WRITESPIRATION #117 52 WEEKS IN 52 WORDS WEEK 21 – Bare Walls

Sacha’s back with her #Writespiration prompt this week.

Your challenge is to write your story using the weekly theme/prompt and write it in just 52 words…. EXACTLY, no more, no less.

writespiration-2017

Tell me the story of why this room is empty!

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Everything.
They took everything.
Not one fixture or fitting left to adorn the walls of this now bare shell of a room.
“If the bank are chucking us out, we aren’t leaving a thing, not even the carpet!” Rhys exclaimed.
They left, but not before unearthing a floorboard…that would make them think!

Inside-out #writephoto

Sue’s #writephoto prompt this week. We’ve been spoiled with two photos today!

 

Ginny looked at the window sill.
Drat! Another leak!
It was strange.
There hadn’t been any rain the last few days, in fact it had been surprisingly pleasant for a February.
She went off to go and tend to the guests they had staying at the Manor House this week.
A rather rowdy, but well off group of gentlemen, footballers, she thought they said they were. Well, you would have to be well off to rent out a Manor House like this for a whole week!
It was a ‘stag do’ they said, celebrating the last few nights of bachelorhood of one of their number.
Youngsters nowadays, Ginny thought. Back in her day, the men popped to the local for a quick pint to ward off the nerves of the Groom-to-be. Now they celebrated with days of drinking and eating and rather raucous music and behaviour!
They had taken to congregating in the large attics that had been converted. Apparently the acoustics were much better there, for their loud music.
Really, had this been twenty years ago, Sir Rotherham would never have allowed this type of jaunt on his property, but since his death, young Master Rotherham (she still couldn’t call him Sir… ) had taken to finding any way to make money from their estate. No scruples, that young man.
In fact, while this bunch of famous louts were wrecking the place she had looked after for the last fifty years, Master Rotherham was firmly ensconced within their group, enjoying being surrounded by all this ‘money’. He kept talking about selfies with various names she had never heard of, and being ‘liked’ on Insta-chat, or Snap-gram, whatever it was called!
Talking of Master Rotherham, she could hear his voice. He sounded rather high of spirits… probably due to the amount of spirits he had consumed. Never was good with alcohol, that boy…
Ginny went to look out of the window, where she felt the voice was coming from.
Gasping, she took a step back!
Well, that was a part of Master Rotherham’s anatomy that she hadn’t seen since he was a whippersnapper! And now she knew what that ‘leak’ was all about.
Really! Sir Rotherham would be rolling in his grave if he could see this!

I hope you enjoyed my silly tale!

#writephoto

WRITESPIRATION #116 52 WEEKS IN 52 WORDS WEEK 20 – It Stared At Me…

Sacha’s back with her weekly #writespiration prompt!

Your challenge is to write your story using the weekly theme/prompt and write it in just 52 words…. EXACTLY, no more, no less.
This week I want you to continue the sentence below (the sentence doesn’t count in your 52 words).

It stared at me…

…goading me, teasing me, inviting me to come and choose it, to open it up, to love it again.
It seemed to be asking me why I hadn’t visited for so long, and when I would finish it.
I ran my mouse over it, hovered.
Should I click?
My work in progress…

writespiration-2017

‘My Way’ – FFF42

Matt the Book Blogger is back with another wonderful #FFF prompt (Flash Fiction Friday!)

Neon Music Sign

This week’s edition will be on (drum roll please)… Frank Sinatra’s My Way. Feel free to base responses of anything to do with the song, I always enjoy any different takes!

Today we have the wonderful voice of Frank Sinatra to croon along to inspire us! (Is the singing along just me?!) And the song is My Way, a true classic!

So… here goes!

No fuss.
No show.
No craziness.
No feeding the five thousand.
No people I have not seen since I was in nappies.
No functions for two weeks in advance.
Just you and me… and the family of course.
A few close friends.
Food that we like.
Music we choose.
Sorry if your mum doesn’t like it.
It’s not her day, it‘s mine… ours.
Gone are the days of the parents paying for everything.
We’ve saved up and can pay for everything.
We decide what our wedding will be like.
Sorry, consoling her is your problem, we’re doing this MY WAY!

And just for the record… I was totally not like this!

My wedding was done with the true pomp and circumstance of the average Indian wedding.. I still watch the video (yes, video, I am that old!) and see people I don’t have a clue about, enjoying the festivities!

Seven hundred and fifty guests were there on the day! And only 200 of them from the boys side! (Yes I know may western weddings would gasp at 200 for the entire guest list! But that was a very small amount for the baraat, or groom’s side!)

Our functions started in earnest the week before, and we actually had the opportunity to rent our neighbour’s house to sleep some of the multitude of family who came from various international destinations to attend my wedding!

Would I change it? Not a lot!

Maybe if it was up to me there wouldn’t be as many people there, but the rest of it, well that’s the fun of a Big Fat Indian Wedding!

WRITESPIRATION #115 52 WEEKS IN 52 WORDS WEEK 19 – The Right Place To Write

Sacha’s prompt this week for #Writespiration.

This week, I want to get to know you. Pretend money is no object, describe your perfect office or writing location, or make it up, make it random or describe the craziest place you’ve worked.

I wrote this 52-word piece first… Maybe the craziest place I have written…

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Sitting here, right now is probably the loudest writing spot I use!
For the last two years, I manage to squeeze in an hour’s writing time at my children’s Dhol Lesson!
Imagine… Between four and twelve large drums beating, often not in time, providing me with inspiration… and often a headache too!

Then the drums provided me with inspiration to write a 52-word poem too! (Hope this is allowed Sacha!)

As a writer I have no home
I have no writerly fixed abode
In the dining room or on my bed
I scribe the stories in my head
My phone, tablet, laptop too
Occasionally, while on the loo!
But to have a space that’s truly mine
Now that would simply be divine!

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