In the shallows of the gently lapping waves, the girl, dress tucked in knickers, had played.
The sun, low in the sky, casts an orange glow.
Shops long closed. Curlews, in flight, send out their cry.
A mother comes out to call her daughter home.
There’s no one to hear.
Jean lives in Bath in the UK and loves reading 50-word stories. She has a go whenever she gets the time.
Sometimes, when he was demanding, I longed for a life alone. Everything changed, though, when I realised I was losing him.
The end came quickly. He looked at me with pleading eyes. I held him and made soothing noises.
Then, two last wags of his tail, and he slipped away.
Jean lives in Bath, UK. She likes to send in an her meagre efforts each month and enjoys a good yarn.
He gave everything. Candles and wine and his undivided attention. He gave me a ring he had fashioned with twine into a lover’s knot. He gave me his love. He would have given his last Rolo.
I had my own agenda. I gave him my best smile as I left.
Jean lives in Bath, UK. She loves writing 50 word stories and won’t give up trying!
Sitting closely together on the Calle Larga, glasses of chilled Chianti before them, they watch a gondola glide silently by.
This will be his last time, the rest of his life having been crammed into three short months.
For him, a last dream lived. For her, a lasting memory built.
Jean lives in a village near Bath but longs to be in Italy, her favourite place in the world.
The Thing came at her slowly, then gathered speed. With an unexpected boldness, it cut off her escape.
The effect it had on her was overwhelming.
She struggled to breathe.
She broke into a sweat.
The scream rose in her throat.
The spider stopped dead, its havoc wreaked.
This is Jean’s third offering and this one is based on real life experience. Sad but true.
When I am gone, who will take up my space?
When I am gone, who will breathe in my air?
Who will say the words I don’t say and fill the void I’ve left?
I hope I leave my footprints in the sand, to be remembered for a little while.
Jubilant following the publishing of her first story, Jean has wasted no time having another go. Her husband is amazed she can write anything in fifty words when she talks so much!
Standing by the rails, feeling ethereal in the moonlight, I feel no cold, nor pain on the soles of my feet.
Yet my senses are heightened.
Breathing. Breathing. Breathing.
Thunder becomes a crescendo as the train bursts from the tunnel.
It brushes me. I sway. I turn.
Not this time.
Jean Lloyd enjoys the challenge of fitting a story into so few words. When she retires, she would like to try writing a book, but she’s sure it’s a lot harder than it looks!