March 21: Flash Fiction Challenge – The Hole in the Bucket


March 21, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that features a bucket of water. What is the condition of the water and what is the bucket for? Drop deep into the well and draw from where the prompt leads!

Henry had been pleased when Lisa had guided him in fixing the hole in the bucket. It had been an exasperating time as every effort to repair the damage to the bucket had been thwarted. Straw too long, blunt scissors and ultimately the hole itself.

A hole in the bucket at a crucial time was a setback to someone as simple as Henry who prided himself on his self-sufficiency. The hole had flummoxed him.

Now the bucket was repaired and he could get on with the task at hand, carrying water to put out the fire in his bedroom.


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Reena’s Exploration Challenge #79 – Stain


Use one or more of the words given in the prompt, and weave into a composition of your choice.

There was no removing it. Like super glue it stuck to the fabric and no amount of washing, scrubbing or cursing made any difference.

The festival was soon to begin and the thought of entering the parade with a stain such as I had on my bodice was too much to contemplate.

In an air of positivity, a stain was not a good sign of compliance with the spirit of the festival.

The pigment within the stain was putting up a good fight against everything being thrown at it to remove it. So in exasperation, we decided to decorate it, try and make it blend with the fabric it had taken over.

A little colour here and a tinge of this there and before we knew it the stain had lost his malevolence and was as if one with the festive notion we all felt.

Now the bodice had within it a chroma that was instantly unique. Such was the impact of our efforts that the entire garment now exuded a hue of success.

As the day went by I was congratulated on my attire and asked on more than one occasion where I had secured my colourful top.


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Thursday photo prompt: Rift #writephoto – Dragon’s Head.


The earth had rumbled for several days, which wasn’t unusual in those days.

When everything settled down, and we had the chance to get out and survey the damage it was then the dragon was discovered.

There had been a rift in the rock formations on what was known as Dragon Mountain, and to our surprise, there was the fossilised head of the dragon revealed for the first time.

It had been legend that the mountain had contained dragons in past years, but we all thought it nothing more than a myth serving our local tourist industry.

But now the head was there, in plain sight and we began to reassess our history.

Immediately moves were made to preserve the area, and the tourist operators sought ways to profit from the revelation.

It was interesting though as time went by to note that if you stepped too close to the dragon’s head there came an ominous rumble from within the mountain.


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Tale Weaver #215 – Alone – March 21st


We lived in a house that was alive with sound, activity and fear.

There was always something going on, school activities, dance classes, sport of all different types.

It was a constant cycle of going here and there, preparing lunches, taking a child to some appointment and cooking dinner, for eight on a nightly basis was an effort when you think we worked as well.

You’d think in a household where so much was going on you could never be lonely, but it was a reality. With so many relying on you, there was never time for yourself and when there was it was taken with a sense of guilt for being selfish and not at the beck and call of those around you.

My wife liked being pregnant but showed a disinterest in the children except when they did something that potentially embarrassed her. That was where fear came into it.

When it happened no one felt safe. You found yourself alone and no one cared about you other than to placate the aggressor.

It was like an explosion, and the little ones would flee and huddle together wishing it would all end.

After when the house was quiet the sense of being alone hit home. Who was there to tell?

It was common to find myself alone, humiliated in front of my children, living in fear of reprisal when the morning came.

I came to learn that being alone, as soul-destroying as it is, was a preferred place to be. Learning to put on a brave face in front of the children was important as they expected what they perceived as ‘normal’ to return with each new day.

Being alone in a crowded house is a terrible place. You survive because you know it’s important to be there for the kids, if you take the blows aimed at them you feel your role is being fulfilled.

In time I changed my circumstance and in doing so the overwhelming sense of being alone struck me greater than ever. Not only was I alone but I lost my sense of belonging and that is punishing, to say the least.

A lot of time has passed since those days and alone nowadays means something different. It has become a precious time where I can reflect and grow, learn to love myself and reach out with greater confidence to those who love me.



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Crimson’s Creative Challenge #19 – Crisp’s Odd Sense of Humour.


We were told that a visit to High Noon Lane could be problematic. There were rumours about the lane to suggest it could be dangerous.

My aged companion Crisp was determined that on our holiday we’d make every day an exciting one.

She’d read all the stories and wanted to see for herself if the stories of aliens and mysterious disappearances had any truth to them.

Crisp was especially excited and made her way down the lane looking about calling to me to keep up.

For me this place was weird. There was something in the air that spelt trouble.

Around a corner, I lost her. She had disappeared. I panicked that something had happened to her. What was I going to tell her kids?

Then a tap on my shoulder and her delightful laugh had me cursing her and her peculiar sense of humour.


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100 Word Wednesday: Week 113 – Watching


“I miss her dad,” said my daughter as we sat and looked at the spot where her mother was last seen.

Her mother was an adventurous woman, and my daughter looked up to her as her role model and her hero in life.

It was a freak wave that picked up the canoe and crashed it against the rocks. She fell out, and the retreating water sucked her under.

We sat here often, and there wasn’t a lot to be said, but I knew she wanted me there. I was her constant, and she hung to me for that reason.


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Story Starter Challenge #17 – When a Mate Comes To The Rescue.


Today’s prompt: “Did you check the date before you used it?’

It was when he emerged from the toilet for the fourth time and looked purpler than he had on his last exit we began to question the cause of his obvious change in colour, personality and demeanour.

He had rung to ask me over, as he was not feeling well and needed a bit of sympathy.

By the time I arrived whatever was going on had well and truly taken him by the short and curlies and he was reduced to a shadow of his usually cheerful self.

It was clear to me he had eaten something that was not agreeing with him. I looked over at his dining table and saw what I assumed was a bag of dried fruit.

He said he had had a tough day at work and after going to the gym on his way home had not felt like cooking himself a big meal but decided to stay on the health kick he’d been on for the past month.

He had some dried figs and decided they would be a healthy meal in light of his feeling a bit fatigued. He found the ones he knew he had in his pantry and ate plenty to satisfy his love of dried figs and his appetite and commitment to a healthy diet.

It wasn’t long before he felt the rumblings in his stomach and the irresistible urge to get to the toilet. And there he found himself, parked you might say.

I gathered up the opened packet of dried figs and looked the packet over. On the back, it said ‘use by June 16th’. That was a good six months ago.

“Did you check the date before you ate these?” I asked

He shook his head to say no and with it bowed and he feeling worse as time went by it was clear the culprit was the old packet of figs.

“They’re way out of date,” I announced which didn’t do anything to help the situation as that seemed to make things worse and he looked at me as his stomach sent an urgent message to his brain that his bottom needed to be in the toilet pronto.

Off he went slamming the toilet door behind him, and it was sometime before I saw him stagger out and head to his bed.

In the meantime, I disposed of the tainted figs and looked for something I might give him, as one of my fears now was dehydration. He had a little cordial in a bottle in his pantry, and so I mixed it with some water and suggested he drink that while I went to the pharmacy to get him some hydrolytes.

By the time I returned he was back in the toilet and started to fear the poisoning may be worse than I at first thought.

When he came out this time, he announced he was going back to bed and when he did he fell asleep.

He woke some hours later and said he felt a lot better, his stomach had settled, and he felt less nauseous.

While he slept, I did go through his pantry and removed several packets of foodstuff that were well out of date. When I showed him, he muttered a “chuck ‘em” before placing his head on his pillow and falling back asleep.


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