Friday Fictioneers – Boat for Sale

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!



Boat for sale

It’s an immaculate vessel. The fishing tackle in the bow looks brand-new. The engine fires at the first attempt. The paintwork is almost unmarked. It’s also pink. Hmm.

I ask the agent who is handling the sale how long it has been on the market. He shrugs.

“A few months, maybe.”

“Who owned it?” I ask, curious.

“A lady.”

“Did she ever use it?”

The agent shrugs again.

“She took it out every day, monsieur, sometimes more than once.”

“Did she catch many fish?”

He grins.

“Not fish, monsieur. She had a large, pink bed in the hold!”

Vive l’amour!

Inlinkz – Click here to join the fun!

What Pegman Saw – The Great Fish

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. Using the location provided, you must write a piece of flash fiction of no more than 150 words. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code. This week’s prompt is Tulum, Mexico.

WPS - The Great Fish 180505

Playa Maya, © Tulum, Mexico


The name Itzamatul is used by indigenous people of Mayan descent. It means ‘one who has the grace of the sky’.

A ‘bacha’ is a marijuana cigarette, a joint.

The great fish

Mingling smells of diesel and fish reassured Itzamatul as he manhandled his small boat into the sea. This was his place. He lit a bacha and inhaled deeply. Waves slapped the sides of the boat as it puttered along the silver path laid by the moon.

Itzamatul threw baited lines over the stern. Whenever he felt a struggling fish, he pulled it in and tossed it into a bucket. The spirits of his forefathers were with him.

Storm-clouds were massing on the horizon – but wait! What was this?

One line was so taut it was tilting the boat. Itzamatul hauled on it and rejoiced to see a great silver fish.

“Set brother fish free,” said his forefathers.

“It will sell for a fine price!” he protested, but they were implacable.

Sighing, he severed the line and the fish swam free. The storm-driven waters rose and bore Itzamatul safe to shore.

My box

This Thursday’s guest poem is by Hope Owen-Gadd, my grand-daughter. It’s here because it’s the new poem that I’ve enjoyed most this week. Hope is 8 years old. I wish I could put such vivid images into my writing!

Hope poem 170323

Hope poem 2 170323

I will put in my box
The ping of a drumstick hitting a super cymbal,
A jewel of fire forest from the darkest caves,
The wool from a new born baby lamb.

I will put in my box
The gentle twinkling of a fairy’s wonderous wand,
A mouth-watering cherry pie freshly baked,
A spark from a shooting star.

I will put in my box
A bubblegum tree and a cat with wings
A parrot teaching a class,
And a teacher in the rain forest.

My box is constructed from the fossils of ammonites,
Shells, and sand, and sapphires,
With a crystal flower on the lid and love in the corners.
Its hinges are the scales of fish.

I shall hike in my box
On snow-covered rocky mountains,
Then stare into the ice cold eyes of a yeti
And rid my heart of fear.