
Checking his phone confirmed a problem with his screen orientation.

Checking his phone confirmed a problem with his screen orientation.
Filed under Flash fiction, Otherworldly, Self compositions, Whimsical
“Oh look at that. My luck must be in. She doesn’t know I’m here so if I just wait a while I’ll see if she’s alone. I can’t hear anyone else around. I wonder what she’s doing, shouldn’t she be in school, not sitting here all alone on the riverbank. That’s it, I’m going to sneak up behind her. If I stay really quiet she probably won’t notice until I’m right behind her. That will be a shock but so much fun when I see the reaction on her face and hear her gasp. I won’t hurt her but she doesn’t know that. Right here we go, slowly now, slowly, keep low and don’t make a noise. Oh no, she’s heard me, she’s turning round.”
“Ruffles, you naughty dog, what are you doing here? Did someone leave the gate open? Give me a hug and then I’ll take you home.”
Filed under As you read it, Flash fiction, No offence intended, Self compositions
Filed under As you read it, Christian, faith, Haiku, No offence intended, Self compositions, Whimsical

Keenly plucked strings
played the pizzicato way,
rhythm and refrain.
Filed under Factual, Haiku, Self compositions

Your heart on your sleeve
can leave you vulnerable
to exploitation,
although such love is fickle
it educates us in life
Filed under As you read it, Factual, On the lines of romance, Self compositions, Tanka
There was a young teenager from Lee
whose breasts grew exponentially
with each day that passed
she needed new bras
it became rather embarrassing you see.
Filed under As you read it, Limerick, No offence intended, Self compositions, Whimsical
Multi-national,
a word with so much meaning
oft-times menacing
Cheering only to owners,
shareholders and Directors
Filed under As you read it, dystopian view, Factual, No offence intended, Tanka
The Winter holly
festooned with blood red baubles.
Fast food in the snow.
Filed under As you read it, Factual, Haiku, nature inspired, Seasons, Self compositions

The church was full today. The whole town had gathered to say a heart-felt goodbye to one of their oldest residents, Jan Prideaux. Eighty four years of age, old Jan had continued working until the day he died. Like his father and grandfather before him, masters of their trade. Now the village would no longer have a blacksmith. As a boy he had cut his teeth shoeing the horses from the farm, the big house and the local hunt stables. All had succumbed to changing times. Motor cars, tractors and the demise of hunting with dogs. No more would the smithy ring to the sound of hammer blows, the hiss of steam from drenched iron or the wheeze of the bellows keeping the raging fire aglow. It was fitting that Jan would be carried through the doors so beautifully decorated with the crafted ironwork of his last commission.
Filed under As you read it, Factual, Flash fiction, History, Self compositions
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