John S Alty

Nice one, Jane. I’ll get my thinking cap on.

Just got back from a lovely day out culminating in finally seeing Stars Wars nine to this. First time I have ever won anything! Thank you Janette for the competition and thank you everybody for the comments. I love the way these competitions inspire so many different takes on the same prompt and I am feeling very honoured that Janette chose mine.…[Read more]

Well done Jane – very well deserved – and thanks to Janette for the opportunity to try out a scene.

Well done to Janeshuff – well deserved. And thanks for the competition, Janette.

They really were all lovely stories. It’s been a while for me (again) and it’s great to see the monthly competition still chugging along, though perhaps with fewer entries. It was great to be pulled out of here and to be transported to four uniquely different places. Great job everyone!

Congratulations @janeshuff, I too loved your story, and Ath’s, and Sandra’s which completely hooked me. I hope we hear more about Lucy.

Only four entries this month, so easy to judge, yeah? No way. Each one was a delight to read and I’ve had to read them over again, and again, to decide on a winner.
Sandra, your prologue is a hook which begs me to read on and see how the ‘will they – won’t they’ conundrum pans out. Lucy, it would seem, has more facets than a brilliant cut…[Read more]

Slipping through the door at (nearly) the 11th hour. 400 words with title.

The Tent

When I was eight, my parents gave me a tent for Christmas. Of course, I insisted on spending the night in the garden. The coldest night of the year, but I wore them down with my relentless pleading until finally, with three pairs of pyjamas, two sleeping bags, a…[Read more]

Has the ring of truth, Jane, and lovely with it.

Slipping in at almost the last moment… with 395 words:

On the last day of the old year, the family always walked to Rock Island. Chivvied by our mother and wrapped up well in woollen jumpers, tights, hats, scarfs and gloves. The time of day when dusk was falling like a dark chiffon scarf over the landscape. We’d walk the sandy path along the t…[Read more]

Untitled, 300 words

Tilty Weston opened a tin of smoked mackerel and put half on his plate. Good for your heart, was mackerel, though his trouble was a limp and a few creaky joints. A tomato was next on the plate, and the frilled leaves of a Webb’s lettuce. A fine thing, a Webb’s. A sight of summer here in the half dark, though no surprise the…[Read more]