It’s All How You Look At It – Flash Fiction – March 20, 2016

148 03 March 20th 2016

Copyright Al Forbes


“How interesting is this!”  Marcus gushed as they drove up Susan’s drive way in the country that Sunday morning.

“What are you going on about Marcus?” she said slightly irritated, dawn’s early light was not her favourite light of the day.

“Don’t tell me that you don’t see it!  There!” he pointed at the old blue painted door with its pealing centre … “a city, reflected in a bay!  It could be the sky-line of New York or Sydney – I’ll just have to draw in something characteristic to fix the location!”  he said as he clicked off several shots of the door once the car had stopped.

He then ran to the boot of the car where he kept his emergency box of paint supplies he always travelled with.  He insisted one never knew when inspiration might strike … and as a auto-defined conceptualist graffiti artist he wanted to be prepared.

© G.s.k. ‘16

Sunday Photo Fiction – March 20th 2016


Fresh New Resolutions – Flash Fiction – January 1, 2016

Photo Credits: The Write Life

Marian walked round and round the room, trying to decide what resolutions she could make for the upcoming new year.  She’d made lists in the past, but they never came to much, she needed something unique, something fresh but most of all, something she could actually bring off during the year in course.

She thought about the time she’d resolved to give up smoking,  it took her eight years to find the well-power to pull that one off and what about the time she’d resolved to lose those extra kilos, well, she pulled that one off too, but only three years later.  However much she tried she never seemed to meet her resolutions on time.

She began her list once again. She wrote this and that then deleted one thing and another, feeling absolutely frustrated.  Then finally an idea hit her.  Why did she have to make negative resolutions?  Why not make resolutions that actually suited her personality, her tastes, her culture?

So with the power of her new understanding she wrote, “New Year’s Resolutions” at the top of her document and began her list yet again:

  • Eat at least one piece of chocolate a day.
  • Go out and eat a pizza with friends at least once a month
  • Go to the cinema at least once a month and watch a romantic movie
  • Meet up with her best friend weekly at the coffee shop and swap gossip
  • Sit down and write on her blog for at least an hour a day
  • Chat on Facebook with her friends and post kitten photos and videos

She sighed with a sense of accomplishment.  For once she was absolutely certain she’d be resolute enough to follow through on time with her new year’s resolutions.  She copied her list using Picasa onto one of her favourite kitten photos and put it onto her desktop, drank the dregs of her tea and went to bed content as the clock struck twelve.  Fire crackers went off around town. At last,  the new year was born and she said to herself, just before dozing off,  happy 2016!

© G.s.k. ‘16


Fresh, adjective: not previously known or used; new or different, recently created or experienced and not faded or impaired, (of food) recently made or obtained; not canned, frozen, or otherwise preserved, (of a person) full of energy and vigor, (of a color or a person’s complexion) bright or healthy in appearance, (of a person) attractively youthful and inexperienced, pleasantly clean, pure, and cool, presumptuous or impudent toward someone, especially in a sexual way.

New, adjective: not existing before; made, introduced, or discovered recently or now for the first time, not previously used or owned, of recent origin or arrival, 2 already existing but seen, experienced, or acquired recently or now for the first time.

Resolute, adjective: admirably purposeful, determined, and unwavering.

Take Away – “senryubun” – August 20, 2015

PHOTO PROMPT - © Madison Woods

PHOTO PROMPT – © Madison Woods

I saw two moths like so many other tourists who lined up at the take-out window of the local fast-food joint. I could just imagine the conversation between the two.

“It’s been a long haul!  Whatcha say to a break?”

“Yeah . I could kill a hamburger!  Darn, it looks closed to me.”

“Uhm, I saw a dude pull up with a car and hit a squawk-box, then he drove over to this window and they gave him a bunch of stuff.”

“Ah – well, let’s go then!”

Even the moths
visit a fast food restaurant
from time to time

© G.s.k. ‘15

(A senryubun doesn’t exist … but I really couldn’t call this a haibun 😉 )

Written for Friday Fictioneers … and not linked sorry I’m not home.

Brooding under the Moon – Flash Fiction (100 Words) – August 9, 2015

PHOTO PROMPT -© Madison Woods


Brooding under the tenuous moon, the wicked witch sat reflecting about her current lover, who of course didn’t really appreciate her genius, the wimp. She’d dump him.

Though beautiful, her heart was a black hole. Everything and everyone that came too near, got sucked up, transformed and spit out as an appendence of herself.  She avoided mirrors. Like Dorian Grey’s portrait they showed her the dissipation caused by her wickedness. Strangely, she was woman enough to wonder why no one really loved her.

A cat spied her sitting on a park bench. It saw her aura, so prudently slipped away.

© G.s.k. ‘15

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers and I’m submitting it to Tale Weaver as well, as it speaks of a “wicked witch” of sorts.

The Knight – Prose – May 16, 2015

Guard dutyThe King and his court were travelling through the countryside, those last days of spring and the sweet perfume of flowers filled the air, the bees happily hummed among the fruit trees and all seemed well with the world.

The young page would soon become a knight.  He’d started at the very bottom as Ser Keith’s boy and had become expert in armoury.  His Master was a good soul and taught young William all he knew even insisting that he sit in on the mage’s and the priest’s lessons as well so that he might know the ways of the sainted and profane.  Now at 24, and 12 year’s of apprenticeship, the day of his investiture was near.

Standing under the moonlight he looked at his armour, given to him by his now dead Grandfather.  A light began to shimmer and blaze into the evening coolness.  At first William thought that he was being tricked by the Lady Moon reflecting off his armour but then he heard a voice like a deep echo in the wind:

“Walk bravely dear William, it is now your duty to do great deeds!”

Thus a new hero was born.

© G.s.k. ‘15

Written for Mindlovesmisery’s Menagerie’s Fairy Tale Prompt

The Murales – Flash Fiction – March 17, 2015

Weekly Photo Challenge: Wall

Dear Diary,

Today was a hot sunny day.  I arrived yesterday from Italy and was just too tired to do any exploring!  Ah, but today bright and early I decided to take a walk down main street and shoot a few photographs.  I came upon a rather strange building.  There were some lovely shops at street level but the building itself was very old and weather beaten. It looked to me like an old brick waterfront warehouse.

I wanted to get a closer look at it so I moved back a bit then realized that the building front, which seemed to be covered in windows, was in fact covered with a decaying ‘murales’ of flaking windows! I began to click away, you just know how I love an interesting subject,  when suddenly the top floor windows began to fill up with people! They jostled one another as they pointed at me.  I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed, but everyone went about their business obliviously.  I’d often noticed that few people ever look higher than a shop window alas, today proved no different. I went back to clicking away feeling that this would be a great piece for my weekly Sunday column at the ‘Times’.

I wasn’t paying much attention to the world around me, so it was no surprise that I stepped off the curb into the street nearly getting myself hit by a car.  A policeman came up to me and admonished me, saying I should be more careful.  I apologized and then decided to ask him what he thought of the people in the second story windows above the chain of stores.

“What people in what windows miss?” he asked me curiously.

I pointed upwards and to my surprise and embarrassment I discovered there were in fact no windows, painted or otherwise.

“I think you might want to have yourself a nice cuppa, perhaps the sun’s been playing tricks on you miss.” he said rather unsympathetically.

I walked dazed down the street occasionally looking back, the windows insisted on not returning.  Once I got back to my room, I took my SD card  out of my camera and slipped it into the card reader of my net-book … the photo above is just one of around 50 which I took this morning.  So what happened?


This post is dedicated to Justine with many thanks for lending me the use of the above photograph! and is linked to Phylor’s Mindlovemisery’s Tale Weavers post

Five Sentence Fiction – Abandon – January 24, 2015

In the darkness of time, covered in cobwebs and dust, an old man sits inside an abandoned house.
Reflecting upon the years that had sped past him, wondering if it had been worthwhile, indeed he pondered, should he keep going on, his anxiety grew.
Visions of abandonment came to him, how often he’d felt alone, how often he’d left without a word;  now here he stood in an old abandoned house full of fear.
Awakening suddenly from his dusty dream, fear and anxiety made his heart pound painfully, his lips were dry and a tear trickled down his cheek.
Looking around him, he saw  bright sunshine stream into his room, making dust motes swirl like dervishes before his eyes – he rolled over and kissed his wife.
Lillie McFerrin Writes

Lemon Trees – Friday Fictioneers – January 20, 2015

PHOTO PROMPT - Copyright - Jan Wayne Fields

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

Looking at the photograph, I remembered the first sit-down dinner at my daughter Jenny’s house.  She and her boyfriend had rented a ground floor apartment that looked out on a closed courtyard.  She’d tried to liven the dark enclosure with her bright geraniums, without much luck.

Now nearly thirty years later, we’re all going for another first sit-down dinner. David, Jenny’s son, has invited us for his house-warming dinner.

Funny how history can repeat itself.  They too have rented a flat with a barren courtyard view.  David’s boyfriend, Julian, put out two flowering lemon trees though to brighten things up.


Friday Fictioneers


The Grim Calling – Flash Fiction – October 7, 2014


The Grim Calling

He’d arrived a few days earlier in London from his native Scotland and would return on the morrow.  His fold awaited him and he could not stay away long not even for this important work of the Lord.

The cold thick fog of London swirled around him as he walked along Buck’s Row in Whitecastle.  The clock struck the half hour and he’d pulled his coat collar up to his ears where it nearly meet his hat in order to keep out the cold and damp.

He’d prayed that this cup might pass from him, but alas he was called to do the Lord’s work and couldn’t do less than follow His will.  Ah, but it was a grim calling.  Here among these poor creatures of the Lord, it was his duty to save whom he could. His duty it was to purify the souls of these poor fallen women, so that they might be received into Heaven.

And so, he walked, waiting for the Lord to lead her to him, she who would to be saved.

Mary Ann Nichols moved towards him, and she pulled down her shawl to show her white shoulders and bosom.

“Oy Johnny, do ye no want a bit o’ warmth?” she brazenly said to him.

“Aye, I’m in need of some warmth, lass.  And you dressed the way you are could do with some warmth as well I’m thinking! Come, let me take you from this darkness into the light.”

He put one hand into his pocket where his sgian-dhub was hidden and with his arm around her shoulders he led her to a nearby alley.


Written for Mindlovesmisery’s Menagerie – Tale Weaver Prompt – Grim