50 Word Thursday – The Garden of Solace.


The words: “He hoped that by remaining where he was, he might do some good, even there.” – Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens

The Garden of Solace

The little row of houses, each one a match of the one next to it, looked so tranquil and idyllic, yet they hid a dark secret.

Walking the path through beautiful gardens, you couldn’t hear a noise, except for the peaceful buzzing of bees and some birdsong, yet deep beneath the buildings people would writhe in torment and screamed out in agony as they received electrotherapy.

He tried his best to bring comfort to the patients while the doctors used medieval methods to heal their sick minds. He thought many times of leaving, to work in less traumatic conditions but he hoped that by remaining where he was, he might do some good even there.

He extinguished his cigarette by grinding it into the chalk path with the heel of his boot and returned to his job tending those tranquil gardens and gathering bouquets of flowers to soothe damaged souls.

[150 Words]

 Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 06/July/2019


 This story was written for the 50 Word Thursday Challenge, click on the link below to see the original post:


It isn’t too late to take part in this challenge if you’d like to. The challenge ends on Wednesday evening when I will post all the entries that have been received for this week and a new challenge will begin again on Thursday. 


I have also included the following word prompts:






A Multi Word Prompt Story – A Longer Visit




Today’s things are: tapestry, comedy, Big Apple





A Longer Visit

I went to visit my Mother in hospital. As a rule, I hate hospitals and try my best not to go there. I often send “Get Well Soon” cards or a bunch of flowers, if friends or relatives find themselves unlucky enough to end up in Hospital but I rarely visit.

My Mum, just like me, hated hospitals and I knew she’d expect me to visit and need me to distract her from where she was.

It was a relatively routine operation but I always worried about her. She had the appetite of a flea. I don’t mean that she bit people, well only when they deserved it, I mean she ate very little.

Her idea of breakfast was a yoghurt drink. Her idea of lunch was half a sandwich or a hamburger without the bun. Her idea of dinner was possibly the other half of the sandwich or just a Cup of tea.

Her frailty always made me worry.

Continue reading A Multi Word Prompt Story – A Longer Visit

50 Word Thursday #9 – Rope and Lace

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. Here is the picture:


Here are the words:

“He was the stuff schoolgirl dreams were made of.  Unfortunately, she was no longer a schoolgirl.”

Stephanie Laurens Regency Revels

The post is here:



Here is my story:

Rope and Lace

She turned the corner and walked up the old familiar Drive. The sound of the rough gravel and the smell of the dust her feet churned up took her right back to her childhood. The melange of memories, both bitter and sweet came flooding back. It was here she had become a woman, but it was also here that she had learned how it felt to feel totally helpless. He was the stuff Schoolgirl dreams were made of. Unfortunately, she was no longer a schoolgirl. It was frightening how quickly that dream had become a nightmare. She had done the only thing possible back then and ran away from it all.

She received the letter begging her to come home. Her Mother was now ill and her Step-father had walked out on her after ten years. She could have told her he would do that, but she wouldn’t have believed her. Not then. Maybe now she could bare her soul.

She walked into the house and Margarita hugged her with tears in her eyes.

“It’s good to see you home Miss Angela, why you look the same, you haven’t aged a day since you left.”

“Thank you, Margarita. How is Mother?”

As she walked into that bedroom with its lace curtains and the iron framed bed she recalled the torment and the feel of the rough rope around her wrist. Then she saw her Mother looking so deathly pale and knew she couldn’t say anything about the past. No solace.


The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 12/July/2018