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Daily Archives: June 3, 2012

Tuesday Tales 024: They try to with the food

A couple of weeks ago, the 24th prompt from online writing group Tuesday Tales was ‘pie’. I was on holiday so didn’t get it done in time but wanted to do it anyway.

Tuesday Tales provides a new prompt each week, the members write a story inspired by it and post it on our blogs / websites. Then we email the link and first two or three sentences to Jean Joachim. She then posts them on the Tuesday Tales blog (on a Tuesday :) ), gives us the link then we go out and shout about it. So, without further ado, here is my 670-worder, inspired by Roald Dahl’s Fat Chance (and I’ve given my characters the actors’ names). :)

They try to with the food

“Cherry Pie, John?”

“Yes, Miriam.”

“No stones?”

“No, Miriam.”

“Thank you, John.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh yes… it’s still warm. Well done you.”

“Shall I put the kettle on?”

“That would be lovely.”

“Right you are.”

Miriam knew the pie would taste even better with the tea but didn’t want it to get cold so took a bite and savoured it until she heard the kettle boil.

“Are you not having any tea, John?”

“I have to go back to work.”

“This late?”

“We’re a doctor down so I’ve been seeing more patients, more paperwork. Don’t wait up.”

***

Had Miriam looked out the window or waved her husband goodbye from the front door, she would have seen him turn left instead of right as he should have done to go to the surgery. Of course John knew she’d still be sitting on the sofa as she did every Monday and Thursday evening when he brought her cherry pie.

***

“Oh, John!”

“Oh, Sheila!”

“That was wonderful.”

“It was.”

“When are you going to leave Miriam?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

“Soon, my darling.

“You know I have a business trip next week.”

“I do and I shall miss you dreadfully.”

“You will?”

“Of course. You know I only want to be with you.”

“Then leave her.”

“I shall.”

“While I’m away. If you’ve not left her when I come back then we’re over.”

“Sheila!”

“I mean it.”

“OK.”

“OK?”

“Yes, my darling.”

“You will?”

“I will.”

“While I’m away.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, John!”

“Oh, Sheila!”

***

“Hello, McNeill.”

“Hello, Doctor Castle.”

“Do you have…?”

“I do, sir. You did want this strength, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“They’re quite lethal in the wrong hands.”

“Just as well they’re in mine.”

“Fair point. There we are then.”

“Thank you, McNeill.”

“Good day, sir.”

***

“I’m home!”

“Goodie. Do you have it?”

“I have, Miriam, still warm.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Work again, tonight?”

“Not tonight, no. I thought I might go to the club though.”

“You do work so hard.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. There’s a really good program about dung beetles just about to start.”

“That’s nice dear. I’ll make you a cup of tea first though, yes?”

“Not tonight, John, not thirsty.”

“Alright then.”

“…Not hungry either,” she said when she heard the front door slam.

***

The program it turns out was less interesting than Miriam had hoped and she’d swiftly fallen asleep only to be disturbed by a visitor who hadn’t stayed long.

***

“It’s last orders, Doctor Castle, would you like another?”

“Better not, Derek.”

“Will we be seeing you tomorrow for the bridge match?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll know better when I get home.”

“Not a problem, Doctor Castle. Have a good night, sir.”

“Thank you, Derek.”

***

John Castle quietly let himself into his house and crept into the lounge. He smiled when he saw his wife sprawled across the sofa, eyes firmly shut. He looked at the coffee table and saw no pie.

He was leaning over her when her eyes sprang open and she screamed. He backed away just as violently.

“John! What were you doing?”

“Oh God! Er… sorry Miriam. I thought I saw…”

“What?”

“I don’t know, something moving, I’m not sure.”

“Where?”

“I think it’s gone.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Was your pie, nice?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh? You’ve not eaten it yet?”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Never mind. You could have it now. I’ll put the kettle on.”

“No need.”

“For lunch tomorrow then.”

“If you buy me another.”

“Sorry?”

“I wasn’t hungry so I gave it away.”

“Gave it.. away? There was someone here?”

“Only for a few minutes. Was in a hurry. Had to catch a plane.”

“Really?”

“A business trip, she said.”

John swallowed hard. “She?”

“Oh, yes. Sheila, one of your receptionists. Said she wanted an update on something…”

“And you gave her the pie?”

“I didn’t think you’d mind. I wasn’t hungry and you know what aeroplane food is like. If they don’t kill you with the turbulence, they try to with the food.”

***

The links to the earlier prompts, and resulting stories, and the forthcoming prompts can be found on this blog’s Tuesday Tales page. Do go and check out the Tuesday Tales blog – it’s a wonderful idea supported by talented writers.

So, not only can you read these stories but you could also write your own using the prompts given each week. There’s no word count limit. Single-word prompts are something I regularly give my Monday night workshop and it’s amazing how different our stories can be.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at SmashwordsSony Reader StoreBarnes & NobleiTunes BookstoreKobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them) :)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 
6 Comments

Posted by on June 3, 2012 in ebooks, short stories

 

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Tuesday Tales 026: Hold On

The twenty-sixth prompt from online writing group Tuesday Tales (my twentieth story for them) was ‘trees’ and below is the result. You read the other writers’ stories for this prompt here.

Tuesday Tales provides a new prompt each week, the members write a story inspired by it and post it on our blogs / websites. Then we email the link and first two or three sentences to Jean Joachim. She then posts them on the Tuesday Tales blog (on a Tuesday :) ), gives us the link then we go out and shout about it. So, without further ado, here is my 725-worder. If you’ve been reading my Story a Day May stories you’ll recognise this from 12th May but the prompt was too perfect not to re-post this. :)

Hold On

No-one’s told him how he should be feeling but it’s nice… a kind of tingling.

He stares at his new neighbour. He wants to curl his mouth, if he had one, like he’s seen those pink stick things do. He thinks they’re called ‘peeple’. He’s heard one of them say “sum peeple!” but he can’t be sure. He has to call them something and they’re small, like beetles, so they’re the beetle peeple.

He doesn’t understand their language, still feels like he doesn’t belong, even after all these years.

He did once, he thought, hear familiar words, his mother tongue, but it came from a little black box. He was listening hard until one of the peeple prodded the box and it crackled, like it was in pain, then the voice was replaced by music… loud, unpleasant, not like the birds. He knows music from the birds but that doesn’t help because he can’t speak their language either.

The new neighbour’s really quiet. He’s sure he should be picking up something… maybe she’s still too young. He can’t remember how old he was when he first started sensing things… not feeling, he doesn’t feel as such, but he’s old, wise and knows how life goes – in his part of it anyway.

He’s seen thousands of peeple coming and going, using him as shade, shelter, protection… a climbing frame, until one got very high then screamed as it… ‘he’ went down very quickly. A moving white box with coloured lights came and put him, and a screaming bigger ‘she’, inside and went away making lots of noise.

He prefers it when it’s quiet, and dark, it’s cooler when it’s dark. Sometimes it gets too hot. He thinks where he’s from, originally, is colder, except he can’t really remember. He remembers a journey, going over some water but most of it was land, green like here. He thinks he was young, like his neighbour, when he arrived. It was a long time ago. When she’s old enough he’ll ask her if she remembers. There won’t be so far back for her to think.

After the white box went, some more peeple came and put a barrier around him, and big yellow squares with black squiggles he couldn’t understand but he knew what it meant; that no-one could touch him anymore, couldn’t climb, couldn’t hug.

He liked it when peeple touched him, even when they cut squiggles into him. It didn’t hurt, just tickled a little, felt nice, like they were making him their own, like he belonged.

But now he has a different kind of company, his own kind and he can’t wait for her to grow, to have someone to ‘feel’ with.

There’s that tingling again. It’s like… no, it can’t be. He tells himself not to be so silly. He knows ‘silly’ from the little peeple. They’d do funny things with their faces then tell each other not to be silly, but silly looks like a lot of fun.

It is! It… no, it can’t be… It is! A new bud!

He’d felt sick for ages, not like the little ‘he’ who’d fallen from him because ‘he’ hadn’t moved… but tired, old. It’s not like that now. It feels like when little ‘he’ started climbing, to explore, reach out… grow.

They’re taking the barrier away! He must be better. He can have peeple touch him again. He feels like being very silly today!

There’s a big ‘he’ with a large shiny stick. What’s he doing? He’s pulling a bit of… something out of it and it’s making a roaring noise, like he’d seen one of the little ‘he’s do which made a little ‘she’ scream. All the other peeple laughed but he didn’t find it funny. The little ‘she’ had looked scared. He remembered scared from when the sky grew dark, and the rain came, and there were loud noises way above them and the peeple screamed and ran to him, and he made them feel safe.

Hey! He’s cutting squiggles into him, making him his own. It’s not unpleasant but it’s not stopping, he must really like him.

He feels all wobbly, wants to put his branches out to balance himself. He felt like this when he got sick, but he doesn’t feel sick now, he feels… free. He feels… aliv…

“Timber!”

“Hold on!”

***

A couple of weeks ago the prompt was ‘pie’ and I missed it as I was on holiday. I’ve written the story and it follows later today. :)

The links to the earlier prompts, and resulting stories, and the forthcoming prompts can be found on this blog’s Tuesday Tales page. Do go and check out the Tuesday Tales blog – it’s a wonderful idea supported by talented writers.

So, not only can you read these stories but you could also write your own using the prompts given each week. There’s no word count limit. Single-word prompts are something I regularly give my Monday night workshop and it’s amazing how different our stories can be.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at SmashwordsSony Reader StoreBarnes & NobleiTunes BookstoreKobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them) :)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 
6 Comments

Posted by on June 3, 2012 in ebooks, ideas, short stories, Twitter, writing

 

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5PM Fiction 003: The big black one with the space in the back

5PM Fiction 003: The big black one with the space in the back

Welcome to the third in the new series: 5pm Fiction.

Late April 2011 I discovered http://StoryADay.org and the project that is to write 31 stories in 31 days. Anyone who knows me or follows this blog, knows how passionate I am about short stories so my clichéd eyes lit up at this new marvel. And just a few days later there I was, breathing life into new characters. This went on to become (with some editing of course) my 31-story collection eBook Story A Day May 2011.

I was nearing completion of the 2012 project when I decided that I didn’t want to stop at the end of May so 5PM Fiction was born. I put a load of prompts on the 5PM Fiction page and today’s prompt was a ‘mixed bag’ (two characters, an object, a location, a dilemma, a trait), and today’s were an undertaker, a school boy, a book, a bus, the bus has broken down and claustrophobia, so here is my 655-worder.

The big black one with the space in the back

I can’t breathe… I… can’t… breathe… Help.

I want to shout but I can’t speak. It’s too hot in here. I’m going to cook. Someone, please, look at me, see what’s happening. I try to cough out the words but all I do is cough.

Yes! He’s looking… I know him! He’s Mr Taylor from that funeral place on Rawlings Terrace. He’s measuring me up for a coffin, I can tell, it’s in his eyes.

“Hello, Billy.”

Cough. “Hello…” Breathe. “Mr Taylor.”

“You don’t look very well. Are you OK?”

I decide that nodding my head is the best thing to do.

He smiles and I think he really means it. He doesn’t seem disappointed at all that I’m alright. “What are you reading?”

I look down at my book, my dad’s dictionary, and blush. He doesn’t know I’ve got it and he doesn’t like me taking things without asking, so I turn it over so Mr Taylor can’t see the front.

“Just a school book,” I lie and he nods.

“Are you sure you’re OK?”

I nod again and add a smile this time.

“OK. Well… they’ll get the bus running in a minute. And if they don’t they’ll send another bus.”

Oh God. We’re going to have to wait? That could take hours.

Breathe. Mum tells me not to panic, that I should breathe. I’m trying, but all I do is gulp air like a goldfish and some of it goes down the wrong way so I cough again.

I want Mr Taylor to return to his seat but he doesn’t.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you, Billy?”

I shake my head. Mum says I shouldn’t talk to strangers but Dad knows him, pointed him out to me once, so he must be alright and there are lots of people around.

“It’ll be nice to have the company, if I’m honest,” he says to me. If he’s honest? Does that mean he’s not? If they do ‘get the bus running’, will he follow me if I get off alone? Will he…

“Makes me nervous,” he continues.

I don’t know what he’s got to be nervous about, unless he doesn’t travel on the bus very often. He’s not been on mine before. “Nervous? Why?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

I look at my dad’s dictionary and nod.

“I don’t like confined spaces,” he tells me.

I want to open my dictionary but don’t. “What’s confined?” I ask him.

“It’s being in a small space when you want to be in a big one.”

It’s nice to know he feels like I do so I grin like my dad does when my mum’s just kissed him. “But this is a bus, it’s big.”

“I know,” he says and laughs.

“And you’re not alone,” I add.

He nods. I feel a bit better but he doesn’t look so good now. I wait for him to carry on but he doesn’t. “Why did you get on the bus if you don’t like being here?” I know it’s a silly question because I did the same thing but I have to because Mum and Dad are working.

“My car’s being serviced.”

“The big black one with the space in the back for…”

He laughs again. “Yes, Billy, the hearse. I’m on my way to collect it now.”

I’m too young for a car but I know Mum and Dad love driving theirs. It must be horrible for him not to have one, especially one that’s so special.

The bus wobbles and someone behind me cheers. Mr Taylor looks happy too and makes me feel good.

“The garage is on the way to your house, Billy, I could give you a lift, save you being on this thing the whole journey.”

I’ve always wanted to travel in a hearse. Hearse. Confined. I’ve learned two new words today. I don’t think my dad will mind at all.

You can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don’t miss anything… and follow me on Twitter where each new posting is automatically announced. You can also read / download my eBooks and free eShorts at SmashwordsSony Reader StoreBarnes & NobleiTunes BookstoreKobo and Amazon, with more to follow. I have a new forum, friend me on Facebook, like me on Facebook, connect with me on LinkedIn, find me on Tumblr, complete my website’s Contact me page or plain and simple, email me.  I also now have a new blog creation service especially for, but not limited to, writers.

Unfortunately, as I post an interview a day (amongst other things) I can’t review books but I have a feature called ‘Short Story Saturdays’ where I review stories of up to 2,500 words. Alternatively if you have a short story or self-contained novel extract / short chapter (ideally up to 1000 words) that you’d like critiqued and don’t mind me reading it / talking about and critiquing it (I send you the transcription afterwards so you can use the comments or ignore them) :)  on my ‘Bailey’s Writing Tips’ podcast, then do email me. They are weekly episodes, usually released Monday mornings UK time, interweaving the recordings between the red pen sessions with the hints & tips episodes. I am now also looking for flash fiction (<1000 words) for Flash Fiction Fridays and poetry for Post-weekend Poetry.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on June 3, 2012 in ebooks, ideas, short stories, writing

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

 
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