Sarah Ann Hall

Reporting on writing in progress or, more probably, not.

Posts Tagged ‘love

#FridayFictioneers – 23/2/18 – Love is…

with 16 comments

Every Wednesday Rochelle Wisoff-Fields publishes a photo prompt to inspire writers to write 100-words of flash fiction or poetry.

At any point during the following week, the Friday Fictioneers post their 100-word tales. Read the other stories by clicking below.

I’ve gone for a bit of schmaltz this week, at least I hope I have. And as I can’t do too sweet, a second version is less saccharine. Only the last two lines of the below differ, but I hope they change the mood and feel enough.

Thank you to Rochelle for hosting and Marie Gail for this week’s prompt.

© Marie Gail Stratford

 

Love is…

(Genre: schmaltz; 100-words)

A glass-fronted mahogany display cabinet hangs on the wall. Inside, a silver vase holds grey, withered blooms.

‘Granny,’ says Simon, ‘why do you keep those dead flowers on the wall?’

Sylvia smiles wistfully. ‘That vase holds my life,’ she says. ‘There’s a marigold from the first posy your grandfather gave me; a rose from our wedding bouquet; a carnation from the flowers my sister sent when your mother was born; a lily from my mother’s funeral wreath.’

‘It’s not your whole life though, granny. I haven’t given you birthday flowers yet.’

Simon grins; Sylvia twinkles, and hugs her grandson tight.

 

Love is… (2)

(Genre: schmaltz with sting; 100-words)

A glass-fronted mahogany display cabinet hangs on the wall. Inside, a silver vase holds grey, withered blooms.

‘Granny,’ says Simon, ‘why do you keep those dead flowers on the wall?’

Sylvia smiles wistfully. ‘That vase holds my life,’ she says. ‘There’s a marigold from the first posy your grandfather gave me; a rose from our wedding bouquet; a carnation from the flowers my sister sent when your mother was born; a lily from my mother’s funeral wreath.’

‘It’s not your whole life though, granny. We haven’t had your funeral flowers yet.’

Simon grins; Sylvia frowns, and hugs her grandson tight.

 

 

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OLWG #35&36 – Picture the Scene

with 4 comments

I’m getting very behind with the Online Writer’s Guild prompts. I’m not sure what has gone wrong with my usual disorganisation.

I started the scene below when the prompts for #35 first appeared, and then incorporated some of those of #36. I’m still catching up on the most recent posts…..

Thank you to TNKerr for keeping me on my toes.

 

*****

 

Enter Stage Left: A woman walks in on her partner who is sitting at the kitchen table counting…..

 

‘One Milwaukee. Two Milwaukee. Three Milwaukee. Four -’

‘You timing something?’

‘Not anymore.’

‘Oh. Sorry.’

‘Never mind.’

‘But you obviously do.’

‘And you obviously wanted to say something.’

‘Did I?’

‘I imagine so or you wouldn’t have interrupted.’

‘No. Yes. Maybe.’

‘So what was it then?’

‘Oh it’s not important.’

‘It was important enough a minute ago that you needed to stop me counting.’

‘I said sorry.’

‘I know but you haven’t told me what you wanted.’

‘No, well you’re all het up now.’

‘I am not het up. But I will be if you don’t tell me what you wanted to say.’

‘I don’t feel comfortable saying.’

‘And I doubt you will be in a minute either when I leave the room.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘Because I don’t want to shout at you, but if you don’t get on and tell me soon what it is you wanted to say, then I just might.’

‘You have no patience.’

‘I have the patience of Job. Now talk.’

‘What were you timing?’

‘What did you want to tell me?’

‘We’re going round in circles.’

‘Indeed you are. Me, I’m leaving.’

‘But – ‘

‘All you have to do is tell me what you wanted to say.’

‘I asked first.’

‘No you interrupted first.’

‘Sorry.’

‘You’ve said that already. What you haven’t said is what you interrupted me to say.’

‘No.’

‘And you’re not going to now are you?’

‘No.’

‘See you later then.’

 

Partner Exits Stage Right

 

*****

 

The prompts are all below. I’ve highlighted the ones I think I covered.

 

  1. The epic properties of ordinary
  2. Can you hand me that please
  3. Fraught
  4. Milwaukee
  5. right at them
  6. the high cost of loving

 

*****

Don’t think! Write!
You have 25 minutes but if it takes longer – just don’t tell anyone.

 

Written by Sarah Ann

February 20, 2018 at 7:47 pm

#FridayFictioneers – 19/1/18 – Indubitable

with 47 comments

Every Wednesday Rochelle Wisoff-Fields publishes a photo prompt to inspire writers to write 100-words of flash fiction or poetry.

At any point during the following week, the Friday Fictioneers post their 100-word tales. Read the other stories by clicking below.

I’m not at all sure about the below story. The idea is sound; I feel I failed in the execution as I’ve not had the time to edit I’d’ve liked. Critique away.

© J Hardy Carroll

 

Indubitable

(Genre: general fiction; 100-words)

Adele was born ten minutes before Sue.

They shared school, friends, clothes, growing pains, boyfriends.

Love and marriage divided them when job and husband took them to different ends of the country. Post and phone united them as they relayed new experiences in food and music. Some believed they communicated telepathically, which explained how Sue knew Adele was pregnant before she did.

Throughout life they found it almost impossible to argue, always knowing what the other thought and why.

Now, as Adele holds Sue’s hand, watching her fluttering eyelids, she wonders how she’ll survive when Sue’s chest ceases to rise.

 

Written by Sarah Ann

January 19, 2018 at 8:39 pm

OLWG #29-32 – Mabel and Marvin Take Tea

with 6 comments

2018 has not started well in terms of keeping on top of things…. Here I am responding to four weeks of New Unofficial On-Line Writer’s Guild prompts. All 12 are listed at the bottom. There’s one I couldn’t incorporate into my scene below. Any suggestions on how to include it are very welcome.

Thank you to Thom Kerr for providing this challenge each week.

 

Marvin and Mabel Take Tea

Mabel and Marvin sit in a plush red leather banquette. A pot of tea and milk jug sits between them; they each have cups, and a plate of gooey Death by Chocolate cake oozes in front of Marvin.

Mabel: Is it good?

Marvin: It tastes just as deadly as it looks. Do you want some?

Mabel: Over-rated rubbish. You’ll need CPA after eating that.

Marvin: You mean CPR. And I won’t. Why don’t you try some? There’s enough to share.

Mabel: No, I want you to tell me all about Melissa.

Marvin: Mother she’s wonderful. My ideal woman. Petite, red-headed. She sings like an angel.

Mabel: You met her at choir?

Marvin: That’s right. She joined last term. I loved her from the moment I saw her. I thought she’d be out of my league, she is so pretty. And she’s as tuneful as a songbird. Listening to her practise is like hearing the birds at dawn.

Mabel: Tell me more about her, less about the singing.

Marvin: She’s got blue eyes and freckles. She’s always smiling. She works as a teacher; has one brother who lives up north. Her parents are local. She loves running, reading, tanning and singing.

Mabel: And how old is she?

Marvin: Thirty-five.

Mabel: Really? That old? I’d’ve expected you to go for someone younger. Or at least someone with the prospect of giving me grandchildren.

Marvin: There’s plenty of time for that.

Mabel: I’m beginning to think you don’t want them. Children I mean.

Marvin: We don’t have to. There are no rules.

Mabel: Yes there are. We are born, we get together with someone to have kids, and then we die.

Marvin: Mother, this may sound hard to believe but it doesn’t have to be like that.

Mabel: Your father was just the same. The way he hitched up his trousers I thought I’d never conceive. His little swimmers were always overheating and dying in all that constriction.

Marvin: [Stares speechless.]

Mabel: Don’t look at me like that.

Marvin: Like what?

Mabel: Like I drive you nuts and you hate me. My heart is pierced like daggers.

Marvin: Mother your heart is so hard it would take a diamond tipped ice pick to penetrate it.

Mabel: I wonder sometimes if they swapped you in the hospital. I don’t believe you can be my son. And soon I’ll be old and then I’ll die and I won’t have rocked your baby in my arms.

Marvin: Can we change the subject?

Mabel: Sure.

Marvin: How’s Auntie June?

Mabel: Oh she’s good. Since she went on the HRT she’s been much better. She looks like an impeccably dressed transvestite these days.

Marvin: Mother!

Mabel: What? I’m only telling the truth. Auntie June has always looked like a man. Now she looks like one who used to be a woman, which you have to admit is better considering she is a woman.

Marvin: Okay, maybe you’re right.

Mabel: Next question.

Marvin: I don’t have any.

Mabel: Neither have I.

Marvin: Shall we go then?

Mabel: I haven’t finished my drink.

Marvin: Oh, I have tea too.

Mabel: And cake to finish.

Marvin: Please have some mother.

Mabel: Strange but true, but when I say I do or don’t want something I tend to mean it.

Marvin: Fine, have it your way. But I might be a while. It is very rich.

Mabel: I can wait for the moment. And if you take too long, you’ll be paying the bill.

 

 

  1. Neither have I.
  2. An impeccably dressed transvestite.
  3. The birds at dawn.
  4. Really? That old?
  5. Was she really invisible?
  6. Just as deadly as it looks.
  7. pierced like daggers
  8. CPA
  9. Strange but true
  10. hitched up his trousers
  11. there are no rules
  12. oh, I have tea too

 

Go ahead and dive in,
Write something
Ready, Set, Go – you have 25 minutes, but if that is not possible, take as long as you need.

Have fun

Written by Sarah Ann

January 12, 2018 at 3:30 pm

#FridayFictioneers – 15/12/17 – Clearing Sand

with 26 comments

Every Wednesday Rochelle Wisoff-Fields publishes a photo prompt to inspire writers to write 100-words of flash fiction or poetry.

At any point during the following week, the Friday Fictioneers post their 100-word tales. Read the other stories by clicking below.

I haven’t had my head buried in sand the past two weeks, but I might as well have done for the use it’s been. Time has run away from me and I’ve not been writing as I should. Hopefully, things are calmer and I’ll resume normal service, but then again what’s normal? Where do you go with Sandra’s photo this week? I know how I got here, but it is a little tangential, after all it’s what you see… and this is a vignette not a story, but it is something.

Thank you Rochelle for hosting.

 

Clearing Sand

(Genre: general fiction; 100-words)

‘Head the size of a planet.’

‘And the ego to match.’

‘Yeah, but we love him.’

‘Do we?’

‘Sometimes.’ Esther thought of her father and how she truly felt. ‘He’s an arrogant bastard who drives me nuts.’

‘Your counselling’s working.’

‘It is Mum,’ Esther smiled. ‘How about yours?’

‘It’s going well. I recognise your father as a miserable old man; one that I still love.’

‘Enough to stay with him?’

‘No. I filed for divorce yesterday.’

Esther gasped.

‘Sorry if that shocks you,’ her mother shrugged.

‘It surprises me, but I’m happy. It’s about time you lived your own life.’

 

Written by Sarah Ann

December 15, 2017 at 1:51 pm

#FridayFictioneers – 3/11/17 – The Collector

with 34 comments

Every Wednesday Rochelle Wisoff-Fields publishes a photo prompt to inspire writers to write 100-words of flash fiction or poetry.

At any point during the following week, the Friday Fictioneers post their 100-word tales. Read the other stories by clicking below.

You might have thought it would be easier to write something to one of your own photos. Not for me. I look at the photo and remember the place and the day, where we were moored, the friend we were with, the necklace she spent a fortune on in the vintage shop just across the road, the beer we drank in the evening, None of that helped with forming a story; the one I’ve come up with is definitely lacking oomph.

Thank you to Rochelle for hosting and using one of my photos this week.

 

© me

The Collector

(Genre: general fiction; 100-words)

Uncle John always said I’d have his collection when he died.

When I visited as a child with my mother, she scoffed at the idea. ‘She’ll never have a house big enough.’

John waved away her protestations, and showed me his latest acquisition. Mother fretted about me breaking something. ‘She’s very careful,’ he’d say. ‘She’s a delicate touch.’

True to his word he left me the lot, house included, and a note. ‘Do with it as you wish. If you want to sell, sell.’ And with that freedom I have kept his home intact, in time to pass to another.

 

 

Written by Sarah Ann

November 3, 2017 at 3:30 pm

#FridayFictioneers 27/10/17 – Fireworks on the Beach

with 35 comments

Every Wednesday Rochelle Wisoff-Fields publishes a photo prompt to inspire writers to write 100-words of flash fiction or poetry.

At any point during the following week, the Friday Fictioneers post their 100-word tales. Read the other stories by clicking below.

I’m not sure this works at all so let me know. Roger’s photo looked like a holiday destination, and, having just come back from a weekend away with a stinking cold, I got to thinking what else people might bring home with them….

Thanks to Rochelle and Roger.

 

© Roger Bultot

 

Fireworks on the Beach

(Genre: general fiction; 100-words

‘It looks perfect,’ Katie breathes flicking through the book my mother’s had printed.

‘It was,’ I say from inside my transparent tent. ‘The whole holiday: perfect weather, hotel, food.’

The backs of her hands are flawless.

‘It’s so awful what happened.’ She looks at the book.

‘I’ll survive, hundreds didn’t.’ The screaming returns, the flickering light. I shiver and pain shoots through me. I did not escape lightly.

Katie looks straight at me, past the cellophane bandages holding my face together. She’s the only one who does. ‘We’ll beat this,’ she says, holding her fingertips to the wall between us.

 

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