Category Flash Fiction

The Pigeon Fancier – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

freyathewriter 7 Comments

Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by the photo below.  Why not take part? And why not visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…?

Copyright - A Mixed Bag

Copyright – A Mixed Bag

– The Pigeon Fancier –

“Hey, George! Psst! Are you in there?”

“Don’t be silly, Jim. He ain’t in there! Why would he be in there?”

“Look, Sally’s convinced that’s where she saw him last, before they put the air brick back. Why d’you think she’s been standing here like a lovelorn loon, billing and cooing like it’s going out of fashion?”

“Boys! Shush! I can hear him! He’s definitely in there…”

“Come on, Sally love, you know you’re wasting your time. He’s done a runner, same as always…”

“No he hasn’t! You always want to talk him down – listen!”

“Come on, Jim, let’s leave her to it. She won’t listen – stupid girl!”

“Salleeeeee, Salleeeee, pride of our alley, you’re more than the whole world toooo me…”

“See! I told you boys! He’s singing to me! George! George! Here I am!”

“Jim – it’s that film on TV again, she’s got it all wrong, poor love.”

“Bless her. Let’s leave her to it, like you said. The blighter doesn’t deserve her…”

Here’s a bit of background, for those of you that don’t know the film Sally in Our Alley, or the song by Gracie Fields.

Faithful – VisDare 40

freyathewriter 4 Comments

Here’s my latest offering for Anonymous Legacy‘s photo-inspired prompt, VisDare. This week’s prompt word is ‘Oblivious’. The rules are simple:

150 words – or less.

Post entry to your blog and “link in”.

(Please – no erotica or graphic violence.)

DON’T FORGET to read and comment on others’ entries!!

The photo is below, and my piece follows.  Let me know what you think, and give it a go yourself, why not?

– Faithful – 

Vera had been carrying a torch for her Tommy, ever since he had waved a cheerful goodbye at the train station, back in 1940.

He had disappeared in a cloud of smoke and steam.  She had waved her lace-edged handkerchief, tears coursing down her perfectly powdered cheeks, until he was just a speck in the distance.

Life marched on. The war ended. His parents became strangely distant and moved away to the countryside.

Vera never married, never forgetting her promise to wait for Tommy, forever.

Now, her rage knew no bounds. Forty years later and almost as many pounds heavier, he sat fat and happy in the seat opposite, holding his wife’s hand.

He never knew what hit him.

*****

anonymous-legacy-160x160-black

Fish Supper – Friday Fictioneers

freyathewriter 30 Comments

Here is this week’s entry into the weekly challenge brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Here are the rules: Use the photo as inspiration, write a hundred(ish) words – and share! Here goes my offering for this week – and I welcome your comments again!

Copyright - E.A. Wicklund

Copyright – E.A. Wicklund

– Fish Supper –

Every summer, the teenage seagulls throng on Brighton beach, swamping the holidaymakers and the hung-over hen parties.

They are literally stretching their wings, shunned by their exhausted parents who have finally decided that their offspring need to fend for themselves.

The beach visitors are rich pickings; careless and sun-drenched, their paper-wrapped fish and chips are just too tempting for the adolescent birds to resist. Swooping, beaks wide open to claim their prize, they dive and wheel among flailing arms, triumphant as they soar towards the sun, tasty morsels already halfway down their gullets.

Every year, new birds. Every year, new holidaymakers. The birds learn – the humans make the same mistakes.

Food for thought!

—-

Click on the blue froggy below to read others’ offerings!