Sunday Photo Fiction – Father’s Day

Sunday Photo Fiction is run by the awesome Susan Spalding. The idea is to write a story in 200 words or less based on the photo provided.

This week’s photo is supplied by Susan herself. If you want to have a go, click on the link above, and there are other stories if you click: this link


© Susan Spalding

Sitting cross-legged, Gerald tried to stop the tears from falling. Father’s Day was always a wondrous day, but courtesy of the witch in the wilds in the woods; this year would be so different. The spell she cast meant he couldn’t spend the time with his son.

All he had done was try to find something to eat for himself and his son, and she cast a spell, changing his relationship with his son forever. It was a stupid mistake that should never have happened.

The bird looked at him and squawked. He couldn’t understand what it was saying, not since he became human and his son was still a bird.

Friday Fictioneers – Hiking

Every week, the gifted Rochelle shares with us a photo that has been donated so we can write a story or poem in 100 words or less. If you want to have a go, then click on the Friday Fictioneers image, and if you want to read what others have written, then click on the little blue frog image.


Click image to go to
Friday Fictioneers


© Jan Wayne Fields

Barry knew today was going to be tough. He never liked walking too far, and the activity today was to walk fifteen miles. He didn’t like walking fifteen feet except when he woke up in the morning and went to his game console. He would much prefer playing Call of Battlefield than walking outdoors.

His dour attitude started to grate on the other hikers who turned up to enjoy the walk. They didn’t want him bringing their happiness down, so they faced off with him. The confrontation was intense but in the end, he agreed to try and enjoy it.

Friday Fictioneers – Memories

At little (okay, a lot) late this week.  This was difficult to write, I kept changing the words, although I am still not overly happy with it, but I have taken 22 words out to bring it down to 100.

If you want to have a go at writing a story for Friday Fictioneers, then click on the related image, but if you want to read hat others have written, then click on the link with the frog on it.


Click image to head to Friday Fictioneers

He painted that stone at the beach when he was with his children. The thought gave him a smile. He looked at the seaweed and remembered jumping in the water, chasing the woman he loved, and she splashed water at him until they both fell over laughing. The stone his daughter gave him when she was eleven. The badge, his son received from the dentist. He smiled at the times he was out with them.

It was a cold smile as he looked at the stairs, and then at his useless legs knowing he could not get out any more.

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Bridge Not Quite Far Enough

Every week, a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction using around 200 words. If you would like to have a go, then head over to the Sunday Photo Fiction page and take a look. Or if you want to see what others have written, then head over to this Linkz page and take a look at the pages there.

The challenge goes from 4 a.m. UK time on a Sunday morning to the following Sunday morning at 4 a.m..

89 11 November 30th 2014

Jericho sat looking at the bridge. He picked up a stone and threw it, watching it bounce across the pathway and stop. He picked another and threw it further watching that go all the way to the end. He watched a pigeon walk around start to cross the bridge. He watched it stop half way, turn sharply and fly away in a seeming panic.

The nine year old stood and walked over and threw another stone across the bridge, and another, and another. He knew something seemed odd about the bridge as animals all turned and ran from it, and when he glanced up as people crossed the bridge, the seemed to just vanish.

He tentatively reached his hand out, expecting to be pulled through. Just he was about to take a step forward, voices appeared behind him.

“Hey, Jericho! You crossing over now?”
“Jericho, you pussy! Can’t even cross a bridge.”
“Ya go home you smelly scab”

Jericho dropped his hand to his side and looked down at the floor. This was the fifth time in six days the three of them found him and treated him in this way.

The boys ran onto the bridge, and one of them pulled him back, throwing him to the floor. As they looked down on him, they saw his eyes widen. The boys looked around and…

I seem to have gone over my word count