The Written Word Group

             Here we have, Helen Jones reading her enchanting story:                      Metamorphosis:  (on wonderful Breeze FM) Helen alo mentions that The Written Word Group story telling radio slot has been moved: To Saturday morning on Breeze FM with Mark B: The next chance you will get to hear The Written Word Group on live Radio,  will be with Mark Bamford on his 9am Saturday Morning Show

 Dr Watson pressed the doorbell to 221B Baker Street. The door was opened and he was ushered inside by the Housekeeper, Mrs Hudson. "Ee's in his office," she said. "But he 'asn't been himself for a few days," she added, sadly. " Not read a single newspaper he 'asnt".  Watson strode across the hallway and knocked at the study door and entered. Sherlock Holmes was seated in a large, leather, winged armchair on one side of a huge fireplace. "Watson," he said as the Dr approached him, waving him to the matching armchair opposite. "Tell me, what do you have for me today?"  " I have a proposal, Holmes," he began. " This last case was very hard on you...on us...You put away one of your more notorious enemies after an exhausting few months chase. Inspector Lastrade was, again, not amused."  Holmes picked up his briar piped and knocked it out on the grate before lighting it. "We need a Holiday," Wats

Just before his shift in Hawaii was due to end Judd looked back through the telescope at his favourite planet, Pluto, well it had been downgraded to a non- planet now, but it was still his favourite; out there in the stillness and quiet of space, and saw something that made him sit up, he rubbed his eyes and wiped the lens to make sure there wasn’t anything on it to give any illusion.   He put his eye to the lens once more and focused on a dark mass which was moving past Pluto and was in fact larger than Pluto.   Judd lifted the phone and dialled his friend and colleague in Spain who would be just starting his shift. ‘Pedro!’ he shouted into the mouthpiece, ‘look towards Pluto and tell me that I’m not seeing things will you my friend.’ ‘But I am supposed to be looking at……’ ‘I know that Pedro but please look at Pluto and confirm what I’ve just seen.’ ‘What have you just seen my friend?’ ‘There’s a dark mass larger than Pluto moving into the solar system.’ ‘If I didn’t know

  I lived just outside of town; I could have saved the world.  But who listened. I’ll tell you who listened, nobody.  Tried on numerous occasions to warn, to advise the powers that be.  But to no avail. I told them what I'd seen. The future, and the coming of the Ice Rock in the sky. The secret, I said, was the, ‘Pyramid Deflector Shields.’ Built by an Ancient race to save us. They could be used once again. To deflect that Big Bad Blue Rock. That was hurling through the black heavens,  filling the night sky, target sight set, direct on Earth. The Ancients would step in again and rescue us, was my profound theory. They would spring into action. If asked nicely for help, save mankind again.  All  they had to do was press that Egyptian Pyramid cosmic airbag buffer button. It made sense, if they’d built them. Then, job done. The Big Blue Ice Rock would  sail right on by. Die Hard was our only other option. Or perhaps option two. Die even Harder. When it hit, it would

Why do you continue to pillage every part of my being? From the start of our relationship, I have provided for you in abundance. Was it not enough?  Is that why you have plunged the depths of my soul, polluting it with your rubbish? But you didn’t start there did you? You trampled the canvas of centuries woven, tearing down and ravaging the beauty that was paradise. My natural landscape wasn’t to your taste, so you replaced it.  The annihilation, impossible to resolve despite the good intentions of some.  How can our relationship be reconciled when there is no let up? You treat me with disdain and indifference, as if I were the enemy instead of the provider. Flora and fauna has been decimated by you, species wiped out.  Money and power have replaced natural beauty, buildings dominate the horizon.  Second by painful, heartbreaking second, someone finds new, more ingenious ways to destroy my good intentions. Now my higher being, one of the true wonders that I gifted you, is no longer sac

THE BRAVERY OF A MAN written by M. E. Heed The military were after George, he was on the hit-list with orders to be shot on the spot. He had to be vigilant that no-one saw him when he came to see his wife and children. He had done this many times after the coup, but still couldn’t get used to this idea of hiding. He felt like a criminal and the only thing he did was to belong to a political party in support of the president who was killed by the military. His visiting period was for half an hour to an hour at the most to spend it with his family. This was a cautious measure. Someone could be spying on him, whistleblowers were common in these unsettling and dangerous times. The military would take about an hour to get to the village after the whistleblower had made the call. He felt more apprehensive than ever that night, he had an inkling the whistleblower may phone the military.   George was supposed to be leaving the house before the curfew started at 9.00pm. I

  Here we have the Fantastico David Many Names Waters, On Breeze FM -  With his very apt story called "Palomares"

  The Old Ones   Around nine I went down to the library where the old ones meet.  Outside, one of the old ones was taking coffee and pastries. Together we ate pastries and drank coffee. At ten we went in to the room where, on Fridays, the old ones meet to tell their stories and reminisce. Some of the old ones weren’t there. It can be like that with the old ones. Sometimes they’re not all there. Some of the old ones are very old. Just before noon some of the very old ones left. I awoke around three. The old ones had gone and the doors were locked. It can be like that when you’re a very old one.

  Uncle Beastly’s Nonsense Poems for Children Last night I swam the channel I did it on a horse I know that isn’t logical It was just a dream of course.   Last week I fought an Octopus whilst munching on a snack “Come on” he said “I’ll fight you now with one arm behind my back”.   Last Saturday I played for Wales  and scored the winning try which isn’t easy on a bike while eating a minced pie.   Thought I’ll build a garden shed,  I can do that standing on my head but when I tried to put the roof on I fell out of bed. I wish I was a Polar Bear rolling in the snow sliding round the Arctic wastes white from head to toe. I’d paddle in the ice cold sea go swimming with the Seals, I’d chase the Fish my favorite dish and be naughty as can be, and I wouldn’t care if all that ice cold water made me do a wee. I’d like to see Australia meet Ned Kelly and his gang, wander round the outback and throw a boomerang. Exp

                  Berni was on Breeze Radio and read out her fantastic story,  Lady On The Beach  

Blackpool-del-Sol By Barry Denson James sat in his Manchester flat, scowling at the invitation in his hands. "Spain," he muttered, shaking his head. "What a dreadful place. Blackpool-del-Sol, the lot of it." His partner, Maria, rolled her eyes. "James, you’ve never even been there. We’re staying inland, not in some tourist trap like Benidorm or Magaluf. You might actually enjoy it." "Inland? That’s even worse," James scoffed. "Nothing to do, and everyone will be Spanish, hating everything about English tourists. They’ll despise us for insisting on our own food, beer, and language." Maria sighed. "But we’re not like that, I speak a little Spanish, and you embrace local cultures. Just give it a chance, will you? You love music and writing. Maybe you’ll find some inspiration." The journey to Spain was a quiet one, with James brooding most of the way. Upon arrival, he was greeted by the blazing sun and the rustic charm of Maria’s

  Tycho was loaded for bear. And he knew it. The CIA prosthetic department had used their world class inhouse skills to turn him into a native.  A former New Yorker was in country and looked like he'd always lived there. The rough well-worn cloths. Woven with graphene, so they were light and bullet proof. His Pakol, which was worn on his head, was also high-tech material. With inbuild receivers to take in the torrent of information, that was being digested, by his ultra slimline backpack AI Comanchero.  Tycho had named him Quanah Parker, after the famous Comanche Chieftain. Quan had argued the point with him. Saying a Comanchero was one who traded with the Indians. So, he should not have been called after such a great Indian legend.  Tycho just knocked this back with, “Quanah was a bad ass, and so are you.” Tycho was operating with the latest AI high tech called, ‘HEO’ or, ‘Hyper-Enabled Operator.’ This concept would allow the US to dominate the battlefield. As its information gath

  Good morning class. I’m Mr Stevens and this morning I’ll be teaching you how to make a simple omelette. So for this you’ll three eggs, a bowl, a whisk or fork, some salt, and…. Yes er… Henry. No it doesn’t matter whether you use a whisk or a fork.   A small…. You can use either Mandy it doesn’t…. It’s up to you which I know I am the teacher. Alright use a fork. Well you use a whisk Henry. Yes you can too Mandy. The rest of you use a fork. There should be enough pans to go round. Not that one Richard, that’s a Paella pan. You want one of these, yes that’s right, and some oil. No I don’t think the oil from your dad’s garage will do Henry. We use cooking oil here. Now put the eggs into the bowl. No I meant break the eggs. Just tap the egg on the rim of the bowl gently. Yes I’ll get you another bowl Henry. Plastic would be better I agree Mandy. Gently tap them on the edge and empty the shells into your bowl. You want the eggs in your bowl not the she