Tag Archives: Ghosts

Friday Fictioneers – Groundbreaking

ff060814The Di Cessano’s were legendary for their parties: porcini-stuffed wild boar roasted over flaming coals; the swirling, operatic tones of Flagstad and Melchior’s defining duet from Tristan und Isolde drifting out into the sultry, Tuscan night air.

Back then nobody knew about the fault line. Overnight, the house in the valley became the house on the hill.

If you drive past today, you may still catch a glimpse of Madame Di Cessano dancing in her silken gowns; defiant strains of Wagner echoing through the rugged, overgrown hillside. The parties may have stopped many years ago, but the memories linger on.


These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

Trifecta 78 – Gone Fishin’

abandoned2The biting summer winds shrieked their way through the deserted streets of Saskatill. Doors of homes long shorn of life blew open and closed in an endless cacophony of thuds and bangs. The frozen, hulking skeletons of rusting machinery at the abandoned fishing plant rattled day and night.

Nobody cared. Nobody was there to care. They’d all left when the plant closed. All except Mickey Keeperman. He’d stayed.

“Come on Mickey. Think straight. We leave tomorrow” they’d said.

“I ain’t leavin’. This is my town. Why woulds I wanna leave?”

Who wouldn’t want to leave this end of nowhere? Use some imagination Mickey!

Mr Mayhew called him pedantic. He didn’t know what that meant. He had everything he wanted right here. They didn’t understand.

“I can’t leave my family. They needs me” insisted Mickey.

At that point they stopped asking. Soon they were all gone. Rust moved in as the town began to rot away. Those who left didn’t forget their old friend though. Supplies were delivered. Hardly enough to feed a bird but Mickey survived. He survived to keep a look out.


He came down to the dock every day to wait for them. They had been gone since Mickey was a kid. His father and brother were his heroes. A child needed heroes in this sort of town. He would never give up on them.

The cold and loneliness were beginning to take their toll on Mickey. His health wasn’t what it was. One bone chilling night, with the view crystal clear, Mickey thought he saw a boat. No! It is! Is it? It all went hazy. It all went quiet.


Five years after they left life returned to Saskatill. They’d struck oil. The first ones back found Mickey down by the dock.

It’s said when the skies are clear and the air is cold you can see it. Out in the fishing grounds. The old Keeperman trawler. Three hands on board. Mickey at the wheel.

These 329 words are my entry into the Trifecta Week 78 writing challenge.


Friday Fictioneers – The Pain of Separation


“Crazy ain’t it? It’s a Jesse Mallakoy original. Cost us a million bucks” said the barman as he poured his customer a whisky.

Slowly sipping the drink the old man stroked his mottled beard and smiled.

“He’s dead. Killed himself after finishing this. Locked his soul into it or so the story goes. That’s him in the middle” continued the barman as he turned to point at the picture.

No! How?

The man in the picture was gone. The barman quickly spun round. An empty stool. The glass of whisky he’d poured seemingly untouched.

Jesse Mallakoy felt whole again. He could now rest at peace.

This is my entry in this week’s 100 word writing challenge over at Friday Fictioneers.