SPF: a little faith

SPF: a little faith

18 Eric Wiklund 10 December 2017© Eric Wiklund

Today was the day that the teachers were going to put their nativity scene in their classroom. Before that happened their headmaster, Mr Rockley had asked the teachers to bring their work into the staffroom for approval. They were, after all, a Church of England school and so there was a good standard he wanted to keep up.

He passed over traditional designs before he reached the final scene laid out by Mrs Cox. He took a moment to stop and stare at the scene in front of him, a frown playing across his eyebrows. “What is this?”

“A nativity scene?” Mrs Cox said raising her voice at the end of the statement to make it a question.

“It looks more like some scene from the Hobbit, or some fantasy movie.”

“Look, I put a cross on this to make it a church. Over there is a stable, and this is a campfire which has been probably made by those shepherds watching their flock by night.”

Mr Rockley, clearly exasperated, turned to her. “There are no people!”

“Everybody knows where they are, let them use imagination.” Mrs Cox gave a smile. “Christmas is all about having just a little faith!”

Written for Sunday photo fiction

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FFfAW: Question

FFfAW: Question

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Enisa. Thank you Enisa!

It was just a day like any other when I managed to return home with more than the shopping I had picked up in the shop.

The radio was on full blast, and I was singing away in the driver’s seat of my car. I can’t sing, and I know it, so I have restricted myself only to sing in those moments where I know I am alone.

Mind you, on this day that statement proved to be false. From nowhere, a kitten climbed into my lap and gave me a gentle meow.

Is this how you get a cat?

Word count: 100 words

Written for flash fiction for aspiring writers

SPF: Brass doors

SPF: Brass doors

219 12 December 3rd 2017

Today marked our 15th anniversary of the day we had opened as a hotel. I remember the day when my dreams came true, and I got to open those brass doors for the first time. We were full on that day and, with the constant stream of phone calls, this looked like it was the theme of what was to come.

Sadly, other people had begun to copy my idea, and within years this strip of seafront was covered in new, bigger, and more popular hotels. So we watched our regular crowds disappear, and the most painful thing was that we often saw the same people emerging from different doors along our small land strip.

The mountain behind and the sea in front thankfully stopped the building of even more hotels in this once quiet and idyllic spot.

I have never been one to stand in the way of progress, but this seemed to be an unfair encroachment on what I had once visualised as a luxury holiday. You see, somebody could only get here by yacht, so the promise of a more luxurious hotel was a winner.

With a heavy heart, I closed my doors for the last time.

Written for Sunday photo fiction

FFfAW: The prey

FFfAW: The prey

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Mark with the blog @any1mark66. Thank you Mark!

My friend, Sam, used to keep snakes in his aquarium filled with pink stones. I never thought it looked like the natural habitat of the snake, but I also knew that Sam was not a boy I could argue with successfully.

I always saw seeing live food just waiting to die inside, but the sight once was more than I could take. I suddenly noticed a flash of yellow and noticed a grasshopper looking back at me.

It almost looked like it was waving the flower to get my attention. Save me; it seemed to beg. How could I resist?

Word count: 100 words

Written for flash friction for aspiring writers

SPF: Guiding light

SPF: Guiding light

2018 11 November 26th 2017

I could feel myself grabbing the wood that was lining the deck to prevent us falling overboard. The thought briefly flashed through my mind that this was not going to help if the boat capsized in the swell of the ocean. The darkness made it hard for us to see anything and the storm made sure that we kept spiralling around.

The shouts of the crew were drowned out by the noise of the storm and the crashing waves we could hear somewhere nearby. It gave us something else to worry about.

We had reached the point where it looked like everything was going to become lost. Davy Jones was going to claim a few more souls on this dark and stormy night. The crew were not about to give in easily Andrew constantly pulling at sails and wheel alike.

The light shone from nowhere, and a cry of joy erupted from the crew. They thought it was a lighthouse and we were going to get away alive. All I could see was the cliff we were going to meet violently with in the next few seconds.

Maybe the light was being sent to guide us to the next world.

Written for Sunday photo fiction