Tender hope.

She starred at the board, and smiled.

There was a tick next to each item.

First the promotion, although it had been middle of the list. It was the first to be achieved.

The second was more dicey. But she had done it. Hosted multiple lavish dinners befitting their status.


Eric and her mother had beamed with pride.

On the side of the board was a sticky note. A single item.

She had not had the courage to put it on the vision board.

And she wasn’t going to either.

Her body and mind were not ready to try again yet.

Thank you Rochelle for hosting the writing event Friday fictiooneers. The rule is to write a 100 word piece in response to the provided picture. Please click the link to visit Rochelle’s blog. It will be worth your while. And click this link to read other stories and write ups.

Au revoir 2022

The year of all years.

Tears a fountain of relief, a faucet for pent up weariness.

Heart palpitations a plenty.

Fears like racing hordes from hell.

Unswerving doubt a cloak of comfort.


Hope in the voice of a mother (s) rises …

I have been blessed to have several women who in the past and till today continue to nurture me. They pray with me, they advise me. They encourage me to go beyond praying to doing. They call my mind back to the multitude of reasons to be thankful. To count what I have, rather than miss what never was or is not yet. They make me live in the now. I love them.

For all my mum’s thank you for reminding me that now, is all we really have.

Echos in the voice of a friend (s) beckons …

I am thankful for these ladies, they listen, they hear me and although many miles seperate us they see me. For them I am grateful. When stressed I can hear them say, you are not alone. I have got you. I have gone through this, I am going through similar. This cannot end you. This is a phase. I hear them and I sleep, to wake with a resolve to be better.

Laughter in a cord of three holds tight ….

Two of three

Where do i start with this. Sisters by blood, by heart. They stand like amazons with a whip to shape my over thinking mind into focus. They correct me. They defend me. They shield my mind when it seeks to spiral out of control. We trade stories of all the craziness around us and keep each other sane. We consciously choose to stand despite our differences. A cord of three, our bond holds fast.

Trust in the steadfastness of oaks, comforts me….

I am thankful for the men in my life. Like an oak tree they are strong within as without. In a world that allows them leeway to be dubious, i am most thankful that they stand as people of insight, integrity and faith. May the father keep you and sheild you from the axe of the wicked.

Pleasure in the eyes of youth, renews me …

Bright as light

What can I say, this holds my world together. Your smile illuminates my world. Your tears jar me from all depth of angst. For you see, in your eyes i see a thousand tomorrows and yet many todays. So I want your memories to be sweet but not sickly so. Sour but never rancid. I want your life to be balanced. For if your inner voice holds sure, the world can stand on it’s head and you will know without a doubt that you are standing right side up. You will know whose you are and why you are.

Glow with confidence

Then …

I remember that i also brought something to the table. I remember that I also listened as I was listened to. I prayed for others as I have been prayed for me. I remember that no matter how small, i brought what I could every time I could. I find strength in this.

Finally ….

I am so very grateful to everyone who donated to the kids running page. It made a difference to someone’s christmas this winter. And the lessons from this endeavour is still ongoing. The kids haven’t completely grasped the concept that money does not come freely all the time. You need to add value or create value. Once again thank you so much for your donations. Our page is now closed. We raised a total of £310 before gift aid. So proud of my community of friends & family, you are beyond awesome.

And I am deeply grateful to you my reading audience for staying loyal over the years. Thank you.

Hope the new year sees us soaring in the air like the bird.

Au revoir 2022, I know I wll see you slightly in 2023. The years don’t really change but with God’s help we will be better.

Thanks Again.

Hunters field.

Hermit the frog sat on the lily pad.

As still and silent as the lake beneath him.

Margeret the cattle egret sat in her nest,

As gentle and careful as she could, the eggs were due to hatch soon.

In the quiet they sat, knowing, winters descent was the beginning of scarcity.

Lox the mangy cat sat in the thicket.

As wound up as a spring ready to spring.

In the shadows he sat, knowing the advent of winter was the beginning more scavenging for scarce commodity.

More prey on his level, less in the air.

Photo prompt courtsey Lisa Fox.


“There were two little black birds sitting on a wall …”

The guileless voice of a four year filled the air.

It was a gorgeous summer day and mum had finally agreed that she could stay in the back garden whilst her teddies dried.

The teddies were still on the line.

The frog now had a limb that dangled in the wind.

The wings on the birds hung by nothing more than a thread.

As for cat, a hole with jagged edges marked were a tail had once existed.

The voice remained, a memory tenaciously secured by a grieving mother.

Thank you Rochelle for hosting the writing event Friday fictiooneers. The rule is to write a 100 word piece in response to the provided picture. Please click the link to visit Rochelle’s blog. It will be worth your while. And click this link to read other stories and write ups.

I have written two stories as both appealed to me and they could share the same titles. Which did you like most?

Running home at the 11th hour.

I cannot believe it.
It is indeed the 11th hour … or rather the 11th week of our run.
I expected that the 12 weeks to sail by smoothly .. I forgot that there was something called winter. I am so proud of the kids, to have forged ahead till this point. I am sad we missed a week, last week. But I am thankful we got here and I am excited to finish it next week. I can only hope that you would cheer us on once more by digging deep and supporting our endevour. To those who have supported us and those yet to , thank you!.

Please visit our page and make a donation.

The goal: to run/walk/ keep active for at least 30 minutes once a week for 12 weeks leading up to christmas. In order to raise money for St. Mungo’s charity, a run for the homeless.

Where we are: 11 weeks in and one more to go. Amount raised is £224

What we need: your donation to drive the funds to a greater amount.

Thank you once more for your support.

Faulty shadow walkers.

Photo prompt courtsey of Dale Rogerson

I could hear them coming.

I knew what awaited me, my fate had been cast in stone many moons ago.

They would question me, prod at me endlessly.

Even though we had gone through this ritual multiple times. I never knew what to expect.

They attempted to creep up on me, as though this gave them the advantage.

They needn’t bother with the subtility, for they failed woefully at it. They could not sneak up on stale cheese even if they tried.

I waited in trepidation; my reprieve was over.

“Hi dad,” They both shrieked.

Work was over, life continued.

Thank you Rochelle for hosting the writing event Friday fictiooneers. The rule is to write a 100 word piece in response to the provided picture. Please click the link to visit Rochelle’s blog. It will be worth your while. And click this link to read other stories and write ups.

Green eyed

Five years old:

“Jay can Gideon have a turn with your airplane?”


“It’s kind to share and …”


Gideon looked on with soulful eyes. Not a tint of green was seen.

Ten years old:

“Hey, pass me the ball.”

Steven passed to Matthew. Matthew passed it to Andrew.

Gideon ran around ignored, his eyes enlarged. Pupils tinted green like the field.

Fifteen years old:

Thomas sat tied to the goal post in his underwear.

His cigarettes and trousers swung from another’s shoulder.

They had ignored him but not anymore.

Green was a nice colour.

Photo prompt from Brenda Cox

Thank you Rochelle for hosting the writing event Friday fictiooneers. The rule is to write a 100 word piece in response to the provided picture. Please click the link to visit Rochelle’s blog. It will be worth your while. And click this link to read other stories and write ups.

Running update week 2 & 3

Good afternoon everyone,

I am sorry for not updating you with regards to our running venture last week. We had a great run last week (week two), although the weather was very windy. I think this put us slightly off for this weeks run (week 3). However, at the time we enjoyed every bit of our run. Although lady L still asked, “why are we doing this again?”

This week (week three) has been rather interesting and tiring. Myself and the little ones have been slightly under the weather. Sniffling noses, headaches and the such. It was a close call against running this week, but we decided to power through. We went back to the same field as last week (week two) and did four laps between the goal posts. The weather was better and we were very thankful for it.

Please ignore the date and time on the watch. I have not puzzled out the settings for that feature yet.

Whilst Mister L is always roaring to go, I have resorted to a mixture of bribe, threaths and repeatedly explaining why giving can be enriching to motivate lady L. Nonetheless, we persevere. Our aim is to achieve 30 – 60 minutes of running/other activities with breaks in between each week.

Thank you for your continued support. See you next week.

We would like to remind you that our running is for St. Mongo’s charity.

St Mungo’s is a charity that provides a bed and support to more than 3,150 people a night. Our vision is that everyone has a place to call home and can fulfil their hopes and ambitions.

L & L’s hope is to provide someone or as many people as possible with a home or at the very least a roof to keep christmas a pleasant memory this year.

Do visit our Just giving page and support our efforts and that of the charity. All funds revert straight to the charity.

Fun run … Running home.

Hi everyone,

Thank you for your loyalty, for staying with my blog.

So myself, and my two little people have decided to undertake twelve weeks run for the homeless. Whom we would be supporting through the charity St. Mungo’s charity.

We decided to do this as they always ask questions about people sleeping rough. They also often want me to give everyone we see some money. So i thought a good way to help them understand the link between money, discipline, resilience and kindness would be the running-to-raise money challenge.

Already one is asking why we choose to do this again? 🤣🤣🤣. It is my hope that similar questions will arise through the 12 weeks. It is also my hope that by the end answers will be clearer.
One of them being, that kind thoughts often mean less without a commensurate kind act.

Our last run should be a week before Christmas. Our hope is to give the charity something to make christmas more special for someone out there.

We will post updates each week . ☺️☺️

Looking forward to your support.

Do click this link to support us through the just giving page.

In plain site

Photo prompt copyright @ Bill Reynolds

“Is this really the best shelter we can make.”

“Unfortunately, yes”

“It does not look strong enough”

“Tell me about it”

“With minimal effort anyone can destroy its’ structural defences. It’s
even more terrifying how easily one can access and restructure its’ internal

“For once I agree with you, this is unwise”

“I understand your reasons for panicking. But you both must trust me.”


“If we hide the treasure in grandeur, it will incite even the most insipid mind.
This way it pulls from the giver what is within, for on its’ own it is an
innocent baby.”

Thanks Rochelle for hosting the writing challenge Friday Fictioneers.

Please click the link to read other great stories.

Rhythm of life

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


“The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and
round.” One voice screeched the lyric, the other mumbled them, and the
last one floated through the air. A gentle backdrop for the vocal trio.

“Mum, can we sing woow woow da boat? asked Caleb, while tipping his
truck of toys on the growing mountain on the floor.

“But it’s my turrrn” Myla whined.

Caleb stumped his foot, “no it’s not”

Ruffling his hair, Hannah cut in, “She’s right honey. What should we sing

“Wind ma bobbin up” Myla replied, bouncing up and down.


Can you spot what objects in the picture link with the nursery rhymes in the story.

Thanks Rochelle for the writing challenge Friday fictiooners.

Click the link for more stories.