A Fools Journey – A Wanderlust

A Fool’s Journey

It was a challenge I couldn’t refuse. To travel to the most distant corners of the world in a hot air balloon, it sounded like an amazing adventure to me.

Continue reading A Fools Journey – A Wanderlust

Manic Monday Madness – Evanescent Journey


This post is written in response to Laura M Bailey’s Manic Monday Challenge:


The prompt word is: EVANESCENT

I am also planning to include the Manic Madness challenger:


Which is to also include ALL of the previous Manic Monday prompts!!!!

I usually like to combine as many different prompts into one story as possible, but this is going to be a huge challenge.



















Witch – Witchy – Bewitched








Naughty or Nice





Well I LOVE a challenge so here we go:


The fog descended thick and fast over the harbour.

Within moments the boats and the jetty had soon disappeared out of sight and memory, evanescent.

It was a fog like none of the locals had seen before. Mists and fogs were not rare in Winter or Spring. Whenever the weather brought a change in temperature, the lake gave off a mist that often didn’t burn away until lunchtime. This was different. For starters, it was Summertime. In addition, it was much thicker than usual and it brought with it a kind of ghostly silence, a mysterious hush. It felt that time itself had frozen.

In addition to the ominous lack of sound, there was a scent in the air. It reminded her of something from her childhood. Something that she had long forgotten but dwelled within the darkest recesses of her mind. It filled her with emotions. That longing for the past that people call nostalgia, a sense of comfort that came with it, but was tinged with anxiety. Her heart began to race, she felt an upwelling sense of adventure. She was going on a journey. She knew this fact as sure as anything, but she did not know how.

This experience was like a witch had cast a spell over the area, an enchantment. Then she remembered her parents warning to her when she’d told them she wanted to move away into this quiet, primitive part of the world. They’d warned her that strange things happened up in the ‘boondocks’, that was her Mother’s colourful way of describing anywhere wild.

She’d ignored her Mother’s warning, but until this moment, had not regretted it. She’d felt somehow like she’d come home. Away from the busy city and bustling towns, this was where her spirit felt she belonged.

Suddenly she remembered what the smell reminded her of. Her Grandmother, who disappeared nearly twenty years ago. She had only been a child then, not more than six or seven. She remembered her Grandmother’s perfume, a mix of Eau de Cologne, lavender and rose petals, tinged with cinnamon and freshly baked bread. This exact same smell came to her through the mist.

She recalled then, her Grandmother’s confession to her before departing.

“I am a Witch, child, not a wicked witch. I have been no more naughty, or nice, than anyone else. We are, all of us, flawed with imperfection, but I have strived to walk in the light. You too have inherited the gift. It skips generations. Your Mother, my dear daughter, has not got the skill and therefore I have been forced to keep it a secret from her. I must leave soon, but One day you will remember this, and then we will undertake our journey together.”

After her Grandmother disappeared, they had mourned the loss of her. She’d felt a forlorn melancholy for weeks. Her Mother had been distraught. The emotional scars burned deep.

How could she have forgotten this, until now? Upon reflection, she realised that it must be part of the spell. The forgetting and the remembering.

Now it felt that she had only been waiting for this moment.

A figure stepped out of the fog in front of her. Still wrapped in the black woollen shawl, worn whatever the weather, her glowing white hair still cascaded down to her shoulders, with that hint of pale gold that was a remnant of her once sultry beauty. This was her Grandmother looking as if she’d just stepped out from her memory.
The lined face beamed a smile and she reached out a hand to clasp her own.

To her surprise, the hand was as warm as the smile.

“There you are, my precious. It is time to make this journey. Be strong, I will guide you.”

The fog began to lift. The scene had changed. Where the lake once stood, with its jetty and boats, there was now a deep chasm. Where the log cabins once clung to the side of the hill as it gently descended to the water, there was nothing but rocks and trees.

On the other side of the chasm stood a castle, a grand and shining fortress of light and splendour. The sun shone resplendently on that mighty castle, yet around it, darkness billowed like a deadly storm.

The sight of the fortress filled her with reverence, she wanted to cry out and rejoice.

At the same time, the darkness, like a poison, injected her with dread and fear.

Her grandmother must have felt her hand tense in hers, because again she spoke, in reassuring, gentle tones.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear. The journey is a difficult one. We must pass through the valley, filled with the souls of the damned, harvested by the Reaper. They call out in their eternal torment. Be stoic and do not fear them. I have you, and together we will walk over the bridge. Keep to the light, and we will be safe.”

All around them, she saw wrecked and shattered souls, surrounded by darkness, but she stepped onwards, guided by her grandmother’s hand, she kept to the path and made it to the gates of the castle.

The Gates opened and she was engulfed in the glorious light that shone from within.


Back in the hospital, her life support machine rang out a single note, like a dirge, but on her face was a smile of peace.



The End. 


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 25/January/2019


Well, what did you think? Did the story take you on a journey? Did it conjure up any feeling within you? Let me know in the comments. 








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




My Fantasy Story – Part 8

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 Eight

The journey was becoming rather boring and Lara was suffering the ill effects of a long coach journey, namely a numb posterior. She had also emptied her stomach of her last meal. She remembered the meal quite clearly. They had stayed the previous night at an Inn that had been the only inhabitable building for miles, except for a few scattered farms. It was not up to the standard she was used to. They were only a few hours ride from the border between Argor and the next district of Savarias but she had not wanted to travel through the night. After a night sharing a room and a lumpy bed with Bethra she regretted that decision but had been looking forward to a decent breakfast. The fare was also not what she was used to, barley gruel and stale bread, but Lara ate everything with a ravenous hunger. Bethra just nibbled at a piece of bread.

Continue reading My Fantasy Story – Part 8

My Fantasy Story – A Question for YOU.

It has been a few days since I last posted an excerpt of my Fantasy story and I’ll let you into a little secret. I haven’t given it a title yet. If any of you have some suggestions (nice ones of course) on what I should call it, then please let me know.

Also I am up to Part Seven now. Do you want me to continue with this or move on to something new?

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



Part Seven

Lara called to the driver as she got into the coach.

“Piotr, don’t drive so fast today. I’m only thinking of the poor horses. We don’t want to tire them out, do we?”

“But we have four fresh new horses from the hotel’s stables Miss.”

“Don’t argue, Piotr. We’ll get better service from them if we don’t push them too hard.”

“Yes Miss. As you wish.”

“Silly girl” thought Piotr, to himself. “Why didn’t she just say she feels travel sick and doesn’t like travelling so fast. All that nonsense about worrying about the horses. The day she started to care about anything but herself they’ll declare a public holiday!” Piotr flicked the reins and set the horses moving. He wanted to get to Albana and then get home again as quickly as possible. His wife, Elsa, was carrying his seventh child and he wanted to get back for the birth. He hoped it was a Boy. 

Continue reading My Fantasy Story – A Question for YOU.

On the train – A poem of obsession.

The Word Prompt: Limerence

Limerence – #WordoftheDay

I admit it, I had to look it up. See my link to Wikipedia below.


So it means and obsessive love.

This is also in response to the word prompt: Author, see link below.


Here is my attempt. I am the Author of this poem, but it isn’t about me.


It only took a moment,

Just one look, just one smile,

I was hooked, line and sinkered.

I’d go an extra mile,

just to see that smile.


Continue reading On the train – A poem of obsession.

A Fantasy Tale – Part Four

This is an extract of a fantasy story I wrote many years ago, in 1999/2000.

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



Part Four

The coach was travelling much too fast. Lara hated travelling by coach. It always made her feel ill. Opposite her was her sixteen year old cousin, Bethra. Bethra also always made her feel ill.

“Oh, but isn’t it lovely to travel by coach Lara? I always love hearing the sound of the horses hooves galloping and watching the countryside fly by. Why, you’re looking a bit pale dear. I expect you’re a bit upset at leaving your Father. Uncle Frederick is so kind to send me to one of the best cities in the whole country. Just think of all the young men I’ll meet.”

After the usual torrent of giggles Bethra started up again.

“Aren’t we the luckiest girls ever? I won’t be surprised if we don’t get to see the Governor-General himself. I hear he often visits Albana in the summer months.”

Lara couldn’t put up with both the movement of the coach and the sound of Bethra going on, so she waspishly responded.

“But it’s autumn Bethra and I am sure the Governor-General is far too busy running the country to pay attention to an annoying little girl!”

“Well there’s no need to be so spiteful. Just because you aren’t enjoying the journey. I don’t know why Uncle Frederick let you come along anyway. You don’t appreciate things, like I do.”

“Well Father wasn’t going to let a child go to Albana alone was he?”

With Lara’s comment, silence descended on the coach. Lara welcomed it, it was such a relief from listening to cousin Bethra. Bethra now contented herself by pulling faces at her elder cousin. Lara contented herself by looking out of the window. If she looked far off into the distance, the ground didn’t look like it was moving past so fast. The Mountains and hills of Southern Argor, the district she had grown up in and loved so much, rushed past. Lara gazed wistfully at them, and the trees with their golden autumn colours. A few red leaved amongst the trees made it look like the whole forest was aflame. She loved Argor in the Autumn and it broke her heart that she was being sent away to Albana. It wasn’t that long ago, however, that just like her cousin Bethra, she had dreamed to be able to go to a livelier city like Albana. Now she dreaded it because she knew she couldn’t learn about her Magic. A worse thought crossed her mind, what if she cast a spell by accident, like she had with Baron Hawksworth? In Albana she was no longer the district Governors daughter and she would be arrested, and imprisoned for being magic. 

“Mistress Boadrah” called the driver “We are just entering the town of Harbolt. Do you want to stop here or continue on to Darbury?”

Lara had no desire to get to her destination too quickly, she was happy to drag the journey out. They had only been travelling for a couple of hours and could probably make Darbury before nightfall, but she decided that she wanted to stay their first night closer to home.

“Oh, here will do nicely, Piotr” Lara liked to use the servants names, she thought it was important. She’d known Piotr Drake for years anyway. He had been her Father’s principle groom and coach driver for as long as she remembered. “Find us some suitable lodgings here please.”

“As you wish, Miss.”

Bethra gave her a nasty look. Lara didn’t care. Bethra could look at her like that for the whole journey. In Bethra’s case pulling faces was often an improvement.

The Coach pulled up outside a large hotel. After a few moments a porter in dark green livery and a bright pink sash opened the door and gently helped Lara and Bethra step down from the carriage, then escorted them into the building carrying their luggage.

Spacious and neat though the building surely was it could not compare with the grandeur of the governor’s palace in Argor City. It did have a rather nice marble staircase. The decorations in the hotel were based around a dark green motif. Carpets, curtains and wall hangings were all of this sombre colour. It appeared the Porters pink sash had been a purely personal touch. Lara was relieved, she did not think dark green and bright pink was a particularly lovely combination. 

They were shown to two rooms with a connecting door. Lara entered the simple but comfortable room and the first thing she did was to lock the connecting door and wedge a chair under the handle. Cousin Bethra was not coming in.


End of Part Four.


Photo by Pexels

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 01/June/2018

I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you liked and what didn’t work so well.

Would you like to hear more?