If we build it …


Photo prompt courtesy of Adam Ickes

“It’s a mistake,” I protested. “It’ll be the ruin of the place.”

But other voices argued for compromise. “Without public interest we’ll never save it. We have to help them experience it for themselves. Then they’ll realise and help.”

So the road and the timber boardwalk with a whiz-bang viewing platform appeared. And the public came. And the trail bike riders, and the late night party animals. And from the platform you could see soft drink cans and cigarette packets and beer bottles.

And the wetlands continued to shrink and die.

But I never said “I told you so.”


This week marks my second year as a blogger, and also my second year as a Friday Fictioneer. I ventured into blogging primarily so that I could join the weekly party at Rochelle’s place. And I’m pleased to say I’ve managed to post a story for every prompt since then – haven’t missed one. (Am I proud of myself? Yep.)

While I have been promising myself to update my about page with details of some of the writing milestones I have reached outside of this blog, and to diversify and post more non-flash fiction onto it, I haven’t done anywhere near what I would like to. However, my Friday Fiction record stands unblemished. Can I keep it up? Time will tell.

Thank you once more to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, who hosts this wonderful flash fiction event, and manages to encourage every contributor, even when in the throes of meeting publication deadlines and book launching. The other 100 word stories are here.




Image copyright – Mary Shipman

They are achieving what they predicted.

Read-outs from terrestrial and orbiting monitoring stations reveal a planet at peace, repairing itself while our little satellite communities hurtle round it.

Wake periods every hundred years feel just like regular family mornings, with breakfast and conversation, except we’re all the same age and not related – optimising genetic diversity. We fantasise about our return, our second chance.

Back in my pod, on the cusp of sleep, I’m a child again in my parents’ home, all the paraphernalia of our lives drifting before me in tumultuous disarray. Oblivion envelops me before my tears form.


This is for Friday Fictioneers, where writers contribute 100 word stories in response to a picture prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this weekly flash fiction event on her blog, Addicted to Purple. You can read all the stories here.

Forest centre

Copyright - Dee Lovering

Copyright – Dee Lovering

This place was just as she remembered. Of course it was. Such places didn’t change. Carolyn breathed deeply within the tiny stand of forest, registered the sting of icy air, the fragrance of damp foliage.

“Carolyn. Over here.” She focused. Time was not to be squandered on useless contemplation.

Gordon had found it – the glitch in the support system that had raised the alarms. An easy fix this time.

With a whoosh the space elevator rose, carrying them above the control centre, above the Eco-dome. back to their orbiting habitat. Below them, the wasted earth, dotted with other distant domes, diminished.


This is my offering for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers. Each week, Rochelle’s chosen photo prompt inspires around a hundred writers to contribute 100 word stories.