The one left behind – Friday Fictioneers

Due to unforseen events I was unable to join in last weeks Friday Fictioneers and I’ve been itching to get back to it since. So here’s my contribution to this weeks photo prompt. I hope you like it 🙂

If you’d like to have a go, visit Rochelle’s page to see the prompt and write whatever comes to mind in no more than 100 words. Good Luck!

Ice crusted over the lense. Scrib chiselled at it, then wiped it away.

Silvery light hit the ground, shimmering like water. He warmed his hands and made his way to the next one.

After the great flood, everyone had left.

Everyone but Scrib.

He stayed to man the laboratories – monitering the rate of melt. This was his home and he wasn’t about to abandon her now.

He trudged to the next lab. The crunch of his snow shoes echoed in this white wilderness.

They said they’d return when the ice melted.

They said.

93 words

DESERTER – Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt

It’s Fiction day and another great choice from Rochelle. If you fancy taking part, take a look at the prompt on Rochelles page and write anything that comes to mind in 100 words or less.

Here’s mine. Hope you like it!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

‘You’re sure no-one will look here?’ Felicity’s forehead wrinkled and Shona reached out and squeezed her hand.

‘No-one uses this part of the railroad anymore…promise.’

They heaved the sack onto the dusty carriage floor and pushed it into the corner. Shona wiped her hands down her corduroys.

‘What do I say when Mother asks where he’s gone?’ Felicity touched the freshly bruised skin and winced.

Shona planted a gentle kiss on the wound and smiled – moonlight glittering in her dark eyes.

‘Tell her he ran off with a girl from the carnival. She’s always hated the carnival.’

98 words

Safe House – Friday Fictioneers

It’s that time again, so here’s my contribution for this weeks prompt. If you fancy having a go at Friday Fictioneers pop over to Rochelle’s page and take a look. Good Luck 🙂

This weeks photo is courtesy of Lauren Moscato

Martina sat on an upturned bucket. Broken glass shone like tiny pools of water spilt across the floor.

Her kingfisher ornament lay on its side with its head missing. The last reminder of her Grandmother seven years gone.

Her eyes welled with fresh tears and she wiped at them with a rough woollen sleeve.

Paul walked in, flushed from the cold night air. He lay the mallet against the wall and took a seat next to her. Kissing her trembling hands, he gave them a reassuring squeeze.

‘Don’t worry. No one’s getting in here again. I promise’

97 words

And the Music Played – Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers is a challenge to write a 100 word story from a picture prompt hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

 

I climbed the steps of the old bandstand. Years of exposure had turned the brilliant white wood to grey.

‘Some say you can still hear the band play when one of their descendants is about to die,’ I said. ‘But its all rubbish.’

Mal laughed, leaning over the edge of the pier. ‘The music is just there to scare the tourists,’ he said.

I stared at him as a large ocean swell rose up behind him.

‘What music?’

 

Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt!

photoprompt

I studied my reflection in the murky water of the fountain. An unlined face gazed back at me like a stranger.

The breeze caressed my skin and I smiled. It’d been so long. Damp earth and decay seeped into my skin as I stretched out like a cat in the afternoon sun.

Her silent body lay next to me. Skin now ravaged by age she’d never experienced, scars she’d never earned. Silly girl. She’d had no idea about the book she was reading, or its power.

But now the world would know. They would pay for their disobedience.

98 Words

Friday Fictioneers is a challenge to write a 100 word story from a picture prompt hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

I know places!

Today is Prompt Day for “Blogging 101”.

We needed to create a post from a prompt on the Daily Post. Mine was; PLACES – Beach, Mountains, forest or somwhere else.

This got me thinking about my ideal place to write.

“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.”

– Virginia Woolf.

There are many posts about where we writer’s choose to write. But, if you are anything like me, you’re hearing the call to your native land but are financially incapable of owning more than a pencil.

Therefore I have to pretend. Luckily, as a writer and Procrastinator extraordinaire, I am extremely good at this. So here is my IDEAL place to write.

Please feel free to come in…

My vanilla-coloured house nestles between pink and warm malted terraces like a neopolitan. Its bay window opens out onto the quayside. Ropes bounce against the masts of yachts called things like ‘Dreamcatcher’ and ‘The Marianne’. They make a delightful ‘chinking’ melody.

Seagulls zoom through the air. Their signature squawk, like a childs play horn, carries on the air as they look for unsuspecting tourists carelessly eating sandwiches. The scent of seafood drifts through the open window from the fresh fish stand across the harbour. Cockles, salty, with their yellow frill and muscles that seem to still hold an entire beach full of sand when you put them in your mouth. 

The swish of gentle waves lapping at the keels create a kind of lullaby and I close the window – because I’ve got work to do.

I lived in Weymouth when I was a child and my memories of hot summers on the beach, sand sculptures before they were trendy and walks to the ice cream shop at the end of the pier (sadly gone now) still live with me .

I hope to get back there one day (maybe I’ll win the lottery!). But in the meantime when I want to disappear, I put on my music, close my eyes and I’m there.

Where is your IDEAL place?

Dynamic Dialogue!

It’s day nine of ‘blogging 101’ and we needed to build on one of the comments we’d made from the previous day.

I chose an article on Roz Morris’ blog ‘Nail Your Novel.’

She discussed clumsy dialogue and how to improve your scenes by leaving out more than you put in. I am in the editing stages of a novel that I intend to put on Wattpad. So I thought I would give her idea a go. Here are the results;

First stage: Re-write dialogue in a clumsy way, telling everything in the scene.

‘Do you need any help?’ The boy grinned at her.

Jessie scowled. ‘I had it under control.’

‘Yeah the way you stopped his teeth with your arm was genius. You would’ve been dead if it weren’t for me.’ He yanked her to her feet. The wolf fell aside and Jessie brushed herself off.

‘If you hadn’t been wandering about in the first place, it would never have happened.’ She scowled at him.

‘A simple thank you would do,’ he said. ‘My name’s Alec.’ He held his hand out to shake hers. Jessie ignored him.

‘Hey, I just saved your life,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ she replied, pulling out her axe and bringing it down on the animal’s neck. ‘But for the record, you didn’t save my life.’

‘I feel sick,’ he said.

‘Well stand somewhere else,’ she snapped, shoving the now severed head into her red bag.

Alec stared at her. ‘Who are you?’

Now I was instructed to highlight all the dialogue in colour. The I was to rewrite, ommitting the clumsy, obvious speech and including action and body language.

Here’s the final version:

                      ‘Lucky I came along.’ The boy grinned, exposing a crooked front tooth.

Jessie scowled. ‘I had it under control.’

‘Yeah, the way you stopped his teeth with your arm was genius.’ He held out his hand. ‘My name’s Alec.’

‘How nice for you,’ said Jessie, jumping to her feet. She grabbed her axe and brought it down on the animal’s neck with a sickening crack!

The boy turned away. ‘I saved your life,’ he said. ‘The least you could do is say thank you.’ His voice croaked and Jessie thought she detected a slight tremble.

She sneered. ‘You didn’t save my life.’

Blood dripped onto the ground as she stuffed the severed head into her bag. The boy swayed a little.

Yanking the drawstring tight, she swung it over her shoulder. The wolf’s body lay next to Alec’s feet. She pulled out a silver bottle and poured oil over the corpse, splashing the boy’s shoes.

‘I’d move away if I were you,’ she said, lighting a match.

Alec’s eyes widened. ‘You’re not from animal control are you?’

‘No,’ she said, fixing her brilliant green eyes on his. ‘I’m not.’

Now the scene is shorter, but gives more information even though I’ve actually taken dialogue out. I’ve avoided questions, given actions instead of answers and vreated an overall cleaner scene…I hope.

I welcome any feedback and would love to know if anyone else has tried this and got better results.

In the meantime, thank you for reading, and happy writing 🙂

I’m a failure!

It’s something we don’t talk about enough, but without it we’d never experience our biggest successes.

Failure is what drives us to do more, be more and push ourselves beyond the limits we thought were possible.

“When people succeed they tend to party, when they fail, they tend to ponder”

                                                                                         – Tony Robbins

Each time I send out a piece of work thats rejected, I’ve found one more way not to do it. And as a result I keep honing, polishing and adapting. And I will continue to do so til I get a yes, partly because I’m stubborn and partly because I believe if I bug them enough they WILL give in eventually 😉

Failure is something we don’t focus on enough in life and yet it’s what gives us our greatest strength. If you’ve ever shown your work to your third year english teacher you’ll know that nothing can ever make you feel that insignificant again.

So when you fail, hold your head high, celebrate with your hands up and shout it from the rooftops, because you’ve just taken one step closer to your success.

And if you don’t believe me, take it from a lady who knows!