Sunday Photo Fiction – September 15, 2019

Photo from Pixabay

Looking at the sheer randomness of the chairs, you might be thinking that a hurricane, or at least gale force winds, had passed nearby, whipping the chairs into this seemingly random arrangement.

In reality BA/b had passed the better part of a week painstakingly placing the chairs in this, his most well known installation.

BA/b, formerly known as Robert Campbell, born in 1947, was a steelworker, made redundant in the early seventies.

Availing himself of his newly found leisure time, he initially sculpted intricate, miniature metal sculptures, before turning to metal installations around the cusp of the 21st century.

It was unfortunate that this installation was to be his last as he suffered a fatal accident slipping from the top of the structure as he was carefully placing the last few pieces.

The installation, posthumously entitled “Nowhere to Sit”, was bequeathed to the local council.

If you have any works of BA/b you would be well advised to hold onto them, and revise your insurance.

They have become very collectable. (174 words)

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I didn’t write much during my cruise around the Bristish Isles but I’m, back for this Sunday Photo Fiction Challenge!

Cruising – More Edinburgh

We had such a fantastic day in Edinburgh that I want to share some more photos with you.

On our cruise ship (the Crown Princess) more than 1500 passengers are on excursions today, either to Paris or to Mont Saint-Michel, as we are docked in Le Havre.

We’ve decided to stay onboard because those destinations are over 3 hours there and back and rain is forecast later. It’s not worth paying 16$ each to go to the centre of town to get wet!

The Witch : another story revisited

(c) Barbara W. Beacham

The Witch

From her tiny balcony, the witch, brazenly watched the world go by.

Long, unkempt hair rested uneasily upon the grubby shawl adorning her bent, and ungainly form.

A hooked and crooked nose erupted from her face.

A face covered in warts and festering pimples.

Her twisted and deformed mouth displayed her blackened stumps.

She really exemplified the archetypal witch.

Looking down to the street below she got a friendly wave from a man below, who pointed in the direction of the oncoming traffic.

She wore her best scowl as several tour buses passed slowly by. Tour-guides pointed to her balcony and the tourists looked upwards, with startled expressions.

When the last coach had disappeared, she arose, ripped off her wig, spat out her dentures, removed her false nose and reached for the make-up removal wipes.

Smiling sweetly now, she thumbed through her well earned dollars.

Not bad for an hours work. (157 words)


This was originaly an entry to a Monday’s Finish the Story challenge but I knew I could do better. I hope you enjoy it. 

I can’t say I’ve photographed many witches and I don’t like posting featured images that I didn’t take myself. This shaky photo (it must have been the emotion), was taken abord the Hurtigruten’s MS Polarlys, during a short ceremony when we crossed the Arctic Circle.

Twittering Tales #151

Mashup of photos by pendleburyannette (dragon) & MichaelGaida (forest) at Pixabay.com

Deep in the Forest

You hadn’t thought this through.

You cooked the DNA, grew me in nourishing gel, wrapped me round this tree, and waited.

What about my escape route, you moron of a crazy geneticist?

How am I supposed to get out of this damn forest?

Then I expelled my mythical powers.

Burn baby! Burn! (278 chars)

Here is this weeks Twittering Tale!

My featured photo was taken in a village in Myanmar (Burma)

Sunday Photo Fiction – 25 August 2019

Photo Courtesy of Artur Malishkevych

Stacey interrupted the silence.

“We should have taken that glass bottom boat excursion love.”

Simon let out a deep breath.

“Maybe.”

He turned slowly and smiled.

“Jostling with other passengers to take a few hurried photos is no fun.”

She chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. At least it’s quiet here.”

“More like deserted, I’d say, which is not surprising, given the state of this excuse for a beach.”

She reached for his hand and pressed it firmly into hers.

“Look at us,” she sighed. “Dressed in our cardies, we’d be more at home in our local supermarket than here.

It was his turn to laugh and he leant over and gave his wife a lingering peck on her cheek.

“I’m happy that it’s just the two of us.”

He let his arm glide across her back and cupped her shoulder, pulling her closer.”

“It’s perfect.”

They savoured the slow passage of time.

Being alone together, was what they most desired.

When the sun approached the horizon they were back on the cruise ship, cocktail gown and black tie, hand in hand and on their way to the main dining room.

Just another day at sea. (195 words)

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Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly Flash Fiction Challenge organised by Donna.

“The challenge is to write a story based upon the photo in 200 words or less. When you are done, post your story and the photo prompt on your blog.”

Fiction revisited and revised

In 2016 I wrote this story for a Friday Fictioneers challenge and rereading it today I had an urge to rewrite it.

So I did.

The Old Sea Dog.

Photo Prompt © George Koch

“Can I wear your Captain’s hat Dad?”

Dad looked at me, wide-eyed and incredulous.

“Who?”

“It’s me, Bobby.”

“Eh?”

“Your son Bobby, Dad.”

I lifted the sippy cup to his chapped lips.

He sucked noisily, staring absently.

I followed the hands of his naval timepiece, as they crept towards twelve.

The brass clock chimed the midday bells.

For a brief moment, time receded, a warm smile spread across his lips and sparks returned to his eyes.

I smiled back, and reached for his hand.

“Hi, Captain.”

“Hello, Son.”

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My feature photo is of a room in the Snow Hotel in Kirkenes, Norway. (January 2018)