Short story: A good dinner

November 13, 2013April 25, 2014 / Claire Fuller / 36 Comments

“Something I ate,” Ingrid said, resting her head on the toilet seat. “You go. We can’t come all this way and both of us sit in the hotel room for the weekend.” He kept his back to her; could never cope with sickness.

In the old quarter he asked for a street-side table for one, ordered a 2005 Vieux Château Certan, ate cassoulet, and drinking his coffee, watched the girls go by. When he had paid he chose a pretty one, older than Ingrid, who took him to an attic room.

On the flight home Ingrid told him she was pregnant.

***

Update: Quite rightly everyone hated the man in this story. So the week after I wrote it, I thought I would see if I could change readers’ minds about him, when they had more facts. Click here to read A Good Dinner Part II.

Apologies to Sandra for not only writing my first idea, but also writing about ladies of the night, but they both fitted so well this week.

For those who don’t know how Friday Fictioneers works, this picture, supplied this week by Kent Bonham is our inspiration for our weekly online writing group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Click here to read other people’s amazing stories or to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on mine.

Short story: The flimflam

November 6, 2013 / Claire Fuller / 45 Comments

Agnes knocked on the door. We stood there for ages; I was hoping no one would answer but eventually we heard slow footsteps and the door opened a crack.

“Please mister,” said Agnes, “my friend isn’t feeling well. Could she have a glass of water?”

As the old man poked his head out I remembered to sag at the knees. He looked us both over. “What’s the problem here?” he said and opened the door wider. “Water d’ya say?” He cupped an ear with his hand.

Behind him silver picture frames and knickknacks glittered on a hall table.

“Jackpot,” whispered Agnes.

***

This picture, was supplied by Al Forbes for Friday Fictioneers, our weekly online writing group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Rochelle posts a picture each week and writers from all over the world gather to write about 100 words using it as inspiration. Click here to read other people’s and to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on mine.

Short story: Disassemble

October 23, 2013October 23, 2013 / Claire Fuller / 41 Comments

Flora’s parents were both authors; dealers in words: two dimensional, unless you let them into your brain where they might transform into images and emotions.

Flora had always preferred the three dimensional – things she could walk around, touch and take apart. At first her parents encouraged her, enchanted by a child who was the antithesis of them – buying her lego, meccano, a plastic tool set. They paraded her and her creations at dinner parties and at family gatherings. And then one day Flora found a real toolbox under the stairs, with real screwdrivers and spanners and hammers.

Then they weren’t so happy.

***

This picture, for Friday Fictioneers was supplied by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, who also hosts our group where writers from all over the world gather to write about 100 words using a photo as inspiration. Click here to read other people’s and to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on mine.

Short story: Rain

October 17, 2013 / Claire Fuller / 21 Comments

The rain beats down on the roof of the Morris Minor. The old wipers can’t cut through the blur fast enough, and Flora leans forward where the headlights show the road disappearing beneath the car in black and white.

The first thump comes as she is passing the unlit supermarket. Then something hits the windscreen, swooshed away before she can even flinch. And then another. And another. There are things on the road – small, thrashing, distressed. Flora swerves, and the short beams of light the car throws out shows her hundreds more silvery creatures falling and flapping. Fish.

***

This picture, for Friday Fictioneers was supplied by the lovely Janet Webb. Writers from all over the world gather to write about 100 words using a photo as inspiration. Click here to read other people’s and to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on mine.

And for all the American contributors to Friday Fictioneers, I also very excited to let you know that I’ve just heard that my debut novel, Our Endless Numbered Days will be published in the US by Tin House.

Short story: French Kiss

October 10, 2013October 10, 2013 / Claire Fuller / 24 Comments

Professor Rex Blackwell had a reputation. Ingrid knew it; everyone knew it. He was witty, erudite and charming, and when he focused his attention on a student – admittedly always the pretty ones – for a while they would bask in the full warm light of his regard. But Ingrid, who could have had her choice of any number of her fellow male undergrads, and probably female, didn’t want to wait for Rex Blackwell to come knocking.

Midnight on the final night of the French trip saw only Ingrid and Rex in the bar. And when all their talk of dead poets and writers had ended, she kissed him.

***

This picture, supplied by the very talented Sandra Crook for this week’s Friday Fictioneers writing group, provided instant inspiration. My problem was cutting down all I wanted to say. The last two lines are too short for my liking, but I’m already seven words over. Friday Fictioneers is where writers from all over the world write about 100 words using a photo as inspiration. Click here to read other people’s and to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on mine.

Short story: Morbid obsession

October 2, 2013 / Claire Fuller / 26 Comments

Rex still walked the beach early each morning with Charlie, before the nudists arrived with their sun cream and sandwiches. Rex told himself it was because the dog needed walking; he didn’t acknowledge, even to himself, that it had become a morbid obsession. As soon as Rex let Charlie off the lead, the dog raced across the shingle, scattering the gulls like sheets of newsprint into the wind. Rex kicked through the debris of the night’s high tide, looking for the remnants of other people’s lives – items lost, or discarded, or like Freya’s clothes, left in a tidy pile on the sand.

***

I’m currently working on my second book, playing around with ideas and characters, and this is one proto-scene. There’s definitely a character who lives beside the sea, so this was a perfect picture for me, provided by E.A Wicklund for this week’s Friday Fictioneers writing group – where writers from all over the world write about 100 words using a photo as inspiration. Click here to read other people’s and to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on mine.

Short story: Choices

September 25, 2013 / Claire Fuller / 16 Comments

“Mum says she wants to be buried in the woods, with the others,” said Margaret.
“What?” said Libby, shocked. “But she hated them.”
“Well, those are her instructions.”
“What do you think?”
Margaret raised her eyebrows at her sister; she couldn’t remember the last time Libby had asked her opinion. “It’s her choice.”
“But don’t you think she should consider those she’s leaving behind more than herself?”
“No, I think it’s the last decision she’ll get to make. Let her make it.”
“But she’ll be gone. And I’ll…we’ll have to visit her grave in that place, where…” Libby trailed off.

***

Last week my new husband and I had a converstation about the novel Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner. Anyone read it? It’s a wonderful book, but in case you haven’t, at the end one of the characters who is dying chooses a type of death that greatly upsets one of the others (I don’t think I’m giving the ending away). Is that fair? Is that right? They won’t be here to suffer the consequences, but it is often the only thing left for them to have an influence on. That discussion inspired this piece of writing. Sorry that ‘the others’ is a bit cryptic, but hopefully more explanation isn’t needed, because I’m at exactly 100 words this week.

An interesting picture provided by Rich Voza for this week’s Friday Fictioneers writing group – where writers from all over the world write about 100 words using a photo as inspiration. click here to read other people’s and to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on mine.

Short story: Pre-loved

September 19, 2013 / Claire Fuller / 19 Comments

It wasn’t first editions, the author’s signature inside, or the condition that interested Sylvie. It was difficult to explain even to herself, but it had something to do with the previous owner, and when she took hold of a book she just knew. Of course it helped if they had underlined passages, folded down corners, perhaps written a message in the front. “Pre-loved,” she called it. And rarely found, but best of all, was when she came upon a postcard or a photograph tucked inside the yellowing pages.

With nervous anticipation, Sylvie pushed the door of the charity shop open.

***

This is part of the Friday Fictioneers writing group – where writers from all over the world write about 100 words using a photo as inspiration. This week the picture has been provided by John Nixon. Lots of other writers have written very short stories inspired by this photograph; click here to read other people’s and to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on mine.

Short story: Flora and Richard

September 4, 2013 / Claire Fuller / 45 Comments

When Flora had left, Richard got out of bed and roamed around the bedsit – picking up a jumper to breathe in the smell of her, opening the fridge and sticking a finger in the cream of the collapsed victoria sponge. He hadn’t been there on his own before and although it made him feel trusted, closer to this abstruse girl, the place was hollow without her.
From a wall cabinet Richard picked out a tiny dusty pinecone, and then a miniature trophy for a school art competition, and then a child’s drawing of the sun. “For Mummy” he read, and Richard wondered about Flora’s family – the ones she never talked about; the ones she had rushed off to when the call came.

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This is part of the Friday Fictioneers writing group – where writers from all over the world write about 100 words using a photo as inspiration. This week Rochelle Wisoff-Fields has chosen one of her own photographs. Happy birthday Rochelle! Lots of other writers have written very short stories inspired by this photograph; click here to read other people’s and to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on my story.

Short story: Nothing to worry about

August 22, 2013August 23, 2013 / Claire Fuller / 26 Comments

It was Mothering Sunday when we walked through the churchyard – just a short cut from muddy field to lane. The service was over, a solitary banner fluttered in the March chill.
“He didn’t open a text book all half term,” I said.
“You know Adam leaves all his revision to the last minute,” Tim said. “He’ll be fine.” And then, when I didn’t answer, “Don’t worry, he’ll get in.”
Tim pushed through the lychgate, but I paused by the last grave decorated with fresh daffodils. I calculated the dates on the headstone. The boy had been seventeen. I bent to read the note:
I know you would have given me these yourself if you could.
Love Mum x
I really had nothing to worry about.

***

This is part of the Friday Fictioneers writing group – where writers from all over the world write about 100 words using a photo as inspiration. This week Rochelle has chosen one of my photographs. It is St Thomas a Beckett church in South Cadbury, Somerset. Click here to see more pictures if you’re interested. Lots of other writers have written very short stories inspired by this photograph; click here to read other people’s and to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on my story.

Also for any Americans reading, I’ve written a blog post with some questions specifically for them. Click here to have a read and see if you can help with any answers.