50 Word Thursday #12 – An Unexpected Liaison.

Debbie Whittam has set a challenge to write a poem or story in 50 words, or multiples of 50 up to a maximum of 250 words, inspired by a picture and include some particular lines.

 

https://debbiewhittam.wordpress.com/2018/08/02/50-word-thursday-12/

 

He still wanted to go there, one way or another, and to find that brunette, if she existed.

Total Recall by Piers Anthony

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/08/02/fowc-with-fandango-expression/

An Unexpected Liaison

It happened in Paris. Jonathan was sitting on a park bench in the Tuileries gardens admiring the view when the most gorgeous brunette sat down next to him. She looked like a fashion model, except for what she was wearing, a rather drab brown coat. She had a book in her hands and if it hadn’t been for the expression on her beautiful face, one of extreme nerves, he wouldn’t have thought much of it.

After five minutes she got up and walked away, his eyes lingered on her slim figure as it disappeared into the distance.

Then he noticed she had left her book behind. It was too late to run after her, she’d gone.

Jonathan picked up the book and out fell a piece of paper.

“The Snows thaw on the Siberian plains. Budapest. Peace square by the Monument. September 3^rd. Midday. Meet me.”

He read those words and a thrill passed through him; he felt pulled into a spy drama.

Jonathan put the book in his bag and began walking back to his hotel. A rough man in a black puffer jacket rammed into him and he fell to the floor, clutching his bag. A policeman came up blowing his whistle and the man fled.

‘So, Budapest’, he thought. It all had felt like a dream but he still wanted to go there, one way or another, and to find that brunette, if she existed.

He was there when the shots were fired and the uprising began.

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 02/August/2018

A ghostly family home – Short story.

https://alltheshoesiwear.wordpress.com/2018/07/30/manic-mondays-3-way-prompt-ghostly/

FOWC with Fandango — Comfortable

 

It was an old rickety house and no one in town liked it much, but it was home for me. 

It was my ancestral home. Generations of my family had lived in it since it had been built back in 1890.  In fact they still did in a way. Not living of course, but they weren’t quite gone either.

So what if it was haunted? It didn’t bother me at all. They weren’t just ghosts, they were family. 

There was something so warm and comforting to be surrounded by your loved ones. My grandmother still sat in her rocking chair in the bay window knitting something that no one would ever wear and she will never finish. The moths had eaten away at the ball of wool that was still at the back of the wardrobe in Granny’s old bedroom. 

My own Mother and Father still occasionally drifted past. I often bumped into my Mother in the kitchen, which is where she spent most of her life providing meals for the family. My father was usually in his comfy chair by the fire. You could hear the rustling noise of his newspaper.

My Grandfather was mostly seen in the potting shed out back. That was where he was found after his last heart attack. 

The house had become a bit of a local landmark, you could see it from quite a distance, perched up on the hill at the top of the street. The old wooden boards were peeling, they could do with a lick of paint. Some of the roof tiles had blown off in last winters storms. The curtains at the windows were all moth-eaten and straggly with cobwebs hanging from the corners like it was always dressed for Halloween. 

It was nice being left alone. No unwelcome guests or nosy neighbours trying to find out your business. We didn’t even get any ‘trick or treaters’ at Halloween anymore. Not after the last time. I think I scared those poor kids out of their wits; it must have been a shock seeing my old body lying at the foot of the stairs like that. The way they screamed and ran away down the hill was hilarious.

No, some people may not have wanted to live in that house with all its ghostly echoes of the past, but I was comfortable. I was one of them now.

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 30/July/2018

 

50 Word Thursday #11 – The Lonely Spot

Debbie Whittam has set a challenge to write a poem or story in 50 words, or multiples of 50 up to a maximum of 250 words, inspired by a picture and include some particular lines.

https://debbiewhittam.wordpress.com/2018/07/26/50-word-thursday-11/

Here is the picture:

Here are the words:

Knock Down by Dick Francis

Here is my story:

The Lonely Spot

It was a lovely, lonely spot. We used to camp out here as kids. No one came here, we always had the place to ourselves. The perfect place for skinny dipping in the summer.

It was autumn now and the water gave off a mist into the cool early morning air.

I dragged the body off the back of the truck, still wrapped in black plastic. I paused trying to take in what I had done. If I’d stopped to think I might not have done it, but fury is a great disregarder of caution. I remember her leaning against the mantel piece with that cigarette gripped between those bright red lips, an amused look in her painted eyes. She was wearing a fuchsia pink satin dressing gown but it did not conceal much.

I had just caught her in bed with my best friend. He had gathered his things and scarpered, pretty sharpish. I asked her how long it had been going on for. She laughed at me and I completely lost it, picking up the empty liquor bottle and smashing it over her angelic head.

I remembered this spot, perfect for disposing of a body. I struggled, dropping it beside the lake. A hand broke out from the plastic, with long red-painted fingernails. As I pushed it into the water the mist cleared. I looked up astonished to see a boat moored across the lake, someone on deck. They shone a torch. I knew it was all over.

The End

Mission: Contact – A short sci-fi story.

I don’t usually do a lot of Picture prompts, except for Deb Whittam’s Thursday ones, which I have become addicted to: See Link Below:

https://talesfromthemindofkristian.wordpress.com/2018/07/19/50-word-thursday-10-the-lure-of-the-wilds/

But I thought I would have a go of The Haunted Wordsmiths Picture Challenge:

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/07/20/worth-a-thousand-words-4/

I am already a fan of her Three Things Challenges.

I must also plug the fact that I am in a Collaboration with three others on the Word of the Day blog which provides a word prompt every day:

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/07/19/sussurous/

So without more ado, here is my attempt of this picture challenge.

Mission: Contact

As my plane flew over my home city, it was covered in an eerie fog which made flying tricky. 

I hadn’t long got my pilot’s license and although I did do a few flights in bad weather, I wasn’t that experienced. 

The city looked beautiful from up here. The building all lit up and the fog providing an extra sense of mystery and interest that made the scene quite enchanting.

Just then, my instruments started going haywire. I was making a straight course for the airfield but my instruments were all over the place, saying I was upside down, veering too far left, heading the wrong way. I tried to signal to ground control to inform them of my difficulties, but the line was dead. 

I took a deep breath and kept my hands steady and my eyes straight ahead. 

My lights went out and the screen went black. 

50 Word Thursday #10 – The Lure of the Wilds

Debbie Whittam has set a challenge to write a poem or story in 50 words, or multiples of 50 up to a maximum of 250 words, inspired by a picture and include some particular lines.

https://debbiewhittam.wordpress.com/2018/07/19/50-word-thursday/comment-page-1/#comment-5368

Here is the picture:

Here are the words:

“Whatever presence it was that had been observing her as she made her way through the woods, it was now pursuing her.”

Here is my story:

The Lure of the Wilds.

She had to admit she was lost. She was on a bird watching tour of Australia and she’d wandered off from her group.

She had heard the most beautiful bird song she had ever heard and it had cast a spell on her. Captivated, she’d had to follow it.

Using binocular’s, she scanned the valley. She could feel a presence but she couldn’t see anything. She continued down the track hoping it would take her back to her group. Then she felt a shiver that ran down her back.

Whatever presence it was that had been observing her as she made her way through the woods, it was now pursuing her.

She started running despite her common sense screaming at her not to run on that uneven terrain.  Then she collapsed from a combination of exhaustion and the heat.

She became aware that suddenly the birds had gone silent. Not just the melodious birdsong she’d followed but all the birds. Then a man stepped into the clearing from the path behind her. He was wearing a uniform of dark green and a wide brimmed hat. It was the gun that alarmed her.

“Are you Mary Anderson? Your group asked me to find you. You’re safe now. I’ll guide you back.”

As she let him pull her off the ground and lead her back along the path she looked up and saw in the trees, another man with a gun and a whistle in his lips and disappointment in his eyes.

The End

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 19/July/2018

 

Wits End Photo Challenge – Peace.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Peace

I thought this was a quite peaceful picture.

Unfortunately I am not entirely sure where I took this picture. It was amongst the ones I took of New Zealand, so It could be near Waitangi on the North Island.

It also looks a bit like some of the photos I took of the Isle of Skye, so it could be there…

Anyway I think it looks peaceful, and I hope you do too.

🙂

50 Word Thursday #3 – Aunties Tales

Debbie Whittam has set a challenge to write a poem or story in 50 words, or multiples of 50 up to a maximum of 250 words, inspired by a picture. Here is the picture.

“You had to take your shoes off when you went in and you weren’t allowed to jump on the furniture or tease the cat.”

From Robert Rankin’s Snuff Fiction

Here is my attempt:

Visiting my Great Aunt Ivy was always an adventure.

She was a strict Victorian old lady and you had to take your shoes off when you went in and you weren’t allowed to jump on the furniture or tease the cat.

The cat used to sit on the windowsill, looking even more ancient that my great-aunt.

The house was Victorian, with an addition to the back that had a bathroom and kitchen with running water. The place was littered with doilies and knickknacks like an antique shop.

She was strict but she told the best stories I’d ever heard.

See Debbie’s post here if you want to take part in this fun challenge:

https://debbiewhittam.wordpress.com/2018/05/31/50-word-thursday-3/

 

50 Word Thursday – The Tradition.

Debbie Whittam has set a challenge to write a poem or story in 50 words, or multiples of 50 up to a maximum of 250 words, inspired by a picture. Here is the picture.

https://debbiewhittam.wordpress.com/

 

This is my attempt:

The first thing that he did when they moved into the house was plant the tree.

It was just a small conifer sapling, but it meant so much more.

It was grown from seed from the enormous conifer that grew on his dad’s farm. His grandfather had planted that tree back when his own father had been born.

As he planted the tree in the dry dusty soil, his wife sat on the porch and watched him. She was heavily pregnant with their child and due any day now.

The Family Tradition was maintained; new house, new baby, new tree.

 

See Debbie’s post here if you want to take part in this fun challenge:

https://debbiewhittam.wordpress.com/2018/05/24/50-word-thursday-2/#like-7455