Henrietta Maddox Webloner


One strange day
October 10, 2015, 8:19 pm
Filed under: Telling stories, Writing | Tags: ,

a-crumpled-up-lottery-ticket Peter read the Unclaimed Prizes page on the lottery website again. “£329,451.90” he said, taking another slurp of cold tea. The monitor started blaring the baby crying.

“Come on, darling,” said Peggy, “Freddie’s awake now. Let’s go out; try and get our mind off things.” She swiftly ran upstairs and returned holding her little man in one hand, the changing bag in the other.

Driving through the village and up into the valleys, Peter said nothing, simply staring at a spot on the window. His lack of interest in food left him feeling empty and sluggish. A feeling that complemented his mood since finding out. Continue reading



There’s Something About Rachel
June 2, 2014, 11:32 am
Filed under: Telling stories, Writing | Tags: , ,

I wrote this for my “Start Writing Fiction’ course that I’m doing on Future Learn  – it was a character sketch assignment. We had to create a character that was either based on ourself with a dramatic alteration (e.g. age, gender, etc); or based on someone we know with a dramatic alteration; or completely from our imagination; or a combination of the above. Hope you enjoy.

*************

Rachel has always been a morning person. Every morning she awakes at about 7am, goes straight to the bathroom and relieves herself, before gluing in her teeth, straightening her long grey hair and eating a nice breakfast. This is her only ritual. Each day is a fresh one and is usually led by a combination of her mood and the weather.  Continue reading



Daily Prompt: Seven Wonders by Henrietta Maddox
October 28, 2013, 8:36 pm
Filed under: Help Yourself, Love, Mental Well Being, Sex, Writing | Tags:

“Khalil Gibran once said that people will never understand one another unless language is reduced to seven words. What would your seven words be?”

Dance

Sing

Laugh

Dream

Do

Enjoy

Breathe

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/10/28/daily-prompt-seven/



A belated acceptance of the Versatile Blogger Award
December 14, 2011, 12:11 am
Filed under: Help Yourself, journalism, Mental Well Being, Physical Health, Trivia, Writing

When I received this award in August (would you believe) from the wonderful Chuck Allen, I had no idea what to write. The requirements of accepting the award are to reveal little known facts about yourself and then pass it on to another wonderful blogger.

To check out Chuck Allen’s random little facts click here. To find out facts about me, read on:

1. I would love to be an agony aunt

I’ve always thought I’d make a great agony aunt. After finishing my course in magazine journalism and completing some work experience at Brighton’s eco-mag Rocks, I was lucky enough to get an internship at Scarlet magazine. I hoped the experience with this leading mag in sex & relationships would get me on the route to success. However, it ended up sending me in a very different direction: creative writing.

2. Hot and steamy beginnings

My first short stories were in the genre of erotica. I didn’t attempt to write anything else until 2009. Most of my stories were for Scarlet but I also managed to get one of my stories published in a book called Ultimate Decadence – all proceeds still go to the Macmillan Fund for Breast Cancer. It was part of a sub-charity called Burlesque Against Breast Cancer.

3. Soap maker

Like @chuckallen I enjoy taking up new hobbies and on a constant mission to better myself. I believe this is a typical writer/artist thing to do because we love to experience new things and find new material. At the moment I am learning to make soap using some skills I have picked up over the years from mixing essential oils. So much fun! Next step is sculpting it.

4. Self-help lover

Whether I read the whole thing, the contests page or just the cover, I LOVE self help books. Love bettering myself and finding out new things to help others. My favourite one in the past few years have been A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, expressing the need to live in the moment. Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus was the first one I read (I think) but I only read half of it because it tends to say the same thing in every chapter: let women talk their stress out, let men have their space. Not much more to it.

5. Secret Cinema obsession

I suddenly get very obsessive when I go to the cinema. I like to get there early so I don’t miss any trailers. Also, I like to sit in the centre of the fifth row because of some advert I saw over 15 years ago when the actor says, “The girl in the middle of the fifth row….” – I can’t even remember why or what he says 😉

 

I would like to give this award to @Helenscribbles. This will make her a versatile blog award winner THREE times!! Well done Helen. Helen’s website is filled with fascinating and unique stories. All with wonderful twists, interesting scenes and intriguing dialogue. I especially recommend her Flash Fiction and Tuesday Serials.

Right, I’m very tired – so off to bed. Hope this all makes sense. Thanks again Chuck Allen for my award. 🙂



Lily Childs’ Friday Prediction – 2 December
December 8, 2011, 5:21 pm
Filed under: Telling stories, Writing

As I haven’t been back in Friday Flash for so long, I thought I would do one of Lily Childs’ Friday predictions. The rules to this is 100 words (max) flash fiction or poetry using all of the words: Affection(ate), Mustard, Scrape.

He could see her apprehension to take him on at first. It took strenuous stretching and pushing his body, for her to believe that he could cut the mustard. Although even after years of their success together she knew how to crack the whip.

“No, No, No,” she said, simultaneously smacking the back of her hand into the other’s palm. “You scrape the barrel with these moves. Again.” He lifted her with a graceful affection that only a performer could pull off. Secretly resenting her cadence and poise exuding such excellence.



Zooming out
August 19, 2011, 6:14 pm
Filed under: Telling stories, Writing | Tags:

The small, happy family gather in the kitchen. Teenager, Jessie sits texting on her mobile at the table while her mother prepares vegetables at the counter.

“How’s your new bike working out for you, love?” Emily hears herself say.

“Thanks, Mum. I love it – I’m using it every day. You should see me zooming through the city at full speed. Those big old buses seem like gigantic elephants and make me feel like a clever little mouse scurrying between them.””

Without looking up from peeling the carrots, Emily’s smile turns to a slight frown. “I hope you’re careful on the roads.”

“Mum, don’t be silly, of course.” She stretches her whole body out, “I just love the freedom of it. And just think, I’ll be driving next year, it’s going to be amazing.” She claps her hands together and gives off a high pitched squeal.

Still shaving vegetables, Emily giggles, “You sound like your father when he got his camera. I hope you’re getting all this, John?”

“Yes, dear.” he mumbled. Jess munches on a carrot and headed towards her father, her eyes lit up, “Dad, can I have a go?” Suddenly, she’s frozen in time.

The thick parallel lines of the pause symbol cover the left corner of the screen. Emily stands over her television, tears rolling down her face, taking everything in from the image of her beautiful daughter.

Emily takes a handkerchief from her black blazer and blows her nose, trying desperately to pull herself together. She feels the warmth of John’s hand on her shoulder as he takes her in his arms. She buries her tear soaked face in his chest, trying to muffle her bawls.

The cries stop. The couple are frozen as they comfort one another in funeral attire stood in the living room, their television behind them.

Two ad men sit in an editing suite. One sips on coffee, the other on diet coke.

“Let’s take a break, we’ve been here for hours.” He says.

“It’s been worth it, though. It’s going to be very effective” The other says.

© Vicky Bigmore 2011



Circulation
August 5, 2011, 8:39 am
Filed under: Telling stories, Writing | Tags: , , , , ,

Slice of life of a ten pound note

The door squeaked, she turned, her lover entered, she rose to kiss Tom hello. He looked defeated, Gail expressed concern, he explained. He forgot to grab the ten pound note from the cash machine. “I hope the machine ate it back up again.” he concluded – so had the ten pound note.

As Tom had walked away, a teenager skated past and with no hesitation grabbed the tenner without stopping his zoom. Placing it in the pocket of his baggie, skater trousers, he raced along the high street until he got to the yellow door of his drug dealer. Effortlessly, Jay flipped his skateboard up, under his arm and text to alert Skinny Frank, “I’M OUTSIDE”.

Skinny unlatched the door, Jay walked in, a thick cloud of smoke swirled and puffed around his head. The smell was delicious; the chilled tones of reggae and dubstep chugged out of the speakers. Trading the goods and the cash, Frank laid the tenner on top of a pile of notes and chilled with his friend on beanbags, playing on his XBOX.

Hunger pangs followed, Jay left, Frank grabbed the money, ran out to the corner shop. The shopkeeper exchanged the note for the grub, pinned it in his till and carried on stacking. Next morning the shopkeeper paid paperboy, George. Smiling at his very first wage, he held it tight all the way home.

Putting it on the kitchen table, he stared at it in awe till he needed the loo. His mother mistook it for her own and drove off to market. For a big bag of potatoes, she handed it over to a stall minder but a strong gust of wind snatched it from her pinch.

Fluttering high above their heads, the ten pound note raced far from the woman, until caught safely in a tree. There the ten pound note rested, at dusk a magpie nipped it , soared high above the streets, and released the note into a park.

Strolling just twenty paces behind it, Gail and Tom followed the path, hand in hand. Spotting the tenner, a plump girl pushed through them, plodding up to her prize. “Look Mom,” she said in a shrill, American accent, standing in the middle of the path “Look what I found!”

© Vicky Bigmore 2011