Dont’ Trust the Fruit Bats

100 words about bats and vampires
photo by Saken53 

Simon says they are just fruit bats. I still don’t trust them. Yeah, I do find the little ones kinda cute, despite the yucky eating noises they make.

But pay attention to that big black fella. Doesn’t he just look like he’s trying to put a spell on you through the sheer power of his undead mind? Scary or what!

Simon says I’ve read too many derivative vampire novels. That may be the case, but I’ve made sure I’m armed: garlic, stake, silver cross. Holy water’s on the list.

Simon says I have nothing to worry about since I’m batty.


Written for Flash Frenzy round 88, where you’ll find the photo prompt – you have to look at it for the above mentioned big fella in the background, he is scary

Who’s glad there’s no poem today? I’m too busy writing my second mslexia guest post today, no time for poetry.

A Cupcake’s Not the Same as a Cake

100 words about cupcakes (which aren't proper cakes)The giant roars in anger. He picks up the empty cake stand and throws it high in the air. On its return, it misses my baby niece by mere inches. My sister cries out in anguish. I know how she feels, but for another reason. I spent hours baking those cupcakes. It took the giant about three seconds to demolish them.

‘What is it with you people and cupcakes,’ the giant rages. ‘They barely fill the hole in my molar. Bake real cakes next time. Give me something to chew on.’

The giant stomps off, ranting on about proper cakes.


Because today is Halloween, I decided against something spooky. I wrote this a while ago for Flash Frenzy, but I gave it a new title – it’s from Mae Martin’s Birthday Song.

U-Turn Down Memory Lane

A couple of announcements first: a story I wrote a while ago went up on The Drabble yesterday (if you’ve read my stories for a while, you may remember it), and I’ve picked six stories I think you should read this weekend. Right, on with the story.

U-Turn Down Memory Lane 

He catches a glimpse of lemon yellow tail-fins and chrome and thinks of Grandad.

Most of his early memories have a mythical quality – they’ve always been there but he’s never quite certain any of it happened. That time Grandad took him out in his car, though, he remembers every detail of it.

‘I like your finny car.’

‘You have it when I die, then.’

Grandad died one day before his fifth birthday. He was sent to the children’s home and never saw his Caddy again.

How many lemon yellow Cadillacs can there be in this country?

He makes a U-turn.

(written for Flash Frenzy, round 74)

Risky Business


‘Innit? Can you believe how beautiful they are?’

I can’t. I wonder if I’m dreaming.


‘My first thought when I heard about ‘em. Yet here they are.’

We know about them from old folk tales. We didn’t believe in them any more than we did in air-conditioning. Typical Kit, nobody else would risk his life to prove the veracity of a rumour.

We marvel at the trees for a minute but we both know that the sun will fry us if we don’t seek shelter.

‘Kit,’ I say, ‘look at all that shade.’

Kit grins.

‘Wanna risk it?’


Written for Flash Frenzy, round 73, where it came third.

Going Nowhere

We return to the gallery to look at the photograph – blown up to movie-screen size – we cannot afford, arguing over who loves it more.

It’s like we’re there, looking at the tracks – I hear them sing for the imminent arrival of a freight train. I hope it’ll be slow enough for us to hop on, run away on an adventure.

‘Don’t you wish we could move in at the top of that watchtower and leave the barrier between us and the world?’

Her words shatter my illusions.

I’m glad we can’t afford it. We’d only argue over who keeps it.

(written for Flash Frenzy Round 71)

Like a Record

My favourite thing about going to the record store: I never know what treasure I’ll hunt down next.

Today’s no different. Though it’s not rare vinyl that’s tickling my fancy this time. Her immaculate taste in music catches my eye first. I’ve been following her around, pretending to be browsing a few letters down the aisle. She’s wearing a black dress with full circle skirt made of shiny fabric. She looks like a piece of exquisite album art.

I wonder if, when she spins round, her skirt will fan out and make her look like a record on the turntable.