Sunday Prompts

"What on earth..?" Sister Irene looked up when she heard cheery whistling and heavy footseps on a metal ladder.

The English couple had checked out of the room that morning, so Anna was due to give it a thorough clean and change the linen.

The squeaking infiltrated my dreams and, when I opened my eyes and glanced at the bedroom clock, I saw it was four a.m.

There as no one who could quite match up to our mother. She was tall and blonde and wore polja-dot dresses with full-circle skirts.Carol McClatchie lifted the lid on her tub of face cream then let out a scream. A fly lay writihing on its back, legs flailing in the air.

"Hi there. D'you mind if I put my piano outside your shop?"

There were dog hairs on the cheese. I smile as I remember.

Penny dug her spoon into her desert, watching as chocolate cream oozed over a delicious mixture of nuts and sponge, and thought that she'd never felt less like eating chocolate in her life.

As Pam turned onto the M11 she forced herself to concentrate on the drive ahead.

She skips in front of me, carefree, happy, just as a five year old should be.

Peggie bit her lip in irritation as Sam leaned forward to turn up the sound of the television.

Matthew knew something was wrong as soon as he walked into the kitchen. Usually there were signs of activity - music playing, a pot simmering on e stove, the table laid for supper.

Sarah regretted slamming the front door as soon as she was through it, but she knew she couldn't go back. An ultimatum was an ultimatum, after all.

Jamie lay beneath the plum tree and watched Sally through half-closed eyes.

Valentine's Day will soon be over, thought Maria. It had always been her dream to run a successful restaurant and, by the looks of things, her dream was coming true, right before her eyes.

I can do this. I know I can. So why does that insistent little voice in my head keep nagging away at me?

I don't think of myself as old at all, but it's funny how time catches up with you, so that you find yourself saying, "When I was a girl," in an ironic way and the twenty-somethings you work with nod seriously, instead of smiling at the joke.

At half past nine on Monday morning, Jack gathered up the Sunday papers and headed for the potting shed. He loved Mondays.


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Openings from Woman's Weekly Fiction Special Issue 50 (£1:75) which I thoroughly recommend you all go out and buy