The Written Word Group

 Next TWWG meetup is set for Friday 27/03/2026 - 10:30am start. 500 Word is: Here We Go Again. Everybody who has an interest in writing or the written word is welcome to our meetup at Hostal Meson Arboleas.

  A Shot in the Dark: The mother’s story.  His father found me just once in the park I scratched his face as he held me in the dark A fumble, a tumble and he hit the mark My child, he was a shot in the dark Blessed child for whom life was a lark With friends and playmates out in the park But danger circled with the teeth of a shark And pushed into his vein, a shot in the dark A place at college, but he’d never embark On a career, as the drugs killed the spark One day a gang saw him talk to a narc And later I heard it, a shot in the dark A silent-sobbing tummy-hugging Joan of Arc Amongst my lost boy’s bouquets in the park “Your baby will be a boy, and you”ll call him Mark “ Shocked, “How?” She asked, “Just a shot in the dark”

  She couldn’t tell how long the storm had raged now, but the dark clouds were still skidding across the sky and the rain coming down in sheets with a strong wind blowing from the west.   Suddenly the sky was lit up by a flash of lightning which hit a large tree in the middle of the field, then the crack of thunder was almost deafening.   She’d walked across polished marble floors, climbed fancy oak stairways, worn designer gowns worth thousands of pounds and jewellery costing millions, but here she was sheltering in a disused barn in the middle of a field with mud squelching up between her toes and wearing worn out men’s trousers and an old military coat which was a size too big for her.   Her hair, once styled by the best stylist in the world hung limp, wet, and unkempt; she wore no makeup, those days were long gone. In her youth she could turn heads wherever she went, wealthy men would fight just to be with her, to walk down the street with her on their arm. ...

Naomi reached out for her daughter's soft, silky tiny hands, and stroked them gently while she was feeding her. It had been a week since Albana arrived in this world and when Noami first held her, her feeling of love for this bundle was instant and innate.  Naomi, for the past two days, had been suffering from excruciating cramps in her stomach. She thought paracetamol would help but the pain and symptoms persisted and continued feeling feverish, cold and couldn't contain her body from shaking.  Her husband, Roberto, returned to the refugee Hotel after meeting Zulema for an update on their asylum application. When he arrived he noticed Noami's face, sweaty and greyish in colour.  “Darling, are you feeling ok? You really look pale. You’ve been feeling unwell since Thursday and now it's Saturday. I think we should call the ambulance.” “You're right, I don't feel ….. ” and before Naomi could finish the sentence, she fainted.  He knew his wife needed medical attenti...

A SHOT IN THE DARK A very loud bang rang out, sounding for all the world like a gunshot, echoing through the plane and  intensifying the fear felt by passengers still recovering from a very bumpy take off.  It was a night flight and the lights had just been dimmed. “Madre Mia!!  Que pasa,?” “My god, what was that!” The stewardess passing through the plane with a trolley of sustenance for a plane full of mostly over-weight, certainly well fed passengers, tried to reassure everyone. “No os preoccupies!  Please don’t worry”. Just as she spoke and moved down the aisle, a further loud bang reverberated through the cabin. This time very real panic could be felt, with people starting to stand up, and the call sign  at a seat somewhere near the front flashing alarmingly. The young stewardess hindered by the trolley in front of her, did her best to calm the nearest passengers, whilst trying to catch the attention of her colleague in the front of the plane. “Please stay i...

  London was still recovering from the Great War. And the threat of a Bolshevik influenced takeover was still very much in the air. The War Office was located on Horse Guards Avenue. It had over a thousand rooms covering its seven floors. Filled with self-important civil service wonks. After finding the correct office, Jan was ushered into a mid-level wonk. He was given his written orders to embark for Russia. There was a naval warship HMS Cochrane readying for his trip to Archangel. He could read his orders on route to Russia. Then he was dismissed. The orders turned out to be pretty simple. Get a handle on the situation and report back what he saw, direct to Churchill. He was to meet up with Charlie Ames, who would show him the ropes. ## The shot snapped in through the broken window, and ricocheted around the top of the schoolhouse floor that Jan and Ames crouched in. “Fuck,” said Ames, “we have a clever Bolo bastard out there. Can you place him?” School books littered the floor,...