Day 17: Write a story in which a child must parent their elder

(Inspiration: In Jailbird by Kurt Vonnegut, Kilgore Trout tries to write a short story about meeting his father in heaven, but his father has decided to spend the afterlife as himself at nineyears-old while Trout enters heaven as a forty-four year old man. )

I cry
You look worried.
It is time to feed me.
Why do I ALWAYS have to remind you?
How am I ever going to grow to be a comparable size to you
unless I receive regular nourishment?
And when I said regular I meant regular,
yes two hourly feeds while I am awake.

How do you know if I am awake?
Use your god-given senses.

Firstly am I gurgling?
If so probably awake.

Are my eyes open?
Probably awake.

Am I fidgeting?
Definitely awake!

Not complicated is it really…
I mean even a baby could work it out…

Yes, I can cry for other reasons…
Again use your senses.
In particular YOUR NOSE.
Yes some spectacular toxic volcano has erupted from my rear end
and it requires your immediate attention.
Like NOW!!!

Day 16: Write a story that takes place before sunrise…

Sleep eluded me.

I arose, wrapping my dressing gown around me,
I went down to the kitchen and made a coffee.
Sitting on the settee I drank a coffee
and regarded the darkened world beyond the French windows.
It looks like the evening,
but in reverse,
so instead of the familiarity of the day slipping away,
the light increased.
Secretly and stealthily.

Unusually I spent most of the rest of the day sat on the sofa,
reading, watching endless reels on my phone.
Whilst I coughed and spluttered my way through the day.
It was rather unnerving to watch the light gradually recede again
as the day ended and night began. And that, my friend, was my day.

PS. Not all my story took part before the day began, but I am using the prompts to inspire not dictate…

Day 15: Take a story you’ve drafted. Cut it in half word-wise. Then add an orange balloon to it

I had no real idea what I was getting into.
It sounded simple enough.
Write 100 words a day in response to a prompt.

It cannot be difficult I though,
but oh my goodness,
I often had to step well out of my comfort zone

Talking of approaches, hark, there is something in the sky.
I strain my eyes,
squinting against the harsh sunshine.
Is It a UFO or a continuation of a dream from yesterday?
I listen intently,
but all I can hear is next door’s leaf blower.
It draws closer and closer.
I hope it isn’t one of those 'let's set fire to the world' sky lanterns.
Then I realise that it is merely a balloon.
I say merely a balloon,
but even that is not great for the environment.
They use some of the world’s precious supply of helium.
Then they get trapped in trees and remain there for years,
taunting passers by.

The future could be bright,
but not if it features orange helium balloons!

Not a balloon, but it is orange...

Day 14: One Breathless Sentence

Think of a distant memory, one perhaps you have not written about (or might have a while ago). Then with either pen to page, or fingers to tablet, begin!!! Do your best not to stop- this is an exercise in freeing up the cognitive process- Punctuation be gone!

Summer days, in the garden

The swing was the focal point of our games sometimes we used it as a swing how many kicks before you can touch the washing line with your foot the swing was the hot seat for quiz games my dad tied an old ladder on to the side of the swing holes were sunk in the lawn and a bent piece of tubing became our golf club we all knew each others parents as well as the other adults in the neighbourhood we played hopscotch on the pavements and ball games in the road, keeping an eye out for the occasional vehicle some teenagers passing by noted the bright cheeks of my friend hello Rosy they greeted him how rude! I thought I AM ROSIE

Day 13: You find yourself in an abandoned shopping mall from the 1980s.

You are leisurely making your way through the ruins when you begin to hear Muzak.
As you near the sound, you realize there is one store still open,
though you are unclear how it could possibly be open for business.
"We've been waiting for you," a cheerful sales lady says as she waves you over.
"Quickly now!" she says, bustling you into the store, 
"the ritual is about to begin!"
What happens next?


I look around in bewilderment,
seeking clues as to the purpose of this establishment,
but all I can see is a cupboard full of tins.

“Quick, close your eyes.
Empty your mind and choose a tin.
But choose carefully.
We cannot take responsibility if you end up at the wrong destination!”

“What’s this, some kind of low budget travel agent?”

The woman glared at me.

“Hardly. We are a portal for time travel.”

I laughed incredulously.

“What did you expect a time machine to look like?
A phone box, or a gadget with light bulbs and wires?
Items of such predictablility are reserved for fiction!”

“What would happen if I took the tin of beans outside?”

“Nothing. The objects can only trigger time travel within the portal.”

I grabbed a tin of beans and suddenly found myself spinning.
Where would I end up?
What would I encounter?
Was this the swirling vortex of doom?

Day 12: The world's going to end because of global warming, and your character does something unbelievably stupid. Now show how the action is perfectly logical.

Twenty-four hours in and I am still lying on a trolly in corridor.
The guy on the adjacent trolly cannot believe how I came to be in Casualty.

“So Eco-warrior, remind me how you managed to break BOTH legs?”
“I fell down the stairs…”
“Were you staying somewhere new?”
“No, it was in my own home. I turned off the lights to save energy.
I forgot to count the stairs and thought I was nearer the bottom and fell awkwardly.”

A nurse, hurries by, trying not to get dragged into questions about how long it will be before any of the patients lining the corridor get a bed.

“Can you move Eco-Warrior further away from the light switches, please?
We don’t want her turning off any more lights and causing further disasters…”

Day 11: A story in which you meet your past or future self

I thought I would find you leaning against the coal place wall,
by your favourite 'burnt brick'.
Big sis has passed the 11+ and off to the County High School.
This is where your paths diverged.
You will never again be at the same educational establishment.
Years of Primary Education lie ahead for you before you are hived off to Middle School.
You will never reach 4th Year Juniors
and the rites of passage of the 11+ and running a stall at the school fete.
Instead you will be bored by liberal education,
endless unmarked projects that no-one cares if you ever complete.

Your face says it all.
The future was bright, but it was goofy.

Day 10: Write a story that is 10 sentences

Alas, the instruction was more complicated.

Day 10: Write a story that is 10 sentences,
then take each sentence and rearrange their order to make a new story.


I tried
and tried
and tried.
And failed.
Hence why I am posting day 10 on day 12...

But all is not lost...
Instead I wrote a random series of sentences, which will suffice

"Whose bright idea was this,” demanded Miss Pike, “Looking at the fish dying in the carpet.
It was meant to be a present, a surprise, something wonderfully memorable.
“Happy birthday, darling, and many happy returns.”
“Well, you have made a right spectacle of yourself!” She replied bitterly.
They left soon after, keen to been rush hour.
The traffic lights were stuck on red - awkward.
Who was going to be brave enough to take a risk?
It was the sort of day that you were surprised to find that the house was still standing.
They entered the house and collapsed in a heap on the sofa.
Out in the garden the dog celebrated their arrival by jumping in the pond, again…

Feel free to make your own story from the above random sentences.
After all it's not winning tor losing,
it's about how you play the game, or so they say..

Try telling that to the fish…

Day 9: November 9 Start with "Someone is dead. Even the trees know it…"

Someone is dead.
Even the trees know it…
The whole forest is sighing with sorrow,
shaking with grief,
whispering condolences,
seeking answers.

“Was it Birch, or Cherry,
Ash, Aspen or Beech,
Hazel or Holly,
Rowan or Willow?
We really don’t know!
We could say we fear the worst,
but sadly that has already happened…

It is a grave situation
justifying soul searching,
But where will it all end?

We shall sorrow on the morrow,
mourn in the morn
and grieve in the eve.

Day 8: Write a road trip story. Two characters, tension, going from where to where?

“Take the third exit…
That was the second. The satnav doesn’t always recognise supermarkets”

“How was I supposed to know?
What time were we supposed to have arrived?”

“Midday.”

“And we will be there at 12:10 according to the Satnav.
We will be late. You are always late.”

“Late is if we arrive after it finishes.
This is the sort of event where we just join in when we get there.”


This was the sound track to every trip we made on our journey together,
until one day we could not have the conversation
because one of us wasn't there.

Day 7: Write a story about a character who is keeping a terrible secret that has just been discovered..

Where do you hide a secret?
Under the bed?
In the airing cupboard?
In the loft?
Maybe the garage?
Perhaps I should have chosen a better place,
but I decided that hidden in plain sight was the best policy.

But now my children are taking an interest in their family tree
and noticing that they look nothing like the rest of the family.
Not even much like me!

Their birth certificates will not reveal anything.
We made sure of that.
But one day they will ask why is there is always the same priest on the family photographs,
and where he fits in to the family tree…

Miracles come in many forms...

Day 6: There's a stranger in your kitchen…

The aroma of an apple crumble reminds me of my mother’s cooking.
With six mouths to feed on a carefully calculated budget.
Food was simple and tasty, supplemented by fresh fruit and veg from the garden.

Whiff of winter stew, wafts around the room.

The fragrance of freshly baked bread makes my mouth water.

Icing sugar can be detected the moist warm air.

Who has created all these wonderful aromas?


If I peep in the mirror I can see a stranger in my kitchen.

I realise, with a start, that it is me!

Day 5: Write a story set in the 1990s

“But what WILL happen when the clocks strike midnight?”
“No-one, knows. All we can do is plan for the worst case scenario,
for the whole of the computer system to come to a halt,
and have strategies in place to cope if that comes to pass.”
“They didn’t have this problem at the end of the previous millennium!"

We sat, with baited breath, waiting as the last seconds of 1999 ticked away…

But I cannot tell you what happened next, for that is part of the story of the third millennium.
By the time that ends, it will all be lost in the mists of time.

Day 4: The cult leader had once been a child star.

The adulation ended once my voice began to fail and I lost the cute look that had brought me fame.

In a bid to get more healthy I experimented with new health drinks - rose/sprout, blueberry/rhubarb, banana/cabbage.
I developed a cottage industry, which went commercial as demand skyrocketted.
Regular purchasers joined a Facebook group.
I started publishing daily motivational guidance to promote my business.
Before I knew it I was a guru with a blossoming business.
Speaking events followed.
My fans met up regularly, analysing every word I published.
If I said ‘jump’ they duly obliged.
Thus my cult was born.

Day 3 The Sound of Silence

 Day 3: Write a story whose descriptions rely only on the sense of smell or hearing (or both) 

There is nothing more I can do, but wait.
The rasp of your breathing cuts the silence.

I open the window, mentally bargaining with God.
If I can hear the noise of a car, an indication that life exists beyond these walls,
it will be a sign that you will survive the night.
But the only sounds from the world outside are the sorrowing sighs of the trees.

I strain my ears, longing to hear.
In the distance a fox howls

The headlights of an electrical vehicle pulling up outside distract me.
Does this count?

You cough,
splutter.
Your breathing eases.
Crisis averted.

For now.

November 2nd - Amoransia - 100 word story

 Day 2: Word Prompt: Amoransia
Portuguese amor, love + ânsia, craving.
Pronounced "ah-moh-ran-see-uh."
n. the melodramatic thrill of unrequited love; the longing to pine for someone you can never have,
wallowing in devotion to some impossible person who could give your life meaning by their very absence.


I close the door quietly and walk away,
holding my head high,
never looking back.
I am strong.
I am capable.

In reality as I walked away they sighed a deep sigh of relief,
as my unspoken intensity irritated them.
The door blew open after my departure,
sending paperwork everywhere.
Smoke backed up into the room,
stinging eyes.

“She cannot even manage to depart without leaving a trail of chaos and carnage in her wake…” you announce.

I am oblivious.
I am strong.
I am broken-hearted.
One day you will realise that you cannot live without me.

You are pissed off.

November 1st Wrong Body - 100 Word Story

We found a body, but not the body we were looking for
All night we had trudged
scratching arms and faces on thorns,
snagging clothing on protruding branches.
Periodically we would freeze with fear, at some unfamiliar sound.
Only to discover it was some unsuspecting wildlife that was just as spooked by us as we were by them.
On reaching the hilltop, the moon pierced through the clouds, illuminating the landscape.
We could see the lake.
“Phew!” Jan stared ahead
“Good heavens!”
“Whassup?”
“That’s Fiddlers Island! We have found the body, but it is the wrong body…of water”