Three Line Tales, Week 173

Welcome to Week 173 of Three Line Tales.

two children looking at a polar bear in a zoo
photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen via Unsplash

You’ll find full guidelines on the TLT page – here’s the tl;dr:

  • Write three lines inspired by the photo prompt (& give them a title if possible).
  • Link back to this post (& check the link shows up under the weekly post).
  • Tag your post with 3LineTales (so everyone can find you in the Reader).
  • Read and comment on other TLT participants’ lines.
  • Have fun.

Happy three-lining!


100 words about a child who hates moving
Sunflowers at Surrey Docks Farm – (c) Sonya, 2011

When I grow up, I want to be a sunflower. I want to stand in one place and turn my face with the sun. I want to be tall and bright and make people smile.

Dad says sunflowers will have a better chance than us. But by the time I’ve grown up, even they may need too much water. And they don’t actually turn with the sun. Cacti grows tall, he says. I’ll get to see them soon as we’ll move again and this time, it’ll be the desert.

Cactus, sunflower – I’ll take it, as long as it has roots.


It’s one of my pictures for FFfAW 50 – one I’d forgotten about. I love sunflowers and I’m looking forward to reading everyone’s stories.

No Way Home

Please vote for your favourite if you haven’t done it yet. If you don’t vote, you can’t complain!

cloud‘No slowing down.’

‘It’s too hot, Willow. I need a break.’

Clouds offer moments of shade not long enough to make a difference. But it’s not what worries Phoebe. She doesn’t know how far they’ve come. How could she lose the map? It was their only guide home. Not knowing where they are makes her uneasy. She keeps track of landmarks that might make good breadcrumbs, but they will take them only as far as the spot where she noticed she’d lost the map.

Willow marches on, heading for those trees in the distance.

Willow doesn’t know.

Willow wouldn’t care.

Waste of a Sharpie

Please vote to help me decide what to write in October. At the moment, the serial is winning, so I’m continuing yesterday’s tale to practice my serialisation skills:

‘Paws off my Sharpies, Pheebs. They’re the last of their kind.’

old map of the UK and Ireland‘I need to update this map.’

‘Use your own pens.’

‘I didn’t bring any.’

‘You can’t have mine.’

‘Don’t you think it’s important we keep track of the coastline?’

‘Why? It keeps changing, anyway. I won’t let you waste a Sharpie on it.’

‘I thought maybe we could take one of the abandoned boats and…’

‘Are you crazy?’

‘Mum may have changed her mind.’

‘Too late. Too dangerous. Too…’

‘Willow, please.’

‘She won’t leave.’

‘Because of Dad?’

‘She’ll never leave his grave behind.’


‘I know, Pheebs. I know.’

Climate Change Denier

sailboat with house in the background
(c) Louise, The Storyteller’s Abode for FFfAW this week

‘Look, mummy, more boats leaving.’

‘That’s nice, dear.’

‘Don’t bother, Pheebs. It’s pointless. Have you packed your crap?’

‘Language, Willow.’

‘Yeah, because that’s going to matter, ladylike language. Phoebe and I’ll leave today, Mum. You coming?’

‘How many times, Willow, there’s no need. We will not be going anywhere.’

‘But the water has risen all week, mummy. Look, I’ve taken notes. Look!’

‘That’s nice, dear. Anyone for a cup of tea?’

‘What are we going to do with her, Willow?’

‘Nothing we can do. She’s free to stay, but I won’t let her kill us with her denial. Bye, Mum.’