Grandfather’s Smile

I haven’t written much prose lately and thought I’m ease myself back gently with the help of Al’s fabulous ‘Sunday Photo Fiction’. Around 200 words of fiction based as loosely as you like around the weekly photo prompt. Follow the link to give it a go.

bike (1)

“A penny for your thoughts” he’d say. And I’d see that questioning look in his eyes, the slight rise of his brow that pulled one eye up higher than the other and he’d smile. I remember that smile.

I remember other things too, his smell, his hair, the coolness of his skin. But it was his smile that I remember the most.

He’d sit and wait for me to answer. He knew I would, I always did. I might play with my hands or look over to the window, maybe even get up and walk over to it, as if the moonlit view outside could somehow answer for me. But I’d always sit back down, look at him and speak.

“I don’t know if I can do it” My grandfather looked at me and smiled. Always that smile.

“It’s like riding a bike” he said,

“You never forget”

I twisted my hands in my lap and nodded.

He stood up, walked over and put his hand on my shoulder.

“I taught you well, my little one, it’s time”

Later that night my teeth sank into the Inspectors throat. I drank my fill, till his body went limp, my ravenous tongue tracing greedily across my fangs.

My grandfather smiled!

Ginny McGinnty

Time for Al’s fabulous ‘Sunday Photo Fiction’. Using the photo prompt each week write a small piece of fiction around 200 words. Not as easy at it looks but great for getting the creative juices flowing. Get yourselves over and read the others or better still have a go yourself.


“Ginny McGinnty is waiting for me, under the arms of the Cherry Blossom tree”

Mac didn’t know where that old rhyme had come from, or why it suddenly came into his head. He’d just been shot, the last thing he wanted to do was sing. It felt like a chain was strangling his chest and thick beads of sweat were pooling in his eyes. He swiped a hand across his face and swallowed, a metallic taste hit the back of his throat. He rested his head back against the cold stone. He knew he was on the edge.

Mac had lived his whole life on the edge. On the edge of the playground, the edge of the orphanage. He was a bastard by birth long before his personality came to match it. He’d joined the ‘Mayfair’ gang in his teens, back when making money was easy if you didn’t care how. He’d killed five men by the time he was fifteen and lost track of numbers since.

He heard a noise and turned. A woman stood above him. Her long flowing hair, as black as jet, flickering like flames around her back. He reached up for her outstretched hand. Her skin was like fire and for the first time in his life Mac was afraid. “Who are you”?  Her voice a mere whisper, “I’m Ginny McGinnty and I’ve been waiting for you”……

Underneath The Bed

Can you hear the whisper,

It’s carried on the breeze,

The faintest touch or shiver,

A feeling of unease.


Something in the shadow,

A hint of what’s to come,

A seed in a mind that’s fallow,

An echo of a rising hum.


Can you smell the aroma,

The change that’s on its way,

The scent of alarmed emotions,

A taste of what’s at play.


Something in the darkness,

A movement to ignore,

The sound of worry rising,

A threat I can’t explore.


Can you see the Gremlins,

Hidden beneath the bed,

Can they see me trembling,

Do you think that they’ve been fed?

Friday 13th Prompt – Omelette for One


Susie got to the house, turned off the engine and tilted her head back against the head rest. She closed her eyes and let the silence seep in and ease the ache in her head. A few seconds of peace before chaos kicked in. She’d been distracted all day, though if truth be told probably for a while. Nothing she could put her finger on but something wasn’t right. There had been the phone calls where nobody spoke, just dead air that crackled on the other end. The jewellery that had been moved and some of it she couldn’t find or some had turned up in odd places. The letters she’d seen the postman bring but never saw, not even opened envelopes thrown in the bin. John must be laughing at her, saying she was being daft, perhaps she was.

When she’d struggled to get up this morning, she’d vowed to be in bed by ten.  It was already eight when she’d got home. A late night office meeting and the Chambers account that needed typing up before tomorrow had kept her in the office far longer than she intended. She stopped for take out on the way home. She really couldn’t face cooking this late. She opened her eyes but stayed sat in the car. A faint smell of barbecued ribs hit her nose and she glanced at the brown steaming bag on the seat. Then her eyes drifted to the dim light filtering underneath the garage door. John must be still working she thought. He’d be starving.

Susie still had a thick ache in her head as she rubbed at her temples and her mouth involuntary opened and stretched into a yawn.  Then snapped shut suddenly when she remembered the near accident she’d had earlier. A wagon had skidded to a stop at the corner of Remmington, only just missing her. She’d been tampering with the radio, somehow the station had moved from classical to rock. She never listened to rock. She was a one station kind of girl, always had been. Suddenly a screech of brakes and a thunder roll of steel had slammed to a stop just in front of the driver’s side window.  Susie had slammed her foot on the brakes and instinct had her throwing her hands up over her head and bringing it down between her knees. That’s what they do on planes!

She really had to move. The light was starting to fade and the cool evening air was weaving a chill through her unbuttoned jacket. She could feel the crunch of the pebbled driveway under her pumps as she walked to the front door. She saw shadows of feet under the garage door but the light still stayed on. When he was busy John wouldn’t even hear a hurricane hitting she thought to herself as she fumbled in her bag for her house keys. She blindly rummaged around with her one free hand, then lent on the door and it opened. He’s forgot to lock it again, she sighed. How many times had she told him to lock the front door when he was working, anyone could get in and he’d never know a bloody thing.

She put the bag on the kitchen counter and tried the light switch, the bulb must have gone. She shouted through the connecting door to the garage in the kitchen. He didn’t answer. She shouted louder. He’ll be through in a minute I’ll get the plates out she thought, as she reached for the cupboard door above the sink. He’s been moving stuff again. “More room for his home brew I bet” as she tried a few more cupboard doors looking for her mother’s crockery, the ones she always used. “When did we get these blue plates?” she asked herself tracing her fingers over a patterned rim. They must have been in the garage, she thought.

She ran upstairs for a quick wee before they ate. The bathroom light bulb must have gone as well. She quickly peed and washed her hands at the sink. Where had her toothbrush gone? He better not have been cleaning the grout with it again. It was always hers that needed replacing, his was about 4 years old but it still stood straight and tall in the bevelled glass by the mirror. She was chuntering to herself and drying her hands on the dirty towel she must have forgot to pick up this morning when she heard the connecting door in the kitchen open. She shouted down the stairs “Be down in a minute Pet”.

John went to the sink and squirted a drop of liquid soap onto his hands. The house seemed quite now, that was why he spent so much time in the garage. He flicked on the light switch and the kitchen lit up. He went to the fridge; he really wasn’t hungry but couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He supposed he should force something down. It was two years since Susie had died, but he still missed her every day. It was weird, sometimes he thought he could hear her calling his name, he even caught a scent every now and then of barbecued ribs, her favourite. She’d been bringing them home when it happened. The accident team said she must have fallen asleep at the wheel. How many times had he told her to take it easy, to get some more rest? He grabbed for some eggs, an omelette would do!

A Little Bit Of Something New (Well it’s new for me anyway)

Well, I am trying something else new. I’m a great believer in trying everything once, but in the words of the mighty MeatLoaf  “I won’t do that”….

I had a request from someone who wanted to do a podcast with one of my stories, you can listen to it here and it got me thinking. I’ve got into trouble before for thinking so try to avoid it as often as I can.   But then relented after a glass or two of wine and thought why not.

Excuse the quality – a mobile phone, a couple of glasses of red, a bag of M & M’s and a dire northern accent don’t make for a great recording….

Nobody Saw & Nobody Knew –

He Glanced at His Watch Impatiently 

Using the prompt – He glanced at his watch impatiently………


He glanced at his watch impatiently. It was 11:15 and the train was late, again. The ticking time piece was like kindling, igniting the pain in his head, feeding it. He shifted on the bench trying to dislodge the numb ache in his backside. Lifting an ankle he drew a couple of circles anticlockwise, dropped it, and did the same with the other.  Then stretched his legs back down on the concrete, heels together and toes pointed north.  A single light illuminated the platform giving an eerie glow to the empty station. Something stopped him. He heard a noise. He lifted his head, twisting it slightly and jerked it back the other way. He scanned across at the platform opposite. Then he spotted her, a child in a red woollen hat, not more than five or six. He could hear her singing. It was faint and he couldn’t quite catch it.

He glanced at his watch impatiently. It was 11:15. It can’t be, it must have stopped. He looked back at the child. Who was she with at this time of night? Nobody else appeared.  His headache shifted up a gear. He scanned back across at the empty platform, still no-one else. The girl kept singing, he could just make it out. A melancholy tune floated across the tracks “Ring a Ring of Roses, pocket full of poses, tissue tissue, all fall down”. He shivered.

He glanced at his watch impatiently. It was 11:15. He shivered again. His eyes fixed tightly on the red woollen hat. His blood went cold as the tune grew louder. His hands went clammy and his heart pounded in his chest. He could feel it expanding, violently beating. The pounding so intense he could hear it. An intensifying rumble filling his ears and still his eyes fixed tightly on the red woollen hat. The four horse men of the apocalypse came rumbling into earshot as the 11:05 to Bagshott flew into the station. He ran to the doors, threw himself in and sat down, shaking. The train moved off.

He glanced at his watch impatiently. It was 11:16…………….