Friday Fictioneers -Paragliding

Every week, the lovely Rochelle gives us a photo to use as a prompt to write a story in around 100 words. If you want to have a go yourself, then click on the Friday Fictioneers image, and if you want to read what others have written, then click on the blue image with the frog on it.



Ted looked over the scenery below him. This was the reason he loved paragliding. The views were spectacular. He looked for his landing spot and saw it in the distance. The island with Lady Liberty on it. If he missed, the water would be freezing and he didn’t relish that possibility.

He adjusted his descent by pulling on the right handle. He neared the landing spot and saw several people around the circle and he studied the faces. He saw someone he recognised, lifted his feet and hit him square in the face killing him instantly. Ted smiled. Job done.

Sunday Photo Fiction – A Cold Snap

Every week we are given a photo to use as a prompt to write a story in 200 words or less with the photo as the subject matter. My story is based around the photo but doesn’t mention it.

If you would like to have a go, then click on the Sunday Photo Fiction image, and if you want to read what others have written, then click on the blue image with the frog on it.



The cold arrived so suddenly, it claimed nearly half the population of the village. The elder was one of the first to go, and I took his position as the eldest male. We requested aid, but none came. Apparently, we weren’t a priority. Other places needed it more than we did. What gave them the right to say someone else’s life was more valuable than my children’s?

I walked around the camp with my furs huddled around me. Although the cold didn’t bother me, my body still didn’t like it and shuddered involuntarily on occasion. I shuddered as I looked down on the boy huddled against his mother trying to keep warm. I knelt down to talk to them both, but when I touched her, she was rigid and cold. She had succumbed to the weather.

I told him there was a warm spot for him near the central fire, and I needed his mother to fetch more wood. It was better for him to hate me for saying she died out there than knowing he was laying on her body.

I sent a request for aid again, knowing it would make no difference. We were alone here in Kenya.


Global warming affects everyone, and if we don’t make a serious effort to deal with it, the equator could very well end up like this.

Yearly “Snow On Your Blog” Post

Every year about this time, I post telling people how to switch on or off the snow that falls on your blog. Some people love it, others hate it, and some are just “meh”.

So, here is how you switch the snow on if you want it, or off if you don’t. And if you aren’t bothered, you can click the “A Mixed Bag” image on the right to take you to a random post.

So, head over to your own page hover over the MY SITES on the top left of your title bar.


Then scroll down and click the “Show falling snow on my blog until January 4th” so you can either turn it on or off.


You can either have it on or off by ticking or unticking the tick box. Tikkidee boo.

The Duck (A Story From An Anonymous Friend)

A friend wrote this, and I said I would share it on my blog. The friend requested I not name them. It is a fun story.


My agent says it won’t fly.
Which is apt, considering the subject of my latest children’s book.
He says he can’t find a publisher.
That, in fact, it is unpublishable in its current form.
And I need to change the title.
But, I argue, the title is also the hook, the line that repeats at the end of each segment.
It is the question each animal asks, and therefore the child who is listening, or perhaps even reading, will anticipate and remember.
This is how children learn to read, and to love reading.
The story tells of a cute little duckling who gets lost.
His whole family, Daddy, Mummy, and his seven siblings, Donald, David, Drew, Dottie, Debbie, Deirdre and Mary, go out searching for him.
Each of them meets a different animal, and explains the situation.
And each encounter ends up with the same punch line.
It is a good story, I say, built in the classic style of great children’s stories.
With an adorable collection of fluffy little creatures and an exotic array of animals – a giraffe, a fox, a crocodile, a kangaroo, a monkey, a dog, a hippo, a little bird and, of course, an elephant – you have everything needed for a great book that kids will treasure.
The publishers will not publish, he says, they say parents won’t buy it. Not with that title.
So I am faced with a rewrite.
Or, I guess, I could self-publish, prove them all wrong.
I ask you, dear reader, would you refuse to buy a book on the basis of its title?
It is catchy.
And funny.
Where the f*ck’s the duck?