Monthly Archives: December 2014

2014 in review

No FF prompt today – although I’m hoping to make time to read a few more of the stories from the rollover prompt. In other news, as it’s the end of another ear, WordPress has sent its review of the activity here at Elmowrites. Read on if you’re interested, or just accept my thanks for your visits, comments and friendship.

Have a wonderful 2015!

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 6,700 times in 2014. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 6 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

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Friday Fiction – Another Brick In The Wall

Short and sweet this week – I hope you have friendships like Emily and Sarah’s and I hope you value them as much as Emily does. I do, and I do, even if I don’t get around to saying it often enough.

Today’s pic is from Bjorn Rudberg.

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Another Brick In The Wall

I hadn’t seen her for years; we’d dropped from inseparable to Christmas cards, to Facebook stalking. Then she called me up.

“Sarah, it’s Emily.”

I recognised her voice immediately. My brain flashed memories: the Boyzone concert, a shared bag of chips on the wall outside school, shared secrets and Forever Friends bracelets with half the heart each.

“I’m getting married,” she said. “I’d like you to be my bridesmaid.”

“Me?” I said, stunned.

“Babe, you got me through teenagehood and a crush on Keith Duffy. You are exactly who I need beside me on the biggest day of my life.”

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Friday Fiction – The Smallest Piece of Big News

I decided I wasn’t going to do FF this week; I was going to share a different picture with you instead. And then I saw this week’s prompt and I couldn’t help it. Rochelle hosts, Douglas M MacIlroy provided the prompt photo. The words (and the second photo) are all mine. Apologies if you find the comparison of the two pictures distasteful!

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The Smallest Piece of Big News

(Genre: Creative non-fiction)

“What’s dis?” Sebastian turned the print-out over and over in his hands and I hovered protectively, just as I will in 6 months from now when he’s holding its subject for real.

“It’s going to be your little brother or sister.”

He tried the words, “Brudder,” rhymed with udder, “Orsister.”

“It’s a baby,” I said. “You like babies, don’t you?”

“Baby on the bus, wa wa wa.”

“Yes, and this baby probably will go wa wa wa too,” I laughed, wondering how I was going to cope.

“Mummys on the bus, shh shh shh,” he added, answering my silent dilemma.

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Author’s Notes:

In case that leaves any room for doubt, here’s a third and final picture, of Sebastian with his tiny piece of big news. And I can finally explain my appalling lack of blogging, reading, energy and involvement over the past few months by admitting that as well as NaNoWriMo, life and Christmas preparations, exhaustion and nausea have played their part in interrupting my ability to write!IMG_6455

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Friday Fiction – Nothing Before Everything

My story for this week came in an unusual way and I can’t decide how I feel about. Please do be honest in your comments, I appreciate it even if it stings! And if you like it, that’s great too!

Rochelle hosts, long-term Fictioneer, Sandra Crook, whose writings I recommend highly to you, provides this week’s picture.

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Nothing Before Everything

“If you could time-travel, where would you go?”

“Or when?”

He laughed, sending tingles through me. “I guess.”

“Seventeenth century,” I said. “All those romantic Shakespeare scenes, being acted out for real, men wearing tights, and…”

“Less pollution too,” he said, kicking an old milk bottle.

“Maybe not,” I said, thinking a lack of rubbish collections might outweigh even our plastic culture. “Just different kinds.”

“What’s so great about men in tights, anyway?” he said.

My legs itched under uniform grey wool. “Nothing, but if I have to wear them, everyone should suffer along too.”

That’s when he kissed me.

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Friday Fiction – Death Becomes Her

As promised, it’s December, so I’m back with the Friday Fictioneers. NaNoWriMo was great – I miss it already, and I’m desperate to finish my novel, but December is never a great month to write, and especially this year when we have guests for more than half of it! So quick, while I have a chance, here’s a story for Rochelle‘s prompt – a photograph from long-term and highly-committed Fictioneer,  Janet Webb.

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Death Becomes Her

“It does what?” Larry asked.

“It becomes her,” I said. “She looks good on it.”

“I’m sure that’s a great comfort,” he said, indicating her grieving bastard of a husband, then edging away.

“It is,” I said – to her really, or myself. It wasn’t clear to me where one began and the other ended. She wasn’t “a beauty” in life; too round, she always sighed, although some of us like a fuller figure.

I could hear her voice in my head – bemoaning the figure that had turned heads. Usually the wrong kind, she said.

“And mine,” I whispered.

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