Tag Archives: Growing up

FF – Adulthood

So much to say about the photo this week, not least because it’s one of mine! Also because I was so inspired by it, I smashed not one but two measuring jugs onto my kitchen floor this morning and now desperately need to go shopping! To make up for it, the crockery in my story isn’t broken today. At least, not yet.

Photo credit – ME! – taken at Waddesdon Manor in the UK on a recent visit.


I remember it so clearly. The grown up feeling that mattered so much. Full sized cutlery. A china plate. No more mac n cheese in a plastic bowl for me; that was for babies. I was the real deal now, and I ate roast dinner with the adults.

To be trusted with something as important as breakable crockery. To carry it, steaming to the table.

I can still taste the supercilious sneer I threw my little brothers eating delicious KD with mouth-sized spoons, that hint of … it couldn’t be jealousy, could it?

That was my first glimpse of adulthood.


Filed under Uncategorized

FF – The Lane

Still trying to catch up with last week’s FF, but somehow it’s Wednesday again. I am beginning to think I should back off Friday Fiction (and indeed blogging) for a bit, but it’s the healthiest addiction I can find, and I’m worried once I stop I would find it hard to start again. Thank you for bearing with me while I struggle to reply to comments (I promise I still read and appreciate them all) and to read many other stories.

This week’s picture is from Amy Reese. I wanted to do something novel with it, but I’m not sure I managed that. I hope you enjoy my story anyway.


The Lane

The lane at the back of the school wasn’t new, Lauren knew that. People had been walking dogs and sharing needles, bottles or bodily fluids here for decades, centuries even. Lauren herself had walked down it hundreds of times before. It was the quickest way from Mrs McCormac’s French class to McDonalds’ French fries last year, and it was where she’d tried her first cigarette.

But now she couldn’t get there. Every step closer was a mile, with leaden legs, through treacle thoughts.
The lane was still just a lane, but Lauren was no longer just a girl.


Filed under Friday Fiction

Inspiration Monday – Fork / Childhood Hero

Right. Here’s the thing. Over at bekindrewrite, Steph’s given us another crop of fantastic prompts, including the two in the title of this post. Between them, they prompted me to write this little snippet from Melanie’s story, but I hope it’s within the rules – neither prompt actually appears in the story as such. Fork almost did in the first line, but it didn’t feel like a word Mel would actually use.

I hope you’ll forgive me. And I hope you enjoy the story. For those who are interested, other snippet of Mel’s life can be found by putting her name in the search box.

Watershed Moment

“There comes a time when a girl grows up, Dad,” said Melanie, looking up from her knickerbocker glory, and emphasising that last word that she was suddenly far too old to end with a ‘y’. “You’ve got to learn to let go.”

I nodded. Even at seven, she was wiser than me. I was still clinging to her mother in the same way, desperate that Susan wouldn’t leave me to take care of our little sage alone.

But Melanie wasn’t finished with me yet. “I’m a big girl now. I go to big school and have homework and a briefcase…” It was more of a satchel, but I didn’t dare interrupt. “… and Miss Purley says she is going to make me the Door Monitor. What do you think about that?”

“Wow,” I said. “Door Monitor.”

“Are you being sardastic? You know Mummy doesn’t like it when you’re sardastic to me.”

“Sarcastic,” I corrected her, almost automatically. “But no, actually, I wasn’t. Door monitor sounds like a big responsibility. What does it involve?”

“Opening the door.” Her withering look was the exact replica of Susan’s. I had to look away.

“Wow. Big girl school, big girl responsibilities. Soon you’ll be learning to drive and leaving your old Dad to fend for himself.” I could already picture it: I just wasn’t sure where Susan was in the picture – standing beside me, hunched in a wheelchair, or only a memory in our minds.

Melanie was already out of her chair and tucked in beside me, nudging my arm out of the way so she could get in closer. She liked to feel my beating heart. “I won’t ever leave you,” she whispered. Then, because she knew I wanted it so much, she gave in. “Daddy.”


Filed under Inspiration Monday

Friday Fiction – The Knight Returns

It’s Friday, so it must be fiction time. Madison’s picture and links page are here: http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/flash-fiction/pathways/

I had a tough time with this story. I had about 500 words worth to say for this character, and really struggled to get at 100 of them with any resonance. I hope it worked for you – I’d love to hear what you think. Also, if you have time and inclination to read more, I wrote a story yesterday with two endings, and I’d love it if you could drop back and tell me which you prefered.

The Knight Returns

There was a time when the world was covered with forest, its paths cut by passing feet, not machines. Back then, I was a bold knight, and I ran through the trees slaying dragons, rescuing my sister from whatever doom I had imagined that day.

The world didn’t change, but I did.

But the adult world is a dull one; our dragons more real but less vivid. For this one day, I will draw my sword, I will mount my steed, and I will ride into the fray. For this one day, I will be the bold knight once more.


Filed under Friday Fiction, Writing

Friday Fiction – Ragondin

This week’s picture from Madison is beautiful, but it wasn’t easy to write about. At least not for me. So I branched out, a little, as you’ll see below. The hardest part for me was the title this time. I’m still not happy with it, so I might come back and change it later – any comments or suggestions welcome – whether they are about the title or anything else.

UPDATE: Sandra’s helped me with a new title. What do you think?


Mother says not to watch it, but it is insistent: each one silently growing, then suddenly breaking off. It seems to shrink in the air. It lands with a gentle plink, and melds with all the others before it, in the rising waters of our burrow.

There is a rumour that this is how we will be. That we are growing silently stronger and one day we will have to leave Mother’s warm embrace, to join the world outside with no more than a plink of goodbye. But I watch the waters rise and wonder if we’ll be big enough.


Filed under Friday Fiction, Writing