The Written Word Group

  I hear the key turning in the lock. He shouldn’t be here, he’s at work. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” “It could be a late one and you’re working tomorrow. Are you going to be okay?” “Yep” The sound of Siouxsie and the Banshees blared in the background. I watched as he took a swig from the wine glass. He turned and caught my eye. I couldn't read what was going on, but there was definitely something. “Is everything okay? Anything you want to talk about?” “No, I don’t want to fuckin’ talk about anything. Jesus Christ you’re like some fuckin’ psychiatrist”  I walked into the bathroom, recognising the feeling of dread that crept  up from my chest and into my throat. I can’t refuse to go out, that would cause too much trouble. I just have to hope that his mood changes and he lightens up. We leave the flat and walk through the town and across the park to the Pump Rooms. He doesn’t respond when I slip my hand in his. As we approach I hear music and see flashing li...

 Enemies are like flies. You want to swat them away, tread on them, squash them. But you can't and they just keep coming back.  There was this kid at Senior school. Picked me out from day one for some reason and set about making my life a misery. He had two or three cohorts always with him and managed to catch me in the corridor after lessons, pinning me against the wall, if it wasn't stealing pocket money, it was destroying homework. He was a year or so above me, big, strong while I was a skinny 6 stone weakling, no way of fighting and I knew I would get no support from the teaching staff. If I snitched, it would make things worse.  I was in terror until he left. Then a year or so later, so did I. I had no qualifications but the freedom I felt was unimaginable... that was the end of it, or so I thought. I drifted from job to job for awhile. I just couldn't settle until I found somewhere where I was relatively happy. Albeit it was just in a warehouse, picker packer, that ...

  Maurice and Scott, stood on the bridge and looked down at the black mess the Tellus had made, when it connected with a fully loaded Army Oil Tanker. The Minister of Health and his entire family, who were being transported by the Tellus, had been totally immolated. Maurice Matthews and Scott Mathews where Department E Detectives, Cabinet Ministers security, send down to investigate the crash. And if they found any flaws in the various security procedures, they could recommend updates. “We’re lucky you know,” said Scott. “How so?” “It has the new Tellus black box. We should be able to nail this down and get back to civilization. And leave the country plods to clean this mess up."  "What do we have so far. Anything?” Scot was flipping through the information they were feeding him from HQ. Maurice was looking at the security barrier that had failed to stop the Tellus going over the bridge. “Look Scott, the Tellus hit the only spot that was weak enough to let it smash through. I...

The Written Word Groups next 500 Word Open Mic Event, will be held on: Friday 27/09/2024 Starts at 13:30pm >>>>>>16:00pm The Kubatin (Behind Hostal Meson) Arboleas A fun event of Flash Fiction Short Stories & Poetry Have you a story to tell? Or do you just want to come and listen. All are welcome Contact: 711040444 Email: THEWRITTENWORDGROUP.ALBOX@GMAIL.COM  

Here we have Berni Albrighton introducing Charles Roberts.  Charles is the latest member of The Written Word Group, to appear on Breeze 97.7FM  Charles reads two stories.  The Morning Walk. A story of a walk in the early morning in a mountainous region of Spain. His second story is called Friends. And was generated from the monthly word challenge. Where every month, The Written Word Group is challenged to write a story from a given word. You can find a lot of these 500 word stories on this blog.  

As agreed María and Luis met on Saturday at the Torpederas beach. They sat and ate the picnic María had prepared that morning enjoying the few warm days left of the summer of 1931. Then they strolled along the golden sandy beach. The sky was as blue as the Lapis Lazuli stone, and the sea was so calm that it looked like a blue carpet you could walk on. It was just perfect. María didn't want that wonderful day to end. The time spent together and those intimate moments were unforgettable.  Weeks went by without Maria hearing from Luis. She wasn't bothered much as she had other worries on her mind, like having missed a couple of her periods. How would she face the new circumstances, if she was carrying Luis' baby? Abortion was out of the question as it went against her beliefs. Maria was polishing the silver in the front room when she heard Mrs Janssen, her employer, on the phone saying to one of her friends that Luis was going away with his sweethear...

It was midday when Maria and Juani arrived in Valparaiso. Valparaiso was the first main freight port of Chile then, fish markets with its local treasures from the ocean; fruits & vegetables produce that could be bought in ‘Caleta Portales’; and forty five majestic hills with a maze of houses overlooking the ocean.  Maria had plenty of time to find the Janssen family’s place before nightfall. She asked around for the address, and after a few hours walking through alleys, streets, up and down roads, suddenly she bumped into this long Avenue with trees on either side with big houses, each of them divided by high walls. Maria couldn't believe her eyes, she had never seen houses like them. This avenue happened to be Almirante Montt where the Janssen’s family lived.  Maria finally found “Casa numero Uno”, which was at the other end of the Avenue. Although she was feeling apprehensive, she plucked up the courage and knocked on the door. A young man, only a few...

  Pousser, (Push) the midwife told her, she felt a movement inside her and pushed, feeling the excruciating pain rip through her young body.   Respirez comme je vous l’ai appris, (Breathe like I taught you,) the midwife scolded.   Colette panted like a dog on a hot summer’s day.   Maintenant, detandez-vous pendant un certain temps, (Now relax for a while,) she was told, she lay back against the pillows and reflected on how she had ended up like this. She had gone to the town for two reasons, one to find work, there wasn’t any work for a girl of sixteen in the village, and two to visit with her Aunt and cousins.   She had taken the omnibus into town and had to walk passed the train station to reach her Aunt’s house.   As she was passing the station she could hear shouting, then men in smart uniforms began to emerge through the station doors, they all carried shiny new rifles and all the gear they had on was new and pristine.   Colette stopped and watc...

 Enemies are like flies. You want to swat them away, tread on them, squash them. But you can't and they just keep coming back.  There was this kid at Senior school. Picked me out from day one for some reason and set about making my life a misery. He had two or three cohorts always with him and managed to catch me in the corridor after lessons, pinning me against the wall, if it wasn't stealing pocket money, it was destroying homework. He was a year or so above me, big, strong while I was a skinny 6 stone weakling, no way of fighting and I knew I would get no support from the teaching staff. If I snitched, it would make things worse.  I was in terror until he left. Then a year or so later, so did I. I had no qualifications but the freedom I felt was unimaginable... that was the end of it, or so I thought. I drifted from job to job for awhile. I just couldn't settle until I found somewhere where I was relatively happy. Albeit it was just in a warehouse, picker packer, that ...

The Enemy Within By Barry Denson Emily sat in her small, cluttered apartment, surrounded by overflowing bookshelves and scattered notebooks. Her wooden desk in the corner was barely visible under the sea of paper, and her laptop sat open in front of her, a blank page mocking her with its emptiness. She sighed, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, but unable to type a single word. A familiar voice echoed in her mind; one she had heard far too often. "You'll never get it right, you know." Emily's shoulders tensed. "Maybe this time will be different," she muttered, more to herself than to the voice. "Different? You've been saying that for years. What's changed?" "I'm trying," she said, frustration creeping into her voice. "I sit here every day, trying to write something meaningful." The voice scoffed. "And yet, here you are, staring at a blank screen. How many days has it been now? Weeks? Months?" Emily cle...

  ENEMIES “I’ve been thinking…” These three con-tem-plative words have become a frequent opening gambit of Mrs Waters in the Waters household’s marriage bed come a Saturday morning. Growingly of late, Mrs W. and Morpheus appear to no longer to be the most compatible of companions, and at both ends of the dusky watches... Mrs W. is to be found, forefinger intently jabbing at her phone and mind feverishly awhirl. A deeply unsettling business is this jabbing and whirling, as it inevitably produces an “I’ve been thinking…”. These three words invariably bring with them the ominous portent of an imminent, and distinctly one sided conversation. But after twenty five years of such conversational openings, I no longer pull the quilt higher about my ears; long since having realised that protestations, even nonverbal ones, will benefit me not a jot in the outcome of these singular têtê-á-têtês. Down the arches of the years, I’ve learned that these words, subtly followed by the rhetori...

  Every Saturday morning on the Mark B show, The Written Word Group have been let loose to entertain the folks of Almanzora, and the world wide web, with original short stories. For the first Saturday morning show, Berni Albrighton covers the heart ache of the loss of a loved one, in her excellent short story, Hope. Them she moves on to her childhood memories of trying to entice Dracula to pay her a nocturnal visit. With a short story called, Blood. Two very different stories, from a wordmaster at the top of her game. Both stories can also be found on this Blog.