Sunday Photo Fiction – Father’s Day

Sunday Photo Fiction is run by the awesome Susan Spalding. The idea is to write a story in 200 words or less based on the photo provided.

This week’s photo is supplied by Susan herself. If you want to have a go, click on the link above, and there are other stories if you click: this link


© Susan Spalding

Sitting cross-legged, Gerald tried to stop the tears from falling. Father’s Day was always a wondrous day, but courtesy of the witch in the wilds in the woods; this year would be so different. The spell she cast meant he couldn’t spend the time with his son.

All he had done was try to find something to eat for himself and his son, and she cast a spell, changing his relationship with his son forever. It was a stupid mistake that should never have happened.

The bird looked at him and squawked. He couldn’t understand what it was saying, not since he became human and his son was still a bird.

Sunday Photo Fiction -Data Entry

Every week a photo is used as a prompt to create a piece of fiction in  around 200 words. If you want to have a go, then head over to the page here, and take a look. You can read what other people have written by clicking on the little froggy.

152 04 April 17th 2016

Merrick took another bite of her sausage roll as she entered data for the test. Glancing up at the equation, converting the haphazard confusion of symbols into numbers that would create history and maybe, she thought, even make life better for people. She picked a crumb from the corner of mouth and brushed the remains from her lap.

Finishing the remaining data, Merrick started the debug routine, stood up and walked away. She heard the whirring of machinery powering up and froze. Turning in horror, she realised that she pressed the execute command rather than debugging.

She tried to stop it by repeatedly pressing the escape button, when that didn’t work she yanked the plug from the wall, but to no avail. Running to the observation window, she saw streams of light passing each other and smiled at the fact that even though she pressed execute, everything appeared to work as it should.

Then forks of light started reaching across the barriers, fingers trying to intertwine, energy creeping toward each other, drawn by their own opposition. The tendrils touched … there was an explosion of light and excruciating pain for an iota of a second.

Then the blackness of death claimed her


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.