Heaven Calling – Part 8 #Fiction #RomCom #WomensFiction


Welcome to my weekly blog series – Heaven Calling

This is the final part in this series, so I hope you enjoy it.


Camilla’s enjoyment of heaven life came to an abrupt end after she discovered her husband Gerry was dating back on Earth. He’d spent two years grieving her but in Camilla’s eyes this was not long enough.

With her own team of angel assistants; Anna and Gabriel, some soothing harp music, the use of the weather and God’s help, Camilla is certain she can influence the outcome of Gerry’s dates and get him back to mourning her.

In Part 7 Camilla listened to her best friend Meg confessing strong feelings for Gerry, via the prayer hotline.

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Heaven Calling – Part 4 #Comedy #Fiction #ASMSG


Welcome to my comedy blog series – Heaven Calling.

This series is out every Thursday.

All previous parts can be found by clicking here. 


Camilla’s enjoyment of heaven life came to an abrupt end after she discovered her husband Gerry was dating back on Earth. He’d spent two years grieving her. In Camilla’s eyes this was not long enough.

With her own team of angel assistants; Anna and Gabriel, some soothing harp music and God’s help, Camilla is certain she can influence the outcome of Gerry’s dates and get him back to mourning her.

Part 4 is below.

Continue reading

The Writer’s Flash Fiction Break #SundayBlogShare #FlashFiction



For me this has to be one of the most pleasurable writer breaks that I have covered on my blog. It ticks so many of my writer boxes.

If a Writer’s Flash Fiction Break works it can leave a writer feeling energised and creatively perky!

This kind of writer break can also help refill the creative well, which always seems to run dry whilst a writer is working on their novel.

There are several stages to this event:

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Mermaid Talk #comedy #mermaids #flashfiction


Mermaid Talk

Three mermaids swam to their usual rock meeting place, to discuss the highs and lows of mermaid life.

Before they climbed onto their individual rocks they went through their usual greeting ritual which consisted of squealing, air kissing and hugging. 

Once this was over they set about getting themselves into position for their daily update.

“I can’t believe what some mermaids are putting on social media these days!” exclaimed Tracey, climbing onto her rock. “No names mentioned” she said, glancing at her blonde haired mermaid friend, sat on the rock behind her.

“Oh yea I agree!” said Sharon, the brown haired mermaid, hauling herself onto her rock and taking out a shell encrusted phone.

“All these wild claims about saving handsome sailors from drowning are doing my aquatic head in!” exlaimed Tracey. “I have yet to come across a handsome sailor struggling in the water!”

“That’s because handsome sailors don’t view you as a hot looking mermaid!” piped up Melody, the blonde mermaid, sat on the rock behind Tracey. She was busy checking out her reflection, in a shell encrusted mirror. “Sailors only chuck themselves overboard and act like they are drowning for hot looking mermaids” she explained.

Tracey sighed loudly. “I don’t believe you Melody!” she snapped, turning around to face the blonde haired mermaid. “I wasn’t going to say anything but I think I need to tell you now. Your Facebook posts and Tweets from yesterday were pure fantasy!”

“It was true!’ shouted Melody. “A really cute sailor was drowning so I saved his life, took him onto the shore, kissed him like crazy and then tweeted about the whole experience, plus I wrote a lengthy Facebook post on it too!”

“Absolute rubbish Melody!” yelled Tracey, shaking her head in disapproval. “Cute sailors like the one you described on Facebook don’t exist and if by some miracle they do exist they don’t  fall into the water and require life saving!”

“Hang on – I never saw you rescue anyone yesterday Melody!” stated Sharon, head bent over her shell encrusted phone.

“That’s because you were too busy staring at THAT phone Sharon!” hissed Melody.

“Oh yea – good point!” laughed Sharon, with her eyes still fixed on her phone.

“I still don’t believe you Melody!” cried Tracey.  “I did a couple of dives yesterday and I never saw any cute sailors looking like they were about to drown!”

Whatever Mer-Friend!” snapped Melody rolling her eyes and flicking away her long blonde hair.

“It is not all about mermaid looks Melody!” argued Tracey, feeling her Mermaid tail heat up with anger.

Melody glared at Tracey. “Those handsome sailors are not going to chuck themselves into shark infested waters for any old girl!” she snapped. “The only thing that makes their daring deed worthwhile is to be rescued by some young aquatic beauty!”

Tracey shook her head. “I disagree, I think sailors are looking for a mermaid who they can have intellectual conversation with, once they are settled on the beach” she gushed, whilst stretching out her tail. “I cover a range of both interesting and intellectual conversation topics from international fishing politics to fine fish cuisine!” she announced.

Melody threw her head back and squealed with laughter. “Tracey honey – when those sailors are on that beach they do not want to hear about your favourite fish platter dishes!”

“I could talk to them on the beach” said Sharon, scrolling through something on her phone.

Tracey sighed, looked back at Sharon and whispered “I said intellectual conversation  Sharon!”

“Oh yea – good point!” exclaimed Sharon, tapping something into her phone.

“Tracey – you might be not getting any sailor action because you are an older  mermaid!” said Melody, checking her aquatic blue nail varnish.

“Don’t bring age into this Melody!” snapped Tracey.

“Yay! Aquatic Wi-Fi has just come back on! I am now on Twitter!”  announced Sharon, excitedly tapping stuff into her phone.

“What have you been doing then if  Wi-Fi has been down and you have not been on Twitter?” asked Melody, glaring at Sharon.

“Thinking about Twitter” said Sharon, still gawping at her shell encrusted phone.

“Mermaid life is floating by Sharon and you are spending all your time on Twitter!” said Melody.

“Oh yea!” replied Sharon engrossed with her phone.

“Give us a Twitter update then!” demanded Tracey.

“Those pesky mermaids from the other side of the island are claiming that a large boat full of handsome sailors is sailing through right now!” exclaimed Sharon, bobbing up and down excitedly on her rock.

“Liars!” snapped Tracey, raising her head to catch some sun.

“No sailor is going to fling himself into the water for one of those rough looking mermaids?” said Melody shaking her head.

“The sailors won’t get much intellectual conversation from those lot!” laughed Tracey.

“Right I am off, catch you later ladies!” Melody said, getting ready to dive into the water.

“Lovely to catch up with you Melody!” gushed Tracey, giving her friend a big smile.

“Yea – same time tomorrow Melody!” shouted Sharon, still glued to her phone.

“Take care Melody!” said Tracey, giving her friend a wave.

“Love ya!” called Melody, before flicking her diamond encrusted Mermaid tail and disappearing.

A good hour later and the two remaining mermaids; Tracey and Sharon, were still sat on their rocks.

“Melody’s just tweeted about the sailors, from the boat, on the other side of the island!” announced Sharon staring at her phone. “Listen to her tweet Tracey”

‘#cutesailors are #fighting for the chance to be #saved by #Melody #hotmermaid’

Tracey sighed. “As I said earlier Sharon, some mermaids, no names mentioned, are filling social media with utter rubbish!”

“Oh yea!” said Sharon, going back to her phone.

Sharon stopped tapping something on her phone and looked at Tracey. “Can’t you just give me a clue on who it is?” she asked looking puzzled.


photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/33364333@N04/4979465160″>Daydream Island</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;


The Comet #flashfiction #dragons #blogbattle


#dragons #flashfiction

It is the anniversary of the  Blog Battle contest and we are all posting our favourite entry from the last 12 months. 

I have written some bizarre and quite frankly random tales over the last year; about side tables, frogs, dating apps, mermaids, hot cross buns and secret agents who are in love. You would not believe how much cheese I have had to put away to fuel my creative brain cell. 

Out of all my stories this one holds a special place in my writer heart and will always be my favourite.

Apologies to all my followers who have waded through this one before…go make a cup of tea and move onto your next blogger’s post….its ok…sigh!


The Comet

The residents of Draco Street awoke, yawned, stretched and shuffled over to their windows to open their curtains. The sight that greeted them outside made their eyes widen and mouths fall open in shock.

‘Harold’ Pauline mumbled from the bedroom window.

‘It is…. all….silver’ she said quietly, making her husband Harold quickly put down his newspaper. His wife rarely said anything quietly.

‘Your prize wining roses are ruined’ she said, whirling round to face him with a worried expression.

‘What?’ Harold cried, pulling himself out of bed and rushing to the window. For a moment they both stood and stared.

The world had turned silver. Overnight a strange silver substance had coated everything in sight; pavements, gardens, cars, roofs, driveways and the road.

Harold took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. His hybrid tea roses, once a beautiful pink blend were now an odd metallic silver colour.

‘Oh my goodness!’ he whispered, gripping the windowsill and feeling the blood drain from his face. His beloved garden was now hidden beneath a blanket of silver powder.

Tears pricked his eyes and he reached out a trembling hand towards his wife. ‘What on earth has happened out there?’ he whispered.

Pauline responded by batting away his arm and giving him a sharp nudge in the ribs. ‘What is that strange boy doing?’ she asked, pointing towards the young boy sat on the silver coated pavement below, gazing up into the sky.

Harold glanced at the boy. It was Peter from two houses down.

‘Oh…yes…erm..his Grandfather Eric passed away a couple of days ago, I think he’s a bit upset’ he explained. For a moment Harold stopped fretting about his prize winning roses and felt a pang of sadness for the small solitary figure sat by the road.

Pauline shook her head disapprovingly. ‘I think you better go and investigate. This is all very strange!’ She pushed her husband towards the bedroom door and guided him down the stairs.

Harold found himself shoved outside in his pyjamas. There was a deathly silence to the street. No birds were twittering, no sounds of cars, no rustling trees, nothing. He looked around.

The strange silver powder glowed in the pale morning sunlight and he shielded his sleepy eyes.

‘My roses’ he gasped and staggered across his silver lawn. Once he reached them he gently tapped one of the rose heads. A cloud of silver dust fluttered into the air revealing a delicate pink rose. He exhaled loudly as a warm sense of relief flooded through him. His precious roses were not damaged.

Harold looked over at the boy. He looked like someone in need of a bit of company.

A door opened and closed loudly from the house opposite, stopping him in his tracks. A tall man appeared in a t-shirt and shorts. He was rubbing his eyes in amazement at his silver carpeted driveway.

‘Morning Mike!’ said Harold, giving his neighbour a friendly wave.

‘Good grief look at the mess it made!’ shrieked Mike, surveying his drive and pulling out a pair of gardening gloves, tucked into his shorts.

‘You know what did this?’ Harold asked, pointing to his silver coated lawn.

‘A comet mate’ said Mike, staring at his now silver coated car, his hands placed firmly on his hips.

‘Really Mike?’ Harold felt his back stiffen and his heart start to race. ‘A comet?’

‘It was all over the news last night. A strange orange glow in the sky’ said Mike wiping away a thick layer of silver dust from his car windscreen.

‘Well I never -a comet!’ exclaimed Harold, turning to survey his garden.

‘We tried looking at the sky to see if we could see it but the wife got bored!’ explained Mike. ‘She was desperate to get back on the shopping channel!’

Crouching down Harold picked up a handful of the silver powder and held it up to the light. It sparkled so much it felt like he was holding a powder made from crushed diamonds. ‘It is so beautiful’ he marvelled.

‘It is a nuisance!’ Mike said shaking silver dust from his gloves.

‘You need to go turn on the TV Harold’ said Mike. ‘They have all these comet experts being interviewed!’

‘Comet experts eh? It must be true!’ said Harold sifting the fine silver powder in his hand and wondering how far the comet had travelled before reaching its final destination.

‘What else could it be?’ Mike asked, scratching his head looking at his silver garden.

Their attentions turned to the boy called Peter. The boy had stopped looking up into the sky and was busy opening an old leather bound book.

Harold and Mike watched him carefully turn the pages.

For a moment Harold remembered the boy’s grandfather Eric, a strange old man who had spent much of his life living like a hermit up in the hills. Eric refused to have any contact with any of his family other than Peter.

There had been lots of rumours about Eric’s solitary existence in the wilderness over the years. Reports of unexplained lights in the sky above the hills and tales of climbers experiencing earth tremors had fuelled people’s suspicions about Eric.

‘Hey Peter did you see the comet on TV?’ shouted Mike.

‘It was not a comet!’ came the reply from the boy.

Both Mike and Harold glanced at each other.

‘What was it then?’ said Mike winking at Harold.

Peter looked up at them and spoke with such conviction that Harold felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. ‘A Silver Ridge Back Dragon died last night!’

Mike chuckled and shook his head. ‘Ha! Dragons don’t exist kid!’

Peter ignored the men. He flicked through the old leather book that his grandfather had given it to him before he died.

His index finger found the section he wanted, it was titled ‘The death of a Silver Ridge Back dragon’

Silver Ridge Back Dragon – A beautiful silver dragon which is known to remain loyal to its dragon keeper. Silver Ridge Backs have been known to die after the death of their keeper.

The death of a Silver Ridge Back dragon is quite a spectacle. It is the only type of dragon that chooses to die at night and during flight. 

The Silver Ridge Back launches itself into the night sky for one last time. For its final flight this magnificent creature shoots across the sky at a death defying speed, encased in a brilliant orange glow. As it takes its last fiery breath the dragon explodes into a million tiny silver particles, which shower the earth below.

To the untrained eye the death of a Silver Ridge Back Dragon can get mistaken for a comet.

The End

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/65555826@N00/361441261″>Comet McNaught (C/2006 P1)</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;





The Promise #romance #blogbattle #flashfiction


You have made a promise to me; at the end of the summer we will be a couple. I will be your boyfriend and you will be my girlfriend. My heart quickens at the mention of your promise.

The radio is on. It’s late afternoon. We are lying together in my garden working on your college project. The sun is beating down, making the skin on the back of my neck prickle. 

I ask you what it will be like for us to be boyfriend and girlfriend. As you know I have never had a relationship or been friendly with a girl before so I am curious.

You cast me a mischievous smile and I watch your eyes twinkle. You lean over and whisper to me all the things we will do as a couple. My mouth has gone dry and my palms sweaty.

You pull back and explain why you cannot be my girlfriend, just yet. Apparently it’s complicated between you and your swimming captain boyfriend. He has a lot of competitions. Ending your relationship with him might cause unnecessary upset, which could result in him losing races.

I reassure you. I understand. Good things come to those who wait.

You are telling me about your swimming captain boyfriend’s latest win in the pool. If I am honest I am not really interested in hearing about his triumphs. 

I am distracted. I have allowed my eyes to wander over your face, taking in your exquisite features, finally settling upon your plump pink lips. I wonder what it will be like to kiss them, at the end of the summer.

You reach for something in the pocket of your denim shorts. I  watch as you smear on cherry smelling lip balm, whilst holding my gaze. There is no escape for me.

It was nice of you to ask me to help with your college project. People say I can be a bit dull and get straight A’s a lot of the time, but you don’t seem to mind. You tell me that I get better grades than your swimming captain boyfriend. My heart has just skipped a beat.

I ask when I will see you once the college project, we are working on, is finished. You ask me whether I want to help paint your Dad’s garden fencing. It’s your summer job and one which you know you will struggle to do on your own.

It will be nice to spend some time together painting. I make a joke about wearing some old embarrassing clothes to paint in. 

You sit up to stretch, forcing me to stare at your tiny bikini top and minuscule denim shorts. Reading my mind you tell me that you will probably wear what you have on to paint your Dad’s fences. 

I watch you let out a cute little yawn. There was a party last night and you danced the night away. I have never met someone like you who can be so tired and yet look so beautiful.

I suggest that you go inside and have a sleep, whilst I carry on and complete your project for you. It’s the least I can do.

You smile and remind me of your promise. My heart starts to ache. 

I ask you whether you keep your promises. You giggle, put your hand over your lips and whisper that I will find out at the end of the summer.

The weather forecasters on the radio are forecasting an Indian summer.

I now wish you had not made that promise. 

Indian summers last forever.

This was my entry into this week’s blog battle contest run by Rachael Ritchey (author of the Twelve Realms series). If you want to read more entries or take part please click here. 

This week’s word was Indian.

Genre: Romance.

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/8757741@N04/2594156702″>Just Another Summer Day</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;

The Mermaid Hunter #blogbattle #flashfiction #mermaid


The Mermaid Hunter


The day I have been waiting for has arrived.

A few minutes ago I intercepted a radio message from a fishing trawler, claiming to have found a mermaid off the coast.

It’s her.

The fisherman talked fast, his voice tinged with excitement. There was good reason for him to sound jubilant. He was going to show her off to the world. This discovery of his would bring him fame and fortune.

He believed she was either injured or dying as she was spotted struggling in the water. His crew were trying to catch her in their nets.

I had to go to her.

My boat is now heading out of the harbour at speed. The buyer for it will have to wait.

My heart is thudding loudly in my chest and my mouth is dry.

I know I am not the only one racing to reach the trawler. The world’s media will also soon be on their way. Word will have undoubtedly got out. Everyone will want to see her.

I know it’s my mermaid that they’ve caught. The one who saved my life when I was young and reckless all those years ago. When I had no respect for the sea and I thought I knew best.

She rescued me after I was swallowed by a huge wave and banished to the sea’s murky underwater kingdom. She convinced the sea that my lifeless body was worth saving. Leading me by the hand she took me up to the surface and gave me back my life.

As I staggered out of the sea coughing and spluttering I looked back. Her blue eyes sparkled in the early morning light.

I remember turning to face her feeling the weight of stupidity and embarrassment on my shoulders. She cocked her head and smiled at me. ‘Don’t be sad’ she said. ‘You will return the favour one day!’

Before I could say a word she flicked her gigantic fish tail and dived into the shimmering blue water.

Shame consumed me as I sank to my knees on the golden sand and wept. I could smell traces of alcohol on my breath and my body wasn’t in the best shape. She should have left me to die.

It was at that moment on the beach that I decided to set a new course for my life. There would be a time in the future when she would need me. I would be ready.

I gave up drinking and partying to become a free diver, taking part in big competitions. To my surprise I was quite good at it and became a diving celebrity in the area. Journalists kept asking me what drove me to dive so deep but I never told them the truth.

I bought myself a boat with the prize money and spent hours, days, months, years, decades searching and waiting.

My life drifted by. I never forgot her, the beautiful long-haired mermaid, with the powerful emerald fish tail and sparkling blue eyes. She appeared in my dreams night after night and her image kept me company on dark nights alone in my boat.

I have now reached the fishing trawler. The crew is hanging over the side looking into the dark water.

I drop my anchor and shout across ‘have you found her?’

It’s then I see her. Caught up in their huge green fishing net. The sight of her great fish tail squashed awkwardly against her trembling body makes a lump rise in my throat and tears prick my eyes. How can they do this to something so beautiful?

The fishermen are talking fast as they start to pull up the net. I can feel the pulsating throb and hum of a helicopter. The world is coming for her with its big lenses and prying eyes.

It’s now or never. I grab my knife and dive into the water.

‘Get out of the water old man!’ the fisherman shout, shaking their fists.

‘Get off our catch old man!’ they scream with desperation.

Ignoring their threats I swim to the net and start to hack away. She looks scared at first and huddles against the side of the trawler.

Her eyes search my face and she smiles.

‘I knew you would come’ she says.

I set her free and she slips into the water. A black helicopter is now above our heads making our ears hurt and the boats rock precariously.

I take her hand and we dive beneath the boat.

She moves slowly behind me. My body has been feeling old and tired lately but as we dive deeper I feel energised and young again. I become the stronger one.

This is what I have been training for; to hold her hand and guide her to safety. To be strong for her when she is weak. Just like she was to me all those years ago.

My lungs feel like they are going to explode, we are diving deeper than I have ever been before.

Sensing I am tiring she comes up close to me and presses her lips against mine.

The favour has been repaid. I don’t think I have ever been happier.

We both know we will never go back to the surface.

This is my entry into the blog battle contest. It’s organised by Rachael Ritchey. 

To read other entries or enter this contest please head for Rachael’s blog and click here.

The word this week was dive.

Genre: Romance.

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/48622270@N00/2630466183″>Hassalien</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;

The Lonely Potato Head #Blog Battle #comedy #flashfiction

Marvin, the potato head, smiled at the ping sound from his Twitter account. 

Cyril the Evil Clown was right, female potato heads loved his tweets about being a lonely potato head looking for love. 

His Twitter account was awash with re-tweets and likes. His new dating plan was starting to take shape.

Female potato heads wanted to reach out to him and shower him with #poorpotatohead #staystrongpotatohead  #hotpotatohead hashtags. 

He was now a couple of tweets away from securing a date.

In his (plastic) eyes his ex-girlfriend Barbie was now history.  According to Cyril the Evil Clown she was sat tearfully watching all his tweets getting re-tweeted, quoted and liked.

Cyril the Evil Clown was right as Barbie would soon regret ending their relationship. 

He was so grateful for Cyril the Evil Clown’s friendship and guidance during this testing time. It had been like a special gift to him.

All the other toys in the toy box warned him about Cyril the Evil Clown. They couldn’t give him any specific details but they said Cyril was ‘not to be trusted’ and ‘there was something not right about him’.

Marvin believed the toy world had got Cyril the Evil Clown all wrong. Just because a toy is given the name ‘Evil Clown’ it doesn’t mean they are evil.

The ping of Marvin’s Twitter notification woke Derek, the Furry Toy, from his afternoon nap.

This was the fifth time in the space of an hour that he had been interrupted and he could feel irritation prickling his furry bits.

Derek prided himself on being able to sleep in an upright position, whilst leaning against the computer monitor. The other toys were forced to go share beds in the doll’s house. He, however, could happily doze wherever he wanted.

The only issue was when annoying potato heads decided to turn up the volume on the computer. He opened one of his large eyes and groaned to himself.

‘What are you doing Marvin?’ muttered Derek through gritted teeth.

‘I am reaching out to lonely female potato heads on Twitter’ sighed Marvin as another ping filled the air. ‘I am a lonely male potato head looking for love!’

‘Are you really lonely Marvin?’ queried Derek. His toy friend was a hit with the females in the toy box. Marvin had spent the best part of a month dating Barbie, the doll all the male toys were desperate to date. How could a popular potato head like Marvin be lonely he wondered?

‘Oh I am Derek, Cyril the Evil Clown reckons I have been lonely ever since Barbie dumped me’ said Marvin. ‘Cyril the Evil Clown says its time I cured my loneliness and reached out to someone new!’

‘Cyril the Evil Clown told you this?’ queried Derek.

‘Yes’ said Marvin. ‘I took his advice and I am getting a lot of interest on Twitter. I never knew there were so many lonely female potato heads out there’.

‘So you’re listening to Cyril the Evil Clown a lot then?’ asked Derek.

‘Oh yea!’ gushed Marvin. ‘He’s like my life mentor. Do you know he sensed Barbie was going to finish with me and advised me not to turn up to any of her date nights. He also told me to rearrange my potato face features because it would annoy her. That evil clown gave me great dating advice’.

Derek let out a sigh. ‘I bet he did’ he said quietly.

Marvin turned away from the screen to face Derek. ‘What do you mean by that?’ he asked.

‘Nothing. I didn’t mean anything. I am sure Cyril the Evil Clown is being ………’ said Derek pausing.

‘Supportive towards you’ said Derek quickly. ‘Now do you mind turning down the noise on the computer as I am trying to sleep.’

‘Cyril says I should have the volume turned up as the sound of other female potato heads tweeting my stuff will be heard by Barbie and more importantly make me feel wanted and special’ explained Marvin.

‘You can feel wanted and special just by seeing the Twitter notifications come up on the screen Marvin, no need for sound’ said Derek.

‘Cyril the Evil Clown said I must and I have to listen to him’ muttered Marvin.

‘Oh for goodness sake Marvin, if Cyril the Evil Clown told you to stick your potato head in an oven – would you?’ screeched Derek.

‘Cyril told me that Barbie finishing with me was the best thing that could have happened to me’ said Marvin grinning as another Twitter ping filled the air.

‘Why did Barbie finish with you Marvin?’ asked Derek.

‘She came up with some ridiculous nonsense about me being easily led’ sighed Marvin.


This was my entry to this week’s blog battle contest. These fierce contests are run by Rachael Ritchey

If you want to join us please click here.
The genre was comedy.
The word was gift

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/7685019@N04/2261974628″>It’s tough being evolved</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;

Stormtrooper Day Off #StarWars #Flashfiction #Blog Battle


Two toy Stormtrooper figures were making the most of their day off. The child, who owned them, was Christmas shopping with his parents, so the Stormtroopers had decided to take a well earned break.

‘Do you think it will snow again Tony?’ asked Eric staring up at the sky. ‘I really want to watch a pretty little snowflake float down and settle on my helmet’.

‘Eric!’ exclaimed Tony, ‘please don’t say that too loud, Darth Vader might hear!’

‘Why?’ asked Eric continuing to look up into the sky.

‘He wouldn’t be very happy’ muttered Tony.

‘What has my passion for watching pretty little snowflakes got to do with Darth what’s his face?’ asked Eric, still gazing up into the sky.

Tony sat up and looked across at Eric. ‘No one from the Death Star enjoys watching pretty little snowflakes.’ 

Eric sat bolt upright. ‘How many times Tony?’ he exclaimed raising his arms. ‘We are NOT on the Death Star, we are in some back garden just south of Croydon’.

Tony sighed loudly. ‘Eric we are Stormtroopers, the elite shock troops of the Imperial Army. This basically means we are trained killers. Snowflake gazing is not in our job description’.

‘But they look so delicate and magical’ said Eric lying back down in the snow.

‘Careful Eric, he’s always watching’ whispered Tony, scanning the snow coated garden.

‘What like some sort of weird toy stalker?’ asked Eric looking at Tony.

‘Don’t be silly now’ snapped Tony shaking his head.

‘I am being serious’ said Eric.  

Tony stood up and looked into the dark grey sky. ‘When he summons us we will have to go, we cannot fail him’.

‘Who are you talking about now?’ asked Eric.

‘Our great leader’ sighed Tony.

‘I wouldn’t call our 7 year old human owner a great leader’  said Eric. ‘He struggles with his shoe laces, doesn’t wash his hands after going to the toilet and shoves the cat in the toy pram when his mother isn’t looking’.

‘Eric’ sighed Tony shaking his head with disapproval. ‘I am talking about Darth Vader. I only answer to him.’

Eric let out a chuckle. ‘No you don’t Tony’ he said. ‘That Princess Leia doll has got you wrapped around her little finger. You are so hen pecked!’.

‘I am NOT!’ snapped Tony turning his back on Eric. ‘She means nothing to me’.

‘Yea right Tony!’ said Eric sarcastically. ‘I saw you the other day following her about like some puppy dog’.

‘She’s the rebel leader!’ snapped Tony. ‘I was making sure she didn’t escape or put any plans inside droids’.

Eric sighed loudly. ‘I hate to break this to you Tony, but she’s just  a doll’.

‘Not to me Eric and certainly not to Darth Vader’ replied Tony staring out across the garden.

‘You and this Darth chap need to get out more’ said Eric stretching out his plastic legs in the snow.

‘Please don’t jest about our great leader Eric’ snapped Tony.

‘Oh look its starting to snow’ exclaimed Eric, lying back in the snow and looking up at the sky.

‘I am not speaking to you Eric’ said Tony.

‘I’m glad because I won’t hear anymore nonsense about Darth you know who and life on the Death Star!’ exclaimed Eric, placing his arms behind his head.

‘The force has changed you Eric’ hissed Tony.

‘Pretty little snowflakes have changed me!’ sighed Eric.


This was my entry to this week’s blog battle contest. These fierce contests are run by Rachael Ritchey. If you want to join us please click here.

The genre was comedy.

The word was flake.

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/49462908@N00/4245749252″>Camouflage #3</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;


My Friend Matt #blogbattle #flashfiction #minecraft


My friend Matt got sick. I made him lots of ‘get well’ cards, sent funny emails for him to read in hospital and looked after his buildings on Minecraft.

Mum told me one morning, with tears in her eyes, that Matt had become a star in the night sky. She told me that when people get very sick they sometimes turn into stars. Just like Grandpa Jones did last year.

I was sad but I knew my friend Matt was not a star.

Two days later Mum took me outside and pointed up at the twinkling stars dotted across the night sky. She asked me which one I thought Matt was. I kept quiet. Matt was not a star.

In school my teacher took me aside. He asked me how I was feeling about Matt. I kept quiet and fiddled with my workbook.

Earlier that day I had tried to explain to Mum that Matt was not a star and that I wasn’t sad anymore. She didn’t understand.

When I came home from school Mum let me play Minecraft. Before he got sick Matt and I would play it together for hours in my bedroom.

We created a Minecraft world together where we would both build magnificent buildings and amazing waterfalls. We filled it with people and animals. It was our special place.

Matt always constructed better buildings than me. He knew which bricks to use and how to add cool secret passageways.

I asked him how he got so good at Minecraft. He said he played it in secret in his bedroom, when he was supposed to be using his telescope. Whilst his parents thought he was learning about the planets and stars he was busy on Minecraft.

I am sat eating my tea at the dinner table. Mum is on the phone, in the kitchen, telling Grandma Jones that tonight we are going to look up into the night sky to see if we can spot Matt’s star. Mum thinks I can’t hear her.

I want to shout. Matt is not a star. Before he got sick he liked to make and build stuff. Twinkling every night would be really boring for my friend Matt.

My iPad is propped up against the Ketchup bottle in front of me. I am sat eating my chicken casserole and staring at my iPad. A little Minecraft person is busy building a fantastic house. I don’t have to touch the screen or do anything. I just sit and watch them at work.

When my friend Matt died he didn’t become a star. He became part of our Minecraft game. Matt now lives deep inside my iPad, in a fantastic Minecraft house with lots of secret rooms, a collection of pigs and a huge waterfall. 

Whilst I am busy or at school he spends his time doing what he always did best; building and transforming our special place.

This was my entry for the weekly blog battle contest run by the one and only Rachael Ritchey.

If you want to join these fierce international battles please click here.

This week the word is: bricks

The genre is: Children’s Fiction

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/95528378@N00/5499643106″>Billy</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;