Love City

This weekend’s challenge from is to write 33 words inspired by a given image.

We could have been anywhere in the world. London, Paris, Rome, New York…

I didn’t mind where we were though. It was a beautiful day, and I was with you…that’s all that mattered.


On Paper

This week’s challenge from is to write a piece using the word ‘appear’, meaning ‘to have an outward aspect/seem’. 

I’m Marie Smiley. Thirty years old. I’m married to Max. I have a little boy, Jack. He’s two. He’s my world. 

On paper, I appear to have the perfect life. Hell, even my surname’s happy.

Everywhere I go though, I hear whispers. When I take Jack to the play centre, I hear other Mums whispering about me. Could she be wearing any more make-up? She’s too over-protective of that little boy. I hear her husband’s having an affair. They appear to think I can’t hear, but their words cut me like a knife.

They don’t know half of what goes on behind closed doors. They don’t know that my thick make-up covers the bruises. I always seem to have a black eye, or a split lip.

I’m protective of my little boy, because he’s the only man I’ll ever be able to trust.

Yes, my husband does have a mistress. I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t one of those gossiping Mums. He also has a shocking temper, and likes to lash out at me.

On paper, I really do have the perfect life. In reality, I need to get out.

Next time Max comes for me in one of his rages, I’m fighting back.

I keep my knives sharpened ready.

The Tale of Carrie and George

This week’s challenge from is to write between 33 and 333 words, including the word ‘pedantic’, with the definition ‘unimaginative’.

Carrie and George were an average couple. He was a doctor, she was a painter. They had a cat named Fluffles, and a goldfish named Spike. They lived in a second-floor apartment in London, and things were just tickety-boo. Or so they seemed…

Four years into their relationship, Carrie began to get restless. Her paintings, and her moods, became increasingly erratic. George began to get restless too. He wanted to marry Carrie. He liked how this rhymed. He wanted children too. He told Carrie, and there was a big fight.

Carrie laughed at him for being so pedantic. Marriage? Children? Who wanted those?! So unimaginative! She told George she didn’t want to be with him anymore. She was going to travel, see the world, walk barefoot through Thailand, eat pizza in Rome, and drink tequila in Mexico. She was going to paint everything she saw along the way.

She packed up and left right there and then. George was sad, but knew he’d find someone else to marry and have kids with.

As Carrie crossed the road outside their London flat, she did not see the bus come around the corner.

Her skull hit the kerb with a crack.

Lost Love

This weekend’s challenge from is to write 33 words, including 3 given words from a choice of 6. I chose to include ‘honey’, ‘loop’, and ‘topple’.

She had this voice like honey. 

She had this little loop of hair that she kept brushing off her forehead.

She made my heart topple and flutter.

I have to find her again…


This week’s challenge from is to use the word ‘blood’ and the definition ‘relationship by descent from common ancestor’ in a piece between 33 and 333 words long.

As little girls growing up, we loved being identical twins. We loved being stared at, we loved the double takes, we loved the attention. We loved looking in the mirror and feeling like we had double vision. We loved being a double act, always together.

We loved each other.

We’d spend hours planning matching outfits. Everything would match, right down to our earrings. We knew what suited us. We knew what we looked good in. We knew everything about how we looked – if you couldn’t see something on yourself, you just had to look at the other and see it. Hell, we even got spots in the same places.

The one thing that remained a mystery to us though, was what did our blood look like? Yes, we’d seen it when we’d cut ourselves falling in the school playground or shaving our legs…but we were blood, it flowed through our veins, made us alive, made us the same. We wondered what our blood must look like. 

Like red wine?

Was it as red as the fiery ginger hair on our heads?

Was it transparent? Could you see things in it, like the freckles on our noses, or our favourite films, or our first memories? Was it like an autobiography?

Was it beautiful, like a melted red rose?

Or was it something more icky, like ketchup?

There were endless possibilities. There always were when we were together.

What I didn’t expect, was for it to look like the scarlet puddle it did as you lay dead by the side of the road that day.

It looked like the inside of my heart.