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Another fun Photo Prompt…Wouldn’t it be great to have a Predator to do battle on our behalf?! I know I’d employ him!  

Every Sunday at ‘Sunday Photo Fictioners’ a new pic serves as the prompt. The idea is to write a story based on that pic – however subtle or obvious – and to write roughly 200 words, (give or take a few). Click the Blue Froggy below to check out the Stories for this week, and to visit the prompts home 🙂


Oh my word!! This is the most awesome quote about blogging I have Ever heard. I just Had To reblog!! 😃

HarsH ReaLiTy

You might be a blogger when…
You have over 55,000 subscribers and the only people coming to your birthday party are family.

-Opinionated Man

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Bleedin’ Traitors’ Gate

What an excruciatingly paranoid time it was. Persecuted Queens accused of treason. And Men accused of plotting against their Kings. For Royals, even with their wealth and power, couldn’t escape the secret games against their lives. Yes, some were founded on truth, but many out of mere delusion.

Heads on stakes dangling from bridges, an ominous sight indeed. It was for the pleasure of those who crossed the Thames to what awaited them: their own imprisonment in the Tower of London. They’d be incarcerated until seen fit for their own heads to eventually join those that hung from London bridge.

Poor Queen Anne Boleyn. Accused of treason and adultery. And Incest with her brother. As she crossed the water to Traitors Gate the staked heads hung as a reminder of her own unavoidable fate. The following months of imprisonment led her to insanity: Hysterically crying one moment, and laughing wildly the next. And so it remained until her head too joined the display.

Princess Elizabeth got lucky. She only visited for a few weeks. Exonerated on the grounds of false arrest that sealed her release. However, she was sure to make it so that her own traitor would pay. And her sister, ‘Bloody Mary’, did indeed pay. With her own Imprisonment and the steely axe.

A bloody time indeed it was. Royals with their power, prestige, and money were not even safe. And If they themselves weren’t safe, then what of the everyday, ordinary folk? Were their lives as unpredictable and bloody?

Traitors Gate at the Tower remains with tourists daily flocking to see. Does it serve to tell the history of England’s past? Or maybe something else? Perhaps it’s a reminder of what will happen if you think to cross our Royal Queen?

It might be a bit of both 🙂


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A fab photo prompt that got me writing about a point in history that I’ll never understand. The details yes, but the brutal behaviour?? That’s the bit of humanity I’ll never comprehend – present-day bloodshed included.

Sunday Photo Fictioners 

Unmoored – The best outcome

Unmoored – An apt way to describe how they eventually treated her.

She was thrown into a situation she didn’t want to be in. She repeatedly told them she did not want to be part of their ‘team’. But they kept badgering her, how it would benefit her in the long run. I could see that her wishes were falling on deaf ears. A male member of the ‘team’ came onboard telling her the same thing, too ignoring her wishes.

She met the rest of the ‘team’ and the alarm bells rang louder. But, every time she tried to leave, they would tell her it was what she needed.

So, she became ‘friends’ with them and did what they said. Eventually, she believed that they really did care and that all along she was the problem.

One day, after several weeks of no contact, she wondered why these ‘friends’ no longer replied. What had she done wrong? Nothing. Except she became stronger.

Eventually, she saw them for what they were. And her strength got her through and out of that environment. I’m proud of her and do wish it happened sooner. Sometimes though, rescuing others is not always in their best interests. They need to see it for themselves.

And what happened to the ‘team’? Whatever ultimately happens to those types who prey on people. But to be honest, I don’t give a damn and she doesn’t either. I’m just glad she got out and is living the life she wanted in the first place.


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Hi! 🙂 This is another installment of the Daily Post Prompt, which for today is the word ‘Unmoored’. 🙂  


Sometimes I feel that my writing is about to take a nose dive off of a very steep cliff. Maybe I should free fall and just see where the wind guides me. I guess it’s then up to me, as I’m falling anyway, to choose a better decent. That sounds negative, but I’m going down regardless, so I may as well make it as comfortable as I can.

The last few days my words wouldn’t come. I could think of nothing much to write. And what I did do, was done in haste and I was unhappy with it. Today is the same, I couldn’t find anything to say. So, as I was falling off the ledge anyway, I thought of a way to make the most of it… And this is what I have.

I don’t want that steep drop to beat me as it has done in the past. Months without writing because I had broken too many bones when I hit the ground. This piece may not be much good, but I’m the one in control of the descent… for today at least.

I don’t know what picked me back up before. Maybe because I didn’t quit. And I hung in there. Perhaps.

I may never write a good story again. But then again, I might. It’s just painful when I can’t sit and write. I care enough and I guess that’s why it hurts.

Hopefully, this fall won’t shatter me too badly again. And on hitting the ground, maybe I’ll be lucky and get away with just bruises this time. And if I can crawl back up relatively uninjured then free-falling into the wind might be the answer. That’s what I hope.

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Today, The Daily Post provided the word prompt: Precipice. If you’d like to visit the prompt page and read other’s fab words, you can do so by Clicking Here 🙂

Chosen? Noooooo!

 Genre: Humour/Humor


© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

photo: © Barbara.W.Beacham

Chosen? Noooooo!


The petroglyphs told the story of an unusual event, yes, they certainly did. it was the bi-yearly event that always sent waves of joy, and fear – (for good reason), – across all the land. It was indeed that time again, time for the second annual event, which people rejoiced in, (or plain dreaded), for the mating ritual of the holiest of holiest: The Sacred Pigeons.

Each of the 12 Tribe-Leaders eldest son’s had the unenviable task of potentially becoming the ‘Chosen’ one. They would all form a circle and the most revered Pigeon of them all  (the grey one) would fly high above their heads. The one it decided to crap on, was then, by rights, ‘Chosen’.

The Sacred Pigeon mating ritual is a symbol of abundance, good fortune, health and fertility. But to the ‘Chosen’ one, it’s none of these things. As the official mating overseer – (making sure it goes smoothly and having enough birdseed on hand for when the Pigeons took their break) – to him, this was nothing more than complete embarrassment, utter humiliation, plain bad luck and unequivocal misery. One thing he was sure of – he’ll never be the same again 😀


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I wrote this story a little while ago. Hopefully, it fits in well with today’s Daily Post Prompt ‘Farce’. If you Click Here you can visit The Daily Post and see what these Daily Prompts are all about as well as to have a read of other’s take on today’s prompt 🙂

(This was originally posted in 2014)










I have never seen someone so frazzled. I’ve got to go up and help her before she has a coronary.

“Meggie love, why don’t you come down for a bit, it be good to take the load off for an hour or two”.

“Mum! I haven’t got time! Exams start tomorrow – as you well know – and I need to prepare. Can you seriously not see how much work I’ve got?!!”

“Okay, but you’ve got to take a break, love”

“Mum!! if I really want your advice I’ll ask! Shut the door on your way out!!”

There wasn’t much I could say to that. But I will be knocking on her door later to come down for dinner. Surely she’s aware that she must eat.

She doesn’t come down to eat. Not tonight nor the following several nights. It’s the same routine: I knock, she yells, and I end up leaving sandwiches outside her door. Thankfully, the plates are always empty by the morning.

I know exam week is tough and getting her A-Levels is a massive deal, but what I can’t understand is why not grade them throughout the year instead of condensing everything they’ve learned into one final exam, expecting them to have it all memorised?? It makes no sense to me.

Today is the day. She’s taking her last exam. I’m a bit nervous about her coming home. I don’t know what mood she’ll be in. I’ve never seen her so stressed and I’m hoping she’ll be able to relax now.

I hear the front door opening and she comes in. I’m worried.

“Hello, love. All alright?”

Without even acknowledging me, she tramples dirt into the lounge carpet. Plonks herself onto the sofa. Kicks off her muddy trainers before putting her feet up on the coffee table – which she knows I hate. The Remote control is already in her hand and she starts flicking through the TV channels. It doesn’t seem to matter that I was actually watching something. And then, she says her favourite three words…..

“Mum, I’m hungry”.

She doesn’t even look at me, just carries on flicking through the channels.

My daughter is one of the laziest, cockiest and arrogant people I’ve ever met. She thinks that I’m her servant put on this earth to clean after her, feed her and generally be her dogsbody.

But, now that the stress of exam week is finally over, I can see my baby is back to her usual,  ‘delightful’ self.

I walk to the kitchen to fix her something to eat, and I smile 🙂


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Hello! Today’s prompt is ‘Final’  from The Daily Post. You can visit and have a read of everyone’s take on the prompt by clicking here! 🙂