and freedom at last.

[100 Words]

This story was written for the 50 Word Thursday Challenge:


I’ve also included the following word prompts:




The Knight and the Dragon



This poem was written in response to this picture challenge from Helene at Willow Poetry:

What do you See? March 12, 2019


Over the Bridge, rode the Knight,

In search of his prey,

Armed and ready to fight

despite the odds, Come what may.

He’d given his pledge

To Vanquish that foe,

Who some would allege,

Had brought them much woe.

He searched across the land

The dreaded dragon laid low,

Did it fear his mighty hand?

It would appear so.

For though the Knight looked

Over every hill and dale,

There was no sign whatever,

Of a Dragon, and so ends this tale.





Harmful Ignorance – A poem


He gazed upon a sight so great,

this Citadel made to fascinate,

if he lingers longer he’ll be late,

and that would never do.


He wore the robes so thick, so warm,

they were his apprentice’s uniform,

And kept out the cold and winter storm,

that he had struggled through.


His quest was nearly at an end,

to reach the city and find his friend,

to finish his training and then defend

his home from what he knew.


In his ignorance he’d released

A dark creature, an evil beast,

upon the living, it will feast.

It was all his fault, it’s true.


He must become a mighty Mage,

a Sorcerer skilled with wisdom sage,

and face this creatures dreadful rage.

to defeat and then undo,

the harm that only ignorance can do.


This was written for the What do you See? challenge:

What do you See? Feb/26/2019


I have included the following word prompts:


FOWC with Fandango — Uniform







50 Word Thursday’s #2 – The Book of Lost Souls.

I spin in a haze of greens, blues, and white, my perceptions unravelling like a roll of gauze.
Splintered by A. G. Howard

This story was written for the 50 word Thursday Challenge, this week hosted by Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith, Click below to find out more:

The Book of Lost Souls

I’d been warned about going into Uncle Peregrine’s attic. Since his death, it’d been kept untouched. Elsie refused to dust it. That added to the mystery and I just couldn’t resist.

Uncle Peregrine had been distinctly odd. He’d wander around wearing red flowing robes and a pink silk turban on his head, smoking extremely unpleasant smelling cigars. He’d been a practitioner of the occult, but I’d always found him an immensely funny silly old fool.

The house was its usual bustle on a Sunday morning as everyone, even the staff, prepared to go to Church. I managed to feign illness; a bit of judicious rubbing behind the ears was enough to convince Mother that I had a rash and couldn’t possibly go along.

When they’d gone, I crept into the dusty old attic room, the walls lined with books.

One book appeared to be a children’s colouring book.

Gingerly I open it and I spin in a haze of greens, blues, and white, my perceptions unravelling like a roll of gauze.

My mind impossibly lost without a road map to help me back to reality.

Around me, I am surrounded by a riot of colour and shapes.

Then I spy a large figure sitting on the back of a tangerine coloured camel, wearing red robes and a pink turban.

Uncle Peregrine beams at me.

“There you are, my boy. Come to keep your Uncle company, have you? I hope you’ve said your goodbyes, there’s no going back now, you know.”

I have also included The Three Things challenge: Books, Lost, Road Map.

If you enjoyed this challenge, why not click on the link and have a go?

The Final Unicorn – A short story.

They say that crossroads are gateways into another world. That is very true. Where two paths cross the veil that separates our world from the world of the dead is thin. When violence occurs at that point it rips the veil and allows travel between the two worlds to take place.

There has to be, however, balance. The rubric is that for something to pass one way across the void, something must pass the other way. A two-way exchange.

Somewhere deep in an ancient wood, there was such a crossroad. Two paths crossed in the middle of an ash grove. Ash groves are dark and sinister places, just as Oak groves are sacred and benign. Oak groves are home to beneficial spirits that nurture and guide, like Fairy godmothers. There was once a creature that dwelled in the wood, these creatures signified all the fine virtues but they had been reduced to just one, the final unicorn.

On one dark day, the last unicorn was killed by a Witch, at that crossroad in that ash grove. The violent act ripped apart the veil. Something was waiting on the other side. Something that had reached out to the Witch and promised her eternal youth and beauty if she carried out this terrible act. She was tricked, for with the veil ripped she was sucked into the world of the dead, allowing that something to pass the other way.

That was how the devil came into this world.


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 25/September/2018



Today’s things are: unicorn, fairy, devil

Finish the Story #6, 11 August 2018 – The Road

The story started with a challenge set up The Haunted Wordsmith, to be continued by the next tagged writer.

Teresa’s Rules–

  1. Copy the story below as it appears when you receive it (and the rules please)
  2. Add somehow to the story in whichever style and length you choose
  3. Tag only 1 person
  4. If you choose to not participate or finish the story, please comment/tag this post so that I know.



Chapter 1 The Haunted Wordsmith

“It’s in your blood, hun.”

His mother’s response to the announcement that he was leaving home echoed in his ears. He knew she would be supportive, but he never expected to feel both exhilarated and let down at the same time. They were close, and always had been, but a little part of him now felt she had already let him go years ago. Pushing that thought from his mind, Eric picked up his loaded backpack and set off for the adventure of a lifetime. With one last hug and long look at his old life, he …

Chapter 2 Light Motifs II

… began walking down the familiar sun-dappled path toward town and the bus station. Eric still appreciated the quiet, peaceful beauty of the old trees as their leaves donned autumn’s colors, but his mind was elsewhere. His imagination conjured up images of vibrant city life, the music, the lights, the faster pace. He’d have to get a job, of course, and was prepared with various resumes. He couldn’t wait to begin his new, exciting life, and was so preoccupied with these thoughts that he didn’t hear the rattle as he stepped over the log…

Chapter 3 This, That, and The Other

Eric braced himself for the rattlesnake bite that he knew was coming. He looked down at the log expecting to see a coiled rattler poised to strike. But he was totally unprepared for what he actually saw. There, in a small wicker basket, was a baby, no more than a few months old, Eric guessed, rattle in hand, looking back up at Eric. The baby shook its rattle and then smiled up at Eric. Eric reached down and lifted up the basket. The baby looked healthy and, given the circumstance, remarkably happy. It even started cooing when Eric lifted it up out of the basket. And that is when Eric found the note attached to the baby’s diaper.


The typed note said, “I am a victim of incestuous rape and I am not fit to be a mother. I named her Tuesday, because that is when she was born, but who ever finds her can rename her whatever they want.”  Eric being the genius that he was, realized that the baby was only two days old, because today was Thursday, or possibly it was a week and two days old, but he really had no idea and it could have been a few months old and two days.  Eric felt that this was better than getting bit by a rattle snake, or for that matter getting hit by a javelin, but Eric knew that he did not want this baby and he would have to figure out something to do with it, so he could get on with his busy life.  It was kind of a cute baby and he always liked that song Tuesday Afternoon.  Eric wondered how any mother could not feel any emotional attachment for their own baby and that is when he crouched down to pick the baby up.  As he grabbed the baby, he heard a voice say, “No stupid, you have give her proper support because she is still developing, so put your hands under the baby’s head.” Eric looked around and saw…

Chapter 5  Reena Saxena

He put the baby back in the basket, blew a kiss and moved on,

“All the best, Tuesday! May you find a parent who deserves you….”

He had barely moved ten steps, when he heard the baby’s cooing again. Reluctantly, he looked back and found her smiling. She even managed to wave at him, or was she imploring to be picked up…. He was now sure that she was more than a month old, as she could communicate so well. But how had she survived for so long? Did the callous mother take more than a month to abandon her? He was imagining a face similar to the baby’s … maybe, the mother is young and beautiful, but callous … no helpless or .. innocent or .. what? Darn… it was not his problem to think about that.

Another cooing sound, and he had picked up Tuesday again. He looked into the baby’s innocent eyes, and knew that he was hooked. But how was he going to manage this?

There were only two options. One, go back to his Mom and seek her help. She might suspect something else, but it didn’t matter. Or look for the baby’s mother ….

Chapter 6 Sync With Deep

The thought of searching for Tuesday’s mother sounded hectic. Eric decided to take the baby home to his mom. When mom saw Eric, she was quite surprised by his return. She was taken aback to see a pair of tiny toes peeking alongside Eric’s shoulder. The baby’s cries filled the room. Mom quickly grabbed Tuesday in her arms.

‘I had doubted mom unnecessarily,’ thought Eric and smiled a sign of relief.

‘What’s your story?’ asked mom.

Eric quickly started from the rattle sound to the note in the diaper.

Mom’s eyes were clouded with tears. ‘The history repeats,’ she said to herself.

She remembered that day how Eric arrived at her. It was the time of sunset and she was having her usual walk along the neighborhood park when she heard a feeble cry. A day 1 old baby was found in a brown cardboard carton wrapped in a piece of bloodstained cloth. She frantically waited for an hour to see if anyone came to claim the baby. Finally, she took the baby herself and a homeless baby got a home and a mother too.

She named him Eric, meaning Ever or Eternal.

Chapter 7 Morpeth Road

Eric’s mother was quickly hard at work fussing over the baby. There was so much to do and first thing was to change the baby’s nappy as it was considerably wet and smelly after so many or few days.

Eric knew his mother was a good mother after all he had her to blame for being the man he was.

His thought of adventures in the city were put on hold as he and his mum discussed what to do. Tuesday would have to be handed in as his mum knew the mother would in time want to know where her child was.

They decided to put a lost child sign up on every post in the village. Surely someone would come forward.

After a week there came a knock on the door…

Chapter 8 Pensitivity 101

The man stood on the porch, taking off his hat when Eric’s mother opened the door.
‘I understand you are caring for an infant which I believe is my daughter. I’ve come to take her home.’
Eric’s mother distrusted him on sight, and rather than invite him in, decided to keep him on the doorstep.
‘Yes, we are looking after a young child temporarily. And who Sir, are you exactly?’
‘My name is Edwin Mallor, and I live in the next village. My fourteen year old daughter ran away with her sister some weeks ago, spreading malicious rumours about misconduct under my roof. I have come to claim what is rightfully mine, and will see to it that you are well compensated for your time and trouble.’
‘And what Sir, has happened to your older daughter? Has she been found and returned safely to you?’
‘Sadly no. Her body was retrieved from the river eight days ago. It is believed she had left the babe unattended whilst she bathed.’
‘And where Sir, might this have been?’
‘In the woods over yonder. May I take the child now?’
‘How old would your daughter be Sir?’
‘About six weeks of age.’
‘I am sorry Sir, but the child we are caring for is about a year old. I will bring her to you if you wish, but I am confident she is not your kin.’
‘That will not be necessary then, so I’ll bid you good day.’

Eric could not believe his mother could lie so blatantly to the man, and asked why she had done so.
‘Eric, son. You are a good boy, but you don’t understand these matters. Tuesday may well be his daughter. She may also be his grand daughter. How convenient that her mother drowned and cannot defend her actions.’
‘What are we going to do?’ Eric asked.
‘I want you to remove all of the notices in the village. I need to think of a way to keep this baby safe……………..’

Chapter 9 The Dark Netizen

Eric nodded. He did not quite understand how these things worked, just like his mother had said. However, he knew that little Tuesday would be safer with them. He blew a flying kiss to Tuesday, and ran off towards the village. He had to remove all the notices.

He returned in the evening. He knocked on the door. He heard his mother’s voice coming from inside.

“Mom, it’s me.”

“You know the password, Eric.”

Eric sighed. When he was a little kid, Eric had been fond of making makeshift tents inside the house. He would let his mom enter the tent only if she used a password he had made up. Eric spoke towards the door.


Mother opened the door to let Eric inside. To his shock, Eric saw an assortment of weapons laid out on his dining table. Bows, knives, swords, axes, it was a complete arsenal. He looked at his mother with questioning eyes.

“Mother? What is all this?”

Mother placed her hands on Eric’s shoulders.

“Child, you should know. Tuesday is no ordinary baby. Men will come to take her away. Evil men. We need to keep her safe.”

“But, mom what about the oath you took? And what do you mean by Tuesday not being an ordinary baby.”
Mother ruffled Eric’s hair.

“See Eric,….”

Chapter 10 Jo Hawk

“See Eric, we have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Eric had been so annoyed with Mother’s password nonsense and surprised at the weapons he had not seen the figure sitting next to the fireplace. He watched as it unfolded from the chair rising until her head nearly touched the ceiling. She was thin, her face full of sharp angles and sharp eyes. The flowing amber-brown fabric of her dress fell from her shoulders to the floor, softening her bony structure.

“What…” Eric blinked several times. “Who are you?”

“My name is Laila. I am a fairy and Tuesday’s godmother.”

“A fairy godmother?”

Laila’s pale face might have been alabaster. She stood motionless, her slender fingers dangling from the sleeves of the gown.

“Tuesday’s fairy godmother? Some godmother you are. Aren’t you supposed to protect her?” Eric’s voice rose as he spoke, he clenched his fist and shook it at the being in front of him.

“Eric,” his mother said placing her hand on his shoulder.

“I led you to her. You required guidance holding the babe,” Laila said.

“It was you I heard?”

Laila slowly closed and opened her eyes. Her chin dipped a fraction in acknowledgement.

“What do you mean you led me to her? Me? Why me?” Eric shook his head.

“It is as foretold by prophecy.”

“What prophecy?”

Laila’s eyes closed again and though her mouth didn’t move her voice filled the room…

Chapter 11 Gina@Singledust


“You have a restlessness young man but your conscience will always lead you to do what is difficult but right”.

Eric was mesmerised by the softness and timbre of her voice; she seemed to speak in echoes. His mother had stopped fussing and even the baby was silent, hushed by Laila’s melodic voice.

“The note was written that way to pull you in, once you read its contents you would want to take this child and give her a safe place” Laila continued, gently touching the baby’s forehead.

“Eric, you have a destiny. You know this; unconsciously it’s been simmering in your psyche” Laila moves a little closer to the fire as she speaks and Eric sees sparks bounce off her lips.

“I had to protect this child from the evil sent to retrieve her. That man who pretended to be related to her, he was in good disguise but your mother spotted it immediately. I thank you Madam” and Laila bows and her gown rustles like leaves falling on an autumn day.

Mother smiles shyly and nods, “Yes I felt he wanted to destroy the magic, he had a muddy, streaked aura that was quite menacing”.

“Indeed he was not here for the benefit of this special child, the girl he mentioned was not his daughter though she was this baby’s mother. She was ill and had run away to save her child, sadly her body was too weak. I protected the child while waiting for you to appear Eric.”

“There is a prophecy you see…..

 Heed the owl on a full moon night.
Tell the mother hold on
until the owl passes over town,
or the caul will be torn
and the child have no sight
behold the transparent veil
the mystic cover
remove with care
there’s magic beware”

 Eric stood and………..

Chapter 12 – My Addition.

…..Cried. Those words he had heard in his nightmares. All his life he had had the same recurring dream. He would have to face the Nighwatcher. In the dream, he travelled through the darkest parts of the forest at night, with only a special candle to find the Nightwatcher who appeared in the form of an owl. The Owl would sing to him the same words that Laila had just told him. Only the Nightwatcher knew the rest of the prophecy.

“Mother, you need to keep the baby safe, Laila will help you. They will come for her, she is the Lightchild. You remember the nightmares that I’ve had since I was small? You used to cradle me in your arms and sing to me until the memories of those terrible dreams faded. In those dreams, I was told the words to that prophecy and I was given a mission. I think you know all about it. You must give me the candle.”

His Mother’s eyes went vacant suddenly. “What candle? I don’t know what you mean by the candle.”

“Those horrible dreams told me you would have the candle. Only that candle will light my path to the Nighwatcher and only he can tell me what I must do next. I am the Pathseeker and I must return the Lightchild to her rightful place, only then will the evils of the world, released by Pandora all those thousands of years ago, be returned to their box and the world will be at peace again. I know now what our family secret it. You are a Witch, and Pandora was your ancestor. You have a black candle and I must have it.”

“Eric you don’t know what you’re saying. A black candle is a wicked thing, made from the rendered fat of an infant. I would never have such a thing!”

“Mother, I know you could never make one but nonetheless I know you have one.”

The tears ran down her face as she nodded her head. She ran upstairs and he could hear her open the door to the attic. There was a lot of weird stuff up there, he remembered sneaking up there as a child. After a lot of noise of boxes being moved, his mother came back downstairs. She held out a black satin bag as if it was a venomous snake about to bite her.

“Here, Son, take it. I could never bear to see it, not after my Mother told me what it was. It has been passed down the female line in our family. Use it soon. I fear time is short. Once lit, the candle will only burn for six hours. The wax never burns, but it will not light again until it receives fresh blood to recharge it.”

Laila smiled at them. “You have discovered your destiny. I am the guardian of the child, you are the Pathseeker. Your Mother and I will keep the child safe but you must go tonight to find the next part of the prophecy. There is only one more thing you must know…………………..”


Now I tag…..Kristian of Life Lessons around the Dinner Table


Manic Mondays 3 Way Challenge – A Journey through Ignorance.

This story was written in response to Laura M Baileys challenge. See Link:



The Word is JOURNEY

A Journey Through Ignorance

She was almost home. She could see the light at the end of the tunnel of trees that meant safety.

She had been on a long journey, to find out the truth of the world outside the protection of their sacred grove. The World had forsaken it’s principles, all the virtues of honour had been forgotten. Now people just vied for gold. They had lost themselves.

She was being pursued by some of those ultimate personifications of the degradation that the world had found itself in. Thieves, who without any desire to create anything for themselves just sought to take from more worthy individuals. They no longer followed the code of valour. Rather than see a vulnerable young woman in need of protection, they just saw a victim clothed in robes of fine spun cloth, with silver decorating her pale swan-like neck. She had, in her rectitude, chastised them for their wicked ways, this seemed to make them even more keen to follow her and take her belongings. She had managed to escape them but they were not far behind. Once she was home, they would never find her. They were not part of her world, her’s was a world of Magic and splendour long ago abandoned by the world of men. For all she appeared a helpless maid, she was actually one of the Fey, but having left her sacred homelands without the permission of her elders she was forbidden from drawing on the magic of her kind. She had only done so briefly in order to temporarily escape from the clutches of her pursuers. They were not very far behind now. She could hear their uncouth voices.

She paused at the start of the long tunnel of trees because another danger reared it’s ugly head. The shadows themselves were a danger, they could claim unwary souls. The shadows seemed to reach out to her, calling her name. Praying to the spirit behind her people she ran for all her life was worth, ran towards the light and home.

She felt hands try to grab her from out of the shadows, she heard the voices of her pursuers behind, but those voices diminished, the hands disappeared as the golden light consumed her. She was home and safe now.

The End


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 27/August/2018




Sunday Afternoon Reading – My Fantasy Story Part 23.

I was posting instalments of the Fantasy story I wrote 17 years ago every Sunday and Wednesday afternoons. The most observant amongst you may have realised that I haven’t posted an instalment in some time. In fact, the last one was posted last Friday, the 17th of August.

Well here is the next part. I hope you are enjoying it.

If you want to read it from its genesis, here is the link:



Part Twenty-Three

Piotr Drake had not been enjoying himself. No, not at all. He was not in the best of moods. He had been travelling on the road for several days, since leaving the City of Savarias, on horse back and dressed up like a Mage. This had presented a couple of problems for Piotr. Firstly, that despite being a coachman he was not at all a good horse rider. He was fine with horses when he was sitting up high and they were harnessed to the coach and he had the reins and his whip. He found sitting on them quite unbearable. Truth be known he was not at all fond of horses. Riding them, he felt that the horse was more in control of the situation than he was. It took all his strength and stamina to keep the horse from straying from the road to have a munch of some tempting thicket. The way Piotr gripped his reins you would have thought he was riding a fierce stallion. Actually the horse was a particularly docile example and had been christened by its original owner, ‘Plodder’.

Continue reading Sunday Afternoon Reading – My Fantasy Story Part 23.

Something for the Weekend – My Fantasy Story part 22.

I was posting instalments of the Fantasy story I wrote 17 years ago every Sunday and Wednesday afternoons. The most observant amongst you may have realised that I haven’t posted an instalment in some time. In fact, the last one was posted on the 29th of July. I rather ran out of energy and wanted to concentrate on new stuff, like my Murder-Mystery and a few short stories and poems.

Well here is the next part. I hope you are enjoying it.

If you want to read it from the beginning, here is the link:


Part 22

Later that evening they all gathered in the common room for their evening meal. The meal presented to them was a particular favourite in that part of the world. The District of Savarias was famous for its horses, which was why they were on the district’s flag. However, the district had another claim to fame. It had more sheep than any other livestock, more sheep even than people and they commemorated that fact by making Lamb their main dish. Lara was relieved that the people of Savarias decided to put the Horse on their flag and Lamb on the dinner table rather than the other way around.

Continue reading Something for the Weekend – My Fantasy Story part 22.

Sunday Evening reading – My Fantasy story part 21.

I have been posting instalments of the Fantasy story I wrote about 17 years ago every Sunday and Wednesday afternoons.
Here is the next instalment.
If you would like to read it from the start, this is the first part:


Part Twenty-One

Bethra was bored with her book. She had borrowed it out of the reading room when they’d arrived two days ago; she was at least halfway through it. The story was about a girl called Alice who feel down a hole. Bethra thought that Alice was a perfectly silly name. The more she read the story, the more Alice reminded her of her cousin Lara ‘miss prim and proper, aren’t I all sweet and lovely’! It wasn’t so much that she hated Lara, she didn’t really, but she did hate the fact that Lara always appeared to have everything she wanted. In a fit of pique, Bethra threw the book across the room. It bounced off the wall with a thud and landed on Lara’s bed. ‘Let Lara read the stupid book’ thought Bethra ‘I’m sure that Alice and Lara will get on splendidly anyway’. Bethra got up, checked her reflection in the mirror. Her pale blonde hair gleamed, she had washed it three times that morning to ensure that it did. She was wearing a dress of finely woven pale blue wool with pink bows on it. She puffed up the bows, checked herself one last time then left the room to join the others in the common room. 

Continue reading Sunday Evening reading – My Fantasy story part 21.