Tag Archives: Historical fiction

Friday Fictioneers – Acceptance

In haste this morning as there are still mince pies to eat and presents to open, but I couldn’t bring myself to miss a FF prompt! This week, Rochelle has presented us with the photo below, taken by Doug MacIlroy. I’d welcome your comments on my story. And if you’re got extra reading time and missed either of last week’s stories, I would love for you to nip back – they are two of the pieces I’m most proud of from this year.

Have a great Boxing Day!



The boy Frederich arrived in Saint-Etienne with the Volkssturm; a girl called Aimee made the man return. But a happy marriage and five popular children hadn’t won over his neighbours. Women spat as he passed, the men turned away or shouted obscenities.

“Doesn’t it upset you?” I asked him once.

“Why?” The slightest accent tinged his perfect French. “I did bad things in this village and a hundred others. My father taught me to resist abuses of power, and yet I conscripted to save my skin. This is the living death I chose the first time I raised my gun.”

* * *

For more about Frederich’s dilemma, click here.

For more about his father, and a hint about how this connects to the photo, click here.

And apologies for the lack of accents on Etienne and Aimee – I can’t work out how to make wordpress display them.


Filed under Friday Fiction, Writing

Friday Fiction – Looking up, looking down

After reading Rochelle’s great looking back post on Monday, I had a new burst of excitement about thinking outside the box for this week’s FF prompt. It comes courtesy of David Stewart. You can decide whether I succeeded or whether I’ve just been watching too much of the BBC’s adaptation of Philippa Gregory’s The White Queen. I’d love to hear your feedback.

And if you like this view of the world, you might also enjoy an old IM piece it put me in mind of:



Looking up, Looking down (Genre: Historical Fiction)

“When I am a man, I shall be a blacksmith,” the boy announced, gazing out of the carriage window.

“When you are a man, Edward, you will be King.”

“And cannot a King do whatever he wishes, Mother?”

The Queen sighed and pulled the drapes across. “A King must do as his duty obliges.”

* * *

“Look at the pretty carriage, Father. May I ride in a carriage one day?”

His father paused, hammer aloft. “That’s no place for us, Ned. You’ll be a blacksmith like me and Grandpa.”

Ned picked up the tongs and smiled at his dreams.


Filed under Friday Fiction, Writing