March Writing Challenge | Day 21

Find full details of the challenge here.


Their curtains have been closed, thick mustard drapes that irregularly twinkle light in as eyes peer out. My neighbours have been acting shady. Normally full of quiet acceptance that we neither talk to each other or actively avoid each other, I know very little about them. But I know they’re up to something.

I can hear extra voices through the tissue paper walls. They normally speak in English even though it’s not their first language, but now I hear hushes in words I can’t comprehend. There’s someone new in their home. Why are they hiding them? My slender fingers cover a gasp as I conclude they must be illegal! An illegal immigrant on the other side of my wall, here in an English city suburb. No! These are things you see on the news, not the kind of thing to happen to people like me.

I consider phoning the police. They’d know what to do, send them back to where they belong. Maybe I’d get a reward? I doubt it but it’s worth a try?

I press a glass tumbler against the white paint and strain, but the foreign words just sound more alien now I can hear them clearly. I pick up the corded phone, would this be a 999 situation, it’s not exactly an emergency… A concern meanders in to my mind forcing a pause. What if this brings unwanted attention to my neighbourhood? I don’t want to look bad! And I don’t want to cause any trouble for us law abiding citizens. Don’t want to be getting caught up in that hoo hah!

The phone hovers in my hand, my mind not made up yet. My decision. A thought that I would never have sits quietly in the corner, it can’t penetrate my gossip-fearing law-abiding soul. The thought: that illegal immigrants are human beings. I wonder what they’ve been through to finally end up here.

The thought watches me. As if looking into my eyes will help it travel behind them, and squeeze its way into the jumble of self absorbency that is circling. But it’s not magic. And I’m not that person.

I put the phone down. I don’t want the neighbours to be able to trace this back to me. They might terrorist attack me or something…

March Writing Challenge | Day 20

Day 20! Are you kidding me, I’m so chuffed that I’m still writing everyday! Another Saturday night brings another two for one special as me and my husband both spent twenty minutes writing short stories for this prompt. If I’m gonna be honest I like his more than mine! Very creepy pasta vibes which is something we like to read together. ☺️ Enjoy.

Find full details of the challenge here.


My Story | Fun

“Have you tried ‘F’?”

“No, what’s it do?” I ask, alcohol slurring my words, intending to take it no matter the answer.

“Fun, makes everything seem fun.”

“I need that,” I say, drowning the little purple pill with bourbon. Sceptical at what effects it may or may not have. But I’ll try anything once.

*

Dawn follows dreams of strobing rainbows and ‘90s cartoons. I must have blacked out. As expected. I see myself on a faded red couch in a sandy field, not too far from the warehouse of raves and broken hearts. The sea battles the coast line below. The cliff wins for now, keeping my body dry.

My body.

That I can see.

From above.

Unmoving.

Abandoned on the sofa. Abandoned by my family that I will unjustly blame for the lifestyle I chose. Abandoned by my friends who gave me ‘F’. Most noteworthily, abandoned by me. I stopped taking care of my body long ago; drugs, alcohol, unwanted men. I didn’t care.

Finally last night my body had had enough. It gave up on my soul like a plant that I forgot to water. Everything dies without nourishment. I now knew the full meaning of those words. Too late.

I drifted off, caught on an ocean breeze, leaving behind little impact on this life. I wish I’d had more fun.


Jon’s Story | YOLO

“Wow Dude, where did you get this stuff?”

“It was on offer on Silk Road, and besides, I thought you guys might appreciate something new,” four of him told me, his shouting barely audible over the pounding bass of the new Wellerman remix.

“I don’t feel like myself.”

“That’s pretty normal man, enjoy the buzz.”

I stumble into a few more quadruplets of friends, my senses bombarded with the smell of JD, strobe lights and raised voices. Finally coming out of the chaos I fall into the disabled bathroom, dropping my beer.

“Fuck this has got me trippier than that molly Jess gave me at Sundown!”

I look into the mirror, there are not four of me as there are of my friends. There are two of me. There’s the me me then there is this other skinnier, frailer looking figure that hunches over with age. The other me winces as though in pain and looks me up and down from the mirror.

“I remember those parties, best years of my life,” he says as he runs his hands over his bald head, grey hairs dull in the low-lit bathroom.

“Fuck, dude, are you my grandpa or something? Jesus this is good shit”
My humour is quelled by a serious grating voice.

“I’m not your grandpa, I’m you,” it says. “You never should have dumped Jess, she was the best thing that ever happened to you,” it continues. “Well now I can make those choices for you, but better this time.”

I’m starting to get confused.

“It doesn’t matter how many times we go through this process, that look on your face never changes.”

I feel weak and fade to nothing.

My hair turns from grey to a lush bouncy brown, my back straightens. I step outside of the bathroom to go and meet with my friends.

“Hey lads what you guys drinking? Next rounds on me,” I shout into the circle.

“Shit dude, did you find some cash in the bathroom or something?” I hear.

“Nah man, just wanna have a good time, you only live once!” I say with a glint in my eye.

March Writing Challenge | Day 19

How can we not be thinking of Harry Potter with this prompt?! And how can I do something unique? Let’s have a go!

Find full details of the challenge here.


Twilight crescents mixed with stars adorn the robe of the little wizard. His childish laugh crescendos bringing joy as he runs through the backyard. Two other toddlers tumble after him. Three amigos. Do friendships ever last? I must insure this one does. I’m bound by contract, signed on stained parchment unable to break or tear. But I don’t mind, I wouldn’t have agreed if my personal interest wasn’t also peaked.

I’m done observing for now. I rustle up wind and take flight on the breeze. The young boys too engrossed to notice an owl out in daylight.

March Writing Challenge | Day 18

Today I tried to write some flash fiction in 100 words. Let me know what you think. 🤞🏽

Find full details of the challenge here.


They thought they had me figured, just a lil’ female leprechaun sick of her brothers’ antics. They welcomed me with amusement but acceptance due the magic I brought with me. Cauldrons of gold, news of tropical lands, and vessels to take them. They cleared from the streets, packed onto ships, and sailed for wonders they would never reach. I waved them off, my sacrifice to stay with this land, remembered a hero. But remembered by whom? Fore the ships sunk three days from shore. This vast paradise, the new home of me and my brothers, all of it now ours.

March Writing Challenge | Day 17

I was inspired to write the next part of a story I started on Day 15 with this prompt, first part is here. I’m super busy at work atm so I’m behind reading and replying to everyone’s lovely comments but I still want to find the time to write. Thanks for reading all!

Find full details of the challenge here.


Beatrice’s mouth dangled open, unsure how to respond to whatever in heaven this was. She was used to flickers of magic but this bird was beyond anything arcane she’d experienced.

“Bonjourno… I mean hello!” the white raven cocked its head as if this might help it translate the disheveled girl. “You can understand me yes?”

The tangled hair nodded, a mess of silent confusion.

“We’ve been watching what you’ve been up to, you’re a high ranking prisoner of Odino, we thought we’d better keep an eye. And we were right to! We’ve just put the pieces together. Do you think there’s any way we could let you finish what you’re doing? Madness!”

The words only started making sense in Beatrice’s mind halfway through the raven’s ramblings. They didn’t feel like words she wanted to hear.

“The problem with fate is…” the silk bird continued, “you have to follow yours. We’ve got no soul conquering in the archives, no rise to power for you unfortunately.”

Each syllable came out a harsh jab to the head, the mix of squawk and talk hammering any optimism from Beatrice’s heart. She felt her hard work slipping from her body, her grasp at freedom loosening.

“Thought you could make your own essence bracelets as well did you,” it seemed as if ravens had only two settings, constant talk or silence. “Do you know how many hours deep artificers spend making these? Many! I suppose you have many hours but you’ve not the proper tools, are you even soul trained?

“This could have gone so horribly wrong for you! It’s lucky we’ve stopped you now really.”

Beatrice’s headache overpowered her senses. She had no idea what was going on and she didn’t want to listen to this rude raven insult her artificing any longer. What did he know about fate anyway? Stupid fate raven! She was determined to control her own destiny and escape her prison. A large brown book titled ‘What not to make at home and how not to make it’ was heavy on her desk. Beatrice’s eyes flicked to it but the raven changed subject.

“Its not your fate to kill a white raven either child. That would be very bad for your future,” the raven sounded more confident than Beatrice had in her entire life. But this made her confident in one thing. To the astonishment of this glistening raven, Beatrice picked up the ancient text, and swung it at the bird.

March Writing Challenge | Day 15

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She left the lair, her final preparations coming together. The black stone door shut behind her, melding into the wall, smooth. Luckily it was thick enough to block out any sound, she was done with their screams for one day. When it stopped being entertainment it became exhausting, and she’d started to get a headache.

Beatrice collapsed onto her bed. Midnight walls surrounded her, a perfect cube of slick tar that only she knew how to navigate. She missed the light colours of other realms out of reach. But she could taste dessert, almost hers to devour. A prisoner guarding prisoners, irony webbed her mind.

Blonde wavy hair knotted itself as she pulled up, alert to movement. White petals stirred from her dressing table, spiralling and dancing on wind that wasn’t there. White feathers joined them, waltzing from nowhere into Beatrice’s sanctuary. Before she could understand an inch of what was going on, a pearlescent raven appeared in the storm’s centre.

The raven, in quiet contrast to Beatrice, seemed quite unperturbed, obviously having meant to materialize like it did. It settled its feathers and the petals settled with it. It’s sharp beak turned towards Beatrice, opened and squawked.

When the pale girl gave no response, the raven tried French. The girl was clearly shocked that it had spoken words, but again didn’t answer, leading the raven to try various other dialects of human before she seemed to catch meaning.

“I’m here to talk to you about your plans. Rather devious you’ve been haven’t you child.”

March Writing Challenge | Day 14

Today is Sunday so I’m not super hyped wishing my weekend away by imagining Monday, so I’ve gone for a lil haibun which I am quite enjoying writing recently.

I think I’ve discovered I like writing short poems or longer short stories (a few thousand words). But I’ll try and make a few of this weeks prompts flash fiction. Wish me luck. 🤞🏽

Find full details of the challenge here.


Back to life beyond
what I long each day to be
Eventful Monday
You are not
But a domino in a line
of dominoes in lines

You topple into
Me

March Writing Challenge | Day 13

Find full details of the challenge here.


Have you seen the glassy petals,
of the new flower in my garden?

In your garden?
In my garden.
I think I’ll call them...

Not just in your gardens ladies,
the old hag interrupted,
look outside,
the bigger picture,
you always fail to see.

Sprouting from the grass,
of course,
but also from the sides of trees.

Jumping out of brickwork,
blooming from the street light,
capturing our town,
from nowhere all in one night.

This has to be magic,
fairytale or tragic.
We need to know their purpose,
are they here for better or worse?

Why always so pessimistic?
the other ladies cried.
Their colours are extraordinary,
their vision blinds our eyes.

Then this was for evil,
the ancient hag now saw.
But what can you do with flowers?
She really wasn’t sure...

Then the sky came over,
blacker than her cat.
The biggest of the flowers,
flew above them like a bat.

Way up in the flower,
two space bees flew their hive,
turns out it wasn’t arcane,
but instead... sci-fi.

Change each planet to a flower,
one world at a time,
the universe would be theirs,
infinite places for them to dine.

March Writing Challenge | Day 12

I was inspired by Brendan E Byrne’s comment on my first Friday Fictioneers post to write a haibun. A haibun is a poem made up of prose and haikus. I found this and this article interesting when learning what one was and how to write one. I really enjoyed it, maybe even more than writing haikus! Let me know what you think of my first attempt, although I’m aware it’s quite short.

Find full details of the challenge here.


Centuries ago,
when the Moon was but crater,
and spring was summer,
and autumn and winter.

Birds were given wings,
now so beautiful in flight,
a gift from the Sun.

The clouds turned green.

Let loose with envy,
a torrent of angry rain,
the greatest lakes born.

The world was still young,
in emotion it flowed fast.
Reckless. Carefree. Whole.