Then The Lights Came On.

PHOTO PROMPT – © Douglas M. MacIlroy

PHOTO PROMPT – © Douglas M. MacIlroy

“What’s happening Jenkins?”

“Not completely sure, sir. The lights came on in each of the outlying stations at 05.41 this morning. We sent a security unit out to investigate but lost radio contact with them an hour ago.”

“What now?”

“We’ve tried closing each station down but someone or something has overridden our main computer. Whoever’s in there, is now in control.”

“And the temperature in each station?”

“Rising rapidly, sir. At this rate, each one will blow in about ten minutes.”


“What happens then, sir?”

“That’s it son. The end. If you believe in a God, start praying.”


100 word story for Friday Fictioneers

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“Done boss, just like you told me.”


“She’ll be feeling drowsy about now. Then she’ll fall asleep. Her death will look like it was natural.”

“And the poison?”

“Won’t show up in any autopsy and I’ve disposed of the remains of the Frittata.”

“Frittata! But she was eating quiche. It was me that had the
Fritt …”

“Shit! Boss, can you hear me? Wake up.”



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The Poetry Pound Shop

Poetry Pound Shop.001For those of you out there who may be teachers, or know teachers or are maybe involved in home schooling, the following may be of interest to you.

Keeping Out Of Mischief In Retirement

I’ve recently teamed up with another retired educationalist and between us we are having fun pooling our many years of experience and expertise and creating resources for teachers.

My partner in crime, David Horner, worked for many years in schools across the UK and abroad delivering poetry workshops for children and teachers. We have come up with a way of him continuing to do that but without having to give up the comforts of retirement.


First we came up with a name for ourselves – ‘Goodeyedeers’. This came about after a couple of hours of painful brainstorming and too many cups of coffee. Neither of us liked the idea to start with us – which is probably why it has grown on us.

Goodeyedeers logo.001

TES Resources

The TES has always been a good place for teachers to find useful resources and also share ideas with colleagues. Recently they have started allowing teachers to charge for the resources they share. This prompted David and I to use this as the vehicle to get our ideas out into the wider world.

The Poetry Pound Shop

We have decided that all our resource packages will be priced at just £1. While this is never going to make us a fortune and the annual world cruise may have to stay on hold, but we do remember (just about) what it’s like to be an impoverished, overworked, young teacher!

Our Resources

We are slowly beginning to build up our portfolio and are presently working on two packages:

  • PowerPoint presentations to be used in the classroom + Teachers’ Notes with lots of follow up activities.
  • A short animated film (a bit like this one) of David reading one of his poems + Teachers’ Notes with lots of follow up activities.

We think they are great fun – but then we are slightly biased!

So, What Next?

We are going to continue to create these resources. With a combined 75+ years of working in schools with children and teachers, we’re not short of ideas!

If you would like to know more then visit our blog, follow us on Twitter – @goodeyedeers, check us out on TES, leave a comment here and tell your friends. Many thanks.

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Where’s Sam?

Photo Source

Photo Source Roger Bultot

“I’m telling you Jimmy, Sam’s mum is going to kill us! Look what we’ve done to her house

“Weren’t my fault Billy. It was Sam’s idea to have the barbeque in the kitchen. And you’re the one what poured petrol on to get it going.”

The two boys looked at each other, both having the same thoughts but not wanting to put them into words. Should they have stayed and helped Sam put the fire out like he’d begged them to? Should they have made him leave with them?

Their thoughts were interrupted when someone shouted, “Found a body Chief.”


A 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers

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Breaking Point

He tried to move but nothing happened. “Harder!” he screamed, “And be quick about it!”

Fighting the urge to scream back I turned the handle to the crank again with as much vigour as my tired muscles could muster. The engine did little more than mumble a tired cough and splutter.

I looked up at my robot master and smiled, “Sorry boss, looks like you’re knackered.”



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My Missing Muse

In recent weeks my muse seems to have left me. Consequently I have written less and put little up on my blog. In desperation I write this letter:

Dear Muse,

I hope you are well. After much soul-searching I have decided to write to you in the hope that you may find it in your heart to forgive me and return home.

Life without you has been a nightmare. I’ve not managed to put pen to paper in weeks. All those wonderful ideas we shared have dried up and my head is in tatters. It is only now that I have come to appreciate just how much you mean to me. Life without your daily presence hardly seems worth living.

I look back to that argument that drove you away and feel ashamed of myself. My arrogance and conceit got the better of me. I just pray that, over time, you might forget some of the dreadful things I said to you.

Please, I beg you, come home. Let us get back to the way we were.

Your friend and companion.


A week later I received this reply:

Dear Michael

Thank you for your letter, though I have to say I was disappointed that it took you such a long time to contact me.

Unlike you I have not found our separation to have had any detrimental effects on my health, quite the contrary. I now sleep well (not having you wake me in the middle of the night with another stupid idea may have a lot to do with this). My days are my own and I can go for long walks, or to the local coffee shop, without feeling obliged to return with the outline of yet another novel.

You will probably not be surprised to hear that I have had no end of offers. There is a plentiful supply of potentially gifted writers out there desperate to team up with a muse of my creative abilities. But, to date, I have turned all offers. I am too sentimental for my own good and, despite your many failures, there are aspects of your erratic behaviour that I quite miss.

I am therefore quite happy to return as long as certain conditions can be guaranteed;
a) No more late nights. If you get ideas in the middle of the
night you must note them down and we will discuss them
the next day.
b) Any ideas I come up with must be acted upon until I feel
they have been successfully completed.
c) There must be no more talk of us writing romantic
erotica in order for you to make a fortune. This is not
going to happen.

If you are prepared to comply with my demands then I will return at once.

I look forward to hearing from you.


What shall I do?


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Oh To Be Like You!

I didn’t ask to be bright and effervescent. It’s not my fault I dress like this. It’s just one of those things. A quirk of nature. Oh what I’d give to be grey and boring like the rest of you.


Lillie McFerrin Writes
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fire enveloped her,
as the falsely accused witch
screamed her innocence 


the fire spread quickly,
racing around the building
searching out victims


Haiku Horizons prompt ‘fire’

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Number 135476

Number 135476 

“I used to be someone else.”

“Oh yeah, who was that then, someone famous was it? Don’t tell me, let me guess, I bet you was Elvis. You wait ’til I tell my missus I’ve been chatting with Elvis, that’ll make her giggle.”

“No, seriously, before I came here I had a name and a life.”

“Course you did mate. That’s what they all say. If I had a pound for every person who told me that, I could retire from this lousy job and live like a millionaire.”

“I don’t care about the others. I just know that I used to be someone, I just can’t remember the details”.

“Maybe you should leave it like that, don’t want to go upsetting yourself trying to remember things best forgotten.”

“But I don’t want to forget. There must be somebody here who can help me. What about the records? This establishment must have precise records about us. They would tell me who I used to be.”

“I don’t know nothing about any records. My job is to just look after the people on this corridor, people like you. Why don’t I go and make us both a nice cup of tea?”

“I don’t want tea! I want to know who I am. Couldn’t you find out for me?”

“Me! You must be joking. More than my jobs worth that would be. There’s some very serious people running this place. There’s no way I’m going to do anything that might upset them.”

“In that case I’ll find out for myself. If you wouldn’t mind unlock ing the door and tell me where to go.”

“Now come on Number 134576 you know I can’t unlock this door. It’s against regulations. If I did that we’d both be in serious trouble.”

“OK. I’ll do it myself. As soon as you’ve gone I’m going to break down this door and find out who I really am.”

“I think you’re forgetting about Number 135489 aren’t you? He tried that only last week. He didn’t get far. The cameras monitored him from the moment he stepped into the corridor. The security people caught him just three minutes later. It was all so messy, I’ve never seen so much blood. It’s a good thing these corridors are completely tiled otherwise it would have taken ages to clean it all up.”

“But I need to know who I am.”

“Of course you do Number 134576. Now if you just roll up your sleeve I’ll give you some extra medication, get rid of all those silly thoughts you’re having, then I’ll go and get us both that cup of tea. Two sugars was it?”


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Weep Not

This week’s prompt from Haiku Horizons is ‘weep’

as they drag me off
I notice you do not weep –
did they pay you well


your eyes fill, you weep,
tears stream down your pretty face –
I still walk away


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