Bookinton’s Finish The Sory Challenge 2

I was appproached by fellow blogger Tanmay Jain, of Bookinton Blog to ask whether I would participate in a writing challenge with a difference this month. The Finish The Story Challenge 2. 2 because he ran one similar last year and wanted to extend the challenge to a few more bloggers. It is an opportunity to streach creativity, and share others stories too!

Intrigued, as ever…. I decided to step up, and this is what we are doing.

There are 5 bloggers, myself included, who have submitted a prompt.

Each of us will answer the prompt with a 250 word flash fiction piece on set days.

Let me introduce you to the others who are taking part.

1)Tanmay Jain

Tanmay Jain is a blogger, book reviewer, writer and bibliophile from Jaipur, Rajasthan. He has been reading books since he was a child and hasn’t stopped since. He started his first blog in 2016 and since that, after many unsuccessful attempts at managing a successful blog, he landed on his current and most successful blog, Scion of Society. Tanmay dabbles mostly in fiction writing but sometimes wanders off to poetry, book reviewing and writing tips. He is an editor for his school magazine, X-rays. He’s a teenage writer, aspiring author, and a budding blogger.

Blog – Bookinton



Facebook ID –

Prompt – There was something extraordinarily ordinary about murder than people just didn’t get!

2)Nideesh Samant

A weaver or short stories, mostly dark ones…

Prompt  – A standard corporate boardroom meeting is und1erway, but the boss has hidden motives…

3)Sascha Darlington

Tech writer, creative writer and book blogger from Washington, DC

Blog – Sascha Darlington’s Microcosm Explored


Prompt – A non-risk-taking writer has writer’s block, so they decide to do something they’ve never done before to inspire them.

4)Suchita Agarwal

A writer and content creator, Suchita Agarwal believes words are where the magic is. You can find her on Twitter, Instagram and WordPress. She goes by talesofsuchita.

Blog – Tales of Suchita

Blog Link –

Twitter ID


Prompt – The last thing I remember

And then there is me… who has a HUGE amount written in her bio, and SM Links too, but then you know me… I cannot actually stop talking/writing, and you know I waffle… but if you wanted to read/connect… here you are!

5)Ritu Bhathal

Ritu Bhathal was born in Birmingham in the mid-1970’s to migrant parents, hailing from Kenya but with Indian origin. This colourful background has been a constant source of inspiration to her.

From childhood, she always enjoyed reading. This love of books is mostly credited to her mother.

The joy of reading spurred her on to become creative in her own writing, from fiction to poetry.

Winning little writing competitions at school and locally gave her the encouragement to continue writing.

As a wife, mother, daughter, sister, and teacher, she has drawn on inspiration from many avenues to create the poems that she writes.

A qualified teacher, having studied at Kingston University, she now deals with classes of children as a sideline to her writing!

Ritu also writes a blog, a mixture of life and creativity, thoughts and opinions, which was awarded first place in the Best Overall Blog Category at the 2017 Annual Bloggers Bash Awards.

Ritu is happily married, and living in Kent, with her Hubby Dearest, and two children, not forgetting the furbaby Sonu Singh.

Having published an anthology of poetry, Poetic RITUals, she is currently working on some short stories, and a novel, to be published in the near future.

BlogBut I Smile Anyway


Facebook ID


Told you mine was long!

And here’s my prompt for the rest of the guys!

Prompt – I saw mummy kissing Santa Claus. I did. Well, not Santa, but some fat bearded dude, who wasn’t my dad…

Soooo … there you have it… for now!

The prompts are going to be answered as of 11th May, and the works are kicking off with my take of Sascha Darlington’s prompt… no pressure!!!

Hope you enjoy reading my efforts, and if you feel the urge, feel free to use the prompts and link back so I can read yours too!

Random Elef-Act of Kind-Mouse

Dear Diana has a monthly prompt going on, using a picture. It is a speculative fiction prompt, so we can write whatever we want, and this photo has been popping up into my reader on such a regular basis… things started to form in my mind…

The stormy winds did blow
The house it teetered so
The mice called for help from friend or foe
Their voices carried, but where did they go?

The snowflakes made a different sound
The elephant felt it in the ground
She followed over hill and mound
And this was what old Ellie found

A family made of her biggest fear
As she approached they raised a cheer
Even the littlest appeared to peer
And Mummy Mouse, she wiped a tear

"Oh Elephant, so big and strong,
We've been stranded for so long.
To leave us now would be so wrong.
Restore us please, to where we belong."

Ellie's fears took second place
She hid them behind a smiling face
And with surprising elephantine grace
She set the home in it's rightful place
The mousey family were delighted
Their huge misfortunes had been righted
Into their lives, Ellie was invited
And a lifelong friendship, that night, ingnited

A random act of kindness, see
Can change the lives of you and me
Ellie and Mother Mouse in a tree
Share a lesson in humanity

Ritu 2019

New #writephoto

Sue’s #WritePhoto prompt:

“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me, and I’m feeling good.” The Nina Simone lyrics played in Sophie’s head as she stared out over the cliff.

Peter looked over at her, smiled, and placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

Sophie returned the smile, snuggling into his body.

It had been a fraught two years, from the severe heart attack, through the treatment and discovery that a simple bypass wouldn’t be enough to now.

The heart they thought wouldn’t be strong enough to beat for her had finally been replaced via transplant, and she had been given a very positive prognosis for the future.

Her rock, Peter, had arranged for this recuperation break away and the idyllic setting was perfect. She had been given a new chance at life and she wasn’t going to waste it on regrets, false friends or regrets, but her mind wandered to the one person she would have loved to share her new start with.


Her best friend since childhood. They had done everything together and would have done anything for each other.

And Jill had given the ultimate sacrifice.

A tragic car accident claimed her life, and yet, even after her death, she had thought of her friend, gifting her own heart to her.

Sophie raised an imaginary glass up to the sky, tipped it heavenwards, and whispered, “Cheers Jill. I love you.”

She squeezed Peter’s arm. “It’s getting cold. I think we should head back,” and they turned slowly, making their way back towards their lodge.


Rodeo #4: Fractured Fairy Tales Winners « Carrot Ranch Literary Community

Here are the winners of the 4th Rodeo!

By Norah Colvin Fairy Tales — Fractured in 99 Words Once upon a time on a virtual ranch, Was a whole bunch of writers wanting a chance To fracture a tale in no more and no less Than 99 words to sho…

Source: Rodeo #4: Fractured Fairy Tales Winners « Carrot Ranch Literary Community

My entry (non winning!) is below!

Cinderella’s Pumpkin

She watched, as her fairy godmother turned the pumpkin into a glorious carriage, then the mice to horses.

“Go, my dear! Find your Prince!”

It was a whirlwind of food, dance and laughter.

He loved her, she was sure of it, but that dreaded bell had to chime, didn’t it?

The beautifully crafted glass slipper left behind in the rush, she would mourn.

But not as much as that giant pumpkin.

It had been the largest one in the garden.

Oh, the plans she’d had for that beautiful gourd.

All those potential meals, ruined, and for what?

A man.

Lorna’s Gin-spiring Prompt #4 – People Watching – The Coffee Shop #Ginspired

The lovely Lorna over at Gin & Lemonade With A Twist Blog has started a new writing prompt.

She hasn’t named her challenge, so I have – Lorna’s Gin-spiring Prompt!

This week, we have the words: Write about someone you see while People Watching.

I am recycling a much older post which I had taken off my blog – a bit of fiction which was kinda about people watching… and there are a few instalments that followed it too!

The Coffee Shop
She sat amongst the crowd, looking aimlessly around. This wait… It seemed like forever she’d been sat there, mentally twiddling her thumbs. She didn’t want to really do it, what if people thought she was mad?
The queue at the counter grew and shrunk, almost like the ebb and flow of the tide. Six customers, five, four, three, oh, up to five again. Then down, four, three, two. And up again. It was a continuous flow of caffeine-starved individuals, or groups of friends, meeting for a catch-up.
Glad she’d got there early, bagging her favourite spot, she had set up her ‘tools’ ready for the day. Laptop up and running, pen and paper, iPod ready with suitable music.
She was on her third drink so far, and it was only 10am. But still, she was waiting… Her cursor flashed at her impatiently on the laptop screen. She glanced at her notebook… An empty page stared back at her.
Slowly, the coffee shop emptied and there were just a couple of tables occupied. Great! A bit of calm. It’ll happen, any time now. Before the lunchtime rush started would be good. She hated being jostled around, or glared at, as she sat at her special table, not moving, but gathering empty cups over the day. Wouldn’t but be easier if they served coffee by an intravenous drip for people like her? So no need to queue up again and again. And while they were at it, a colostomy bag, to save the trips to the toilet too.
Looking around, she observed the others, manning their stations. She wasn’t the only one, regularly haunting this place for days at a time. There were a couple of others.
There was old Bill. He used to come here with his wife, was here at the opening 23 years ago he told me once as we queued for our refills. They would come each Monday to Friday at 10am for a cup of tea and a slice of cake. Apart from when they were away, they were here every day.
Until his poor wife, Mabel, was taken ill. Cancer, he told me. Breast cancer. They hadn’t realised there was anything wrong. Mabel hadn’t noticed anything unusual, Well, she wasn’t used to really looking at herself, or feeling for anything different.  At her age, she thought she was past all that nonsense. Then one day she noticed a stain on her bra, discharge from her nipple, and realised that was not normal. Off they went for the checkup.
And after all the tests it was discovered that she had breast cancer, at quite a late stage too.  No wonder she’d been feeling so tired recently.  The weakness hadn’t gone unnoticed, but she had put it down to her advancing years.  The doctor suggested all the treatments, but what would it do?  Strip her of more energy, her hair and of her dignity, and for what? Maybe a year or so extra onto her life.  She took a decision, with Bill’s agreement, to not have any treatment, and to live whatever life she had left as best she could, with her head held high.
They continued their daily routines, while Bill watched his wife gradually grow weaker and weaker. Soon she could no longer get out, the appointments and check-ups were becoming more frequent.  As the end drew closer, she was admitted into a hospice, and before the day she left Bill forever, she made him promise to always go to their ‘special’ place and have tea and cake, and remember her.  She would joke that maybe he’d meet a kindred spirit there to take away the loneliness.  So here he was, regular as clockwork, Monday to Friday at 11am.  it had taken him a while to stop ordering two cups of tea. Habit, he said. But still, he would sit and reminisce, thinking of his beautiful Mabel and when they would be reunited.
Then there was Sarlota. A beautiful, haunted-looking girl who sat at the same spot every day for up to Two hours with her skinny lattes.  She would sit, and wait, drinking her coffee, and after a phone call, she would up and disappear.  sometimes it was more or less straight away, sometimes it was for longer. but without fail, when that phone rang, she went.  She had never got a chance to speak to Sarlota.  In fact, she wasn’t even sure if that was her name.  She had heard her say it on the phone sometimes so had christened her anyway. She had a slight accent, possibly Eastern European, but who knew… She wondered who would phone her, and what was so important that she would often leave a fresh cup of coffee and rush off…
Today, however, as the crowds dispersed, she noticed another solitary camper.  A new face.  A young guy, maybe her age.  Dark hair, slightly longer than his collar, jeans and a simple tee shirt and jacket. A pair of last seasons Nike on his feet and a pair of black rimmed glasses rested on his nose.  He was reading a book, she couldn’t quite see what he was reading, but it must have been good.  He hadn’t looked up it seemed since he sat down an hour ago.  Quite possibly she had been staring too hard, and he must have felt it, that sensation of someone’s eyes on you.  He looked up, and straight over at her.
She looked away. Oh, how embarrassing! To be caught staring at someone.  Especially when she had something more pressing to do!
She quickly picked up her pen and started to draw.  She had to make herself look busy.  As she doodled, her mind started to wander. What might his story be? As she looked up, she noticed him watching ‘Sarlota’. Then she saw a strange thing, his book that he was reading was covering what looked like a phone, and he had it pointed right at ‘Sarlota’.  He appeared to be filming or taking pictures at least.  Why would he be doing that?
Bill was still sat there, looking at his cake.  He hardly ate any of it nowadays, pushing it around his plate, then after finishing his tea, he would leave.
‘Sarlota’s’ phone rang. She picked it up, answering “Sarlota” then listening and within a few minutes, she had gathered her things, ready to leave.
The guy behind was watching. It looked like he was definitely taking pictures. As she left, he got up too, and quietly followed her out of the door, seconds later.
Bill sat, oblivious to his surroundings. No one else seemed to have noticed… But she definitely had… And finally, she got what she had come here for. Her fingers began to whizz across her keyboard, pausing, only to reread her typing, and scribbling ideas down.
She’d never really know what the truth was, but her imagination had been running wild. Inspiration had hit, and she felt good.



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