The Pigeon Fancier – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

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.

Stop All the Clocks – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

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

– Stop All the Clocks –

Eric wondered whether the clock’s stopping had taken place in broad daylight, or whether the hands had ceased their relentless turning in the London night, unremarked by human eyes.

His day swallowed him whole, the passing thoughts faded into the background. Two weeks later, on his first day back to work from his annual summer holiday, the ever-still hands locked at just before twenty to three caught his eye straight away. He reached his office, shut the door and picked up the phone.

“Yes, hello. Your clock doesn’t seem to be working. Did you know about it?”

Eric liked order, above all things. On putting the receiver back in its cradle, he felt satisfied at having alerted the management to the problem.

On his way home, he opened the Evening Standard, settling down to read. At the bottom of page 7, a news item caught his eye and his satisfaction disappeared, replaced by a strange empty feeling.

“Hotel clock winder dies on duty”

Still, at least he had helped them find the poor old man.

We Are Family – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

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

– We Are Family –

“There’s a pike in there you know. It’s got really sharp teeth!”

I rolled my eyes over my little sister’s head as she giggled, grasping Dad tightly around the waist. He winked at me, as I knew he would.

“How big is it, Daddy?”

“Ooooh!” He gripped his pipe between his teeth, screwing up his eyes against the tendrils of smoke curling around his head.  He stretched his arms wide. “It must be this big by now – it’s very, very old!”

“And very, very hungry!” I chimed in, unable to resist joining him on the joke.

Sadie peeked at me from underneath her heavy fringe, eyes sparkling and a grin forming like sun winking from behind the clouds. She poked Dad in the stomach. “Da-ad! You’re teasing me again!”

He picked her up, swinging her high above his head. He let go, and she squealed, excited, yet knowing she was safe. He caught her mid-air, pulling her close to his chest with one arm, enveloping me with the other.

“That’s because I love you. Both of you.”