100 Word Challenge - Fear

...A woman in a purple two piece. Jet hair. A stringy man next to her. Pensive, serious looking.

Both sat at the back, their robotic eyes scanning the congregation.

"David was my brother..."

Their eyes closed in on us. I turned away, feeling laser like strokes up and down my spine.

Something wasn't right.

"Char," I whispered in her ear."Have you clocked those two at the back?"

Charlotte turned. Then looked back abruptly, tears replaced by fear.

"He had years ahead of him, taken far too soon..."  

"What's the matter? What's up?"

"I don't believe it Chrissy, it's the guy who pushed David."


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was... I don't believe it...


This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

The Drill

Every night the whole thing simply drags on and on, minutes extending, rolling into essential blogging time with yet more demands, more requests. Sometimes there's no foreseeable finish line, no slices of orange at the end of a vertical climb, no free pass through the bedroom door, until she's past out, finally stolen by sleep.

I made a thirteen point picture plan artfully illustrated with hand drawn symbols on yellow card -complimented with stars, and hearts, and triangles - for each stage, so that she'd unequivocally understand the drill...

1. Rubber Duck. (bath time).  Little A often plays with Lucy, her blue kitchen fork, whisking up a frothy froth of pretend hot chocolate in a bright orange beaker. She will empty the entire contents of her bath bucket into the foam; ducks, boats, crocodiles, whales, colliding, struggling to keep afloat - it's like the aftermath of titanic, except the water's warmer.

"It's time to wash your hair and face Little A."

"No thank you mummy, you can do it tomorrow instead."

"Little A.....?"

"T.O.M.O.R.R.O.W. I.N.S.T.E.A.D."

<sigh>

2. Grow Bag. (nappy, pyjamas, grow bag). But all of a sudden I have a little fairy on my hands fluttering and dancing as nature intended with a pair of blue wings and flashing wand.

"I need to do magic and running first mummy."

<sigh><sigh>

3. Toothbrush. (brushing teeth). On account of the challenge of brushing those threenager molars, we have three toothbrushes, offering *ahem* choice and partial control. There's Tina Toothbrush (pink and yellow), Timmy Toothbrush (blue), and Tuber Toothbrush (green and blue). Little A keeps her family of denture polishers in a Gruffalo bath bag that's hidden away in her Gruffalo Trunki, which, as a matter of fact, I won for this. Every evening, I head a solemn procession to the bathroom with Little A and Trunki, shuffling and rolling behind. What follows is an exact order of unlock-open-unzip-choose toothbrush-apply toothpaste-open wide-wider-brush-teeth together-brush-good girl-rinse-zip up-close-lock....

"Choose which one please."

"I want Timmy."

"Okay."

"No, Tuber... no mummy... I want... I want Tina."

<getting impatient>

4. Teddy Bear. (the good night teddy song). This is my favourite bedtime ritual. We veil Little A's kingdom of teddies, dollies, fluffy cuddlies - dumped on the teddy bench - with a red blanket while heartily singing the following verse....

Good night teddies - Good night teddies - Good night teddies, 

We've had a happy day

Hooray

Good night teddies - Good night teddies - Good night teddies, 

We've had a happy day

We've had a happ-eee day

Hip hip hooray

<a calm, charming interlude>

5. Book. (story time). She has one story but somehow manages to flick through the entire book again when I've made it firmly, but kindly clear, it's three pages only. Maybe I should refrain from checking the inbox on my phone.

<annoyed at myself>

6. Dog. (kiss Truffles good night) Truffles is a big, shaggy dog flopped on newly washed carpet at the head end of Little A's cot (yes, she's still behind bars - I'm working on it). She sleeps with a furry ear - yanked lovingly through the cot bars - in her left hand. Don't think the dog appreciates this.

<why is this part of the routine? she goes to kiss Truffles, returning to me on the futon, ergo moving in the wrong direction of the cot.>

7. Mother and child embracing. (cuddle time). (a) Sitting down cuddle - Little A will oft explore my nostrils, kneed my cheeks like stiff dough, and ruthlessly observe my teeth as dirty and yellow. (b) Standing up cuddle where my forehead and chin are raspberried and licked by a pudgy tongue.

<tired - i'm not a fan of saliva>  

8. Child behind bars. (in the cot). I.N. T.H.E. C.O.T.

< at last, nearly at the end>

9. Light switch. (lights out). First, I turn the light out. Then it's Little A's turn with either Doggy, Monkey, or Teal - a rag doll - tucked under her arm.

"Mummy, can you turn the torch on? Just one time?"

"Little A, that's not part of the routine. Light's out."

"I can't see..."

"Don't worry, your eyes will get used to it."

<it's so dark, where's the cot...bump> 

10. Book. (mummy's story) This is where I play Jack-a-nory, telling Little A a home grown tale. It's her choice.... and it could be Little A and the Octonauts; Little A and the Mermaid; Little A and the Octonauts and the Mermaid; the Dragon visits nursery; Little A, Mummy, Lucy - the fork - and the Dragon fly to Chiswick; Little A and Abney and Teal.....

<ooooh, this is fun, but keep it short, keep it short>      

11. Toilet. (a trip to the lavatory). A quick sit on the throne while I check my phone.

<like the appendix, the black and white TV, and Truffles, there is no definable use for this - it doesn't add anything to the routine, save to see if I have any comments>

12. Hand On Child's Back. (gentle back). A back rub, affectionately known as gentle back - for her highness, followed by a cuddle, and a few sips of water.

<hang in there, it's nearly over>  

13. Moon and Stars. (sweet everythings). Our final parting gesture as I stand, staring into freedom, from her bedroom door....

Night night by far, 

Sweet dreams by far

I love you

I love you to the moon and stars and back again

And I will see you in the morning

Night night by far

Sweet dreams by far

Love you - night night.

  .... and she repeats every line after me - heart meltingly wonderful.

<huzzah, laptop here I come> 

Only, not quite, as here's what usually happens next.....

More gentle back, want a cuddle, want some water; spilt the water mummy - I need a new grow bag, done a poo, need more water, can't get to sleep, want a kiss, done another poo, want to start all over again (the routine), not ready to say night-night by far, want another cuddle, more water, just one more time....   

... and the tears and tantrums as boundaries are reluctantly reset.

But like the British winter she persists, and persists, and persists.

How long is your bedtime routine?
How do you manage with two or more children?

100 Word Challenge - A Beautiful Day

"And what could you have done? Nothing."

"I just feel...."

"No Char, don't, don't blame yourself."

The paper said suspected suicide. Was it a helping hand instead? A whip of icy air found the base of my hair line.

"So you saw this guy moving towards him?"

"Yeah. He was right there when David disappeared. I just know it."

'It's a Beautiful Day' reverberated around the crematorium walls.

"Oh my goodness!" Charlotte panicked, "I nearly forgot - the funeral."

I led my friend back inside, back to our vacant seats.

Then something caught my eye - two characters set apart from the mourners...


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was... Oh my goodness. I nearly forgot...


This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

100 Word Challenge - Pushed

"There? On the platform?" I'd barely absorbed Charlotte's words.

Charlotte was there, the day it happened.

"I was in the middle - it was so packed - I saw his head." A sharp inhale. "He was stood right at the edge, I tried to move forwards but no one was budging. There was this person - a bloke I think - edging through towards him. He got close, there was this sudden swell, and then David wasn't there, and then the screaming, the screaming..."

Charlotte's hands covered her ears. Beneath the surface, I saw the scolding bubbles of self reproach.

"Char, this wasn't your fault."

"Chrissy, I should have done something!"


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was... Beneath the surface ...


This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

100 Word Challenge - Slapped

I found Charlotte doubled over next to a grave coating humiliated snowdrops in sticky bile, thick yellow drool hanging from her pale bottom lip.

"Char, what is it? You okay?"

She placed both hands on her stomach, cautiously straightening her back.

"Chrissy, got a tissue?"

"Here. Have this."

 A chilly gust slapped my cheek as Charlotte wiped her mouth.

"Chrissy, I can't keep it in any longer, I have to go to the police."

"WHAT? You said you'd do WHAT?"

"Found it so hard to tell you Chrissy."

"Tell me what?"

"I WAS THERE when he threw himself on the tracks."

A chilly gust smacked my other cheek.


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was... You said you'd do WHAT? ...


This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

100 Word Challenge - Trembling

"Chrissy," Charlotte half wailed, "we're going to be late."

"I'm doing my best." Stupid car. Stupid me.

The engine had finally coughed into shape after nearly twenty attempts. Now we were late for David's funeral.

"Left turn, Chrissy, left turn."

I took a sharp turn down a slice of solemn suburbia, ahead the crematorium.

Limp coats were already entering the old stone building.

We shuffled in at the rear, Charlotte dressed in polite black, I, an indifferent grey.

On a plinth lay the casket.

Charlotte's hands trembled, her face bloodless.

"I'm gonna throw up Chrissy."

Hand over mouth, she bolted outside.


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was... Grey ...


This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

100 Word Challenge - Past Has Passed

"Stop deflecting Chrissy."

I tried not to laugh. Charlotte was handing over a frothy mug of self reproach. But guilt, I decided, wasn't a garment worth dressing in. I'd sunk my toe in David's gaze - that was all.

"Just don't understand. It's so long ago. Anyway, you dumped him remember?"

"Told him to disappear," Charlotte recoiled.

"He was so intense, so controlling."

"Still stung when I saw you both Chrissy."

"Was one time, it freaked me out. I'm sorry."

A weak smile mollified Charlotte's sour expression.

"Past has passed I guess."

"Thanks."

Now I needed a long soak.

David's funeral couldn't come sooner.


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was... I tried not to laugh...


This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

My Next Big Thing

The very light and lovely Polly at Caught Writing has tagged me to talk about My Next Big Thing using the questions below, and then to pass the baton onto fellow bloggers and writers. I am very glad and honoured she chose me, as it just so happens I have an idea! This meme originally began, I believe, by Karen McCann, author of Dancing in the Fountain.

So, My Next Big Thing, I hope, is that I'm taking tentative steps towards penning my first feature length story. As this is my first attempt at writing a chunky piece of fiction, I thought it a wise idea to stay within the confines of my comfort zone, writing about what I know, and have experienced. The main career and creative arcs in my life so far have been within the music industry, as a DJ, and psychology, as a counsellor. I should rightly include being a mum as well! The story is essentially a psychological drama/thriller set in the mid-nineties clubbing scene.

I have been thinking and dreaming my novel since March this year. I'm still very much ensnared in the planning and plotting stage, for me, it's very important the subplots I have in mind, gel clearly and believably with the main thread of the story. I'm about to take a deep dive into the shape and tone of my characters, and that should really help tie up the looser ends of the various plots.

Anyway, here are more of the details...

What is the working title of the project?
It was only a week or so ago that the name came to mind. I may well change it, at the moment, the title is based on the main back bone of the tale. And the title is... Four Gigs. I guess I wanted a punchy title that really related to the job of the main protagonist, Jessica Dance, and the social scenery the story is set against. And as a sub heading/title to Four Gigs I am possibly thinking of something along the lines of....'What happens when your groove goes missing.' A strap line such as this could work on a variety of levels with the story's themes and character journeys.

Where did the idea come from?
Originally, I had in mind a story whereby the main character is a therapist, that idea is still whirring away behind the scenes. Then, through writing my Once Upon a Time posts, and this post in particular, I really started thinking about my life as a DJ, and how I almost 'made the big time' but didn't quite due to circumstances I'll save for another blog post. I liked the idea of writing a story that combined my past and current passions, music and psychology. Living vicariously through my main character, and her career success, may help to lay to rest some of the lingering residues of what, for me, could have been and never was. I think it's the most fitting story for me to pen, and I have a lot to gain from writing it.

What genre does the project fall under?    
I have to admit to being a little clueless here, as I'm not really aware - apart from the main ones - of all the genres out there... But Four Gigs would lie somewhere between psychological drama and thriller, I think.

Which actors would you chose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
Now this, I found, was a tricky question, given that I haven't watched much TV or many films of late. Whoever I choose for the central characters would need to be in their late twenties, and thirties. So I did a little research basing my decision solely upon whether the face was a good fit. And here is my all British cast of main players...

• Jessica Dance - Felicity Jones, she has the dark brown hair and green eyes and straight forward, natural, almost tom boyish femininity that Jessica possess.

Felicity Jones as Jessica Dance - Image, Google.

• Ben Jones, Jessica's current boyfriend - Jim Sturgess, remember how cocky and irritating he was in the film of the book, One Day?
• Katrin Chase, Jessica's friend of dubious intent - Ruth Wilson, who can aptly carry off 'seductive'.
• Lucas 'Flipper' Dance, Jessica's younger brother, who suffers from bi-polar disorder - Jamie Bell, he can weather an expression that looks like he's got a lot on his plate.
• Lucy Dance, Jessica's mother - Kristin Scott Thomas, intelligent, critical, both strong and fragile.
• Richard Dance, Jessica's father - Bill Nihy, I think he would play the 'philandering buffoon' rather well.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your project? 
This is going to be a challenge, so I will attempt to give this my best shot...

Jessica Dance, or Jessy D, is a talented and very in-demand club DJ with plenty of, and perhaps too much ambition, until the day she finds herself with the wrong record box, and has to make choices, about her career, her relationships, everything she knows, until ultimately, she's forced to face the reality, and the fallout from a childhood accident.   

How was that for an elevator pitch?  I hope it wasn't too cliched and unoriginal, it may need some work.

Will your book be self published or represented by an agency?
In all honesty, given how saturated the publishing market is, I think this novel may need plenty of self marketing first before an agent takes the remotest interest, so I will probably go down the self publishing route, which is no bad thing given applications like Kindle.

How long will it take to write the first draft? 
This may not be realistic but I would like to have the first draft written within a year and a half. I am hoping when Little A's hours increase at nursery next year, I will have the time to write this, or else, there are going to be some early mornings!

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
Again, this was quite difficult as I haven't read fiction widely for a while, it's been psychology texts and baby books for the last few years or so! However, I am a big fan of Ian McEwan, he is a master of narrative twists, writes beautiful prose, and isn't afraid to explore the darker recesses of the human mind, especially in his earlier works. I find reading, acknowledging, the more unpleasant side of human behaviour, something we all have the potential for, thanks in large to the reptilian part of our brain, a cathartic experience. Although not really related in genre, I'm also a fan of Douglas Coupland. I love his philosophical take on the human condition, and how well rounded and authentic his characters are. His novels are littered with quirky, well observed personalities.

Who or what have inspired you to write this novel?
My career as a DJ, and being a part of something that was at the time, so exciting, so anti-establishment, so much fun; the acid house movement of the late eighties and nineties. It was a time of wonderful creativity, personal happiness and I was blessed with so much opportunity. In a way I want this story to be a thank you, a love letter, to the music scene that gave me a life, a purpose, a reason not to work the nine to five.

What else about your project might pique your readers interest?
The story is set in Leeds, Manchester and London. I want to make the clubbing experience, the DJ lifestyle as authentic as I can by referencing the clubs, record shops, music, and some of the actual DJ's that existed at the time. This story isn't just about clubbing and DJ'ing though, they're the back drop, it's really about the relationships between Jess, her family, friends and boyfriend, and the interpersonal conflicts she has to understand and work through. I'm hoping the story won't just appeal to twenty and thirty somethings, but to the now forty and fifty somethings who partied and played back in the day.

And now I would like to pass the torch onto the following bloggers and writers who I think are great. (Please don't feel obliged to do this, and your project doesn't have to be a novel or writing in general).

Lynsey the Mother Duck - Lynsey is currently writing a piece of fiction, Camomile Crescent on her blog, which is really well written, and I think she has some other writing projects up her sleeves too, so I'm very much looking forward to reading what she has to say.

Dorky Mum - I really, really, really enjoy her writing, and I have a sneaking suspicion she has some bigger writing projects in mind. And if she has, I'm dying to know what they are!

Mummy Plum - She writes the most beautifully enchanting posts, and I think she is working on something at the moment, but as she is a month away from meeting her second child, I won't hold her to responding to this, maybe at a much later date ;o).

100 Word Challenge - Glaciated

My body prickled with cold. Flashes of his gaze, that knowing exchange, abused my thoughts.

It might be a Spring morning but frost permeated the kitchen, ice dislocating words between allies, and Winter will bring heartache and shattered ties...

"Did I want him?"

"Yes, that's what I asked," Charlotte jabbed.

"No, not like that. I mean he was attractive. But repelled me too. Listen Char," I pleaded, "I would never have gone for him."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You're my friend."

Heart beats jolted in the hollow of my throat. Then it occurred to me...

"Char, you're deflecting guilt onto me."

Now Charlotte stood rigid, glaciated.

"Why? Why Char?"


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was... and Winter will bring...


This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

The Bobby-in-a-mow

Little A's imaginary play mate is 'Bobby-in-a-mow'. The other day I realised Bobby-in-a-mow rhymes with Gruffalo, and well, I just couldn't help myself. So here's my rendition of that wonderful story by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler...

THE BOBBY-IN-A-MOW

Little A climbed the stairs to the kitchen as fast as she could.

Mummy saw Little A and thought she's up to no good.

"Where are you going to, youngest one of the house?

Come back to your bedroom, and pick up Mickey Mouse."

"That's very organised of you, Mummy, but no -

I'm off for elevenses with Bobby-in-a-mow."

"Bobby-in-a-mow? Who's Bobby-in-a-mow?"

"Bobby-in-a-mow! Why, didn't you know?

"He has a frightful perm, and frightful nails,

And frightful fungus on three waggly tails."

"Where are you meeting him?" 

"Here, on the stair,

And his favourite game is pulling mummy's hair."

"Pulling mummy's hair! I'm off" Mummy said.

Bye bye, Little A," and away she sped.

"Silly old Mummy! Doesn't she know,

There's no such thing as Bobby-in-a-mow?"

Little A climbed the stairs to the kitchen as fast as she could.

Daddy saw Little A and thought she's up to no good.

"Where are you going to youngest one of the house?

"Come look what I've found, a slimy grey louse."

That's very inviting of you, Daddy, but no -

I'm off for elevenses with Bobby-in-a-mow."

"Bobby-in-a-mow? Who's Bobby-in-a-mow?"

"Bobby-in-a-mow! Why, didn't you know?

He has a crooked back, and joined-up stumpy toes,

And a massive great bogey dangling off the end of his nose."

"Where are you meeting him?" 

"Up by the fridge,

And his favourite game is scaling Daddy bridge."

"Daddy bridge! I'm off" Daddy said.

Bye bye, Little A," and away he sped.

"Silly old Daddy! Doesn't he know,

There's no such thing as Bobby-

...in-a-mow."

But who is this monster with the frightful nails

And frightful fungus on three waggly tails?

He has a crooked back, and joined-up stumpy toes,

And a massive great bogey dangling off the end of his nose.

"Oh help! Oh no!

It's Bobby-in-a-mow!

"My favourite game! Bobby-in-a-mow said.

"You'll feel ace spinning on my head."

"Ace?" said Little A. "Don't call me ace!

I'm the bossiest creature, now get in place.

Just amble beside me and soon you'll know,

Mummy and Daddy are mere putty and dough."

"Okay," said Bobby-in-a-mow, creasing with glee.

"You start walking, and I'll come and sight see."

They wandered and walked till Bobby-in-a-mow said,

"I hear yawning in the bedroom ahead."

"It's Mummy," said Little A. "Why, Mummy, hello!"

Mummy took one look at Bobby-in-the-mow.

"Goodness me!" she said, "Bye bye, Little A,"

And she picked up her duster and ran away.

"See?" said Little A. "Told you so."

"Outstanding!" said Bobby-in-a-mow.

They wandered some more till Bobby-in-a-mow said,

"I hear water running in the bathroom ahead."

"It's Daddy," said Little A. "Why, Daddy, hello!"

Daddy took one look at Bobby-in-a-mow.

"Heavens above!" he said, "Bye bye, Little A,"  

Hiding behind the door he quivered, "I don't want to play." 

"Well, Bobby-in-a-mow," Little A said. "You see?

Mummy and Daddy fall in line behind me!

But now I'm bored and I need some fun.

My favourite game is - Bobby-in-a-mow ski run!"

"Bobby-in-a-mow ski run!" Bobby-in-a-mow said,

And faster than a cheetah he evaporated instead.

Little A climbed the stairs to the kitchen as fast as she could.

She found the chocolate mousse and it tasted rather good.

And if you liked this, you might also like my versions of Stick Man and We're Going On A Bear Hunt.

News Flash - I entered this piece in a competition hosted by the lovely Mummy Constant to win either a Gruffalo Trunki or Chums set. Anyway, Bobby-in-a-mow scooped the first prize of the Gruffalo Trunki itself which I'm simply over moon about - Trunki's make the perfect toddler travel accessory! Hop over and give Trunki an extra special seasonal 'like' on their Facebook page.

100 Word Challenge - Sleeping Dogs

It can't be that time...

... Time for truth to reveal its purpose. What good was going to come of this? 

"What did you mean Chrissy?"

"Nothing, just that David was under hand."

Did we need to mine the raw detail, empty the past of painful scraps?  

"How? I want to know."

"I'm not sure."

"C'mon Chrissy," Charlotte's impatience aroused, "Spill."

"It's just that David's eye's wandered."

"To you, you mean? I did notice."  

"What? Why haven't you said anything before?"

"And it's not as if you looked away."

Impatience took flight into righteous indignation. 

"Char, why now?"

"Did you want him?"

Can't sleeping dogs just sleep...

I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was ... it can't be that time ...


This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

100 Word Challenge - Homeward Bound

Charlotte returned from her room, the furrows lining her brow the depths of my deceit.

The faded slogan on her blue t-shirt made light relief of the expression she bore...

'I woke with another headache'

"Chrissy, there's ten thousand in my account."

"What?"

"No," Charlotte sat ashen on the sofa, "This can't be from him."

"Who else?"

"Haven't a clue. The sender's anonymous. But why else would Mark ask?"

"Why though? When was the last time you saw David?"

"C' Can't remember. This whole thing's sick. It's my ...."

"Fault? C'mon Char."

"You called David a duplicitous idiot? This connected?"

"No, I meant something else."

Guess truth was homeward bound.


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was ... I woke with another headache ...


This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

100 Word Challenge - Ring. Ring. Ring.

Charlotte's tears softened, finding restraint against my shoulder.

She withdrew, the resignation brushed intently upon her expression.

"I could really do with that coffee Chrissy."

"Sure."

I felt relieved, hungry for equilibrium, and hungry for more cereal.

Charlotte steadied, redeeming her composure with every sip of caffeine.

RING. RING. RING.

Charlotte's mobile hollered. Suddenly it was in my hand.

"Anonymous - Want it Char?"

She nodded.

"Hello? .... Oh .... I was gonna call you .... Okay, I guess .... How are you? .... I'm so sorry .... Yeah .... On Saturday .... Really? .... Why? .... Okay, speak tomorrow."

"Chrissy, that was Mark, David's brother. Funeral's in two days. Said I should check my account?"


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was ... suddenly it was in my hand ...


This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

100 Word Challenge - Long Way Down

Morning.

David, dressed, sat on the edge of the bed, summarising his existence.

Always wanting. Never stopping. Grasping more.

Staring at the carpet, he witnessed the empty abyss of his own creation. It was a long way down.

It mattered not whether he returned the advance. He was finished.

Dead if he did. Dead if he didn't.

But The Client could kiss his note stuffed arse as far as the money was concerned.

Laptop open, he distributed the dividends without trace. Most to charity. Some to his brother. And a little compensatory bonus to Charlotte - he owed her.

Then, for a last cup of coffee.


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was an image ...

This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

100 Word Challenge - Tempted Too Far

David was greedy for opportunity, he couldn't resist the insider deals.

This time he'd been tempted too far, and failed, had screwed the timings ...

Eden within his grasp. Then snared by the snake.

As the apple fell, the phone rang ...

"You messed up David. That wasn't on the cards." The Woman fell silent.

"Listen, I can make this right. There's another trade ..."

"Enough." The Woman interrupted. "You blew it. There's no going back. You know what happens next."

The phone cut dead.

David's mouth felt drier than The Client's account.

They were coming for him. But he wasn't giving in.

He held the final plan.


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was ... as the apple fell ...

This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

100 Word Challenge - Forbidden Treasure

The attache case lay on the table.

David stared at the clasps. It was sealed like a clam guarding a black pearl. Forbidden treasure, he already knew its contents.

The Woman sat motionless on the other side. David felt sweat collecting on his brow. He clenched both his fists into compact grenades.

The line was drawn. There was no going back.

"David, the details of the trade are inside," The Woman instructed, "We'll wire you the cash. You know the fund. You get this wrong, you lose. We'll be watching."

David grabbed the case and left.

The future felt starved of oxygen.

He was in too deep.


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was ... the line was drawn ...

This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

100 Word Challenge - Grief

"Don't shout at me Chrissy. You just don't understand."

"Look I'm sorry Char."

Charlotte began to cry. Sunlight traced the tears flowing down her anguished face. Each heavy drop left a path as straight as a Roman road. They began falling with sudden intensity like the undifferentiated raindrops of a cloud burst. The rain turned the road into a river; Charlotte's cheeks were awash with grief.

Without another breath I moved to encase my friend in my arms.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"Why did you ..." Charlotte sobbed "call him ... duplicitous?"

"I dunno. Just spur of the moment."

I'd lied but truth, for now, could sail on the horizon.


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was ...the rain turned the road into a river...

This is part of a wider story. You can read the other instalments in the series here.

100 Word Challenge - Duplicitous Recess

Fresh morning light flooded through the kitchen window invading shadows and mocking the stack of grease laden plates by the sink.

I sat at the breakfast bar hunched over a bowl of muesli. I managed one dry flaky mouthful before returning to the shocking news in yesterday's fingered paper.

David had committed suicide.

In the dark recess of my mind David's empty eyes met mine. Back then I'd felt equally compelled and repulsed by our attraction.

Charlotte entered. I felt uneasy.

"Coffee Char?"

"Yup. I'm gonna call David's brother."

"We're still going to the funeral then?"

"It's my fault. I have to go."

"Charlotte!" I was frustrated. "How is that duplicitous idiot's death your fault?"


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was ... in the dark recess of my mind ...

100 Word Challenge - Electrifying

David's laptop bag collided with the primal force of rush hour commuters jostling on the escalator.

He felt himself shoved and carried along the alimentary passageway that broadened onto the belly like chamber of the platform.

There's a real buzz about this place David thought.

He battled passed back packs and down turned faces until he reached the edge.

David tipped his weight forwards.

The train approached remorselessly.

Then. A pause. What was he thinking of?

He'd begun to straighten when his back made contact with a stranger's forceful limb. A hand? An elbow?

David barely registered the push. He lost balance and fell onto the electrified path.

Beaten.


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was ... there's a real buzz about this place ...

100 Word Challenge - Just Disappear

The waitress placed the latte and croissant on the table.

David barely registered her. His eyes were caught by the bait of the financial news.

The coffee had bitter overtones and was barely warmer than the life left in his blood.

Enough.

It mattered no more.

He closed the laptop. The finality of this action brought sweet relief.

Unrelated memories surfaced. Mainly women.

"Just disappear" she'd said.

David smiled at the irony.

He'd noticed her flat mate. Their eyes once met in silent recognition. The flame flickered before Charlotte, oblivious, had wrenched him out the door.

David shook his head.

Time to leave.


I'm linking up with JB47's 100 Word Challenge. This week's prompt was ... the flame flickered before ...