First of May Haiku – Safe Journey


Happy first of May to everyone on the blogosphere. I have written this Haiku with a wish for everyone who is struggling through the journey of life at the moment.


May your compass point,

You home on every trip,

Despite life’s mayhem.


Safe Journey, everyone. 🙂


I have used the following word prompts:

FOWC with Fandango — Compass


50 Word Thursday – The Waiting Queen.

This story was written for the 50 word thursday challenge that I posted on Thursday (funnily enough).

If you’d like to take part in this challenge, it isn’t too late, you’ve got until Wednesday, click on the link below to find out more:

This is the picture:

P1040365 - Copy

and the words to include are:

The rigid formality of the place suffocated her – Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray. 


I have also included another challenge. The Genre Challenge, hosted by The Haunted Wordsmith, if you’d like to take part in this, click on this link:

Today’s Genre is Bangsian Fantasy – which apparently means writing about a famous character in the afterlife.

So I have chosen this famous character:

Elizabeth I

She’d been here for an age now, wandering the lonely corridors paved with tiles. She still hadn’t worked out if this was heaven or hell. There were no devils poking her with forks, as she would have expected if it was hell, but neither was it a particularly comfortable place. She had been used to much more merriment. The rigid formality of the place suffocated her 

Her once glorious pearl-studded gown was an untidy rumple and the red hair of her wig hung loosely about her shoulders. Was this place punishment for her vanity or her infamous temper that people had had to beware? She turned at the big double doors, ready to walk back along the corridor for the millionth time when they opened bathing the chamber from floor to vaulted ceiling in bright shining light.

The figure of death emerged and despite his fearful appearance he seemed to bring with him an air of serene harmony.

Gliding towards her with his black robes, carrying a scythe in one hand and a large clipboard in the other, he said “Your time’s up, my dear. Did you enjoy Purgatory? Well, now its time for you to be judged. You shall be weighed in the balance. If you are judged worthy you’ll proceed into heaven. If not,” Death pointed to a set of stairs in the floor behind locked golden gates, “You’ll be heading down there. I hope you were a good Queen. Hell’s getting a bit full at the moment.”

[250 Words]

I have also included the following prompt words:

FOWC with Fandango — Beware


Hope and Doubt – A Poem

teal pink and yellow beans
Photo by on

In my fragile mind,

You’ve sown the seeds of doubt,

With motives, unkind

You water them with lies,

Until they sprout.

At first, I fell asunder,

Under your hateful spell,

But now my heart rises up,

Intrepid, ready to break out.

I’ve laid eggs of hope,

A clutch, immune

You cannot touch.

And soon they’ll hatch,

Disrupt, despatch

Your hateful lies,

I’ll watch your doubtful seeds


And rejoice in your



Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 20/February/2019

FOWC with Fandango — Intrepid


Light of Hope – Part 2.

Yesterday as part of a Tell the Story Challenge, I wrote this story below:

I received some lovely feedback about it and a request that I write some more, so here goes:


Not long after starting my new school something happened to me, that is quite common apparently, but completely took me by surprise.

Growing up in my tight-knit little community on my island with the lighthouse, I couldn’t recall having even one day’s illness. A slight cold was all I’d had. The first term of school is often called the ‘sick term’ because putting all those children together usually leads to an outbreak of some disease or other.

I remember feeling a bit tired in class that day. I was slowly adjusting to the fact that I wasn’t at home, but staying in ‘digs’ in a strange town. Mrs McAllister was my landlady and had let out her attic room for me. She used to cook light meals like scotch broth and every morning would make me a bowl of steaming porridge. I’d grown up with my morning oats but Mrs McAllister made hers a bit differently. On the island, we had a lot of sheep, and we used their milk to make the porridge. Mrs McAllister made hers with water. It was the colour of wallpaper paste and I’m sure just as tasty, but it was hot and it filled my belly. I remember sitting in the classroom, wishing someone would open the window and watching the teacher parade up and down the room, slapping his hand with his ruler. Then, all of a sudden, the room went black.

When I came too, I was lying in my bed in the little attic room. I was sweaty and I ached all over, but particularly around my face and neck.

“Now, Dear, Don’t fret, The doctor brought you back from school and we managed to get you into bed.” Mrs McAllister said from the doorway.

“I’ve brought you a bit of broth. The doctor said you had mumps. I can’t come too near, as I’ve not had it myself and I have two wee bairns to look after. I’ll just leave the broth here.”

She placed the bowl down on the small table by my bed and then ran out of the door as if the germs were chasing her.

I remember laying there, feeling all swollen and puffy and staring out the window to catch a glimpse of the light from home.

I was supposed to be a big boy, going to big school, but right then, I wanted more than anything to be home. To have my Mother to look after me. To cuddle me in her strong Baker’s arms, the smell of the bakery on her clothes. To this day, the smells of a bakery is my favourite perfume.

I admit it, I cried. I lay in that lonely attic and sobbed my heart out. I must have managed to doze off because when I heard the door creaking open I awoke with a start.

The room was completely dark, except the light that came flooding in from the door, the silhouette of a figure standing there.

Then the light from the Lighthouse briefly provided a glimpse. It was my Mother, standing there, wrapped up in a shawl and carrying a basket on her arm.

“There, there, my wee Dougie. Rest now” as she said it, she gently pushed me back into bed and pulled the covers up around me. Her cool hand rested on my forehead and seemed to miraculously take some the pain away.

I don’t know how she knew I needed her, but I was so relieved to see her.

I remember thinking, she must love me so very much to come all that way from the island in the middle of the night.

It took a few days before my puffy neck returned to normal but she nursed me through and stayed with me until I was well enough to go back to school.

It’s strange looking back, what the brain chooses to remember and what it forgets. I can’t remember much from those early days but I’ll never forget the feeling of my Mother’s healing touch.

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 13/February/2019









An Elfchen Challenge – A new creation.

My pal, Mel of the blog Crushed Caramel, has tagged me in a new challenge. See her post below:

Like Mel, I had not heard of an Elfchen. I flippantly thought it was what you got when you crossed an Elf with a Munchkin, possibly with a bit of Oompaloompah thrown in for good measure.

person holiday people cute
Photo by Public Domain Pictures on

Well, if you’d like an excellent explanation of what an elfchen actually is, click on Mel’s post, she explains it beautifully and wrote a lovely one to demonstrate.

Here is my attempt:



Create something

Worthy of adulation.

A tribute to God’s



I think that meets the requirements, and I am also quite chuffed that I have managed to include three of today’s daily prompts. I couldn’t hope for better. (Oh there goes a fourth 😉 )

I have just realised that this is also the challenge for the Go Dog Go Cafe Tuesday’s Writing Challenge! Click the link below if you’d like to take part:

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge February 12, 2019

FOWC with Fandango — Tribute

Tell the Story Challenge – Light of Hope

Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith has tagged me in this tell the story challenge with this great picture. See her post below and check out the great story she wrote called The Shadow Man:


Here is my fictional story:

I grew up on a rocky island on the west coast of Scotland. There were a few people eking out a living from that poor soil. A few crofters farming and keeping those scrawny tough sheep that were the only kind that could survive the winter storms. We had a little community that grew up around the lighthouse. My grandfather was the lighthouse keeper and my Mother was the baker. Twelve families survived on the island, we even had a small school that I went to with seven other children. The school teacher was a crotchety old lady by the name of Mrs MacReady her husband was the minister of the small church or Kirk.

Growing up there had been tough but I remember we were a close-knit community and there was plenty of love.

Time swept by and before I knew it, I was too old to attend the small community school. Three of us were now old enough to go to big school. Myself, Rory Campbell and Alexander MacLeod. I remember the day when we had to board the ferry that took us across the water to the town. It was too long a journey to make daily. We would be living in ‘digs’ until the end of the term. It would be three whole months before we would see our families again. I stood there on the dockside shivering, not from the cold but petrified with fear. I had never been ‘off island’ before. People did make the crossing to buy things but I had never had any interest in leaving my home.

“Cheer up Lad” Grandfather called out to me. “If ever you get homesick, just look out to sea and you’ll see the light from my lighthouse and you’ll know all is well.”

I used to stare out of the window in that attic bedroom and see the light sweep past. It became the light of hope to me. I knew everything was safe at home and one day I’ll see it again.


Thanks, Teresa, for tagging me:


I am going to tag the following people:

Fiddler Pie

🤗February 12, 2019: Quote of The day & My Thoughts

No don’t feel under any pressure if you don’t want to take part, but if you fancy it, the challenge is to write a story or poem based on the picture I give you. Then you need to nominate three people and give them a picture to inspire, thus the Tell the story challenge keeps going.

Here is the picture:


Have Fun

FOWC with Fandango — Petrified

80 Years Since Gone with the Wind.

In December of this year, it will be 80 years since the release of Gone with the Wind.

Gone with the Wind is my favourite film. It is a masterpiece, the story is multifaceted, the acting was brilliant and it brought to life a period of history that has indeed, gone. Some may say, good riddance.

The film itself defies being pigeonholed. Is it a love story? Not really, for anyone who has bothered to sit through the whole film will know, it doesn’t work out that way at all. Is it a war film? Not really, although the American Civil War is a part of it. Is it about Slavery? Again, not really, although this is a thread that weaves through the plot. Really, this film is about survival in the face of adversity. It is also about selfishness versus selflessness.

I have always loved this film and yet I have learned something new about the film that I think highlights inequalities in America at that time and also highlights how far we’ve come and yet how far we still have yet to go.

One of the most endearing characters in the film is Mammy, played by the brilliant Hattie McDaniel. Her performance was so good, she became the first African American to win an Oscar. However, she was not invited to attend the premiere of the film in Atlanta Georgia. Nor was she actually allowed to attend the Oscar event because it took place in a segregated ballroom. She had to wait at the back and when her name was announced she was allowed to collect her prize and make a speech. It was one of the most moving speeches ever given at the Oscars.

Another interesting this I have learned about this film is how much the main actors received in salary. It is quite enlightening.

The main character in the film is Scarlett O’Hara and indeed she appears in almost every scene, over an above every other performer. She was played by the English actress Vivien Leigh, who also won an Oscar for her performance.

She was paid in the region of $30,000 for her work. That may sound like a lot of money, and indeed it would have been back then when compared to the salary of a factory worker, but her co-star, Clark Gable received $117,000 as his salary, and it is that comparison that is so shocking.

Admittedly, Vivien Leigh was an unknown in Hollywood at that time compared to Clark Gable who was ‘the King’, but Olivia De Havilland wasn’t an unknown and her performance of Melanie Hamilton provided the heart against Scarlett’s animal survival instinct. It was a crucial role and she received just $25,000 for it.

In contrast, the actor who portrayed her husband, Ashley Wilkes, The English Actor Leslie Howard received $76,000.

You can see the pattern developing here. It certainly appears that Hollywood rated having a certain appendage above actual ability when it came to salaries.

To really drum home the inequality represented here. Ms McDaniel whose Oscar-winning performance remains my favourite in the film received just $6,780 as her salary.

We have come so far since then but still have so very far to go.

I hope one day we achieve true equality of gender and race and the only thing that is judged is our abilities and our achievements and never our sex, sexuality or the colour of our skin.

Thank you for reading.




Twittering Tales – A Valentines Day Surprise – A Tale in 280 Characters

photo by Skeeze on


He’d crafted them perfectly; no one could tell the difference.

Carefully he packaged and sent them to the people on his list, ticking them off, placing a leaflet in each box conveying the appropriate sentiment.

“I hope you accept this token of my esteem”.

Let the poisoning begin!

[279 characters]


This story was written for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales Challenge:

Twittering Tales #123 – 12 February 2019

50 Word Thursdays – Spring Comes

“The colours of the world are changing, day by day.” Les Miserables.

This story was written for the 50 Word Thursday challenge, this week hosted by Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith:

I have also included Teresa’s Three Things Challenge, the Prompt words today are:

 ice, bloody, spectacles


Are you an optimist? Do you go through the world wearing rose-coloured spectacles? Or do you see through grim eyes, battered down and bombarded with news painting everything black, focusing on all that’s bad in the world?

Life is never all bad or good. It changes all the time. The colours of the world are changing, day by day.

Just when you think the ice will never melt, when the world has turned to a bloody mess, spring comes.

Daffodils, crocuses and Tulips bloom again to remind us that in the midst of the darkest days, the light will return.



30-Day Song Challenge – Day 30 – The End.

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Well, hasn’t it been fun? I would like to thank all the bloggers that were doing this and let me join them and also all the others that have decided to play along.

So December and 2018 comes to an end (Yes I’m aware that there are 31 days in December, but clearly this challenge does not). Look back on the year, which is full of both happy and sad memories, and try to keep hold of the good and forget the bad, and depending on what they were, that is easier said than done, I know.

I hope January and 2019 brings many happy times for you.

Day 30 – A Song that Reminds you of Yourself.

The Monkees – Daydream Believer.

I believe in Daydreams. Without Hope, all is despair.