Young Man! – Sunday Photo Fiction


Rumour has it that the bells of St Christopher’s refused to be tolled since the Reverend de Montfort left to visit his oldest and most far-flung parishioner, Jacob Reader on the afternoon of 25th July last year

The Reverend, an energetic and forthright man was robust, sensible and didn’t suffer fools gladly. As the warden often said, the vicar was definitely not a pushover.

A single man, the Reverend had fended himself all his life, only allowing the Church to fund an office manager so that his diary remained organised and his days well-planned.

So his disappearance was definitely out of character, and his parishioners mourned his loss with vigour.

As the anniversary of the Reverend’s disappearance approached, the men and women of the parish wondered when the Bishop would admit that the beloved clergyman was gone for good.

They were all rudely awoken by celebratory pealing of the church bells as the sun rose on Sunday, 25th July. Reverend d Montfort strode down the village high street, wonder in his eyes, a smile on his lips. On his arm was a beautiful young man, a true Adonis.

“Chris, welcome to my church, my village, my parish. Isn’t it lovely?”

“Oh yes, Robert, it is. Uncle Jake is a lucky, lucky man.”

The parishioners were stunned at the turn of events, but were pleased to have Reverend back and truly happy after all these years. Especially the warden, who said that young Chris was a delight, to anyone that would listen.



Here’s my latest entry into Alistair’s Sunday Photo Fiction. He supplies us with his own wonderful photos, so deserves our support! Happy Sunday, all….

Do take part if you have time, or just pop over and read the other entries.

Masquerade – Friday Fictioneers

After a few weeks of festive absence, here I am with my 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 - Dawn Q. Landau

Copyright – Dawn Q. Landau

– Masquerade –

“So our extensive funding for your art installation has produced… this?”

I hated him, and his condescension. I counted to ten, desperate for Jilly to fill the silence. She did.

“Mr Rogers, of course you know that this is a Second World War pill box. You will also realise – being an expert in military history – that it is the only one in the country to have been manned entirely by gay men. They were ready to lay down their lives, just the same as everyone else. Sadly, it was the only place in the world where they felt safe to be themselves. Ironic, don’t you think?”

Take that, you bigot.


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

The Light Fantastic – Five Sentence Fiction

It’s time for my latest offering to Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction, a weekly prompt where there is no word limit, just a limit on the number of sentences. Plus, although she provides a word prompt, it is just for direction only – you don’t have to include the word itself in your contribution.

This week, the prompt is  – DANCING.

old-couple-dancingImage Source

Do let me know what you think of my offering below – and whilst you’re at it, why not take a look at everyone else’s offerings (I’m sure they’ll be fabulous), and even give it a go yourself…


– The Light Fantastic –

Maeve hummed to herself as Georgie guided her round, completing the reverse turn and feather finish to perfection, their signature move.

The music played on, the lights shone, her dress sparkling and glinting as it swayed around her calves – soft kisses against her skin.

Finally it came to an end, and she prepared her stage smile to acknowledge the applause from enchanted audience.

“We’re just too avant-garde for them, sweetheart,” whispered Georgie, as they marched across the dance floor, heads held high.

Silence followed their departure – 1930s Blackpool was just not ready for the sight of two women dancing together in public, not yet.

Lillie McFerrin Writes