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Voortrekker – Antarctica Tours by Frank Sonderborg

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Joseph Millerton had always felt lucky. Born under a glowing star, is what his mom used to say. He would win prizes at school. And when he went to work for the Ford Motor company, on his first day there, he won a new car in a country wide Ford lottery. It was around then he started wearing green. Luck of the Irish his workmates would say. As they tried to avoid selling him any on-going lottery ticket. It didn’t help. During a heavyweight boxing match the odds on one of the boxers winning on points was enormous. So, his workmates fixed it, so Joseph got that option. And oh, how they laughed at him. And oh, how they cried when the said boxer duly went the 15 rounds and won the fight. Getting engaged he decided he needed to cash in his Prize bonds. But he could not get it done in time, which resulted in Joseph winning a substantial amount at the next draw. He won another car. Then he won the lottery. £2million on a lucky dip. When interviewed on local radio, as to how he would spend his...
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The Loop by Frank Sonderborg

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Up at the crack of dawn. Wrapping Max up for the cold weather outside. A train and a bus trip three times a week. To ensure we snared a place in our local kindergarten. We'd moved from the centre of Copenhagen to Ishoj. Which lay, way out in the suburbs. And we could not get a place for Max. So, we kept him in the Copenhagen kindergarten and Ishoj had to pay.  Which meant our trip three times a week. Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Out early in the morning. Back home and then back out in the afternoon to pick him up. It suited me perfectly as I was unemployed, between jobs as they say. This blackmail pressure was put on Ishoj to come up with a place, as they had to pay full wack for the Copenhagen kindergarten. I was on the final leg of our bus journey one morning, when I saw her. She was on a big Christiania bike and had a kid in the front. I would have known her anywhere. She was as sharp as a tack and had been studying to be a lawyer when I met her. Met her mom and her divorced da...
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The Blackout - El Gran Corte written by Mongolita

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Day One - Monday 28 April  My son, Pablo came to see us for a few days from the UK. His quick visit was coming to an end, and the day before his departure we went to La Pequeñica for lunch. This is the only place that has alfajores in this area, which are one of my favourite cakes since childhood.  The coffeeshop is often buzzing with people at that time of day, but today  there was an eerie feeling in the air. Monica, the waitress, told us there was no electricity and that the coffee machine and the toaster weren't working, in case we wanted tostadas. I didn’t give much importance to the power cut as we often had them in this part of Almeria.  “Oh don't worry,” I said to the waitress, in Spanish,  “We'll have one orange juice and one bottle of water, please. It's too hot out there anyway to have coffee, ah, and two alfajores please.” As we sat down near the window, I remarked to Pablo:  “Here we go again, another power cut. You kn...
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Story & Music Evening - Bar Esperanza - 14th May 2026 - 5pm

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  The Written Word Group in association with Bar Esperanza are proud to present:  A Night of Music, Story Telling & Poetry. Date: Thursday 14th May 2026 - 5pm Location: Bar Esperanza Avenida Andalucía, La Alfoquía  (next to / junto a Arboleas Oil gas station) Contact:  642 52 21 01 (To book a table) Expectations: High This Story & Music Night, is about connection: between voices and listeners, between memory and imagination, between the stories we share and the music that we carry within us. A storyteller isn't just a narrator—they're our oldest guides . In ancient Ireland, they were as valued as kings, and ever since those first campfires were lit at the dawn of time, they’ve been our teachers, our entertainers, who nudge the world toward change. Each performer brings a little piece of their own journey, and hopefully together we’ll shape something that only exists here in this place at this time at this moment. May you hear a poem that stays with you, a son...
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TWWG Meetup 27/03/2026

 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.
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A Shot in the Dark: The Mother’s Story

  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”
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Life's Changed A short story by Charles Roberts

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  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. ...
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