End of Discussion

100 words about public art
(c) 2015, Sonya

‘You know what this is?’

‘Art, supposedly. The kind of rubbish the council likes to spend tax money on.’

‘Not what I meant. Do you know what it used to be?’

‘It should have been scrap metal.’

‘Yes, let’s not have this discussion again.’

‘I will have this discussion until they stop. Disgrace, throwing my hard-earned money at underachievers who think putting rubbish on stilts is art.’

‘It used to be a navigation buoy. It once marked the channel into port. The artist who turned it into public art  to remind us of our naval history is my boyfriend, dad.’


Oh look, the picture prompt for FFfAW no. 46 is one of mine again. I love the colour of the sky in this one.

Runaway (part II)

It’s my penultimate day of the Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge. It requires you to post a photo each day for five consecutive days and attach a story to the photo. It can be fiction or non-fiction, a poem or simply a short paragraph – it’s entirely up to you. Then each day, nominate another blogger to carry on this challenge. Accepting the challenge is entirely up to the person nominated, it is not a command. But it’s a lot of fun.

Today, I’d like to nominate Lindsey from REVolving.

And if you have time, check out Samantha’s, Izzy’s and Jessica’s challenge entries.

Five Photos, Five Stories – Day 4: Runaway


A girl lies on a bench on the promenade. She smiles in her sleep.

I know her. I’ve no idea who she is. I have to turn my back to the wind to take a good look. Sand is blowing over from the beach, blasting anyone stupid enough walking along the waterfront. I’ve been stupid for a while.

‘Have we met before?’

It’s nothing but a whisper, drowned out by the wind. She can’t have heard. She opens her eyes. She sits, pats the bench with a scaly hand.

My runaway mermaid. Maybe I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks.


Lola’s Lamp

‘Lovely lamp.’

Andy groans.

‘It’s a piece of junk. Look at the grime.’

Lola reckons after a good clean, the lamp’ll make an ideal addition to the cosy corner.

‘I like it. We could use one, too.’

‘We came because we want to get rid off stuff. Not to buy more.’

Lola points at three bin bags’ worth of donations – most of it hers.

‘This is worse than the car boot sale.’

‘All I bought was the rocking chair. And it needs a lamp.’

Andy glares.

‘Fine,’ Lola says.

She’ll come back tomorrow. Andy won’t recognise it once it’s clean.

07-big 07-big2

Solitary Seagull

seagull on pillar box

Surrounded by greedy seagulls, I’m wolfing down supermarket sushi. I haven’t eaten for days. I couldn’t. The dress looks a size too big. Maybe that’s why everyone’s staring.

One gull isn’t interested in what its mates are squabbling over. It sits on the pillar box, facing away. In solitude.

‘You’re like me, birdie. Want to be left in peace.’

I tried to tell them last night. Mum wouldn’t listen, said it was nerves, same as my stomach. Hugh didn’t answer his phone. I didn’t want to have to run away like this.

But I didn’t want to say yes, either.


Two pictures on the theme of solitude today. I like the solitary seagull, but I think this one is better in terms of the rule of thirds:

tram tracks
Solitary tram tracks


Bliss; Misery

Swansea Bay
Grey Swansea Bay

Beach almost in sight, I take a deep breath. Forget the past two hours.

Life is so much better when I can see the sky.

I take a bite of apple.

Savour the juicy sweetness.

Sun’s decided to join me. I tilt my head upwards, soak up the warmth.


My ten minutes are over.

I return to the bunker.

Shiver under the strip lights.

Exit signs mock me: ‘You really want to do this?’

Really? No. But do I have a choice?

Yearning for the next break, I pick up the headset and call the first number in the queue.