Tag Archive | short story

Fiction Friday – 10th June

Use the theme “On a wing and a prayer”


‘On a wiiiiiiiiing and a prayer-eeeer-eeeeeeer, I’ll taaaaaaake yoooooooou theeeeeeeere.’ Liz bows at the few people walking past, then trips over. Giggling, she holds her hand up for John to help her.

‘On a wing and a prayer?’ Liz nods at Andy as she struggles to her feet. ‘I’ll take you there?’

‘You bet honey.’ She straightens her now grubby skirt and smooths down her hair.

‘You know that’s not a song right?’ Liz sighs and starts walking off.

‘You know your problem is you have no imagination.’ She twirls round 360 degrees only just keeping her balance as she makes it.

Andy sighs and runs the few steps to catch her if she falls. ‘I blame you for this,’ he shouts behind him.

‘Yes, you naughty naughty boy.’ Amy slaps John playfully on the arm and catches his eye. She knows she promised Liz nothing would happen, but right now, she wasn’t sure if it was a promise she could stick to. They just connected.

‘I’m pretty sure he’s talking to you,’ John retaliates, grabbing her hand and tightening his fingers around hers as they walk along. ‘After all, you were the one doing Jagerbombs with her.’ Amy gasps and pulls her hand away – she’s not going to make it that easy for him.

‘I may have been doing them with her, but you, mister,’ she stops and turned to face him, poking her finger in his chest, ‘Were the one buying them.’ Her finger sticks to John’s chest for longer than it should. Her eyes are drawn up to his. She feels breathless.

‘So we’re as bad as each other then are we?’ Amy has no idea if he’s still talking about the drinking.

‘I…’ she beginnings, but can’t for the life of her remember what she was going to say. She drags her finger down his chest, down his rock hard stomach and stops it at the top of his jeans. Amy reminds herself to breath.

‘You…?’ he asks, bending his head a fraction. She stops breathing again. A million butterflies start dancing in her stomach and her heart literally stops beating. She bites her bottom lip as he inches slightly lower.

‘Jeez you two,’ Andy shouts spoiling the moment. Amy instantly drops her hand at the same second John stands up straight. ‘I could do with a hand here please, I’ve got us a taxi.’ They look back at each other for a second before starting towards Liz and Andy. John puts his arm round her and squeezes her shoulder and she can’t help grinning. She’s never going to be able to keep that promise to Liz now.

It’s a good thing she can use the payback excuse. You can’t go out with someone’s brother and then expect them not to go anywhere near your brother. Especially when your brother was as hot as John. Especially when he was only in town for a couple of weeks, so could be the perfect rebound fling. And especially when said brother currently had his hand on your arse!


I’m not too sure about the last paragraph – I think that would be the first thing to be rewritten in an edit (as per the . Please let me know what you think of it.

Fiction Friday – 3rd June – I Miss My Best Friend

‘I miss my best friend, my other half, my everything. The children miss their mother, they don’t understand…’

Lisa looked away as John carried on and another tear slid down her face – she knew exactly how they felt. But they had a right to, sitting here with her mascara in rivers down her face, she felt like a fraud.

It had been three years since she last saw Jane. Three and a half actually. Jessica had been a baby, Tom only a toddler. They hadn’t fallen out, life had just got in the way. Work, meetings, moving, family visits, every time either of them thought about making the trip, something came up. Peter and her had got as far as booking flights for September, but then she’d got pregnant and had been so ill, she hadn’t wanted to make the journey.  Jane, John and the kids were going to come up after the birth, definitely this time, no excuses.

She put her hand on her stomach, which caused another flood of tears to appear – how unfair was it that Jane would never meet her bump. She would have been its godmother, just as Lisa was for Tom and Jessica. Except Jane would be a much better one than she’d been so far.

That had to change. If the kids didn’t have a mother, they had to have a damn good god mother. One they see more than once every three years. One they recognise from seeing all the time, not just from photos.

Peter and Lisa had talked about living arrangements. They were both really happy in Scotland, but had secretly wanted to come home to have children. Life got in the way, but now this happened, now their lives had been blown apart by this tragic accident, they knew without a doubt it was the right thing to do.

The right thing for Tom and Jessica, the right thing for his mother and both her parents, the right thing for Peter, the right thing for the baby, and the right thing for them. They wanted to have this baby surrounded by friends and family, not with superficial friends they’d known a year or so, but had suddenly become distant as soon as Lisa announced her pregnancy. Fair weather friends – fair bar and club friends more like!

If only they’d made that decision six months ago, a year. Damn it, if they’d made it two months ago. They might have been there to stop it. Lisa might have been paying a little bit more attention to the kids dropping toys and picked up the rouge car. Jane wouldn’t have slipped and they wouldn’t be here.

Everyone started clapping. John had finished. He sat back down next to Lisa. She tried to smile at him. She was sure it was a great speech, she just hadn’t heard much of it. Lisa grabbed John’s hand and squeezed it. He squeezed it back.

They both looked up at the vicar carried on with the service.

The prompt from WriteAnything today was ‘Use this sentiment or theme for your story “I miss my best friend.” ‘ As always this is unedited. Please let me know what you think, and take a few minutes to visit some other stories today, there’s some great ones out there!

Fiction Friday – 20th May

This week’s prompt from Write Anything is:

Use the word “Orismology” in your fiction this week (its the science of defining or explaining a technical term)

My unedited story is:

Kelly chewed her food in silence and wondered what the hell she was going here. If she’d cared more she would have wondered what the hell Omiso… Orosmo… Orismology was, or meant, but she didn’t, she just wished she’d said no.

She had every other time Dan had suggested it: ‘You’d get on so well with so-and-so,’ ‘I know this guy that is just perfect for you,’ or what seemed to be his favourite ‘You and so-and-so would just click.’ After saying no to his matchmaking for three years, she couldn’t believe she’s said yes this time. And to such a dork.

She laughed a little at her internal use of the word dork – someone had once told her it means whale’s dick. She looked up and realised Kelvin was staring at her.

‘Sorry?’ she asked, he’d obviously asked her a question or something, shit, she should have been paying more attention.

‘I asked why you were laughing. Did you think I was joking? I was being deadly serious about…’ before he could bore her any more she cut him off.

‘No, no. Sorry, I was distracted… The waiter behind you just dropped a plate of food.’ Kelly though it was quite a usable excuse until Kelvin turned round to look. Obiously there was no waiter there. ‘Oh, he’s gone now.’ She smiled sweetly as he turned back to look at her, but wondered why she was bothering.

‘You’ll have to excuse me,’ she said putting her cutlery down, and lifting the crisp white napkin off her lap. ‘I must run to the ladies. No, no, don’t stand up. I’ll only be a second.’ It wouldn’t take long for her to phone Dan and tell them their friendship is over. Maybe he could call Kelvin and tell him she had to go or something. Except her coat. Damn.

‘Excuse me,’ just before she got to the toilet door, a hand touched her arm. Kelly turned back around and was greeted with an object of beauty.

His accent was Australian, and he certainly had the surfer look going on. Long floppy blond hair, that he pushed back out of his eyes as he looked down on her. Kelly was 5’9’’ so he must have been 6’3’’ maybe 4’’. He had electric blue eyes, but long dark eyelashes that framed them. He was dressed in a suit, but had the pale blue shirt undone a button too many, so she could see the tan and muscles pushing through.

‘Um, hi.’

‘Sorry to interrupt as you’re on your way,’ he pointed to the bathroom door, she shrugged. The bathroom could wait. I just had to come and check you’re alright.’ She must have looked at him like he was an alien, as he then started to explain. ‘I’m sat at the table next to yours, and couldn’t help noticing that you’ve not said a word during your meal – and he’s said some very boring ones.’ He grinned at her and her legs felt weak. HE was grinning at HER. Wow, there was a god.

After probably a bit too long pause, she found her words. ‘I… Um…’ But not too well.

Surfer guy looked back into the restaurant nervously, then back at her.

‘Sorry, Yeah, I’m fine. I’m going to kill my mate though for setting this blind date up.’ She wasn’t too happy telling this guy she was on a blind date, but knew she had to explain why she was with him, and so bored.

‘You’re friend’s probably just so jealous of your beauty that she feels you need some punishment.’ That made Kelly laugh. Then she realised he’d said she was beautiful. He had, hadn’t he?



‘It was a male friend that set us up.’

‘Oh.’ He put his hand on his chin and thought about it. ‘Well then he must be so annoyed you won’t go out with him that he feels you need punishing.’ That made Kelly laugh again.

‘Actually, he’s gay.’

‘Oh. Well that blows my theories out the window.’ He turned round to check there was no one around, then moved closer and whispered, ‘I don’t think your friend likes you too much.’ Kelly laughed for a third time, this guy was great.

‘Scott,’ Surfer held his hand out to shake Kelly’s.

‘Kelly,’ she replied taking it and praying he wouldn’t notice the sweat or the shakes – hot men always did that to her. If he did, he didn’t say anything.

‘Look, I know this is really inappropriate, especially as you’re on your way in there, but how about you dump that guy and come for a drink with me? I presume you’ve finished dinner?’ She nodded. ‘Great, how about we pretend I’m a long lost friend from school that you’ve not seen for what, five years?’

‘I left school ten years ago,’ she told him, happy with the compliment of looking younger than she was.

‘Even better. We’ll say we’ve not seen each other since school, because… Um…’

‘Because you moved to Australia…’

‘Exactly. And I’m only back for a week, so we have to catch up.’ He looked at her uncertain face. ‘Ok, I’ll tell you what, you go in there and think about it while you powder your nose, and I’ll wait just here,’ he pointed at the floor, ‘until you’ve made your mind up.’

‘Deal,’ Kelly smiled and turned to walk in the bathroom, realising her phone call to Dan was going to be totally different to how she imagined it.

Please, let me know what you think.

Fiction Friday – 13th May

Your Main Character finds the paperwork on the desk covered in red ink…


Fran stirred the casserole quickly, checked Milly was still in her play pen and ran to the hall.

‘Yes, Mrs Johnson-Gray,’ she shouted, hoping she’d hear her from upstairs and she wouldn’t have to run up there.

‘Has Milly been in the office again?’ Mrs Johnson-Gray shouted downstairs.

‘No. Not since the other day when you told me not to let her.’ Fran winced at the memory of the telling off she got on Tuesday. She definitely wouldn’t let Milly out of her sight when running a bath again.

‘Well why is there red ink all over my desk and manuscript?’

‘I’m sorry Mrs Johnson-Gray, I don’t know.’ The older lady moved to the top of the stairs and put her hands on her hips. Although she knew she’d done nothing wrong, Fran started getting nervous. Her voice wavered, her heart started beating faster and her palms got sweaty. She hated the effect this woman was having on her.

‘Well it didn’t get there on its own did it now?’

With perfect timing Milly started crying. Fran looked towards the kitchen, then back at her employer.

‘Go on, go get her,’ Mrs Johnson-Gray said flicking her arm in the direction of the kitchen. ‘But make sure she doesn’t get in there again. That manuscript is very important.’

Fran walked back to the kitchen silently muttering. She was only on day five and already sick of that woman. But as she walked through the door, Milly looked up at her and gave her a huge grin – how could she not love this job when she had a kid as cute as Milly to look after.

Milly was everything you would want in a nineteen month old. She was walking and pretty much talking, so a proper little girl in those regards, but at the same time she was still a baby. She still liked to be carried, and cuddled. She had the cutest brown curls and darkest brown eyes Fran had ever seen that were accentuated amazingly by the longest lashes.

And somehow, even though her mother was that awful woman, she was always smiling.

Maybe it was due to her dad. It was such a cleche, but Fran the nanny, fancied the kid’s father. Luckily though, it wasn’t just her. All the other nannies in the group fancied him too. And the mothers. And no one could believe he was with Mrs Johnson-Gray. No One had a good opinion of her.

Fran hated to admit it, but she knew there was something about her. She’d seen them together once when he’d come home early and she was still in. They’d acted like they had just got together. Kissing and touching each other. Holding hands as they walked to the door. They were obviously very in love. If only she could understand why.


Three months later she knew why.

She’d wanted to quit. Mrs Johnson-Gray was in almost every day working on her novel, and she was treating Fran more and more like a skivvy every day. She’d always known she was going to be cooking for Milly and doing small chores around the house,

But this was crazy. Every spare minute she got from when she left her ‘annex’ (the Johnson-Gray’s converted garage) to the moment she left for the day – sometimes as late as 8 or 9pm she was busy: Cooking, cleaning, tidying, washing, ironing. She was sick of it.    

Or she had been. Until Wednesday.

On Wednesday she was cleaning the whole house, top to bottom. Milly was being an angel and either asleep, playing by herself (in her playpen so Fran knew she wouldn’t run off anywhere and get into mischief), or watch children’s TV. Mrs Johnson-Gray had left in a hurry that morning, apparently her editor had called her into his office for an emergency meeting. When Fran entered her employer’s bedroom it was totally different to usual. Gone was the vast emptiness with just a bed and dressing table – now, there were papers everywhere. Literally everywhere – all across the bed, in piles on the floor, and scattered along the dresser. There was even a small stack on the chair.

Fran decided she’d miss out hovering and dusting in there today – it wasn’t worth the risk, but as she was turning a huge pile of papers – literally a foot high – caught her attention.

Screaming out at her were the words: HOW TO GET ANYTHING YOU WANT.

Not wanting to be nosy, but finding she couldn’t help herself, Fran picked up the top few sheets.

The front page was the title page. The next page was a thank you page.


The biggest thank you to Jennifer (Fran somehow knew Mrs Johnson-Gray’s name was Jennifer) without showing me how, this book wouldn’t have been possible.


Showing her how? Mrs Johnson-Gray had shown the author – Sally Fellows-Hampton – how to get anything she wanted. How weird.

Fran turned to the next page. It was a list.


How to get the perfect man and make him fall in love with you forever

How to get a successful publishing deal

How to make anyone like you and do anything for you

How to always look perfect

How to get the perfect nanny and ensure she stays with you


Fran stopped at the last one. There was a page, no two pages more of how tos. Something about it sent a chill down Fran’s back. She’d read books on how to get things – but something about this one seemed chillingly different.

She flicked quickly through the other pages she’d picked up. Each page was dedicated to a different ‘how to’ and was filled completely. Half way down on each page there was a smaller list – a list that almost looked like ingredients.

She didn’t get a chance to in any detail as typically Milly started crying just then. It was quite lucky she did, because Mrs Johnson-Gray came home five minutes later. Fran obviously didn’t want to get caught in her employer’s room so was glad Milly had got her attention.

As Mrs Johnson-Gray walked upstairs Fran knew she had to find that pile again, find out what was in that book.

Only strangely, since that day, she was feeling less and less inclined to find it and check. And she was starting to enjoy her job more and more, her workload hadn’t changed, but it just didn’t seem so bad any more. She also started getting on with Mrs Johnson-Gray, to the point where she’d actually say she liked her, and that she’d do anything for her….

I know I’ve done the spell idea before, but it seemed to fit with this story. I actaually had a much better idea, but it would have taken too long and I really don’t have time (I’m talking at least a couple of thousand words!). I hope you like it, but please let me know.

Fiction Friday come from WriteAnything.

Fiction Friday – May 6th

The prompt this week from Write Anything is ”Reviews for the movie were mixed.” My story (unedited) is here:

‘Reviews for the movie were mixed,’ John says in reply.

‘Which means some people thought it was good,’ I come back. I knew he’d do this, it’s just so typical. I don’t know why he said I could choose the film, we’ll so end up watching what he wants. Oh yay, another night of blood and guts. Wish I’d stayed at home.

‘But it also means some were bad. Really bad. Did you read the one in the Metro?’ I try to control my rage. I just about manage by counting to five. Slowly.

‘John, I know you care about reviews and how things are supposed to be, but I don’t. Unlike you I don’t care if the movie I’m going to see isn’t going to get nominated for an Oscar. And, I like making my own mind up about things. So what if some reviews are bad. I bet I don’t agree with half the things they like.’

John looks a little hurt, I don’t know why, that was a lot less than I wanted to say. Normally this is when I back down, and we see what he wants, but this time I decide I’m not going to. I’m going to stick to my guns.

‘Look, you said I could choose the movie and for once I’d really like to. I’ve been wanting to see this for ages, you know that, I love the book.’ This isn’t entirely true. I do love the book, but I’m not too bothered about the film, generally I don’t like films when I’ve loved the book. But, there was a principle here, and, call me childish if you want, but when he started arguing, I suddenly wanted to see it more. Now, I’m desperate to see it.

‘But you usually don’t like films that have come from books.’ I hate him. Luckily I have a come back immediately.

‘True, but that doesn’t stop me from watching them. It may not be the greatest film in the world, but I have to watch it to see. I have to. Don’t you get that?’

He looks up at the list of films above the kiosk and I can see his resolve melting. Yes, I knew he’d do the right thing. Well, actually I didn’t, I thought he’d insist on seeing that shitty sounding war one.

This is good. We’ve been arguing so much recently that I want things to be good tonight. But I also wanted to get my own way, not because I wanted to get my own way per se, but because he always forces his views on to me. If he does agree to see my film, it will feel like the scales are evening up a bit.

John looks at me then back at the board, then at the cashier.

‘Ok, lets see it. But next time, we’re seeing my film.’ I could jump up and down, I’m so happy. Instead I push up onto my tip toes and kiss him full on the lips. He grins and grabs my hand. See, this is why we’re still together, we’re happy.

‘Two for A Happy Romance please.’ John, as always takes charge and buys the tickets.

‘I’m sorry,’ the cashier replies, ‘We’re sold out on that. In fact, the only showing we still have seats for is Tony’s War.’ My heart sinks. How is that possible.

As we walk to get popcorn, with John’s arm tightly round my shoulders I realise it’s not the worst thing in the world. In principle I won, and I don’t have to sit through a film that I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed.

Please let me know what you think, good and bad are appreciated. Have a great weekend.

Fiction Friday #204

‘Why was Easter Bunny held up with deliveries this year?’

Zoe paced up and down the kitchen. If he wasn’t home in another 10 minutes, that was it. She’d leave him. Acutally, she’d make him leave her. She couldn’t up and take Adam away from his home, especially when he wasn’t settling into school that well.

Nine minutes. Maybe she was just over reacting. Maybe he really was working late all the time. He’d just been promoted to director, she knew it meant more work – evenings, the occasional weekend. It was part of the job. It had to be. But so many evenings? So many late nights? So many weekends? And most of the time with Sharon?

Sharon? What a trampy name. She sounded like a slut. All Essex and Birds of a Feather. Bitch. She hated her. Even though she’d never met her, she found it easy to hate her. Home wrecking cow.

Eight minutes.

Zoe sat back down at the kitchen table and took another slug of wine.

Could she really live without Sam? They’d been together ten years. Ten years. She couldn’t remember life without him. And was it so horrible to take Adam’s dad away from him? Maybe she could put up with Sam’s infidelity for Adam’s sake.

Seven minutes.

Was that the door? Zoe stood up and walked to the sink. She held her breath, and Sandy walked in. Damn cat flap.

Six minutes.

Five Minutes.

Four Minutes.

Three Minutes.

Two Minutes.

One minute.

That’s it. His time was up. As soon as he walked through the door she was going to have it out with him. She couldn’t take the humiliation any more. She wasn’t going to let him do this to her any longer. She’d been letting him get away with it for too long now. She poured the last glass of wine out the bottle as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

Twenty one minutes later she heard Sam’s key in the door. It took him a while to make it to the kitchen and by the time he had she was wavering. She loved him so much…

NO! He was making a fool of her. Zoe made sure she was standing at the sink with her back to him when he opened the kitchen door, she wasn’t sure she could hold the tears back. Just the thought of asking him where he’d been, or telling him to get out made her feel violently sick.

Sam came into the kitchen and without saying a word slowly pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. Maybe he realised he’d pushed it too far. Zoe didn’t think she’d have the strength to say anything without her voice breaking and Sam didn’t say anything. The silence stretched over a minute, two, three.

Eventually, after what felt like 30 minutes, but was probably more like four, Zoe gathered all the strength she had and turned round. Sam was sat upright staring at nothing on the table top. He looked terrible. He was as white as a snowman, his hair was messed up, and his eyes were bloodshot. Had Zoe not known him better, she would have sworn he looked like he had been crying.

‘Sam, what’s wrong?’ she said before she could stop herself. He continued to stare at nothing, then slowly, slowly looked up at Zoe. A solitary tear fell down his cheek. He grabbed Zoe’s hand and pulled her towards him, burring his head in her stomach.

What the hell? Seriously, Sam never ever cried. She put her hand on his head knowing Sam needed her, and whatever she’d been thinking ten minutes before would have to wait. At the back of her head something shouted he was taking her for a fool, but she loved him, she couldn’t see him suffer.

‘Sam, what’s wrong?’ she repeated.

‘I was…’ His voice was muffled from being pressed against her body. He moved his head to the side and she felt him swallow. ‘I was on my way home.’ His voice wobbled a bit. ‘And I hit the… The… God this sounds stupid, but you have to believe me.’ He pulled his head away from Zoe and looked up at her. ‘You have to believe me, ok? OK?’

‘Ok, of course,’ she assured him nodding her head.

‘I hit the Easter Bunny… And killed him.’ Zoe took a second to process that, then burst into hysterics. She quickly recovered.

‘Shit, I’m sorry. I thought that… Shit I’m sorry. You killed him? The actual Easter Bunny?’ Sam nodded his head.



‘The Easter Bunny is a girl. Was a girl. Oh god. God, what have I done? I can’t believe it.’ Another tear fell as he told Zoe about the terrible rain that made visibility on the northern bypass horrendous. About the shape he’d seen in the road, but too late. About the yowl as he hit the thing. And about finding it was the Easter Bunny. About not believing it, but other people around that confirmed it.’

Zoe felt terrible. He’d killed the Easter Bunny. Easter would never be the same again, the kids around the world would be devastated, and all she could think was thank god that was why he was late home.

After he’d calmed down and had a brandy for his nerves, he remembered Zoe’s reaction on hearing about the crash.

‘What was that about? You said you thought something?’

‘Oh,’ she laughed, relaxed now. ‘I thought you were having an affair.’ When she turned to face him to pass him another drink, she dropped it. His face was as white as a snowman again. 

‘How did you know?’

This story comes from the prompt at Fiction Friday last week (Friday 22nd April). I’ve been slowly writing it since Saturday, but the idea came to me as soon as I read the prompt. I knew I had to do something and dedicate it to John Pender for giving me the idea. Why? Because of his comment on the last Fiction Friday prompt that used this idea Why Did The Tooth Fairy Fail to Deliver Coins One Evening? Hope you enjoy it.

#FictionFriday – 15th April – Facebook Chest Screen

Bex sat twirling the phone cable round her finger while listening to Mary go on and on about… something. There was a wireless phone upstairs, but Bex liked sitting in the window seat of the study while on the phone. At least until her father got home and turfed her out so he could sit at his huge oak desk and get in another four hours of work before bed.

Mary seemed to get to the end of whatever she was talking about – John that was it.

‘So, what’s going on with you?’

Something twisted in Bex’s stomach. Saying it out loud would make it real and she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit this – especially when she wasn’t sure her permanently single best friend would understand.

When Bex didn’t answer Mary prompted her. ‘How’s work? And Adam?’

‘Work’s…’ She thought about it. How was work? She’d spent so long thinking about the Adam situation, and now the Hugh situation she wasn’t really thinking about work. She was just going through the motions. ‘Work’s fine. Busy. Boring. Rubbish. You know same old.’ She paused.

‘And… Adam. Jeez Bex, what’s up with you tonight? Talking to you is like pulling teeth. And I’d know.’ Mary was working at her father’s dental practice for the summer. She was just doing admin, but liked to pretend she was actually seeing patients.

‘Sorry. I’m a bit distracted.’

‘Adam?’ Bex nodded, and then remembered her friend was on the phone.

‘Yeah. He’s still not changed his status, and it wouldn’t bother me that much, but we talked about it a couple of weeks ago. I want every Tom, Dick and Harry to know we’re a couple. I want us to walk down the street and people see our matching status’ rather than his that says single and mine that is just blank.’

‘Maybe you should talk to him again? Tell him how much it bothers you?’

‘Maybe. That’s not the only problem though. Well it’s caused another problem too.’

‘What his status saying single?

‘Uh… no… Mine. Being blank.’

Mary was silent for a second while she tried to process the information. Bex stood up and stretched her legs, she’d been sat on them the whole 30 minute conversation and they were starting to go numb.

Looking down at her legs she was distracted by a notification on her Facebook Chest Screen. Strange, she hasn’t heard or felt it coming in. She’d just have a look.

‘WHAT? Someone thinks you’re single and asked you out?’ Bex dropped her hand – she’d check the notification later.

‘Not just someone…’ She took a deep breath. ‘Hugh.’

‘Hugh?’ Mary asked. ‘Hugh, Hugh, Hugh?’

‘Uhh huh.’

‘Hugh Griffiths Hugh?’

‘Yep.’ However bad a situation it was, she couldn’t help grinning. Hugh Griffiths had asked her out after all.

‘But… But… What did you say?’

‘What could I say? I’ve got a boyfriend. I had to tell him and say no.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He didn’t believe me. He said that anyone in a relationship would have it branded on their Facebook Chest Screen and the fact that my status was blank meant I didn’t have a boyfriend. He thought it was just an excuse I made up.’

Mary broke into hysterics.

‘What?’ Bex asked, not getting the joke. This was horrible, not funny.

‘Hugh Griffiths – the guy you’re had a crush on since you could walk – thinks you knocked him back,’ she said when the giggles subsided. 

‘It’s not funny!’

‘Oh but it is.’ Mary started laughing again. This time it was infectious and made Bex laugh too. In the middle of her laughing fit, she looked down and again saw the notification that had come in. She pressed the ‘read button.’

Adam Spencer has listed you as his girlfriend.

Well, that solved the problems then.

The prompt from Write Anything for this week’s Fiction Friday is:

Set your story where Facebook institutions have been integrated into the norm. ( perhaps people have ‘like’ and ‘comment’ buttons on them? Maybe everyone has a status update on an LED positioned on their forehead?) This prompt was sparked by a FB discussion – so have fun with it!

As always I’ve left it unedited. I’d love to hear what you think.

Fiction Friday #200 – Friday 8th April

Today’s prompt from the good people over at Write Anything is:

Use this phrase “Looks can be deceiving” as your prompt of theme.

Prompt? That sounds like a first line to me. Here’s my (unedited) story:

‘Looks can be deceiving,’ he said to me when I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I shrugged, it didn’t look like there could be anything deceiving about her, she looked so – innocent. Not my usual type at all, dirty and slutty were the normal attributes I looked for in a woman, but the innocence was hot as hell.

She had long blond hair, so blonde it was almost white, so long it almost reached her bum. She was very petit, and short – much shorter than Wendy and the other girls she was with. Her flat shoes against their skyscrapping heels exaggerated it. While the rest of them had skirts short enough to reveal they were only wearing thongs, hers was almost knee-length. Her top almost came up to her neck.

Nothing about her was anything I was usually attracted to in a woman. And yet…

‘Well, whatever she’s hiding I’d like to find out. Especially if it’s hidden under her clothes.’


Three months later I knew Mac had been wrong. Faye was just as pure and innocent as she looked, and it was driving me, and my not so little man, mad.

‘Still no sex?’ Mac asked one night in the pub when the girls had gone to the loo. I looked down at my beer bottle to see the label in shreds on the table.

‘Mate, I can’t even begin to tell you…’

‘Yeah, but that goal by Revello…’ I looked up at him.

‘Revello? Who…’

‘I know, and just before half time,’ he interrupted me again. ‘I couldn’t believe it.’

‘Oh god,’ Wendy’s voice snuck up on me. I span round to see her and Faye standing there looking like they wanted to run away. ‘Faye they’re talking about football.’

Faye was wearing a tight low-cut dress that was pretty daring for her, and making me want to run away too…only with her. She grinned at me, and I noticed her lips looked brighter than usual. Of course she looked different, she was wearing make-up. Not like Wendy was – plastered all over her face like a five-year old raiding her mum’s make-up bag for the first time – but subtly. A touch of lipstick and probably some more. God knows what, but it was making her look radiant.

She swiveled my legs round and sat on my knee.

‘Well, lets stop them talking about football then shall we?’ She planted her lips ever so gently on mine, sending sparks through my whole body – especially to my pants. It took everything I had in me not to throw her on the table and get down to it there.

But, as I’d been proving to her for the three months prior, I respected her. If she wanted to wait, then wait we would.


If only we’d waited longer. Just ten minutes longer would have been better. Just in time to get in the flat and get a condom. But it was romantic – our midnight picnic in the park two weeks later. And we were drunk. She wanted to try it there and then and I was gagging so badly I couldn’t think straight.

People never get pregnant their first time do they? I mean really. Why me? Why us?

Everyone warned us we were too young – not even in our second years at university. They warned us but we wouldn’t listen. She couldn’t have had an abortion anyway, her morals were way too high for that. Could I? I don’t know. Maybe.

Now look at us. Council house. Two kids and another on the way. Me out of work, her unable to work at eight months gone. We just couldn’t afford another one. We couldn’t afford the ones we had.

I look down at my two daughters and at Faye and at the bright crimson puddles of blood around them, growing by the second across the beige carpet and realise that no, if I can do this now, five years ago, an abortion probably wouldn’t have been so hard for me…

I had no idea where this was going until it went there. I just started writing. I kind of like the idea of the ending, but I’m not all that impressed with the way it’s written. But, it is just a first draft – and it is totally different for me, I’m not too big on deaths in my stories, especially not murders. Having said that, I’m kind of tempted to add another paragraph where he kills himself too. Maybe it doesn’t need it, I don’t know.

What do YOU think? Please let me know.

Hi, You Might Remember Me

I cannot believe it’s been so long since I last blogged. I miss it. Well I miss it when I think about it, and at the moment I’m so busy, I don’t really have time to even think about it.

I can’t decide what’s more important to write about first, NaNo or my story.

I think the story is going to win!

I got what I presume was my final email from the editor of the website I’m getting a story on, before it’s publication. She’s happy with my changes, and making a couple of extra ones. Everything she suggested makes so much sense.

I also had to write an ‘Author’s Bio.’ AUTHOR. Ha! That was almost as hard as writing the story itself. The best thing ever is there’s a section of the website that says ‘Authors,’ if you click on that, you’re going to see my name. Under Author. How fab? And, next time I write one, I will have been published somewhere else. See – look at the confidence it’s given me ‘‘next time.’’

Ok. NaNoWriMo. I have been doing really well. Until today. Today I’ve had a hangover so not done anything. I guess the day’s not over yet, but it’s pretty close. It’s going to be the first time I’m behind this month. I’m kind of annoyed at myself that I let it happen, but I’m going to make up for it tomorrow. I’m planning on going to another write in, but this one is 3 hours long, so will have 2 ¼ hours writing. If I get 2.2/2.4k in a 2 hour write-in, I’ll get loads in a 3 hour one. I can’t wait.

The NaNo organisers email motivational pep talks every few days. On this week was about the second week lull. Apparenlty it’s quite normal to be really excited and motivated in the first week, then lose it a little in the second. I was really smug thinking it hadn’t happened to me, but it kind of did.

Day Target (total) Day Words Total words Variance
1 1667 1854 1854 187
2 3334 3099 4953 1619
3 5000 1643 6596 1596
4 6667 2459 9055 2388
5 8334 1035 10090 1756
6 10000 1690 11780 1780
7 11667 1970 13750 2083
8 13334 2035 15785 2451
9 15000 1201 16986 1986
10 16667 345 17331 664
11 18334 2121 19452 1118
12 20000 781 20233 233
13 21667   20233 -1434

 Tomorrow, I’ll pull it back.

The End of NovelPI and Heading into NaNoWriMo

Agh, in all the excitement/stress of NaNo starting in 2 1/2 hours I totally forgot we’re still in NovelPI month. Eek. Ok, I’ve gotta do a quick 250 words then I’ll carry on with this.

Whew, that was close. I would have been mad with myself if I failed at the last hurdle.

This time 365 days ago, I’d probably just written my last words for NovelPI and was just about to start NaNoWriMo. A year later, I’ve just finished my words for NovelPI (on the same novel too) and am about to start NaNo again. I can’t believe I’m in exactly the same place. I can’t believe even more that I used the same novel for both NovelPIs, and the thing’s still not finished. In fact I doubt I’m even half way there. That’s pretty depressing!

I’m kind of sad. I’ve been working hard on ‘Holiday’ for a month. For even longer I’ve been writing bits and pieces for it and now I’ve got to file it away and start on something new. I’m determined I’m going to finish it before October next year. Determined.

But, enough with the sadness, I’ve got a new and exciting novel to think about now. For the time being I’m calling it The Dating Project. I kind of like it. Well, I don’t hate it. It might change, but for now it’s ok. It’s YA romance. And I think I’m really looking forward to writing it. I have been really excited about it, but the nearer the time gets to midnight, the more I’m starting to worry about it. Have I done enough prep for it? Do I have enough of a story to take it over 50,000 words? Are there enough sub plots to keep it interesting, and do they fit in with the context? Can I do this?

I had a very positive reaction to my Friday Fiction story that used my characters, which is good. Also at the NaNo meet up I went to on Thursday I met a girl who got really excited about the idea – well about it being YA, but I think the idea too. All things that are helping me think I’m on the right lines here. Only time will tell.

I really want to ‘win’ NaNo again though, so I’m going to give it everything I can.

SO yeah, the NaNo meet up on Thursday was great. I was planning on only staying for an hour or so, but the first time I looked at the time, I’d been there 2 1/2. Wow! It was really weird, because it was the first time I met people – as a writer. They KNEW from the off I was there because Im a writer (and slightly barmy as I’m doing this) so straight away we talked about writing, books, ideas etc etc. It was great. I met some really cool people too. I’m now really looking forward to going to some write-ins. My first one will be on Tuesday – providing I can get there quick enough after work. hopefully will be able to.

I did the edits on my story for that website today. It’s got to be returned by tomorrow, which is quite exciting. I don’t know how long that means it will be until it ‘goes live,’ but if they want it tomorrow, it can’t be that far away… can it? I’ll tell you what, I ALWAYS want to have an editor. Pretty much everything she said made really really good sense, and has made it a much stronger story because of it. There’s just one thing I don’t agree with, but that’s only because I’m not 100% sure what she means. She thinks I should swap a couple of sentences, which on their own would be better, but the second one is in 2 parts, and the second part doesn’t fit before the first sentence. I need to go back and look at it fresh. Well, I’ve had 8 or so hours away from it, that’s going to have to be ‘fresh’ enough.

I had an idea to stay up past midnight to start on NaNo at 0.00. But I got in really late last night, and only got 6 1/2 hours sleep, so I really want to get a decent night’s sleep tonight. If I’m tired tomorrow, I’m not going to be capable of writing decent stuff, or thinking. But then… it would be pretty cool to start at midnight. Oh I don’t know.

I’m getting pressure on Twitter to start tonight. I just don’t know. Maybe I’ll have a shower after my run (just showing off there that I went for a run today), will have another look at my story, then see how close to midnight it is. Play it by ear as they say!

Good luck all you WriMos out there. Apologies to the non-WriMos out there, I guess pretty much all of my blogs over the next month (if I do any) will be NaNo related.