SPF: The arrival

Photo courtesy of P. Allman

It had been exactly one month since Gerard won the lottery. He had done what you would expect people suddenly gaining money would do. Gerard was now the owner of a very large house next to the water and had even hired servants for himself.

Now was a good time to announce himself to the elite. What better way was there than to host a gala? That way, the rich could showoff their wonderful yachts. He prepared all the invitations and got them sent out. Now, he just waited for the day to arrive.

On the day, he made sure that the back of the house was free of boats so the rich could park their yachts. He was inside surveying the work on food preparation and decorations. Everything was going according to plan.

The Butler coughed politely. “Sir, your daughter has arrived.”

Gerard looked out the window. “Dammit, Melanie!”

Written for Sunday photo fiction


Friday fictioneers: Coded message


Ben returned from the counter. He saw the luminous colour of the Post-it but he could not read it until he put his glasses on.

Once he did he became very confused. The words written were “Marx, Highgate.” Why would anybody put that on his book? Was it a code? Should he call the police?

Ben did what most would do in that situation. He put the note on the cardboard Starbucks cup as he drank the coffee. He forgot about the note when it was in the bin.

Until he heard the news of the bomb at Highgate Cemetery. 

Written for Friday fictioneers

SPF: Wrong generation

Photo courtesy of LL Jones

It was the first day of her holiday and Vicky wanted to do everything her grandchild, Marnie, had told her to. She wore the sunglasses that had been picked out for her and then pulled out the contraption that her grandchild had told her was an iPhone. Doing everything she was told, Vicky was ready to take her first-ever selfie.

When she lined it up, all she could see was the reflection of herself looking into the phone which was reflected again and again in some kind of endless motion.

Surely her granddaughter would not have pointed towards something that would make fun of her? She decided no and before she could change her mind, clicked send to Instagram.

This story was written for Sunday photo fiction

Friday fictioneers: No horror here


One day, I found a pot plant in the porch. There were no clues where this had come from as there was no note attached to the little pot.

Not long later, it was a flourishing plant, although I still did not know what sort of plant it was. It looked like a spider settling itself on the corner of my shelf. Some people would have described that as creepy, but I thought it was beautiful!

The consolation was that it wasn’t following a total eclipse of the sun, and it didn’t need blood, so it wasn’t from outer space!

I write this 100 word story for Friday fictioneers. If you don’t know what I am referring to with the outer-space section, it is the musical little shop of horrors.