Something Decent – Friday Fictioneers

Being somewhat new to the blogging my fiction game, I’ve been dipping in and out to find other bloggers entering into the same exciting world. I found Rochelle Wisoff-Fields a few days ago and loved her Friday Fictioneers challenge. Use the photo as inspiration, write a hundred(ish) words – and share! Here goes – and I welcome your comments!


Copyright - Sarah Anne Hall

Copyright – Sarah Ann Hall

Something Decent

“No, no, NO!”

I surveyed the incandescent woman before me, replacing her carefully coiffed hair and perfect make up with my small niece’s tousled  mop and shiny red face. It saved me from retaliating. I would never smack Annabelle, even at her most tantrum-like. This woman, well…

“I. Asked. You. To. Show. Me. Something. Decent!”

She punctuated each word with a sharp jab of her index finger into my chest.

I sighed.

“This is my house, my front garden. I’m just collecting the paperwork for the next property. I’m sure you will fall in love with it.”

That shut her up.


Click the blue froggy to read other writers’ offerings – and enjoy!

This Time

You know when things were better than they are now and we all thought there was some kind of global crisis going on? Remember then, do you? It seems like a dim and distant memory, I know. We didn’t know the half of it, did we?

Back in those times – we call them the good old days now – I had time to daydream, make up ‘what if’ scenarios in my head, just to entertain myself really. Of course we all went out a lot less than before, so I had more time on my hands. We stayed in to save money, we told ourselves, because times were tight. What a pack of lies! We were all just working so damned hard, none of us could be bothered to drag our knackered carcasses to a bar, let alone a club. ‘Can’t Be Arsed’, we used to say. The number of times I went home from work to a takeaway, a couple of cans of lager and to fall asleep to whatever the latest new 3 part drama was showing on the box that night – well, I can’t think. Back then, we’d all got nostalgic for the good old days – we thought we were in The Worst Times ever to affect anyone. I don’t think somehow, that in say thirty, forty years’ time we’ll have that opportunity, this time round. Continue reading “This Time”


The power was cut off yesterday, finally. It’s funny how even when the TV has been switched off, there’s still so much background noise, so much electricity in the atmosphere. Motors running, fans whirring, clocks humming. Even the silent radio transmits a low level buzz. If you press your ear to the speaker, you can hear it.

Now, all of that is gone.

I stand completely still. I can hear the rasp of cotton against wool as my chest rises and falls, rises and falls. The house is settling into itself, relaxing, losing tension, revisiting its old rhythms. It is sighing with relief. Old houses weren’t built for the modern age, for technology, for energy – zap, zap, zap. Their walls weren’t built with care, only to be gouged out to accommodate cables, wires and pipes. Their kitchens weren’t planned to hold washing machines, fridges and freezers. These houses were homes for people, for laughter, for pain, for joy, for fear, for living. For shelter.

Thwock. Thwock. Thwock. I hear the steady percussion of water dripping on tile. As expected, the freezer is leaking its contents onto the pantry floor. I picture the pool encroaching, seeping, growing. No matter. I will mop it up. Peace will reign. Continue reading “Family”