It’s the thought…#FlashFiction

Image courtesy of Sandra Crook

 

‘What is it?’ Disappointment drips through every word and my heart cracks a little more. I’ve got it wrong. Again.

She reaches for her phone to plaster my failure over Facebook no doubt.

‘It’s a symbol of love.’ I take her hand in mine. ‘The circle represents something that has no end. The gold emblem because you’re precious and the point is…’ My eyes sweep the room, settling on the book of Everest in the bookcase. ‘A promise there’s no mountain we can’t overcome,’ I kiss her palm. ‘Together.’

‘Oh I LOVE it.’ Her fingertips slip into the waistband of my jeans while I desperately hope she never finds the packaging for the revolutionary new cleaning appliance designed to make her life easier.

It’s the thought that counts.

 

For those of you who missed it on my blog last week I was chatting to Harper Collins author Darren O’Sullivan about positivity, gratitude and whether you really can visualise your way onto the bestsellers list. I believe so. You can catch up with that here

I make no apologies for going a tad over the word count this week because it’s Christmas! ‘It’s the thought’ was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word story challenge inspired by a photo prompt hosted by the fabulous Rochelle. Wishing everyone a very happy festive season and huge thanks to Rochelle for all her hard work this year keeping us going!

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Tis the season to be… #Flashfiction

Image © Marie Gail Stratford

 

Ten. Nine.

I love Jen.

Eight. Seven.

We’ve been friends forever. First day at preschool. First love. First kiss. First loss.

Six. Five.

Now we’ve children of our own.

Four. Three.

But today there’s tension between us as we shuffle impatiently in the queue. She smiles, her teeth pointed and white. Nudges me with her sharp elbow.

‘Look.’ She nods behind me.

Stupidly I turn.

Two. One.

Too late, I miss the doors flinging open. Jen racing inside. Triumphant, she raises this Christmas’s must have toy over her head. I’m only seconds behind but the shelf is already empty.

I hate Jen.

 

I’ve really missed participating in Friday Fictioneers these past few weeks – it’s the first time in years I haven’t taken part but I’m (trying) to focus on nailing the first draft of my fourth psychological thriller which is due out next summer. I couldn’t resist joining in today though. I popped out on Monday for a pint of milk and came back with a Santa dog toy, a tub of Quality Street & a bottle of Bailey’s. The Christmas madness has started!

‘Tis the season’ was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word story challenge inspired by a photo prompt, hosted by Rochelle. Hop over to her blog to read the other entries or join in yourself.

 

Soaring High #FlashFiction

Image courtesy of Douglas M. MacIlroy

 

I’m free and yet I’m not. Not in a cage but still trapped by bars of my own making, but they bring me comfort, these bars. They keep me safe. They stop me flying because if I were to flutter my wings where would I go? Who would I be? What’s to stop me falling? The world is so huge and I feel so small. So insignificant.

I screw my eyes up tight, blocking the voices telling me I can, my own telling me I can’t. I try. There’s a shift. A movement and then it happens. I’m rising, soaring, flying. Free.

 

How joyous I was when I saw this perfect prompt. This weekend I conquered a lifelong phobia of public speaking and appeared at the Althorp Literary Festival. You can read how I got on here and see the photos.

 Yesterday I had a great time on the radio chatting about Friday Fictioneers, the way it’s helped me tighten my writing and my love for the WordPress writing community. You can listen to that here.

 Soaring High was written for Friday Fictoneers. A weekly 100 word story challenge inspired by a photo prompt. Read the other entries and join in over at host Rochelle’s blog here.

 

 

 

Daylight Fading – #FlashFiction

Image courtesy of J Hardy Carroll

Shadows loom from all corners of my room as daylight fades like hope. Insects scratch-scratch-scratch, scuttling under my creaky metal bed frame. I’m trapped in a spider web of shattered memories.

Fluttering. A moth. Gossamer wings translucent in the moonlight. Fragile. We’re all so fragile. Easily broken. I should know.

Footsteps thud outside my door.

‘This place is so cool.’ The excitement in the boy’s voice is palpable. ‘Are you sure it’s deserted?’

‘No-one’s lived here for years.’

‘I’m here,’ I scream. But they don’t hear me. No-one ever does.

Oh that scratching. The endless scratching.

Help me. Please.

 

I had SUCH a great publication day yesterday for my third novel, The Surrogate which you can find over on Amazon here. Yesterday evening I took part in a live Facebook chat with Kim Nash, the publicist of Bookouture, which you can now view here if you missed it. We chatted about the writing process, how I approach novel writing, editing and getting published. Of course I gave Friday Fictioneers a plug as it’s often the highlight of my week. 

‘Daylight Fading’ was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word flash fiction challenge inspired by a photo prompt. Do join in over at Rochelle’s blog here

It’s too late… #FlashFiction

Photo courtesy of Kelvin M. Knight

‘Bread and water,’ mum had said clipping him around the ear. ‘That’s what you’ll get if you’re caught nicking again and no soft, warm bed.’ She made him return the sweets he’d stuffed into his pockets to the corner shop where he’d muttered apologies he didn’t mean. Later, as he’d picked at too-thick stew and sticky dumplings he wished he’d still got that Mars Bar. He hated mum’s cooking.

***

Mum was wrong. His bed is soft and it’s always warm here. The food is good, no bread and water, but still, right now he’d give anything for home-made stew and dumplings.

 

I’m delighted that in less than 2 weeks since publication The Sister has entered the Top 20 Paperback chart in the UK. Tesco are currently featuring The Sister as part of a ‘Try a new author’ for £2 deal’ so grab yourself a bargain (other supermarkets have their own offers running too). In the run up to publication day my self-doubt set in big time. You can read that post here and my Waterstones launch party was a mixture of emotions, you can read my post on that here

It’s too late was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word story photo prompt. Hop over to host Rochelle’s blog to find out how to join in.

Flash Fiction – Wonky Boots & Crumpled Sheets

Image courtesy of Kent Bonham

 

‘Because I straighten your boots when you sling them on the mat?’ She was crying.

‘It’s not just that. You’re endlessly plumping cushions. Making the bed as soon as I get up to make tea. You live your life by hospital corners and I can’t live like that.’

I didn’t look back once as I left.

Now, I throw open the door of my cold bedsit which doesn’t feel like home and kick off my boots. I hesitate. Bend down and place them neatly together. I sink down on the sofa. I don’t have any cushions. But I don’t have her.

 

Hurrah – this week I finished my structural edits. I was stunned & delighted The Surrogate reached the top 40 in the UK Amazon chart on preorders  3 months prior to publication. Thank you! You can read my ’15 stages you go through with a structural edit’ post here. I’ve also had an emotional week with a big change you can read about here

‘Wonky Boots & Crumpled Sheets’ was written for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word weekly story challenge inspired by a photo prompt. Join in over at host Rochelle’s blog here. (For all my US friends who might not understand the connection the first thing I noticed was the car boot which I think you call a trunk over there?)

Flash Fiction – Broken

Image © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

I’m broken. Exhausted. Afraid. The stench of my fear is cloying, catching in my throat. The ties binding my wrists slicing deep into my flesh.

Pain. So much pain.

The shutter rattles. He’s back. I curl into a ball as though I can fold myself away.

‘It’s time.’ He drags me outside. The brightness of the sun burns my eyes.

‘Please, Sir.’ A little girl holds out a coin to the man. ‘Can I have a photo with your monkey?’

I plead with her with my eyes – save me. She doesn’t listen. No-one ever does.

She strokes my matted fur so gently I want to weep.

 

Huge apologies for not getting around to everyone’s story last week – I usually do try. Finishing the draft of book 3 took longer than expected (doesn’t it always!) but it’s off with my agent now so I get a few days rest – hurrah!

‘Broken’ was written for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word story inspired by a photo prompt. You can join in over at host, Rochelle’s blog, here.