Sunday short short story: Rumbled by Morgen Bailey

Posted every Sunday, the following piece of flash fiction is from Morgen’s shorter short story collection, FLASHES,  available in e-book from Morgen’s online store where you not only get the best price but can either instantly download the collection or purchase the paperback dedicated to you or as a present! We hope you enjoy this story…

Rumbled

“Frankie!”

“What?”

“There’s someone downstairs.”

“Mmm?”

“Frankie, downstairs! I heard something.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I heard a loud noise, like a window breaking.”

“OK, stay there. I’ll go and have a look.”

“Shall I call the police?”

“Wait until we know for sure.”

“But what if…”

“It’s probably nothing.”

*

“Anyone…? Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hello Frankie. Sorry, did I startle you.”

“Gran? What you are doing down here?”

“I was thirsty.”

“Then why are you…? What’s that noise? Is there someone else here?”

“Er, it’s…”

“Gran, spill.”

“OK. Ernest. You can come out now. We’ve been rumbled.”

###

Word Count Wednesday

Yes, it’s that time of the week again. How have you been getting on?

I’ve been continuing with a shorts project (monologues actually) albeit only last night so a mere 1,369 words but still more than a NaNo day so that’s okay.

Speaking of which, I’ll probably start planning for NaNoWriMo this weekend, although I’ll be adding to a couple novels I’ve already started which isn’t technically cheating (I don’t think). As long as I write 50,000 words, right?

I’m more of a pantser than a planner (what are you?) but I do think I need some kind of structure to ensure I get the words down. I’ve not been disciplined enough recently.

Do leave a comment below to share your progress, successes and otherwise, and of course anything else that’s happened to you, writing wise, over the past seven days.

For more information About Me as an Author, Mentor, Speaker and my Fiction, Non-fiction, and you can sign up to my Newsletter.

Sunday short short story: Doing A Job I Love by Morgen Bailey

Posted every Sunday, the following piece of flash fiction is from Morgen’s shorter short story collection, SHORTS,  available in e-book from Morgen’s online store where you not only get the best price but can either instantly download the collection or purchase the paperback dedicated to you or as a present! We hope you enjoy this story…

Doing A Job I Love

It had felt a little odd. Being given something like this for doing a job I love. And you couldn’t really call it that. Playing in a band a job? To receive an award for playing the drums was an added bonus. I’d been given a single drum, just a cheap thing, when I was very young, my mum says two, but I think I was younger than that because I don’t remember getting it, just it being there.

When my name was announced I hadn’t been expecting it so it took Bondie digging me in the ribs for me to realise that they’d said my name. He’s stronger than he thinks. I was rubbing my ribs for weeks after that.

I think he’d been on something; weed, blow, or some such. He was always more rock ‘n’ roll than me. It hadn’t been an issue until that night, when he’d insisted on joining me on the stage. He could play the drums and had never received an award so I thought, “What’s the harm?”

If only he’d stuck to the rules; walked up the aisle, to the podium, said ‘thank you’ to the celebrity who hands you the statue (in our case it was the teen pop sensation Jimmy Penn) but his brain just couldn’t compute that. I don’t think it computes anything these days.

He had to go up there didn’t he and dig, dig, dig. OK, so we’re not a fan of the weak pop music that climbs the charts faster than we ever did in our heyday, but he’s still sore that Jimmy beat us to the top of the album chart when we released our Greatest Hits. A term I use loosely as the record company in their limited wisdom to make it a double CD when we’d only had half a dozen ‘hits’ (top forty) so the rest were more fillers than a tub of sandwich spread. That’s one thing I hadn’t noticed; that he’d not been eating, Bondie, just drinking, picking at his food, fork never reaching his mouth, although it’s big enough.

So there I was, mouth open to say a few unrehearsed words and ended up goldfish-like while Bondie spouted.

Bondie’s real name’s James… Bond, but he hates that. His mum was a real fan and we all reckon that she married a Bond just so she could have a son with the right name. Had the boy straight away, stroke of luck really, then the two of them left when he was still young. Probably why he is the way he is. Needed a father figure to straighten him out.

Anyway. He’d said his bit and I thought we were going to leave… he’d said plenty for both of us, what was I going to do, apologise? Pretend it didn’t happen? But then Jimmy called him by his real name, don’t know how he knew, Wikipedia I suppose, and well, Bondie flipped and went for the jugular, Jimmy’s jugular. Did enough so the damage was done. Only temporary, thankfully, but he had to cancel his tour. Bondie received so many “thank you” letters after we could have wallpapered our bus… the one we toured on not long after the awards ceremony.

###

Word Count Wednesday

Yes, it’s that time of the week again. How have you been getting on?

I’ve been cracking on with this themed short story collection and have written 2,009 words this past week (last Wednesday to last night)… actually yesterday afternoon so that’s not bad at all. A little down on last week but more than a NaNoWriMo day. Let me know if you’re doing that this year. I will be with novels so these stories are my warm-up.

Do leave a comment below to share your progress, successes and otherwise, and of course anything else that’s happened to you, writing wise, over the past seven days.

For more information About Me as an Author, Mentor, Speaker and my Fiction, Non-fiction, and you can sign up to my Newsletter.

Sunday short short story: Stupid Is by Morgen Bailey

Posted every Sunday, the following piece of flash fiction is from Morgen’s shorter short story collection, FLASHES,  available in e-book from Morgen’s online store where you not only get the best price but can either instantly download the collection or purchase the paperback dedicated to you or as a present! We hope you enjoy this story…

Stupid Is

Billy trudged down the stairs.

“What’s the matter with you?” Emily asked.

“If only I could turn the clock back.”

“Why, what’s happened?”

“Sgt Chambers, that’s what’s happened.”

“Oh, Billy. You’ve not been smoking grass in your car again, have you?”

“No! Gave that up months ago, you know that.”

Emily gave him that ‘look’.

“OK, weeks.”

“So what happened?”

“Said I was speeding.”

“Oh, Billy.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Really?”

“OK. Thirty-eight in a thirty but everyone else does it… was doing it.”

“Just because everyone else-”

“I know.”

“I suppose if he was in an unmarked… Billy? Don’t you ever look in your mirror?”

“Yeah. Mirror, signal, brake.”

“So you only look when you’re turning?”

“Don’t need it just driving. It’s stupid.”

“Stupid is doing thirty-eight in a thirty with a police car following you.”

“I know that now.”

“You knew that the first two times. One more and-”

“I know. My licence.”

“And probably have to take your test again. You’ll be seventy next year.”

“OK, mum. I’ll behave.”

###

Word Count Wednesday

Yes, it’s that time of the week again. How have you been getting on?

I’ve put the Henry Short Stories on hold for a while as NaNoWriMo is looming so I’ll be concentrating on my longer projects (standalone psychological novels). Another busy week so only got to writing yesterday morning before I had to go back to work work after lunch. Knowing I only had a morning (sort of*), I returned to a short story collection and put down 2,190 words (*I did do a bit more last thing). Not as many as I’d have liked (or should have done) but enjoyable ones, which are the best kind. Plus it’s more than the equivalent of NaNo’s 1,667 in less than one day so certainly forgivable.

Do leave a comment below to share your progress, successes and otherwise, and of course anything else that’s happened to you, writing wise, over the past seven days.

For more information About Me as an Author, Mentor, Speaker and my Fiction, Non-fiction, and you can sign up to my Newsletter.

Sunday short short story: Red Velvet Caress by Morgen Bailey

Posted every Sunday, the following piece of flash fiction is from Morgen’s shorter short story collection, FLASHES,  available in e-book from Morgen’s online store where you not only get the best price but can either instantly download the collection or purchase the paperback dedicated to you or as a present! We hope you enjoy this story…

Red Velvet Caress

Tempted as he was, Franz was no thief. He knew no one would see, he was the only one there, but he’d never stolen anything and at 72, he wasn’t going to start.

The diamond glistened, taunted. It would have made a lovely necklace for Doris but she was no longer around to wear it.

He knew with the door already open there’d be no alarm. He could just hold it, he’d gloves on so there’d be no fingerprints, hold it for a minute or two, look for imperfections he knew wouldn’t exist.

He opened the door further, watched for any sign of life, electronic or otherwise, but no lights flashed, no alarm or shouting. He reached inside, leather glove touching gem, and picked it up, out of its red velvet caress and held it as if a newborn, just for a few seconds, then placed it back.

Hovering his hand to one side of the stone, he rested the tip of his index finger into the fleshy mound of his thumb and flicked the diamond off its perch as if it were a Subbuteo figure, and watched it drop on to the velvet floor of the bulletproof glass case. Again he waited for a reaction, someone to witness his mischievousness, but there never was.

He picked the locations carefully, entered at the weakest point, entering but never breaking. Meticulous research, years of experience, at least a dozen visits beforehand, mill amongst the hundreds of patrons. To the guards, the staff, he was just a little old man walking stiffly with a smart black cane. No one would notice him pressing down on the handle, taking photographs of his possible routes, items of interest.

He’d come to the Van Lief Museum for a Winkel painting, turn it round, just for fun, prove to yet another ‘great institution’ that their security was a joke, but then he’d seen the open door to the diamond and that had been an added bonus. Would it be enough? He wasn’t sure, so on his way out went to the Winkel and didn’t turn it round, but tilted it slightly so the river painted on it would ripple, the people on the boat feel the shift, and as he closed the window behind him, he smiled and went out into the night.

###

Word Count Wednesday

Yes, it’s that time of the week again. How have you been getting on?

I’ve been back with the second Henry Short Stories, albeit only yesterday evening so have a measly 1,227 words but not bad for a few hours. Almost a NaNoWriMo day’s worth. Speaking of which, that’s only just over a month away. Are you doing it this year? I probably will as I have two standalone psych thrillers to finish.

Do leave a comment below to share your progress, successes and otherwise, and of course anything else that’s happened to you, writing wise, over the past seven days.

For more information About Me as an Author, Mentor, Speaker and my Fiction, Non-fiction, and you can sign up to my Newsletter.