My Weekly Writing Challenge

It seems as if flash fiction is a firm favourite amongst you and I received some hugely entertaining stories for my weekly challenge last week. See them below.

My new weekly challenge builds on the opening line challenge from a fortnight ago. This time I’m giving you the last line of a story:

Perhaps tomorrow he would look at things a little differently and realise what a lucky escape he’d had.

What happened up to this point is up to you. I’m looking forward to seeing where your imaginations take you! I’m happy to receive flash fiction, longer stories, poetry – anything you like!

Now to last week’s stories:

Keith Channing opted for an amusing true story:

When we met up, George asked us what we did after Niagara.
“We picked up the Garden State Parkway and went to Cape May,” I replied.
“Do you mean the GSP? Surely it was the I95.”
“No, definitely the GSP.”
“What State were you in?”
“We had driven non-stop from Niagara. It had been a long day and was Friday evening rush hour. We were in a hell of a state!”
“Why didn’t you call in?”
“You were both out.”
I didn’t have the nerve to tell him we tried, but his dog wouldn’t let us in the house!


Tina is new. Welcome to Tina with her cleverly crafted story:

“The Solitude, the Loneliness, and the Aloneness.
These are my three monsters.

Yesterday I was preparing your travel bags, as I did numberless times before.
The Solitude, when you are missing someone who is right next to you.

At the airport, we kissed goodbye.
The Loneliness came when I found a pair of forgotten socks.

The days passing by, Loneliness turned into Aloneness.

I want you in my life and not the forgotten pair of socks.

If you will ever be able to understand these three monsters, then you will make a plural out of our singular lives.”


Jaspeep Kaur often writes with emotion and like Keith, went for humour this week:


Kate: An intimate relationship will come to an end again.

Anna: What happened? I thought everything was going fine.

Kate: It has been long time, definitely beyond my expectations.

Anna: You expected this to happen? You never told you were having problems with him!

Kate: Him? Shouldn’t you use ‘it’ instead? It’s a silly grammatical mistake.

Anna: Should I use “it” for Edward?

Kate: Edward…I am talking about my laptop sweetie!


Jason Moody is also a newbie. Welcome Jason with your entertaining story :

Graham was alone in the house. He had no idea where everyone had gone, and he hadn’t thought to ask.

He made his way in to the lounge and felt the soft carpet underfoot as he walked to the back door.

He pulled the curtain back. It was sunny, and the garden looked nice. He made a note to investigate later.

He stood in front of the sofa, and looked about it. Decision time. He stretched and jumped onto the soft, beige sofa. It almost swallowed him.

He stifled a yawn.

He loved being a cat.


And last but by no means least is Allexandra Ellul with her atmospheric story:

Title: Salvation in Silver

After days of ceaseless chanting, all the magi have accomplished is this oppressive canopy of rumbling clouds.

Below us, dark legions spread across the valley.

On our side, one hundred remain of the thousand that saw the first dawn of battle.

The chanting paused.

A child now stands among the quarreling magi. Unbidden, he steps forward and lifts a hand over the abyss.

Then, through the clouds, a shimmer.

A silver dragon swoops low among black flags and the spreading tidal roar of terror.

They flee; disperse like an ant colony disturbed.

The dragon soars and disappears and, with it, the child.




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6 Responses to My Weekly Writing Challenge

  1. Ooh. That was a tougher one. However, here’s “It’s a mug’s game”. I can’t use italics in the reply box, so lines that are the narrator’s thoughts are enclosed in double hash signs:

    It was three o’clock in the morning when he eventually rolled in, drunk as a skunk, with a smell to match. His hair was matted with blood, there was an open wound on his right cheek and his clothes were filthy and torn.
    “Hello, love,” he said. “I think I got mugged on the way home.”
    “My God, look at the state of you. Don’t take your coat off, let’s get you to hospital and get that face looked at.”
    “Why? Wassappened?”
    “You have a massive cut, and it’s still bleeding,” I said, as I was putting some clothes on. “Come on.”
    I drove him to the local A&E, about twenty minutes away. Unusually, it was quiet, and they had him straight into a cubicle. Within less than half an hour, he was being stitched. Because of the nature of his injuries, the hospital had notified the police, and two constables were waiting to talk to him as soon as the medics had finished.
    Of course, he could tell them nothing. He had no recollection of anything beyond meeting a group of people and being hit by one of them. The police asked him if anything had been stolen. He had no idea at all.
    “Was I wearing a watch when I went out, love?”
    “Yes, you were,” I said.
    “Which one?” he asked.
    “I don’t bloody know. I just know you looked at it before you left the house.”
    “I had a watch on, and it’s not there now,” he said to the policeman.
    “Can you describe it, Sir? Make, type, colour or anything?”
    ##Are you having a laugh? Of course he can’t.##
    “No, sorry.”
    “Anything else? Wallet, cash?”
    ##Yeah, right. As if he would have any idea how much cash he had in his pocket after a heavy night drinking.##
    “Not that I know.”
    “Thing is, Sir,” said the other policeman, “there’s been a gang running around the city for a few nights now, jumping people coming out of pubs and clubs, stealing their valuables, and leaving them in a bad state. One man died last night, and one from earlier in the week is still in a coma.”
    “Well, I don’t have any valuables on me,” my still-drunk husband replied, “so it wouldn’t have done them any good if they’d tried to get anything off me.”
    “Quite, Sir,” the policeman said, “but if you think of anything else, you will let us know, won’t you?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    ##Again – yeah, right. If he thinks of anything. Him?
    Perhaps tomorrow he would look at things a little differently and realise what a lucky escape he’d had.##

  2. I enjoy reading your blog with suggestion for writers to improve their skills, and am most appreciative of you taking a look at some of my posts. My literary efforts, such as they are, aim at informing rather than entertaining, and lack interest for most readers. I would like to be able to develop your story-telling skills one day, but fear I’m a bit old for new tricks, Thanks.

    • Thank you, Kenneth for your comments. I’m only too happy to support you and read your posts. I have students of all sorts of ages so you’re never too old to learn! Have a good weekend 🙂

  3. Jasdeep Kaur says:

    Left Behind

    Tim waved good-bye to his team from the window of the room, where he lay with his plastered leg. He was the best player of the team and they had won all the matches till now. It was the final match of the tournament. He had huge hopes to make a record of winning the international championship as debutant. He tried to hide his frustration, but his gloomy eyes were revealing his heart.

    The bus roared off. The team was excited as they left for the flight. The fervour in the bus was increasing with each mile they covered.

    But there was dire silence in Tim’s room. It was past midnight and he was awake. The clock ticks started making him restless. He shouted, “Shut up!”

    The bus was speeding towards the destination in the dark moonless night. The claps suddenly turned into a bang. The glass scattered and blood draped bodies flung all over.

    Unaware of the mishap, Tim tossed his bat over and over on the bed. He cursed the moment when he fell breaking the bone of his leg.

    Perhaps tomorrow he would look at things a little differently and realise what a lucky escape he’d had.

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