Blind Spot

It’s funny how perspective changes, isn’t it. Enjoy.

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The Princess Motive.

Wow! It has been about a month since I posted anything. What a month it has been! My daughter Miss 4 has started primary school so I have been emotionally exhausted. Also in writing news, I am almost finished the second manuscript in my fantasy book! So while no short stories have been produced, at least I am actively writing.

Confession – I also haven’t been reading all of your wonderful blogs. I can’t wait to dive back in.

A short piece for your Wednesday afternoon.

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The Eyes Have It

A little short story for your Wednesday. Enjoy

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Missing Link.

The alarm started playing hard rock at 7:05am. Robert hit the off button, wondering why his classical music station had been changed. Maybe it was the cleaner when she was dusting.

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The Watcher

Without giving too much away, the person who inspired this knows who she is… Enjoy this little bit of fiction.

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Scar

A little snippet of something that could be a larger work. I’ve added it to my very long list…. Oh dear. Enjoy.

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The Professional

This short story was entered into a writing competition. It didn’t win, but here it is for you. The topic was ‘The Elephant in the Room,’ and I had to use specific words throughout. The winning entries were wonderful! Here you go.

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The Emerald Ring

The rain fell in heavy sheets, soaking Lizzie to the bone until she couldn’t remember what it felt like to be dry. Her gum boots filled with the icy water, driving needles into her skin. The trapped water didn’t warm as she paced around, it just sloshed until her toes were numb and she was sure they had turned black.

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So, it’s been a while…

Hello WordPress!

wave

I’m back. Mr 10 weeks is sleeping all night, the dreaded pregnancy ‘morning sickness’ went as soon as he entered the World. Now I can focus on getting the stories in my head out.

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Eggs

“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s three, six-minute eggs. Not six, three-minute eggs.” He pushed the silver tray away. “Who in their right might would eat six, three-minute eggs? They wouldn’t even be bloody cooked.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” She gathered up the tray in shaking hands. “The cook…”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, girl. Just get me my breakfast.”

With a snap he flipped open the newspaper and started reading the business section, as she walked backwards out of the room.

“He wouldn’t eat them,” she said in a low voice to her husband, the cook. “He wants three six-minute eggs, but if you cook them that long will it affect the cyanide in the water?”

He shrugged and tipped some more of the poison into the boiling water.

“Only one way to find out.”

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Photo by ricardo via Flickr, licensed under Creative Commons