Showing posts with label 240 x 70. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 240 x 70. Show all posts

Sunday, 16 March 2025

Sunday Serial: 240 x 70 by Gill James, 54. Hallucination, jungle juice,

 

Introduction

This collection is a collection of seventy stories, each 280 words. They were inspired by the first picture seen on my Twitter feed on a given day. 

 

Mike had never been to this part of the woods. He'd never gone this far in. He hadn't realised they spread so far. But he had to keep going for somewhere in the distance he could hear music. It was getting louder now.

The woods were getting wilder. Pathways were now covered up. His legs, bare from the knee down, were covered in scratches. The trees grew close to each other here. It looked as if they hadn't been managed for centuries.

He found himself in a clearing. There was the piano and its player, surrounded by a sizable audience. They were all stocky figures. The player finished one piece and they clapped. Mike joined in. A man near to him turned to face him - except it wasn't a man - it was a - bear?

Mike's mouth went dry and his heart started to thump. What was this? Bears in evening dress and one of them playing piano? Mike started backing away.

"We don't usually see your kind in these parts," said the bear. "But you are most sincerely welcome. What do you think of Alberto's playing?"

He must be dreaming, mustn't he? Bear couldn't dress or speak so elegantly, let alone play the piano. Had he eaten something that had upset him? Had he been on the jungle juice again? He couldn't remember taking anything but maybe he had. 

"Come come," said the bear. "You look like a chap who would appreciate fine music."

The pianist started up again and Mike turned and began to run. He didn't stop until he was back at the familiar main road in and in sight of the number 136 bus.     

About the author

Gill James is published by The Red Telephone, Butterfly and Chapeltown.  

She edits CafeLit and writes for the online community news magazine: Talking About My Generation.

She teaches Creative Writing and has an MA in Writing for Children and PhD in Creative and Critical Writing.    

http://www.gilljameswriter.com  

https://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B001KMQRKE

https://www.facebook.com/gilljameswriter 

Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the writers and half towards supporting the project (web site maintenance, preparing the next Best of book etc.)

Sunday, 13 October 2024

Sunday Serial , 280 x 70 by Gill James 38 Smart Pad, beer

 

Introduction

This collection is a collection of seventy stories, each 280 words. They were inspired by the first picture seen on my Twitter feed on a given day. 

 

It was beige and beige, bland-to-earth colours. The whole place smelt of paint and new carpet.

He could hear his neighbours chatting. He couldn’t make out what they were saying but they reminded him of his loneliness. There had been two of them before Sophie kicked him out three weeks ago.

He switched on the TV. All his favourite channels were there and he could even access Netflix, but no longer the one he used to share with Sophie. But there was nothing he wanted to watch.

He tried surfing the net instead.  He didn't know what he was looking for and he certainly wasn't interested in dating sites yet.

Perhaps he should try the gym.  In fact, he was determined to make use of this convenient facility. There was a swimming pool and workout room in the basement came as part of the deal.  And in fact it wasn't a real basement, just because it was below street level. It had view across the river into town.

There was another man working out there. He was about the same age as Gary. He nodded. "You too mate?"

"On your own you mean?"

"Yep. Most of us are in the same boat here. In a one-bed cell. The ladies get to keep the big house."

Gary pursed his lips.  Yes, Sophie was keeping it all and he was having to pay for it.

"It's not so bad.  You get used to it. A lot of us meet up in the bar every night at ten. Come join us."

As he entered the bar later and heard the buzz Gary reflected how lucky he was to afford such a smart pad.          

About the author 

Thank you for considering my work.  

Gill James is published by The Red Telephone, Butterfly and Chapeltown.  

She edits CafeLit and writes for the online community news magazine: Talking About My Generation.

She teaches Creative Writing and has an MA in Writing for Children and PhD in Creative and Critical Writing.    

http://www.gilljameswriter.com  

https://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B001KMQRKE

https://twitter.com/GillJames 

Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the writers and half towards supporting the project (web site maintenance, preparing the next Best of book etc.)