No Grass in No Man’s Land

November 11, 2013November 11, 2013 / Steve Lakey / 5 Comments

(Christmas Day, 1914. No Man’s Land, The Western Front.)

Benson skilfully kicked the heavy leather football past his man, but an outstretched German boot caught his khaki shin. He fell onto the hard ground.

“Oi, Fritz!”

“Entschuldigung, Tommy!”

The laughing corporal helped Benson back to his feet, then offered him a swig from his hip flask. Not strictly within the rules, but well within the spirit of this impromptu kick about.

This England v Germany game was friendlier than most, helped along by the shared cake and alcohol. Helmets for goalposts. Men on both sides sang Christmas Carols…

Then officers barked orders. A bigger game was about to restart.

This is my contribution to 100 Word Challenge – Week 113, Hosted at Julia’s Place. Click the logo for more details. Click here to read the other stories.

Sail Away

November 10, 2013November 10, 2013 / Steve Lakey / 7 Comments

Photo: Copyright Al Forbes

Looking back, I hardly knew John Stimson. But he made me a little boat, and it will stay with me forever.

I remember him as an old, thin man with grey hair and a slight limp. He’d look down on me with a smile and ruffle my hair. John could often be loud and funny, but sometimes he would sit very quiet, or go and lock himself in his little garden shed. Sometimes we could hear him singing wartime songs to himself, as he made his model boats. He’d come out again when he was ready.

John was wounded in France in the retreat of 1940, and evacuated from the beach at Dunkirk. A small pleasure craft took him to a Royal Navy Destroyer, and then to safety in England. The physical battle with his wounds was soon won, but his mental war was never completely over.

I didn’t know his story until after he had gone. To me he was just Grandpa, but I’m proud to have known him.

(This story is fictional but is intended as a tribute to the men and women of the British Armed Forces who have given their lives to keep our country safe.)

Lest We Forget

This is my contribution to Sunday Photo Fiction, hosted by Alastair Forbes. Click the logo for more details.

Click the link here to read the other stories.

Old Rulers, New Rules

November 9, 2013November 9, 2013 / Steve Lakey / 10 Comments

Photo: Religious Statues Peter Griffin

Buddhist cosmology tells of Trāyastriṃśa, or the Heaven of Thirty-Three gods, which rule over the human realm. This weekend we’re asking for exactly 33 of your own words about a god of your own devising that shares heaven with the other thirty-two gods. Make it yours and have fun with it.

I’ve persuaded the other Rulers to modernise the rules:

Smite isn’t right!
These days it’s all about work/life balance.
Mañana, man!
When the working deity is done, gods just wanna have fun!

This is my contribution to Trifecta Challenge Week 93. To find more details and read the other stories, click the logo.

Shady Hades

November 6, 2013November 6, 2013 / Steve Lakey / 22 Comments

Photo: Copyright Alastair Forbes 2013

Location: The Pavement, outside a particularly shady building in a really shady part of Shady Town. You get the idea…

“Hey Sarge!”

“Afternoon, P.C. Copper.”

“It’s Cooper, Sarge. You heard about that anonymous letter that Crime Lord ‘Shady’ Hades sent to Headquarters?”

“Oh yes. But it’s not anonymous if he puts his name on it, Lad.”

“But he didn’t put his address on it did he?”

“No, Son he was taunting us. Saying we’d never find the base of his Evil Operations.”

“Will we Sarge?’

“Dunno, Boy. We sent an undercover Officer, Detective Hermes, in. But Hades says he got the cop plastered and hung him out to dry.”

“Sounds Scary!”

“Chin up Kid, and keep them eyes open!”

This is my contribution to Friday Fictioneers 100 word Challenge, based on a photo prompt, and hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Click the link for more details.

Please view the other stories by clicking the blue frog.

Welly Wood!

November 4, 2013May 10, 2014 / Steve Lakey / 6 Comments

Photo: Copyright Jane Hewitt

Wayne Winton, President of the Oxton Wetland Trust, mumbled a few forgettable words about the new Country Park, before unveiling a small brass plaque. The muted round of applause turned to gasps, when a splash from the lake behind him revealed an unintended guest of honour.

The rising pair of battered wellies could only belong to fellow trustee Wellard Wood, who had last been seen clearing the lake, three days earlier.

Ever the diplomat, President Winton didn’t miss a beat.

“Wellard worked so hard to get this place up and running. It’s only fitting that he should join us today!”

This is my contribution to the 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week #112, hosted over at Julia’s Place. Please click the link for more details and to view the other stories.