Saturday, May 20, 2017


Post 1534. Sunday May 21
Sunday’s Whirligig

 'Forgive me, Father' he mutters in hushed tones not certain he wishes the priest to hear his confession. 
The weary padre in his moth-eaten cassock slouches beyond the wooden lattice fidgeting with a worn wooden cross.

Two lonely creatures together. Each is the closest thing to a friend the other has.

One, a habitual thief, an insomniac who does wrong whilst sometimes wishing to be caught if only to commune with other people, albethey behind bars.

The other, a college educated defender of the faith. Once a cleanser of soiled souls, but now confused. What happened to his faith? When did it desert him? Why?

They both remember happier times.

'Ten hail Marys' mutters one as the other meanders from the confessional. Ten hail Marys.

The twelve given words at this week's Sunday’s Whirligig are - confused, insomniac, wrong, dial, remember, lonely, soul, college, cleanses, thief, defender and hear. I employed eleven.



Post 1533. Sunday May 21

The Sunday Whirl

I'm laying on soft green grass on a hillside, bathing in the warmth of a smiling shining sun. I point and trace a line in the sky above me. White on blue. Bold and billowing, then flimsy and scattered. There’s another, and another. Three white lines running this way and that. 

There are people up there. Hundreds of people. I wonder where they are going, where they've been. I wonder what they are doing. Watching movies perhaps. Some drinking, some eating, laughing; wide awake, excited by a trip of a lifetime. Some tired, weary. Deals done, business dealt with. Dozing, sleeping, dreaming of home.

‘Come fly with me’ I sing. Not very well. I write a message with my finger. ‘Hey, it’s me down here. Wave to me!’ I want my finger to leave a white trail of words, but it doesn’t. Oh well.

I'm burning. Where's my sun tan lotion?

Today's given words at The SundayWhirl are - flimsy, shine, trace, line, run, stilted, tire, three, trips, message, wonder and sing. I used all but one.


Wednesday, May 17, 2017


Post 1531. Wednesday May 17

Friday Fictioneers

“We have vanilla, chocolate, or coffee flavours today,” said the waitress to Martha.

Martha was at the café with two friends, Joan and Harriet who were both hard of hearing. She attempted to relay the various ice creams on offer whilst the waitress patiently awaited a decision.

“Oh, lovely,” said Joan "I'll have toffee today.”

“The same for me,” said Harriet,” I like toffee ice cream"

"No ladies, C for coffee, not T for toffee!" shouted Martha. “Have coffee flavour.”

"No, perhaps I won't have toffee,” said Joan, “I think I'll have raspberry for a change"

“Good choice Joan, I’ll have strawberry too,” said Harriet.

Oh dear!

Thanks to Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers for hosting, and Roger Bultot for the photo. Such diners are very rare in the UK and at first glance, I thought it was the food counter on a train! 


Tuesday, May 16, 2017


Post 1530. Tuesday May 16

My window was covered with ice this morning. I scraped some off and peered outside. Everything in my little garden was frozen stiff.  The sky was very grey. The weatherman on the radio said it was going to snow later.  Excellent!

I put on lots and lots of clothes, I polished the bottom of a tea tray, I strapped tennis rackets to my feet, I put a tea cosy on my head, I stuck my hands in some oven gloves, I got a couple of bamboo canes from the shed  and I climbed to the top of a hill.  Then I stood on my tea tray and waited for it to snow. And I waited...and waited…and waited...

...and it started to rain.

This week's photo prompt is provided by loniangraphics. Thank you. 



Wednesday, May 10, 2017


Post 1529. Wednesday May 10

Friday Fictioneers

I was fixing my new mirror to the wall. A lovely mirror. It made me look more handsome than ever.
Screw one,  two, three - then screw four jammed.  One very angry face stared back at me. Push, twist. The screwdriver slipped banging into the glass right in the middle of my nose. I leapt backwards forgetting it was just my reflection. My beautiful mirror, smashed to smithereens.

Breaking a mirror’s bad luck. That was bad luck enough, surely nothing worse could happen.

I’d buy another one.

I trudged to my car. Guess what  – a side mirror was smashed.

I slouched back indoors, climbed the stairs and crawled into bed.

Thanks Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and for your photograph. 


Sunday, May 07, 2017


Post 1528. Monday May 8 

A-Z Challenge 2017

Dear friends,

Greetings from Amble Bay. It has been very quiet here since you left.  You were a pretty noisy bunch! Life goes on pretty well as normal, but without Arthur, it’s just not the same.

I took a gamble using the village as my theme for the challenge. Having revealed it at the end of last year's Reflections, I had no choice but to go ahead despite the doubts that crept into my mind.

A to Zedders are scattered all around the world. Different cultures, different customs. Would they think Arthur was an alien? Would they think Amble Bay was on another planet?

Happily, my doubts were unfounded and in my wildest dreams, I could never have foreseen the positive reaction my tales were to receive, and for that, I thank you from the bottom of my empty beer glass (hint!)

A thought. Once again I  found the Challenge overpopulated by experts lecturing us on how to write. I think the secret of success is to be different; don’t conform, don’t follow rules. 

Another thought (the last I promise!) I preferred the old-style list rather than having to post a link each day. Right, that's off my chest!

Finally,  thanks to all of you for keeping me amused and informed through your posts during April. Let’s not be strangers! 

Must dash to the letterbox or I'll miss Pete the Postie collecting the mail.

Best wishes

Keith x

Episodes  A B C D E G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Saturday, May 06, 2017


Post 1527. Saturday May 6

April's  A-Z Challenge 2017 is now behind us and so it's back to business as usual - at least, for the next eleven months!

A short story in 160 words, 23 of which are from three of this week's prompt sites.

Twigs crackled and snapped beneath his feet, as he dashed twixt naked ash trees and rushed through the thick green grass. He clambered up a clover strewn slope, then slithered down a muddy river bank. Gasping for breath he lay motionless in the shallow water, his thin aching limbs throbbing.

Just hours before, he imagined he’d perish in that tiny cave. He’d heard stories of those that had suffered before him. There had been no happy endings. Hungry, parched; his spirit was gradually draining away. But his captors erred, so he seized the chance to break free. Tomorrow they’d  find him gone.

But for the song of a robin, silence prevailed. He gazed at milkweed flowers drifting by. Suddenly a thousand diamond coronets began dancing on the surface of the water as leaden lumps of rain pounded down from the slate grey sky.

A ring of hope radiated from within him as the past washed away. He felt born again. Soon, a different identity, another life, a new beginning.

At The Sunday Whirl the given words are - born, radiates, rings, snapped, rain, cave, limb, spirits thin, origins, stories, ash.

At Sunday’s Whirligig -  tiny, old, flare, gaze, month, clover, thick, milkweed, drifts, melt, parch, perishes.

The single word at Sunday Scribblings 2 - endings