Monthly Archives: March 2015


Another writing group prompt: 
Imagine I say the word ‘red’. Write down the first three words that come to mind.
– Now incorporate the three words in a ‘short short-story’ (250 words) prompted by the cue:
‘You are sitting at your writing station with your back to an open window. You suddenly feel a chill.
Write about it.


Reading the words I’d written I was suddenly flushed with embarrassment and shame. ‘Call myself a writer? What a load of old tosh,’ I mumbled to myself running the cursor over the paragraphs and hitting delete. I blamed my lack of inspiration on the hot summer’s night. The room was blisteringly hot and all I could think about was getting a drink. Even opening the window had done little to change the temperate.

A sudden shiver ran down my spine, chilling me. In the screen of my laptop I was sure I had seen a shadow but when I checked back over my shoulder there was no-one there. I listlessly tapped out a few more words and gradually a story came to life on the page, one I knew would be good, one that could be my best ever yet. Within moments my fingers were flying over the keys excitedly and the words were appearing on the screen almost with a life of their own. My block had gone and my story was as good as writing itself.

I breathed a sigh of relief as my hero rushed through a night as the balmy one I was struggling under. Suddenly that shill hit me again, but this time it was stronger. In my mind’s eye full red lips flashed tantalisingly. The image was so strong that I as good as felt them on my neck.

Little by little my fingers slowed on the keys of my laptop, as my hero’s story stalled, as did mine. Those lips hadn’t been just in my mind’s eye; they had grazed my neck moments before as their owner’s teeth sank into my neck and tore the bloody life force from me. My best story ever would never get any further than the pc in front of me.

22 - RED


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Filed under Contemporary, horror

What If?

In the writing group to which I am more than happy to say I belong Natalie has given us a challenging prompt: 
To write a piece (short story, paragraph, poem, whatever you like) but based on an event in your life where you could have chosen a different path, think parallel universe… If you had said yes or no to a particular event where would you be now?


“What’s for tea, I’m starving,” I asked dropping my bag on the floor. It’s about as deep as our conversation eveer got these days.

“It’s Friday, so it’ll be takeaway, just like it is every Friday. I’m off out with the girls in a minute, so you’re in charge. Katie says she wants Chinese tonight. You know where the menus are.” Cheryl smiled thinly and picked up her bag before moving towards the door. Her night out with the girls. Moments later I heard her car door slam and the engine revving as she set off for her version of freedom.

We’d been together almost twenty years, and were hitting our forties and still she had to have her night out with the girls. How I would love to have a night out with the boys, but that isn’t going to happen. What a mess.

Married at twenty one, just like Mum wanted, though she’s gone now I’m sure she would have wanted me to be happy rather than just fitting in. Standing here in the kitchen I’m not even sure I’m doing that.

Three kids by the time we  were in our thirties, all by IVF. I guess that says it all really. Kids were never really on my agenda, but Cheryl wanted them, “You know your mum would be thrilled with grandkids,” she had taunted, so we went down the IVF route. That was about a year after she had found out.  Magnanimously she forgave me. Her words not mine.

Woken from my reverie by the crash of doors and the kids arriving in from their after school activities I grabbed the Chinese takeaway menu from beside the calendar; Cheryl’s calendar, or to be more correct Cheryl’s hot Miami fire fighters calendar. Staring at the bare-chested,m muscle bound hunk that is March’s offering and wonder why I lost the courage to be me, to say who i really was, to say no to their lies and yes to a life of true love and fulfillment.

21 -miami firefigher

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Filed under Contemporary, Oddities

Terlaine, Guardian.

The first part of this story can be found here: Terlaine 


“Guardian,”   Terlaine liked the sound of the word in his mouth. He had always thought that his sister would take the scared office ahead of him, but she had been dispatched long before her time. How well he remembered that day, and still his emotions remained mixed.

20 -Jewel box

20 -Scrolls

Kneeling beside his mother’s prone form Terlaine turned to survey the bedside table. First he touched the box. To everyone else it appeared to be just a decorative jewel box. Terlaine knew different. He knew its power and in that knowing was cautious and removed his hand, picking up instead the scroll-bearers. These, too, looked little like their true nature. For most they looked like hair-bars, but in each, tightly wrapped, was a ancient scroll. Each scroll covered with the magic that was now his. He rolled the scroll-bearers around in his hands and could feel their knowledge, a knowledge that would soon be imparted to him. First he must complete the five tasks that proved him worthy of the title of Guardian. First he must cross the bridge.

20 -The Bridge

Thanks to Melva for the photo prompts

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Filed under Fantasy & Dreams


Slowly and with great reverence Terlaine took the ring from his mother’s cold hand, where it was now loose against her clammy skin, and stared into its depths. He kissed is mother and thanked her for the gift of life which she had given him almost 23 years before and for the gift of longevity which the ring would bestow upon him. Without further ceremony he slipped the ring down over his knuckle and twisted it in place.

Terlaine hadn’t fully understood what his mother had meant when she had told him that he would become the next Guardian, nor what she meant when she had told him the ring would become part of him and he part of it. Now he was getting and idea of what she said as the ring brightened and tightened on his finger like a living thing, almost like a serpent constricting its prey.  All of a sudden he felt a sharp piercing pain under the ring and realised that it was growing roots into his finger. For just a breath he was scared of what he had agreed to, but that soon passed as he felt the roots slip through his body bit by bit adding the ring’s strength and energy to his already formidable supply.

He knew that from that moment on he truly was the guardian.

15 - ring -bracelet

Thanks to Melva for the photo prompts

The next part or Terlaine’s story can be found here: Terlaine, Guardian

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Filed under Contemporary