February 15: Flash Fiction Challenge: 99 Word Prompt – Hit The Ice – Carrot Ranch Literary Community

In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story on ice. It can be an event on ice, a game on ice or a drink on ice. Go where the prompt leads you.


Hit The Ice


When he hit the ice, Chad wanted to show a combination of elegance and fun. He felt his performance flow from his heart and go all the way through his body coming out through his fingertips and toetips. The movement, deep in emotion, brought through his past, present and hopes for the future. More than just a skate. More than just a dance. He could only hope it translated to the crowd. Turn after turn. Beat after beat. Big tricks surrounded by basics and subtle moves. Edgy and new with many traditional steps. Beauty, light among darkness. Pure joy.


If you want to participate, here’s the link: 



For What Pegman Saw Writing Prompt – Hiking

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There was many people who hiking wasn’t for. And Kyle was one of them. So what on earth was he doing hiking in Ute Petroglyph Trail in Colorado? Good question, he thought. But he knew why. He was trying to impress Candice. She was the blond bombshell he had been trying to impress for years. Unsuccessfully. He hoped she’d be impressed by his adventurous spirit. So he torturously made step after step.

He finished the mountain miles behind her and watched as she kissed that apparent ‘friend’ of hers Frank. He sat down on the ground trying to regain his breath and pride. He had thought the hardest part of the day would be the trek. But the ache in his heart said differently.

He heard a crash beside him. He looked and seen a beautiful woman who introduced herself as Jenny. It was the start of their trek together.

In response to the What Pegman Saw writing prompt:


Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt – Intermingled Lives

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson



Intermingled Lives


Dayl watched the house from the other side of the road. Collar up, disguising his face. Watched as the family got out of the car with their groceries. Two giggling children, a single mother Jade. An absent father who left eight years ago now watching his family enter their old home. Too ashamed to admit he was wrong and wanted to come home. So he walked away.

Mason, his long-time friend, best man at his wedding, watched him from around the corner. Dayl gone, his mission to marry Jade, get her recent inheritance could continue. He walked towards the house.

For Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt. Check out the website at:


#SoCS Feb 10/18 – Truth

Linda’s prompt for SoCS this week…

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “his/her(s).” Use one, use both, bonus points if you start your post with one and end with the other. 



That word they used for many, many years which drove him mad. He couldn’t blame them all because he was playing the game. Based on some ancient scientific method the medical profession used to assign babies their gender, he had been assigned incorrectly. Society seemed to go along with that ancient yolk like it couldn’t be wrong somehow. And in consequence many people would be cruel to him if he was honest. So he lied to keep safe.

But there was only so long he could lie for without going insane, without making himself so unhappy that he’d never recover happiness. So he made a decision to live in a truthful way. On the first day, he heard someone on telly say it was a ‘mental illness’. But you know what they say, those who say things are talking about themselves really. So he laughed and flicked off the TV. Nothing could get him down today. He was filled with a mix of joy, nerves and anticipation shimmering together like a cocktail.

And then he told his father in the afternoon fearing rejection from someone who was his best friend as well as his father.  And then he felt bad for ever doubting his Dad, for ever even thinking he’d mind. His Dad wasn’t a transphobe after all.

How did I ever let my mind associate my father with the prejudiced? Must have been fear. He’s a good man.

His father admitted he had an idea for many years and he wished he’d told his father sooner. But nothing could be done about that now. They went for a meal, followed by some shopping in the EuroShop. Nothing had changed and inwardly he felt like crying with a mix of happiness and relief. Love was such a wonderful thing. The only thing that mattered in the world. At moments like this, he truly knew that. And soon his father handed him a gift. A cup with His on it that he had got in the shop. He smiled and hugged his father.

Finally. His.


Three Line Tales Writing Prompt – David & Liz



David sat with his knitting kit and looked at the artificial roses his wife Liz had given him back when they were young. The notebooks, that served as his diaries, over the past fifty years lay next to the knitting kit and roses. They detailed he and his wife’s dating, marriage, having kids and becoming grandparents until her death six years ago but today he would join her forever.


For Three Line Tales Writing Prompt. The website can be found at:


Short Story: Valentine’s Night

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! Here is my short story in homage of the day that’s in it called Valentine’s Night. Hope you all enjoy it. 🙂




Charles had always prided himself on been sophisticated and immaculate. It was the reason he couldn’t stand his two younger brothers Paul and Alan calling him “Charlie”. Charlie?! At 38?! Were they been serious?!, he’d think. Mind you when they realised it irritated him they had banteringly did it worse. Priding himself on conventionality, it was no surprise to find him having a romantic meal on Valentine’s night with his girlfriend Saskia. The two worked alongside each other as financial analysts. He had known that she was the one from the moment they first started talking but he’d never admit to such sentimentality. They began to eat their starter. Agreeing not to talk shop tonight, talk turned to classical music and an indepth discussion about how terrible the state of popular music was nowadays.

By their main courses, Saskia had began playing with the tiny love heart decorations on the table. She was clearly trying to set a mood but it was rather lost on Charles. She smiled. She loved everything about him from his unromantic tendencies to his sarcastic, dry wit to his passion for his work and his perfectly immaculate hair and suits. And that was why after desert, she got down on one knee and said,

“I have loved you since I met you. Or close to it. You have made my life complete in every way. You are my companion too and I want to continue that journey with you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me Charles?”

He looked around the restaurant subconsciously and pulled her to her feet.

“Well yes but really, it should have been me who popped the question. What will people think of me as the man not stepping up to the plate?!”

“We can pretend you were the one who proposed!”, Saskia laughed while thinking, babe it really doesn’t matter nowadays!



Paul threw his docket across the floor of the bookies.

“That’s the last time I do that fucker Rob!”

Rob, full name Roberto, was Paul’s husband of a year but they’d been together since they were 20. They were now 35. The novelty of romance was most definitely not what it used to be which was why they were in a bookies on Valentine’s night. Just doing what they regularly done. What remained was a deep love and friendship.

“He held him at the back for too long.”, Rob added, of Paul’s bet on a horse at Kempton.

Couple of losing bets later, they smiled to each other in despair. The camaraderie of losing.

Paul and Rob had met when Paul had went for a drink with his three fellow plasterers one Friday after work at the bar where Rob worked as a barman. Instantly noticing his attraction to Rob, his fellow workers/mates had continued to bring him back to the bar after work on a Friday. Gradually he had begun to talk to Rob. They realised they had much in common. Both were into sport, a little bit of gambling and finding a nice quiet pub for a drink. Eventually Paul had plucked up the courage to ask Rob out,

“The three other lads who work with me are straight so I’ll have to do if you’re interested …”, Paul had said, grinning.

“Well that’s a pity! You’ll do, I guess.”, Rob had replied, grinning with his glitteringly happy eyes betraying his words.

“£2 each on 18 …”, Paul said, back in the present.


“Because I asked you out on the 18th of March!”

“Did you? It’s a long time ago babe. But ok.”

Paul went up and put the £4 bet on number 18 on the television roulette wheel. Soon they were fist pumping. £140 between them when the lovely 18 came up.

“Oh, let’s get home.”, Paul smiled.

“While we’re winning.”, Rob agreed.



Alan had been a surprise baby to his Mum and Dad. Coming along 17 years after Paul had been a surprise but a nice one for his parents. This June, he and his other half of six months Kian would be finishing secondary school. But tonight was Valentine’s night and all thoughts of exams and school were out of their minds. Not that it took much for that to happen. Currently he and Kian were in an abandoned warehouse building having a picnic and some tins of alcohol.

“You have so many labels I’ve lost count but I love you anyway.”, he said over to Kian as he sipped his alcohol.

“So do you! So do we all!”, Kian protested resting his head in Alan’s lap.

“Non-binary, asexual, my head’s spinning though. I’ve never used Google as much in my life!”, Alan laughed.

“Well you’re allosexual and cisgender so you have enough labels too.”

“Should we even have any labels?”

“Probably not. But it’s just the way it is … you know, with all this alcohol if I wasn’t asexual, this would be the point we’d be shagging at.”

“Not sure I like this whole asexual thing.”, Alan joked.

“Thought you might say that!”, Kian laughed.

As Alan stroked his fingers through Kian’s hair, he remembered how they had met in their first year of secondary school. He remembered how he had been struggling with who he was in so many ways and he had both envied and admired how Kian was so confident and open about who he was. And over the years Kian had helped him to figure out who he was and where he wanted to go in the world. He even encouraged his writing, something no one had done before. Turns out he did art and understood the creative spirit.

“Someday I’m going to marry you Kian.”

“Then you’ll have the label of husband. More labels!”, Kian giggled.

“Yeah, that’s true!”

“It’d be nice someday.”

“It’d be really nice.”, Alan replied,  bringing Kian up to him as he lay back and they kissed softly.