#tuesdayuseitinasentence : If only

Bed sheets, linen

Image : Pixabay

His gaze fell upon the flower still clinging behind her ear. Its petals were flushed coral, curled back like lips parted in surprise. Her hair tumbled from its clip, curls lapping her neck. A tangle of sheets pillowed her head, exposed a shoulder, an arm thrown behind her, fingers still gripping the fabric even now.

If only she had said yes.


Well, that went creepier than I expected!

Written for Stephanie at Word Adventures’ #tuesdayuseitinasentence. Today the word is GAZE. Pop along here and join the fun.

Friday Fictioneers: Early morning coffee at the roadside diner

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot


It’s still early, indigo just crawling up the sky, eating the stars. The diner feels secluded still in its bubble of light, its coffee and pancake fug.

The door opens. Merv Klitschko, greasy trapper hat pulled low, ear flaps creased at his shoulders cos the guy’s got no neck. He’s at the counter, just gets coffee which is weird. Merv’s a man of habit – bacon, eggs, waffles, maple syrup, every morning for the last fifteen years.

I look to see if it’s raining, cos something’s dripping from Merv’s coat, puddling round his boots.

Then I see what that something is.



Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers. Write a story to go with the photo, but in no more than 100 words, please. See here to join in and to read the other, stunning tales.





Friday Fictioneers : Alone in the place de la ville.

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook


They arranged to meet outside the mairie, where the brightly flowering baskets hung frothy with bumble bees.

She watched the council officials come and go, the men in their shiny suits, the women with their coiffed, brittle hair and stiff, painted smiles.

As the town hall clock chimed twelve she sat outside a cafe in the square, fingers tapping between the checked tablecloth and her cafe creme.

When she heard the sing-song siren she just smiled, standing ready for the gendarme to handcuff her.

They’d almost made it too.


Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers, the grandest flash prompt flying round the ether. See here to join in and to read the other, glorious tales.


FFfAW : Twilight warning

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Sunayana MoiPensieve. Thank you for our photo prompt!


She takes a last draw on her cigarette and throws the stub in the gutter.

A wave of commuters flows from the station, heads down, dashing past the busker and his open guitar case. Five twenty pees and a shirt button  – but he’s been plucking the notes and pound coins out, stuffing them in his pockets, careful to leave a few behind.

The sky changes, an eerie twilight that warns of more rain. The first drops fall, shivering the surface of the puddles. She lights another cigarette.

 … He points his camera at the busker, pretends to take a photograph while watching her from between his lashes. She smokes too much. He tries to imagine what she tastes like but he’s never kissed anyone who smokes before. He wants a photo of her to keep but she’s out of shot and he doesn’t want to move, to draw attention. A man approaches her …

‘Where have you been?’

‘Stuck at work. Come on. It’s going to throw it down.’

… He turns his lens away. Always looking …


Written for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. See the pic and tell a tale. See here to join in and to read the other stories.














What pegman saw : The calm between two storms


The rain stopped on the seventh day, the black veil of cloud that hung snare-like over the village giving way to blue skies and feathery cirrus.

Vitor sat on the balcony staring across the river, cigarillo clamped between yellowed teeth, smoke caressing his face. Behind him, the door banged open then shut.

‘It’s time.’ Enzo’s voice was tight, higher than usual.

Vitor raised his hand, waved the cigarillo.

Sighing, Enzo snatched it from his fingers, dragged over a crate to sit beside him. ‘I want to get it over.’

‘You need to be sharp, but calm or you’ll make mistakes.’ He could feel the boy stiffen, offended by the slur.

‘I won’t -‘

Vitor shrugged. ‘We all do.’

They gazed across the spiralling water, watched a harpy eagle soar and dip over the walking palms.

Finally, Vitor stirred. ‘Go fetch him. And make sure he’s blindfolded.’


Written for What pegman saw, the writing prompt that uses Google Street View. See here to join in and to read the other stories.