H.O.P.E. How Our Personality Evolves

HOPE is a four letter word that can sometimes be seen as a cruel word that mixes in with other vulgar four letter words. We all lose HOPE at some point. Something comes along and we see no wait out. We see no way of going forward. We see no help on the horizon. All we do see is a tunnel with a power cut. No light can be seen and there is no way to avoid it. The metaphorical embankments are too steep to climb. You try, but you fail. You try again and keep slipping down, maybe seeming to make less headway each time due to tiring. Then you only see the way out being through that tunnel. A dark, empty, tunnel.

Then as you walk through it, time seems to slow down. You don’t know how long you have been there. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. Then you see a light coming towards you. Now, HOPE starts to come in. HOPE at the thought of finding a way out. The light comes around the corner and it is someone with a torch, and your HOPE dissipates. That low that you feel couldn’t get any lower, there it is proving you wrong.

Then the wonderful thing happens. That person with the torch? They stop and talk to you. They tell you that they have been looking for you. They are there to help you, to light your way through the rest of the tunnel. It is a long walk, but you see the end of it. Finally, your HOPE returns with fervour and you fairly run out of that tunnel, dropping to your knees and thanking whoever for helping.

HOPE has not abandoned us. It is always there, trying to find a way in.

Don’t give in. HOPE is there.

Don’t lose HOPE

Be Positive


Friday Fictioneers – Hiking

Every week, the gifted Rochelle shares with us a photo that has been donated so we can write a story or poem in 100 words or less. If you want to have a go, then click on the Friday Fictioneers image, and if you want to read what others have written, then click on the little blue frog image.


Click image to go to
Friday Fictioneers


© Jan Wayne Fields

Barry knew today was going to be tough. He never liked walking too far, and the activity today was to walk fifteen miles. He didn’t like walking fifteen feet except when he woke up in the morning and went to his game console. He would much prefer playing Call of Battlefield than walking outdoors.

His dour attitude started to grate on the other hikers who turned up to enjoy the walk. They didn’t want him bringing their happiness down, so they faced off with him. The confrontation was intense but in the end, he agreed to try and enjoy it.

Sunday Photo Fiction -Reflection On Reflection

Every week we are given a photo to use as a prompt so we can write a piece of fiction in story form, poetry form or any other way you like as long as you keep it within the 200 words.

If you want to have a go, then click on the Sunday Photo Image, and if you want to read what others have written, then click on the blue frog image. Each opens in a new tab or browser.



Looking out the window, Sarah watched the colours of the sky change. Blues gave way to orange and yellows, which then gave way to russet, red, dark reds before finally going fully dark. She looked at her father sat in his wheelchair and wondered what he was thinking. Recently, she finally convinced him to use the chair after his ability to walk deteriorated every day. Since “giving in” as he called it, he barely said anything. It worried her, and she didn’t like leaving him alone, but her own family needed her. She was torn between her responsibility to him, and that to her husband.

The latter didn’t like her spending so much time with her father as he felt it created a melancholy that worsened every time she returned home.  “Why couldn’t her brother look after him for a change?”  Unfortunately, he was mentally disabled and would not be able to.

She knelt by her father and held his hand. “Dad. You are not giving up, you are making yourself more mobile. Please see it that way. Hell, change your name to Davros if you want.”

As she left, she saw a lone tear roll down his cheek.

A Rare Repost – An Ulterior Motive (The Daily Graff)

It is very rare for me to do a repost or reblog, but I thought I would make an exception. John Robinson (the blogger, not the pilgrim) wrote a book of letters over a ten year period. I have reviewed this book before here, so I thought I would link to his post.

Click on the image below to go to John’s post.