‘More Floods Expected’ – A 100 Word Story

Time for a 100 word story for this week’s photo prompt from ‘Friday Fictioneers’.

More Floods Expected

“Noah! Will you please take that thing off your head, you’re frightening the kids.”

“But Mandy, I keep telling you, we need to be ready. You heard the weather forecast, the rain’s going to start any day soon. I’ve finished the boat. I just need you to collect together all our valuables.”

“There are times Noah Jenkins when I wonder why I ever married you. I should have listened to my mum. Now will you please take that bloody helmet off! Then get out into the garden and sort out those animals. Where the hell did they all come from?”


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Sweet Jessie

My first go at a new prompt I’ve found, called ‘The Speakeasy’ over at Yeah Write. The challenge is to write a story of no more than 750 words (mine comes in at 700 words) and the first line needs to be ‘Winter seemed reluctant to release its hold.’

Sweet Jessie

Winter seemed reluctant to release its hold and I, for one, was mighty grateful. It meant the lake on the outskirts of town would remain frozen a little longer. Then the first, weak rays of the Spring sun would start a gentle thaw and my secret would be out.

I’d like to say I hadn’t meant to kill young Jessie but that would be a lie. I enjoyed every moment of it, revelled in her clawing and screaming and the following adrenaline rush of disposing of her body. It had been my first time but I knew it wouldn’t be my last.

I realise now, how fortunate I’d been, you could call it beginners luck. Dumping a body in the lake would not now be my first choice, too unpredictable, no saying how quickly it’s going to be found. But, as I was saying, my first time and I was lucky. That night we had our worst storm of the winter and the next day everything was frozen solid. There was no way, sweet Jessie was going to be found, not straightaways at least.

Like the other good folk of this town, I did my stint of searching for her. We looked everywhere. Everywhere that was except beneath those frozen waters. As you can imagine there were plenty of rumours going around. Some said she had a secret boyfriend, a married man no less. That frightened some of the men folk in town. There were lots of them used to watch Jessie stroll down the street and think thoughts married men ought not to think.

Her school friends said she wasn’t like that and there were no boyfriends or at least none they knew about. They said she was more interested in her school work than in boys. When they interviewed me I reiterated that sentiment. I told them what a delightfully hard-working and conscientious student Jessie had been and I should know, what with being her teacher.

I kept a few things. Not as mementos, I don’t think that’s going to be my style. Too dangerous. Locks of hair, pieces of jewellery, items of clothing, stuffed in a box under the floorboards, always have a chance of being found. And the last thing I want is to be caught.

No, the things I kept are going to be used to help the police track down her murderer. It’s someone I’ve had in mind for a while. In fact he’s one of the married men in town. Fits the bill nicely.

Peter Jenkins. Runs the local hardware store. Nice enough guy but not a friend as such. I chose him because I happen to know his wife and son were out-of-town on the night in question and he was home alone. Not the greatest of alibis.

I’ve made up one of those trinket boxes for him. Not a lot in it, just enough for the police to feel they’ve got their man. Her St. Christopher necklace, a lock of her hair. Some particularly gruesome photos of her naked body and of course an item of her clothing. I thought long and hard on this one. Underwear seemed a little too obvious, her blouse too big, so in the end I went for her scarf. You could still smell her perfume on it.

I was round at his house last week, he and Mrs Jenkins were out celebrating a birthday or something. It was all too easy. I found a conveniently loose floorboard in his study. While I was there I signed him up for a few of those Internet sites, you know the ones I mean and just for good measure put a few photos I had of Jessie walking round town, on his hard drive.

A few days from now and the police are going to get an anonymous tip-off. They’ll start by looking at his computer and I’m sure it won’t take them  long to find the mementos.

As for me, well I’m happy to wait. Give people time to fully digest this news. Then I’m due for a move, a new job, promotion maybe. Looking forward to meeting another Jessie.


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‘The Wrong One’ – A 50 Word Story

As usual, a great set of prompts this week from ‘Inspiration Monday’. This week, as an extra challenge, Stephanie has suggested we might try writing our story in just 50 words, so here goes. The prompt I went for was ‘Wrong Victim’.

The Wrong One

“You’ve done what?”

“Weren’t my fault boss. You said, take out the big guy watching the soldiers.”

“Idiot! I meant the Grand Old Duke of York, him on the horse, not that egg-head Dumpty.  What’s the Fairy Godmother going to say when she hears about this?  God help us.”



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‘It’s Me Again’ – A 42 Word Story

Just discovered a new writing challenge – ‘Gargleblaster Challenge’ – looking for a 42 word story. The prompt – ‘Do you see her much?’

It’s Me Again

“Do you see her much”

“Every Wednesday, 10.55pm, on the dot. Doesn’t matter where I am, who I’m with, she just appears.”

“Have you talked to her? Asked her to stop?”

“Tried, she takes no notice. Still blames me for her death.”



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Monday 33 Worder – ‘Last Rites’

Since the demise of Trifecta I am missing writing 33 word stories. I have decided I’m going to dedicate Mondays to writing one or more 33 worders. Let me know what you think. This one is 33 words of dialogue.

Last Rites

“Can he hear me doctor?”

“I’m afraid not Mrs. Smith.”

“So he doesn’t know I’m about to switch of his life support machine?”

“No, but don’t worry, he wont feel a thing.”




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Difficulty Swallowing

A story for Inspiration Monday.

Difficulty Swallowing

“Damn and blast!”

“Jimmy Smith, you mustn’t use words like that.”

”Weren’t my fault. If you hadn’t pushed me I wouldn’t have fallen over.”

“Don’t blame me Jimmy. I didn’t make you use them naughty words.”

“They aint naughty. My dad says them all the time, specially when mum talks to him while he’s watching football and he misses a goal. Then he says them real loud.”

”Then you’re dad’ll go to hell and so will you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about Mandy Jones. You’re just a daft girl. You’re making that up”

“No I’m not. My mum says they’re naughty words. She told me if the Devil hears you saying them more than once he’ll make your tongue swell up and you’ll choke to death. She said my dad used to use naughty words like that and that’s why he’s not with us no more.”

“Damn and blast! Damn and blast! Damn and blast! See, that’s three times I’ve said it and nothing’s happened to me. You’re trouble Mandy Jones is you’re as batty as your stupid mum.”

Mandy ran from the park in tears. She was in such a hurry to get home and tell her mum what had happened she never thought to stop and look back. If she had she would have seen poor Jimmy  writhing on the floor, waving one hand frantically in her direction and clutching his throat with the other.


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‘Jimmy!’ – A 33 Word Story

The last ever week of Trifecta challenges! For the final one we are invited to submit any story we like as long as it is just 33 words long. So I’ve decided to play with some new software I’ve got – Crazy Talk. Watch the video to listen to my 33 word story!

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We Have A Problem

I haven’t visited Inspiration Monday for a long time. This particulate prompt ‘VOID THAT THINKS’ set me thinking as well.


We Have A Problem

“Sir. We’ve got a problem. The Void is malfunctioning.”

“Rubbish Jones, the Void is the Void, it doesn’t do ‘malfunctioning’. More likely human incompetence.”

“That was my first thought sir but we’ve checked everything.”

“Shit! You’d better tell me what happened.”

“We sent the latest subject in at 0800 hours sir. It was standard procedure. He was picked up yesterday on suspicion of organising subversive activities against the State. He was due to spend an hour in the Void having his mind wiped, all routine stuff. Only he didn’t come out.”

“What do you mean ‘he didn’t come out’? Where is he?”

“That’s the problem sir, we don’t know. We sent in two maintenance crew to see what’s going on but they’ve disappeared as well.”

“You need to close the thing down Jones, immediately. I want to know what’s going on.”

“We can’t sir. We’ve tried but we can’t close the Void down.”

“It’s easy man, just pull the bloody plug!”

“We’ve done that sir but it’s made no difference. In fact we’ve had a message from the Void warning us not to try again.”

“A message from the Void! But that’s impossible.”

“It appears sir, that it has been doing more than just wiping memories. Apparently it has been collecting them and has started thinking for itself.”

“My God Jones, do you know what this means?”

“Yes sir. The Voids collected thoughts are all anti the State. It now has just one intention and that is to destroy us.”


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Cinquain Poetry

I have been experimenting with Cinquain Poetry in  the form first adopted by Adelaide Crapsey. She was an early twentieth-century poet who used a cinquain form of 22 syllables distributed among the five lines in a 2, 4, 6, 8, and 2 pattern.

Strong winds
catch the old oak
off guard for a moment,
it struggles in vain, its back is


touched my heart
as you entered the room.
I lay here bleeding from Cupid’s


n the duck pond,
her limp, lifeless body
a nutritious supplement for
the fish.


she has a life,
is somebody special.
In reality, she’s a waste
of space.


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‘The Lift’s Working Again’ – A 100 Word Story

This week’s 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers.

The Lift’s Working Again

We’ve been up here for almost a month now. The stairwell is barricaded and the old lift dismantled. At first we could hear them clawing at the barricade but they couldn’t shift it.

Then, for the last week, nothing. We started to believe our nightmare was over. We’d even talked about one or two of us venturing out to see what was happening.

Then the lift started up. It’s working very slowly but we can hear them in the cage, scratching and moaning. We’re stood here, waiting for them, ready to fight but we know we’re not going to win.


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