Patricia M Osborne

Thank you to author, Elizabeth Ducie, who has taken up the challenge to write a story in less than one hundred words. Her response can be seen in the form of  The Feast which you can read below.

We sit under cerulean skies, gazing at the picnic.

‘For what we are about to receive—’ I mutter

‘— we’re bleedin’ grateful,’ Billy interrupts.

We gorge on fresh-baked bread; salty butter, buttercup yellow; and strawberry jam, fruit whole and succulent. Milkless tea burns our tongues; extra sugar removes the bitterness.

Few sounds disturb the peace, save Billy’s smacking lips and contented sighs; the shriek of a curlew. We run our fingers through cool strands, bruised by careless boots.

We silently thank those who gave their lives—and rations. We stand, collect rifles, and re-enter the trench.

97 words

Well that was a bit of a surprise. Hope you enjoyed it. To find out more about Elizabeth’s writing you can visit her here

Margaret Burton has taken up the challenge to ‘Write a story in less than one hundred words.’ Her response comes in the form of Old Ground which you can read below.   

Tom clinked glasses with Mick. Few quid behind the bar, the pub was heaving, in full voice. ‘…he’s a jolly good fellow…’

‘Think Belle’s coming back?’

Tom sighed. ‘Nah, after the lottery win we finally agreed. Better to end it’.

‘She’s a free spirit.’

‘Yeah.’

‘No more police digging up your garden then? Bit red-faced when she returned nine months later. Disappeared once too often eh?’

‘Built my dream observatory there.’ Tom beamed.

Later, scanning the night sky, on cloud nine, Tom thought aloud. ‘Both got our own way then Belle. What did you say? …over my dead body.’

99 words

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Love the twist in this one. What does everyone else think?

Thank you to author, J L Dean, for taking part in the ‘write a story in one hundred words,’ challenge. J L Dean’s response is Just Another Conquest which you may read below.

‘Would you have an affair with a married man?’

When he asked me that, I took it for one of those moral debates between friends after a good lunch.

‘Of course not!’ I was sure of my goodness then.

He waited as my answer changed.  After years alone, he was all I could think of.  Perhaps one chance of happiness?

Loneliness strikes a poor bargain; the moment I had everything I had longed for, I realised I had nothing at all.

81 words

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Thank you to Joanie Scott for taking part in the ‘Write a story in less than 100 words,’ challenge. Joanie’s response, The Clock is Ticking, may  be read below.

Everyone keeps asking if we are, because It’s always been a huge joke to them. The clock is ticking, they say, so don’t hang around. You’re no spring chickens, either of you. But nobody knows what it’s like, hoping and praying every month that we’ll be lucky. Not this time. I’m beginning to think that the fault lies with him, not me. I’ve done it before, you see. Long before any of this. He can never know about that part of me. Nor can they. I’ll just try to keep smiling and hope that it happens soon.

97 words

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Thank you to writer, Francesca Hunt, for responding to the ‘Write a story in less than one hundred words’ challenge. You can read Francesca’s submission, Knocking, below.

Death knocked.

I told him, ‘Please, not yet.’

That night, the moon came to my open window, I climbed aboard. Softness caressed the gaps between my toes, wrapping me close against the sharp winter air. I waved at stars as we galloped Orion’s-Belt, to my childhood. Father spoke wisdom unheard by my adolescent ears. I saw the miracle of birth, my children, virgin lights shining love. I saw my nagged husband shower me with unfailing support. Happiness replaced my heavy anger. Slumber came.

I awoke with clarity. I would take no further medication.

Death knocked.

I smiled.

 

97 words

Thank you to writer, Jennie Campbell, for taking part in the challenge to write a story in less than one hundred words. You can read Jennie’s response, Plenty More Fish, below.

She’d texted Lisa the location of the date and a joke about axe-murderers, but that was an hour ago.

The girls at work had her back. Lisa worried. Susan said there were plenty more fish, and she should know, she’d been kissing trout for years. Carly made a joke about ‘six foot, six figures, six pack’ but she was twenty-one and could afford to be fussy.

She checked her phone. No text. The door opened again. It still wasn’t him. She’d started to leave when the message from the dating site came through.

‘Nudge, nudge! Meet your new admirer.’

99 words.

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Today, I thought we’d take a break from the ‘less than one hundred word story challenge’ and instead have something a little different.

Hugh Carey, owner of retired greyhound, Rich, has written a story in the point of view of his dog. Hugh hopes to raise awareness of how important it is for retired greyhounds to find new homes.

Let’s start with seeing what Rich looks like.

And here’s Rich’s story. 

Hi, my greyhound racing name was Caribbean Rich, but now I’m known as ‘Rich’ by two lovely humans, Lorraine and Hugh, who I adopted. I call them Mum and Dad. Woof Woof.

I started life as a puppy sired by a well-known doggie dad called Kinloch Brae. Raised and trained in Ireland racing under the name of Tip and Skip, I managed to receive a best pooch of the litter award. From an early age, I just knew I was destined for greatness and I did indeed perform well. My racing career consisted of eight outright wins and several placings, earning in excess of £5,000. I like to think I paid my way in life.

I’m not into tattoos in a big way, but my dad, Hugh, says I have one in each ear which  confirms I must have inherited the luck of the Irish when growing up. I enjoyed the thrill of racing, the many venues I visited and the people within the racing fraternity who touched upon my life, and kept my best interests at heart.

My last race was in 2013 when unfortunately I damaged my foot. This was termed as a wrist injury and my racing career ended abruptly. Luckily for me, I was kept safe until a vacancy became available at Bark Inn Greyhound Rehoming Kennels in Birmingham. I was fed, watered, and kept warm and snug. The lovely staff and volunteers made sure I had regular exercise.

One day, I overheard the staff saying, I was to have my picture taken. Wow. Famous again.

The photo was to help find suitable people for me to adopt, and hopefully get me my forever home, the one I always knew was waiting for me. A word that I hadn’t heard before was mentioned. Retirement. My picture was splashed across the internet. Boy did I look cute?

On Wednesday, Mum and Dad came to visit. They couldn’t take their eyes of me. Home checks were carried out, well, I didn’t want to end up in any old place, did I? It had to be nice and cosy, have a garden, no cats, a big fence to keep me safe, places to go walkies with pleasant smells too.

Saturday arrived. My big day. A car pulled up outside the kennels and two humans climbed out. It was love at first sight for us all. Mum wanted me. Dad wanted me. And most important of all, I wanted them. A brilliant result, this internet dating lark. Yayyyyyyy. Retirement here I come….

My New Home

Tucked in safely with treats, I snuggled down for the long journey to the south coast. A place humans call The Seaside. Whatever that is? We stopped after a four-hour drive and I stepped out. Wow. There was a gentle breeze in the air. I sniffed. I’d never smelt anything like this before. Dad said it was salt I could smell.

So this was the sea. Woof woof. I love it. Blue sky, water as far as my eye could see, and sand like I used to race on. This was Heaven. My choice of location for retirement was absolutely a Doggie Dream.

My dad’s, ninety-year-old dad, was in a nursing home suffering from dementia. One day my dad took me to the home, a building in Worthing, to visit his dad and lots of other elderly residents. Dad introduced me to them all.

They welcomed me with open arms and fussed over me. I loved it to bits. They asked lots of questions about me and made me feel like like a famous VIP.

I didn’t sit down but stayed standing up. I barely barked or made a sound.  Dad said I looked regal and majestic as I stood there observing the environment around me. The first thing I noticed was the elderly people’s faces lighting up. Their years of trials and pains slipped slowly away like sticks floating down a river. My reward was watching them smile and laugh. My new-found extended family in the shape of Grandad Bill, and his fellow residents, gave me a warm glow inside.

I visited the nursing home frequently. The first time it was sad to say goodbye, but going back again gave me, and them, the love and affection we needed. No matter how old we get, everyone’s good memories may be triggered by the simplest things in life.

I know that one day I will be old too. For every human year, I age seven years. I’m seven now, so in human terms, that makes me forty-nine. Luckily my mind still tells me I’m a teenager. I can still reach speeds of up to forty miles per hour in six strides if I put my mind to it.

I can safely say, I love my new family and surroundings and know this was the path for which I was destined.

Thank you for reading my story.

Rich.

Woof Woof.

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And thank you to Hugh for telling Rich’s story on his behalf.

 

 

Thank you to writer, Kevin J Milsom, for taking part in the ‘Write a story in less than one hundred words’ challenge. You can read his response, Travel Plans, below.

‘You won’t need all that stuff, Sarah!’ Mother’s voice held its usual firmness.

Naturally, I ignored her.

‘Yes…changes of clothes, for sure. Many things!’

Mother smiled.

‘You won’t, my darling.’ She frowned. ‘Are you in pain?’

I realised I wasn’t. Hurrah for paracetamol!

Harry gripped my hand tightly. I saw him clearly now, yet different somehow. My whole family looked different.

Mother smiled at my expression.

‘They can’t see us now, darling. It’s time. I won’t leave you again.’

Initially, the light was blinding; just as the deepest peace enveloped me. ‘Oh Mother, it’s so beautiful.’

96 words

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Well I’m sure you’ll agree, that one was quite a weepy.

 

Thank you, Jillian Andrews for taking part in the ‘Write a story in less than one hundred words challenge’ with Lost in Thought.

She sits alone on the bench. She wears a white hat as shade against the sun. Her pink jacket keeps the chill off her thinning arms. Her walking stick lay beside her. She’s lost in her thoughts but tilts her head as a breeze rustles the leaves by her feet. The coolness feels good against her skin. Shading her eyes she looks towards me but doesn’t realise I’m watching her. Her face is beautiful and lined with age. A hint of sadness shows in her blue eyes.

She sees me and smiles.

We sit together.  My mother.  My friend.

99 words

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Thank you, Brian Moate, for taking part in the ‘write a story in less than one hundred words challenge, when he takes himself back to being a young child, with his submission Reminiscence.

‘Come ‘ere ya  little scamp’ yells me Nan ‘that’s got a reight mucky face, and there’s enough dirt be’ind yer ears to grow taters. Ah’ll ha’ ter gie thee a spit wash!’

But I had different ideas.

She tried, but I twisted and struggled, and screamed blue murder. No way was I getting a spit wash from her mucky hanky.

Try as she might she couldn’t get me. Eee, she wasn’t  half mad!

‘Tha’ll cop it when yer Mum comes home,’ she bellows. She picked me up and put me in the dolly tub so I couldn’t climb out.

99 words

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Well I don’t know about you but that one certainly gave me a laugh. Thank you, Brian.