The Longest Journey

The old soldier sat up a little from his bench at the very end of the station, his weary eyes suddenly alert.

Nobody had taken much notice of him as they hurried up and down the platform’s edge, piling into their trains or else scurrying away down the stone steps. He was just another commuter – another lost soul on his way to another land.

Except that he wasn’t.

The old war soldier had only one destination, and it couldn’t be reached through train doors or down stone steps.

The station before him was now empty and, according to the voice booming out of the speakers overhead, the last train was due.

He sighed, pulling up his jeans as he wandered towards the platform edge. It had been a long time coming but, finally, his train had arrived.

He was smiling as he jumped in front of the fast-moving vehicle.


Word Count: 149

I wrote this piece of flash fiction for the prompt challenge over at Ad Hoc Fiction. If you liked this piece, and you have the time, you can vote for this entry simply by following the link to Ad Hoc Fiction, and clicking ‘read more’ until you reach the piece called “The Longest Journey”! As always, thanks for reading!

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Hungry Mouths

The second hand seemed to be moving unnaturally slowly. My eyes flicked to it as the interviewer spoke in his flat, monotone voice.

He was what I would call a whitewash man. His sleek, well-groomed hair was slicked back against his skull and, from within his beaming mouth, blinding teeth protruded.

It was all very well for him to sit there in his warm, comfortable office, telling me my own drawbacks, but I didn’t want to hear them. I had known that the interview hadn’t gone well from the moment that I had sat down. I had mumbled too much and forgotten all of my figures.

My eyes darted back to the clock. It was a nice clock – large, with roman numerals around the edge. I didn’t have a clock back at home.

All I had were hungry mouths.

The interviewer smiled as he squashed my dreams.


Word Count: 147.

This piece of flash fiction was written for this week’s Ad Hoc Fiction prompt, the chosen prompt word being “squash”. Thanks for reading!

If you have the time, you can vote for “Hungry Mouths” in this week’s Ad Hoc Fiction competition by clicking on the link here – I’m the first entry!

Pure Insanity

It was all Alice’s fault, of course. If it hadn’t been for her, he would be back in his warm bed, head nestled slightly under the covers for warmth. That would have been his plan, but it hadn’t been up to him, not really.

I’m worried about our marriage, she’d said. I think we need to spend some time away together. It’ll help us.

He hadn’t been worried about anything until she’d pulled that one on him. What was he supposed to do, though, ignore her? Of course not, but he couldn’t afford a holiday, not after last Christmas.

Who goes camping in March, anyway? It was madness – pure insanity… then he remembered Alice’s face. I’m worried about our marriage, she’d said. Her eyes had been filling slightly with tears and her bottom lip had been quivering.

He sighed, and then continued to twist the tent peg into the ground.

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Word Count: 150

This short piece of creative writing was written for the weekly prompt over at Ad Hoc Fiction. For this competition, you have only 150 words to tell a story that includes each week’s prompt word; this week, the word was “twist”! Thank you so much for reading.

Spring Breeze

I’ll be right there, I’d said. Just a minute; I’ll be there in a minute.

That had been a minute too long, though, because then I’d turned around, and Danny wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t there, down the street, or anywhere. Not dead – I know he’s not dead – just gone.

I’ll be right there, sweetheart.

His scooter lay abandoned against the park gates, a wheel slowly turning, and I still clutched his little, knitted gloves in my hand.

Not dead. I know you’re not dead.

IMG_2486.JPGYou expect the world to stop; you expect everything to just pause, but it doesn’t. Nothing gets any easier, but it doesn’t stop, either, and, ten years on, I’m still here.

I’ll be right there.

There’s a Spring breeze behind me. Spring – a new start. I close my eyes, clutching those little, knitted gloves to my chest, and I jump.

I’m coming, sweetheart. I’m coming.


Word Count: 150

I hope you enjoyed this piece of creative writing that was inspired by the competition over at Ad Hoc Fiction. This is a weekly-run prompt that requires only 150 words and the inclusion of each week’s prompt word, which, this week, was “spring”.

Thanks for reading, and please feel free to comment below!

Treacherous

The familiar, well-trodden path to the beach had become slick from the rain, and I slipped slightly as I descended, the icy wind knocking me back against the rocks. By the time I reached the stone-filled shore, my knees were bruised, and my ears and fingers were half-numb from the cold.IMG-2788.JPG

Any person with sense would have avoided the beach on such a day, but not me. I would make this journey in hail storms, amid thunder and lightning, and fog so thick I could hardly see my feet. It didn’t matter how treacherous the path, or how cold the wind; I would be here every single day, flowers in hand.

I closed my eyes, kneeling to feel the water before me. I let it flow softly through my fingers as I released my load, a tear rolling down my cheek.

“Hi mum,” I whispered.


Word Count: 145

Thank you for reading this piece of creative writing. It was written for the purposes of the flash fiction competition over at Ad Hoc Fiction, this week’s prompt word being “cold”. I hope you enjoyed it!

Who We Are

It wasn’t a particularly old lock. By all reasoning, it should have held fast for another ten years, but the rust from the heavy snow had weakened it, seeping through the mechanisms and loosening the screws.

I only hit it three times. I used the back of my shoe… a professional might have used a hairclip or piece of old metal, but not everyone’s born with that intrinsic knowledge of breaking and entering, hotwiring cars, and stealing food through windows.11264332_669645993167296_186165178_n.jpg

When I was a kid, I hadn’t learnt those things; I’d been one of the good ones, always doing my homework and turning up on time.

How things change.

As I nestled down for the night in that old, rotten shed, I realised that it didn’t matter. I could have been the star pupil or the write-off; either way, I would have ended up here.

It was who I was.


Word Count: 150

Thank you so much for reading my most recent attempt at the Ad Hoc Fiction prompt challenge! If you don’t know, this is a competition hosted on a weekly basis with a £0 entry fee. There are no prizes, except that the winner is given free entry to the Bath Flash Fiction Award, which offers £1000 to its winner, and publication for its top 50 participants!

The Ad Hoc Fiction challenge is simple: you have a word count of 150 and one prompt word that must be included in your story. This week’s prompt word was “shed”, so you can see where my inspiration came from! Remember, you can write your own entry to this challenge here, and read and vote for last week’s entries here. Thanks again for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this piece of flash fiction.

Needless Cares

It’s been a long time since I’ve entered the Ad Hoc Fiction Writing Competition, so I decided to have a go at this week’s prompt. This challenge is to write a story in 150 words or less, based on a specific word, this week’s word being “hill”. You can read and vote for last week’s entries here. Enjoy!


I feel strangely’ elevated, as though my senses have been dulled and my thoughts have been calmed. It’s like I don’t have to worry anymore; now, I don’t have to fear the future or jump at every misdirected shadow.

14128801_545815868941087_1164325885_n(1)I feel as though I should be worrying. I should be obsessing about the dirt under my fingernails and the cool breeze passing across me, but all my little obsessions – all my overreactions and needless cares – they’re gone.

As I stand here at the top of the hill, gazing out across the town that I know so well, I understand the futility of it all.

I don’t need to worry, because there’s nothing to worry about – not really. I’m alive, and that fact – that single, absolute fact, is just wonderful.


Word Count: 129