Sunday Photo Fiction – Racism

Each week a photo is posted as a prompt to write a story in around 200 words.

My story has an element of truth to it, in that there are very often racist marches on the docks here in Dover.

Last week there was a march that turned violent with racists clashing with non racists.

If you want to have a go then follow this link, and if you want to read what others have written, then follow this link.

142 02 February 7th 2016

He stood at the docks with his placard adorned with racist words. He didn’t want this filthy scum in his country. HIS country was for white people. For the people who lived here, who always lived here. More and more of his friends gave in and walked away a long time ago. Him being one of the last to come every week in the hope someone would listen and deport all these vile creatures so HIS country could be strong again and not diluted.

One of the other demonstrators asked him for a cigarette, and he told him no, in a more abrasive fashion, and looked away. He didn’t see the knife, but he felt it, straight between the ribs. He looked at his attacker, as the latter rifled his pockets and took his last smoke. People ran, screaming. Two ran toward him. He thought he must be hallucinating as they seemed to be talking gibberish.

He felt himself being slid onto his placard and the dark face yelled something, and he felt tugging on his side.

Later he found that his saviour was an Indian doctor. He cried at what happened, wishing he was dead. Tainted by these filthy …


It is unfortunate that even when saved by someone of a different race, some racists will still feel the need for hate. Underneath the colour of the skin, the tone of the voice, or the language, then everybody is the same. Looks at someone as only muscle, or only skeleton, and you won’t know what colour or sexual orientation they are.

Racism and all other hatred upsets me, and I hope that one day it will become an insignificant problem. I know it will never go away completely, because there will always be haters.

Please don’t take this story as being racist, because I am not. Far from it. I have friends of differing religions, faiths, beliefs, creeds, colours, sexual orientation and altered genders.

Sunday Photo Fiction -Hidden Camera

I have been meaning to post this all week, but with one thing and another, I have not been able to. I want to post more often, but finding the time can be time consuming.

Anyway, if you want to have a go at Sunday Photo Fiction, it runs from Sunday 4am GMT to Sunday 4am GMT. You can past at any time during that time using the photo as a part of the prompt.

If you want to see what other people have written, then go have a peek-a-boo here.

137 01 January 3rd 2016

Gary smiled as he looked at his new “spliced-gadget”. He felt sure his wife brought in a lover every night whilst he worked, so he set up a motion sensor camera in a water speaker attached to the media player. When someone entered the room, the music would start playing, and the wide angle camera would capture everything that occurred in the room.

Setting the motion sensor, he carefully backed out the room so as not to set it off, and carefully closed the door. Tossing the control in the air, he caught it as it flipped and landed with a plap in the palm of his hand.

After an hour at work, Gary checked the monitor for the water speaker camera and it flickered to life. He smiled at his timing and watched as Hilary walked in and closed the door behind her. Gary was both relieved and slightly disappointed.

His wife looked around the room and started to unbutton her shirt, he grinned at the thought of what he was about to watch, and made himself comfortable. Hilary pulled on her necklace and her skin rippled, shrinking back revealing herself to be a somewhat different creature.

Gary screamed.

Sunday Photo Fiction – The Bud

I’ll explain where the idea for this story came from at the end.

Every week a photo is used as a prompt for writing a story in around 200 words. This is called Flash Fiction – as opposed to Flash Gordon who has nothing to do with this. If you want to have a go, then head off to Sunday Photo Fiction (link opens in new tab) If you want to read other stories, then there is a little blue icon that you can jump up and down on. Also opens in new tab.

122 09 September 20th 2015


Gregory and Janine ran ahead of their dad, laughing. He stomped along behind them imitating a huge monster. “I am the dupoled” he said in a deep, mock menacing voice. Seven-year-old Gregory squealed, “Not the dupoded!” and tried to hide on the other side of his sister, one year his senior.

The laugh and smiles slid from his face though when he saw her staring at something. He turned and staggered back. “What is it daddy?” the boy asked. The elder man knelt down and looked at their find. “It’s a flower. But that’s impossible.”

Janine frowned, “flowers aren’t like that, and they are open. This one is closed.”

“No, this is a REAL flower. There haven’t been any around for decades.” He gently ran his fingers up the stem to the bud. “We can’t let anyone know this is here. We can’t tell anyone.”

Gregory looked downcast, “not even mummy?”

“Especially not mummy” he warned.

*** **** *** **** ***

Later, as their father set dinner out, removing food from the cryo-cooler, their mother returned home looking pleased with herself. “You should be happy with mummy today. I found another piece of grass so we can build more houses.”

Janine thought of the flower bud they found beside the raised air rail, and decided it would definitely be their secret to try and bring some nature back to their planet that was now covered almost completely in buildings.


The idea of this story came to me when I was watching the news this morning, and they were talking about building houses on green belt land. If they start doing that, then it will end up looking like something from a sci-fi film where no land can be seen. An example of that is Coruscant from the Star Wars films.


Sunday Photo Fiction – The Return

It has been a long time since I have done some Photo Fiction, but I was just drifting off to sleep the other night and this story just jumped at me, so I had to write it down.

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly photo fiction challenge where you make up a story with approximately 200 words using the photo provided. If you want to have a go, the challenge runs from 4am GMT Sunday to 4am GMT the following Sunday. You can find the link HERE.

Other stories can be found in the little froggy button.

121 09 September 13th 2015


In the old curios shop, Greg picked up a small, green gem and turned it over in his right hand, rolling it with the index finger of his left hand. The shopkeeper smiled at him and said “It is a return gem”. At Greg’s frown, he chuckled. “Apparently it is a lifesaver, it can return someone to life, presumably by holding their essence inside it.” Upon querying the price, of which the old man informed him he would let it go for thirty pounds. Greg bartered him down to twenty, and left with it in his inside jacket pocket.

“You brought WHAT??” his wife, Vikki, screamed at him. “Of all the stupid things for you to buy. Leave. Now! I have had it with your stupidity, your childishness, and your pathetic excuse for being a human being. I knew I should have married your brother, he’s better in bed than you anyway!” Greg stood there stunned. He always wondered about the way she looked at his brother. In a daze, he opened the front door and stopped. He turned to look at her, and saw only hate and loathing in her eyes. “GET OUT!” she screamed and picked the closest thing to her, a saucepan with boiling water, and threw it at him. He ducked and staggered out the door, falling off the path as he stumbled. He didn’t see the big rig, but he felt it. Briefly.

*** **** *** **** ***

“It’s a return gem”. He chuckled at Greg’s frown. “Apparently it’s a …”
“I’ll take it, here’s the thirty pounds, and do you know a good divorce lawyer?”