Oh dear…

A blonde is on board a small two-seater airplane when suddenly the pilot dies.

Not knowing how to fly a plane she grabs the radio.

“Mayday, mayday! My pilot just died!”

Ground control received her call for help and answers back: “Don’t worry, madam.

I’ll talk you down, just do as I say. First I need you to give me your height and position.”

“I’m 5″2′ and sitting in the right front seat.”

Ground control: “Repeat after me: Our Father….. which art in Heaven….

Competition results: ‘Short Story’ closing 31st October 2011

DON’T READ THIS YET –  IF YOU WANT TO VOTE ON THE POLL FIRST!!!

SEE BEARSY’S POST

These were the parameters:

“….up to 2000 words long on the theme of ‘wedding.’ The first scene will start with two people in a room. There’s a key on the table. During the story you should include the words ‘football’ and ‘armchair’. The closing date is October 31st at UK midnight.”

Well, The Royalist (https://charioteers.org/2011/10/25/newly-dead/) surpassed himself, of course, going off-course with a surrealist mis-interpretation which was vair amoozing. (It’s time to get your eyes tested, young man.  The theme was wedding. Not weeding. At least it wasn’t about welding.) He had the other bits… two people and a key on the table, plus football and armchair. So not ‘nil points’! Continue reading “Competition results: ‘Short Story’ closing 31st October 2011”

Just for fun

Because Pseu has received such a gratifying response to her Creative Writing competition – eight entries – I’ve added a Poll.   Menu Bar -> Polls -> Creative Writing Poll

Of course, Pseu’s adjudication remains the genuine article – she is the sole judge and her decision is hers alone – but the poll is there in case anyone feels like giving a tick to their favourite author.

If you’re not happy with this, Pseu, I’ll remove it immediately.

Havisham

They stand, hand in hand, in the fading entrance. Dust spins, twirling gracefully in the weak sunshine; a tarnished chandelier winks lazily above their heads; cobwebs hang listlessly like strips of glimmering gossamer.

‘Wow,’ says Lindsey; her voice echoes unsteadily. She turns, flushed and breathless. ‘Oh it is just perfect. Imagine living here after the wedding…’

‘Hmm’, says Peter, shuffling his feet nervously. ‘How much are they asking for it?’

‘Not sure. But the potential…’ she says. ‘Oh; where did you put the key?’

Peter rummages fretfully in his pocket.

‘Is this what you are looking for?’

He turns; his eyes lock with those of an elderly woman, standing behind them. He shivers; she has a sort of silvery pallor; her eyes are a clear, cold blue.

‘It was on the table,’ she says, holding the key up.

‘Sorry, we let ourselves in…’’ gushes Lindsey, apologetically.

‘Not at all,’ says the woman. ‘Come,’ she says, waving one spidery blue veined, hand. A cold prickle runs down Peter’s back. Continue reading “Havisham”

House for Sale

From the land it can’t be seen until you are standing high on the cliffs above – and from the sea, of course it is highly visible and a life saver, sending out its instantly recognisable series of flashes to warn ships off the treacherous coastline that forms the North Devon interface between water and solid land.

I’m talking about Hartland Point Lighthouse.

We parked in the car-park, paying our entry fee to cross private land to reach our destination. Then walked across rough ground watching the heavy skies, hoping the storm would not break over us as we climbed. Still we couldn’t see the light house…until we turned the corner and looked down.
There, crouched on the rock face, a beautiful lighthouse – a calm sea and on the horizon a storm gathering.

The lighthouse is for sale.

“Hartland Point lighthouse will be decommissioned following the installation of a more efficient solar powered LED beacon which will continue to ensure that this area of the coastline is adequately marked.. “

Fancy moving?

For this challenge

Ghoulish

I know I’m slow… maybe it’s because I don’t watch much TV, but at the weekend I discovered that Cadbury are making and selling creme eggs now and colouring them differently, using green… and marketing them as ‘Screme Eggs’ for the Halloween market.
(I really don’t like Halloween anyway: I am appalled by the amount of tat produced and don’t want anything to do with ‘trick or treating’ having seen what it can do to elderly frail nerves.) Continue reading “Ghoulish”