Victory in Europe day – 75 years since the end of WWII in Europe. Time for a Sing Song

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So, 75 years ago today it was Victory in Europe day, V.E day. That’s a fact.

The war in the far east rattled on for a few more months, but the war in Europe was finally over and peace was restored.

Seeing the crowds gathering in the streets to celebrate the end of a long and desperate war must have been a sight to behold.

To celebrate I have recorded new versions of two wartime classics.



FOWC with Fandango — Fact



Blind Victory – A Poem

This poem was written for the Tuesday Writing Prompt for the Go Dog Go Cafe, see the post here:

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge: Tuesday, June 18, 2019


Droplets fall from sunken eyes,

Tears shed by shadows left behind

Bodies lying bitten by flies,

Broken children of humankind.

The consequences when a peace deal dies,

The scourge of War with victory blind.


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 18/June/2019

abstract angelic art blast
Photo by Sebastian Voortman on

50 Word Thursday – The Spoils of War


This story was written for the 50 Word Thursday Challenge, see link below:


The sound of armed men got nearer and she knew her fate was upon her. As they burst into the royal bedchamber, she stood resolute, the Queen of this Island realm. Her lips were red and perfectly shaped, her cheeks blushed prettily when she spoke.

“What is the meaning of this outrage?” she demanded.

The Duke of Northumberland was known as a rogue; he had waged war against her armies and now stood there triumphant, hands arrogantly upon his hips. He licked his lips, as if she was a delicious titbit he’d found at dinner. She had become the spoils.


I have also included the following word prompts:

FOWC with Fandango — War



What He Accomplished – A sad tale inspired by Friday Foto Fun photograph.

This story was inspired by this photograph and the challenge by Calmkate of Aroused, see link here:

Friday Foto Fun – Romance

It was also inspired by the following word prompts:

FOWC with Fandango — Enmity

What He Accomplished.

With a photograph in one hand, a letter discarded on the floor by her feet, a memory to be cherished in her mind and her heart completely broken, she slumped in her chair and cried.

The photograph was of the bridge that they had first met in those heady days before the war.

The war that had now taken everything away from her. Almost everything. As she thought of the war, it filled her with a surge of enmity towards this thing called war, far greater than for those poor fools that had tried to invade, impelled by their own leadership and whipped up into a semi-religious fervour.

She’d only skimmed the words of the letter but already they were emblazoned on her mind, never to be forgotten.


I regret to inform you of the death in action of your husband, Captain Mark Thompson. He died ensuring the enemy failed to capture our major seaport and as such, I hope that it gives you some comfort to consider how much he managed to accomplish and that he died a heroes’ death.

Yours Faithfully,

Sir Reginald Compden

Deputy Minister of War.”

The words ‘how much he managed to accomplish’ were particularly bitter.

She glanced out of the window to see a small boy running along the lawn playing with a wooden hoop.

He had his father’s sandy hair and blue eyes.


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 11/January/2019

A Tree once stood – A multiple word prompt story.

This story was written in response to Froggy Crochet’s Writing prompt:

and The following word prompts:

The village was like a kicked beehive. People were rushing around not sure what was going on and who to direct their stings at. 

A meeting had been called, under the great Cedar tree. The Cedar was ancient and sprawling. Its branches had provided shade for generations. It had been planted by the founding fathers of their peaceful woodland dwelling who had fled the turbulent world to seek sanctuary. 

All the important meetings took place beneath the tree and the elders gathered with sombre expressions. 

A messenger addressed the gathering. 

“I have seen it with my own eyes. They are building ships and are gathering for War.”

The Chief Elder spoke ” We knew that this day would come. Our founding fathers fled their war but it didn’t end, the war was always pendingThey are building. It is coming. They are making preparations, but not they alone. We are prepared.”

Unfortunately, their enemies had been practising war for centuries and their experience was greater and their depravity knew no depths. 

Not ever the Cedar tree marks the spot where that village once stood.

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 03/December/2018

100 Word Story – Friday Fictioneers – Old things remembered.


“Mummy, what are those things?” Sofie asked her Mother in the Museum of Ancient Artifacts.

“I think they were something to do with Cars. Grandpa would know.” Then a doleful expression came over her face. Her father had died two weeks before, but she was still adjusting to it. She kept thinking he would call on the videophone and ask her where he put his spectacles. He’d been a veteran of World War Three and had known so much about what the world had been like before the war had swept so much aside, like a third of the population.

[100 words]

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 30/November/2018

This was written for Friday Fictioneers Challenge, see the link:

Multiple Word Prompt Short Story – The Price of War.

The intergalactic war raged on. Society was crumbling and desperate times lead to desperate measures.

On one ancient and obscure planet, it’s Supreme Council gathered to discuss ways of ending the war.

They voted to use the doomsday device.

Consisting of every nuclear weapon available, they launched the missiles at the adjacent galaxy, aiming at its central sun.

The impact triggered an enormous supernova that destroyed every planet in their enemy’s galaxy. In this one act, they had brought peace but at a terrible cost.

The Victors were unaware of the danger as the heat from the expanding supernova engulfed them, like a burning effigy to their foolishness. That ancient planet called Earth was destroyed.

Only moments later, the sound of that explosion reached them, but there was no one left to hear it.


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 07/November/2018

FOWC with Fandango — Danger

100 Word Story – Friday Fictioneers – Her Last Ball

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Before the story:

The past few weeks I have been taking part in a competition run by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields called the Friday Fictioneers. She posts a different picture every week, usually on a Wednesday and the challenge is to write a story is 100 words or less (not easy when you are as verbally verbose as I am). It is a fantastic challenge and the people that take part are really friendly and welcoming.

If you are looking for a little challenge where the emphasis is on feedback and creative support, then give this one a try. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed, I know I’m not.

Click the link here:

26 October 2018

If you want to read the story I wrote last week, it’s here:

Her Last Ball

She closed her eyes and remembered that glass ceiling and her last ball in that grand room.

That was many years ago now, before the war. Before their world had been torn apart.

Their opponent had won. There would be no more balls, laughter or beauty anymore.

Only bombs, oppression and the sword.

Opening her eyes, she saw again the shattered glass on the floor and the hole the last bomb had made.

Picking up her broom, she returned to her designated task and began sweeping those fragments away along with her treasured memories.

[94 words]

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 5/ October/2018

FOWC with Fandango — Opponent

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