The Written Word Group

The bell rang and Robert opened the door and saw Carol standing there and said: “Hello Robert, surprise? I know I should've phoned but ... Can I come in? Firstly I wanted to see you and also  say  that I forgive you. I can't stop thinking about you, I still love you. She kept her head down as she looked up at him.  “I'm so glad you came. Many times I wanted to pick up the phone and call you. But when you packed up my suitcases and asked me to leave, you made it perfectly clear you didn't ever want to see me again. You know Smith is a criminal, rapist and a brilliant manipulator but he's also your dad and you protect him, I understand that. I'm sorry I  deceived you at the beginning when we first met. Yes, my intention when I set up the camera in your computer was to track your dad's steps to gather evidence for all his crimes. Falling in love with you wasn't in the cards but I did. I couldn't tell you the truth and risk losing you. I...

  The next get together of, The Written Word Group, is Friday 3rd October 10.30am at Hostal Meson, Arboleas. (In through the main door, and its the back room.) The word/sentence to be included in the next 500 word challenge is ' An act of spite'

  Each puddle holds a fading sky, Where ghosts of bombers seem to fly. They were counted out and counted back, Each with a loaded bomb bay rack. To go over and give the enemy what for, And try to even the unenviable score.         The Halifax’s, Wellington’s, Lancaster’s, too, Each with its five, or six, or seven man crew. Far out over enemy held territory they went, Those brave young men of the commonwealth sent. To face the night fighters and the accurate flak, Alone they flew to the target and empty their bomb rack. There’s safety in numbers some would say, But out of the hundreds who went some had to pay. With their lives, they never came back, Their bomb racks empty, but shot down by flak. Night fighters harried them from target to base, They opened their throttles wide to make haste. Fifty five thousand never made it home, Forever in the dark skies they roam. We who now live free from the tyranny; they...

Willem Barentsz Spitsbergen twisted the knob on the Cronos machine. He was traveling back in time to right a wrong. Back to Paris 1920. Back to kill a man who had put a signature on a treaty that had, at one swipe, taken away his birthright. His wife had pleaded with him not to do this heinous act. Killing a man was against Gods will. And using a machine devised by the devil was further proof that it was wrong. But Willem could not be derailed from his task. He would travel back to Paris, to the year 1920 and he would assassinate Baron Wedel Jarlsberg. The man whose signature on that Svalbard treaty, would confirm Norway’s sovereignty over the territory. Willem Barentsz Spitsbergen had been working at CERN when they stumbled across Time-Travel in 2034. He had then been attached to the CRONOS project. A machine built to send back Chrononauts, to fix problems on the ever changing timeline. But as they discovered, it just made things worse. The effort to stop the spread of nuclear warfa...

 I am a Trekkie, a massive Star Trek fan, have been since the Original series in the 60s and the Next Generation in the 90s. My partner Mary doesn't share my passion, or obsession as she calls it. She hates it, prefers the silly Romcoms like Notting Hill and Pretty Woman...Yeuk!  Mind you she does have a point. I collect memorabilia. Our spare bedroom looks like a Charity Shop. It's crammed with posters, photos, models and even life size cutouts of some of the characters. I go to Conventions too whenever I can so I can get up close and personal with my heroes, Picard, Number One. Data, Worff and of course, Troy. I have spent thousands on my hobby, but why not? Mary could tell you why not. I have tried and tried to get her interested, but no joy, until...... Unbeknownst to her, I sent for a full Klingon costume. It was the real biz, the wig complete with the Cornish pasty forehead, the beard, the Federation uniform.....the works. One evening, I slipped into the bedroom while s...

 Detective Inspector Frank Bishop knelt on the cold, hard earth, leaned forward and peered into the darkness of the abyss which dropped away below him. There was disappointment that he couldn't see the broken, twisted body lying at the bottom, but no guilt for what he'd done, the death he'd caused. He got up and leaned against his car as a gust of wind caught his raincoat and set it flapping like the wings of a Swan taking off. He smiled to himself, sometimes justice was worth all the pain in achieving it.  He got into his car and sat there for a moment, tracing his thoughts back over the last year or more. Was it that long ago when the first child went missing? When he was assigned the case? When the search began?  He remembered them all....two eleven year olds and two young teens, their lives hardly begun, their futures' snatched away from them. He thought about the hours and hours of deeply emotional interviews, the parents and families, schoolteachers.....everyone w...

 Blackpool! I ask you, what bright spark suggested it for a lads day out? Blackpool, capital of "Kiss me quick hats", Candy Floss and sticks of rock guaranteed to annhialate your teeth. I say lads but, to be honest, we're all well past our sell by date. 3 devout drinkers and me, expected to keep them in line. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? So there we were, myself, Tom and Dave waiting anxiously for the train and for Charles whose timekeeping was not his forte. Just as the train was pulling in, he comes scuttling down the stairs and along the platform, red in the face and wheezing like a cart horse. "Sorry...sorry," he gasped, "alarm clock...." We hauled him into the carriage and shoved him into the window seat of four we had booked with a table. We were barely underway when Dave reached into his rucksack and handed out 3 cans of John Smiths and a Tizer for me. "Start as we mean to go on," he said taking a large gulp from his can....

  29 year old Tsutomu Yamaguchi was looking forward to getting home. As an Engineer for Mitsubishi Heavy Industries, he and two of his colleagues had been away for three months, working on a special assignment which was now completed. They left their accommodation early on Monday morning to get to the Railway Station which was located a little way out from the city centre. Part way there, Yamaguchi suddenly realised he had forgotten his hanko (a stamp allowing him to travel). Japan was at war and he knew he would not get far without it. Promising to catch up later with his co-workers, he returned to his workplace to get it.  Tsutomu retrieved his stamp and as he walked towards the docks, glanced at his watch. It was 8.15 and he needed to get a move on if he wanted to make the train. “I glanced up and saw a bomber flying over the city,” he recalled, “two small parachutes descended from it and suddenly there was a great flash in the sky, followed by a blinding light, a wind, so...

 So this guy is flying back to the UK from a business meeting in New York. An attractive young woman takes the seat next to him. Anyway, they get chatting and she asks him why he has been visiting NYC. He tells her he is in advertising and he has been there to oversee a new office they are opening.  He asks her what she does and why she was there too. She says, "I'm a Sex Therapist and have been to our first global conference."  He is surprised and intrigued and asks if anything really interesting emerged from the discussions. She says, " Yes, surprising and interesting. The men who are the best endowed are Native American Indians, while the best lovers are Italian. By the way. I'm Jill Adams. And you?" " Tonto Pavarotti." He replies.........

 Put that bloody light out!" Shouted Jack, the ARP warden, walking between the row of small terraced houses, rapping on doors and windows. "Come on Ma Brown," he called through the letterbox of one house, "Put that blackout curtain down, " The mournful sound of air raid sirens started up across the city. He looked up into the darkening sky. "In for 'annuva pasting tonight," he muttered to himself, hurrying along to his home at the end of the street which he shared with his wife and her mother. He couldn't remember how many nights it had been without sleep as night after night the Luftwaffe dropped their deadly cargo on them, targetting the nearby docks and bombarding the East End.  He pushed open his front door which he'd left on the latch. Both the women were seated at the kitchen table drinking tea. "Time to go," he said, rousing them. "Come on now, get you're arses in gear"." "Bloody hell!" said th...