The Six Minute prompt was a weird photo of a truck and a construction project on the edge of a lake. After a few seconds of peering, I made out a biblical quotation. I groaned. The seconds were ticking away. What was I going to do with this?
When I visit the Six Minute Story site, I always choose a random prompt. This is like a dice game. I have no idea what Lady Luck will throw my way.
Once the prompt appears, I have six minutes exactly of frantic typing until I am locked out of the text box and can write no more. Continue reading “The Cement Delivery”
Walking along the South Bank with my daughters, I mused on how much history and how many iconic landmarks were contained within a few short yards. When I decided to write a flash fiction piece, this little story (and the linkages) just seemed to pop into my head.
They agreed to meet at London Bridge and make another attempt to cross the gulf that separated them.
Walking along the South Bank, they made slow progress. The same arguments were replayed; until, outside The Globe, she responded dramatically – as she always did – leading to a public exhibition of tears and tantrums on the steps of The Tate.
He accused her of being theatrical and she shed more tears as they walked past The National and accused him of orchestrating their disharmony – in full view of the queue outside the Royal Festival Hall.
Eventually she managed to govern her emotions, but not until they reached the facade of the old County Hall. By then it was too late. Things had moved on, he said. He decreed they would never see eye-to-eye if they kept circling round in the same old way. As his opposition hardened, she came to the realisation there were some bridges that could not be mended.
At Westminster Bridge they agreed to stop battling against the tide. The time for negotiation had passed.
By unanimous decision, on reaching Parliament Square, they elected to go their separate ways.
Here is the walk:
Another Monday, another microfiction prompt from Stony River. Tell a story in 140 characters.
Here is mine.
After she kissed the frog, she realised her fairy godmother had mixed up the spells. The ugly monster was so pleased, she couldn’t tell him.
Here is this Monday’s Microfiction challenge from Stoney River, where a picture paints a story with 140 characters, or even fewer.
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Another Microfiction Monday at Stony River and another visual prompt for a new story of 140 characters.
I struggled with keeping to the 140 characters, including spaces and punctuation. Finally, I got it down to the required length. Here is mine:
The children chose Christmas gifts for grandma. Emily bought chocolates and cake. Not to be outdone, Charlie remembers grandpa likes bacon.
Ruth Livingstone 