Sunday Photo Fiction – Frankenstein’s Monster

Every week a photo is given to us to use as a prompt so we can write a story in around 200 words. As it is Hallowe’en before the next challenge, we have been given a somewhat Hallowe’eny image to play with.

If you want to have a go, then click on the image that links to Sunday Photo Fiction, and if you want to read what others have written, then click on the link that has the blue frog. All images and links open in new windows.



Gerry came home and found his wife looking at an awful looking toy of Frankenstein’s Monster holding a pumpkin. Shaking his head, he walked to the bedroom and threw his work clothes in the corner and donned more comfortable clothes.

“What’s for dinner?” he called. After a few seconds, the reply came back “You’ll have to sort your own meal, I’m busy”

 “Lazy cow” he muttered and lay on his bed to read for a while. After finishing a few pages, he walked back into the main room to see his wife still looking at the doll. “Why are you so interested in that crap?” he asked as he brushed the cat from his favourite seat. She replied, “You’ll have to sort your own meal, I’m busy”

“I know that, you idiot,” he scolded. “But why do you like that?”

He glanced over as she spoke. Or rather, as the toy spoke in her voice. His vision blurred and he dropped to his knees as his view changed and found himself looking from the perception of the pumpkin. He watched them die of starvation and they could do nothing except reply with the same single sentence whenever spoken to.

199 words

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 – Lovers

Every week a photo is used to write a story in up to 200 words. If you want to have a go, then click on the Sunday Photo Fiction logo, and if you want to read what others have written, then click on the blog frog image.



Darren sat staring out the window, thinking about his husband. They married the day after the law changed allowing same-sex marriage, and they had been happy ever since. Or so he thought. Gerry had left him – for a woman! How could he do that? After all, they had been through, fighting against the church, against the government, against their neighbours, even their families. Gerry had been perfect for him with his caring and sensitive attitude. But now? Now he lived with a woman, but not just any woman. Darren’s sister.

As he watched a squirrel grabbing nuts from the bird feeder, he knew he had to let Gerry go. He felt Gerry and his sister should be able to be together forever, and he now accepted that. As the squirrel started to escape, a kite swooped in and grabbed it in its sharp talons. A humourless chuckle escaped him as he looked down at the revolver in his gloved hands. He then placed it into his sister’s hand as she lay on the floor in a pool of her own blood. He glanced over at Gerry’s corpse before walking out, ready to be shocked when he discovered the lovers.

Friday Fictioneers – The Wrong House (ReRun)

Every week Rochelle gives us a photo as a prompt to write a story in 100 words or less. 12th October is a Jewish holy day – Yom Kippur, so Rochelle has rerun a photo from April 2013. As soon as I saw the image I remembered it, and the outline of the story I wrote. It was the third flash fiction story I had ever written, and the third in the Raynard series, although at this time, we had no name for him. So I thought I would rerun that story.

If you want to have a go, then click on the Friday Fictioneers image, or if you want to read what others have written then click on the InLinkz frog.

I have rewritten the story to update it slightly as my writing style has changed since then.



He stood in the house he thought was hers, plotting his next move. The unusual thing about this building was the lack of electricity, but the oil lamps would help with his plan. He could feel the garlic in the spice rack through the seal, and it made his skin crawl.

The dead woman in the hallway was not his target, but he had bled her completely dry to send a message that could not be ignored. It would not be long until there would be nowhere left to hide.

Knocking the lamp over, he walked away whispering “Soon …”