This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..



by John Yeo

  The long winding pathway led to a collection of kennels. A weather beaten sign was nailed to the gate. ‘WELCOME to MUTTVILLE’.

     A cacophony of loud barking greeted us as we approached. My wife Martha, flicked her long brown hair from her eyes, grinned and said, ‘Sounds like we’ve arrived.’ 

 We were looking for a replacement for Pixel, our Border Collie house dog, who’d sadly passed away suddenly, a week ago.

   ‘Hardly any need for that sign, with the noisy welcome we received on the way in.’

  Martha pulled the car up outside the gate and we entered the yard on foot.

  We were welcomed by the owner, Rosa, a smiling vivacious young lady with long auburn hair tied up in a ponytail. 

I have to admit to having strong reservations about replacing Pixel, I had been incredibly close to that dog and in my mind he was irreplaceable. I found excuses to reject dog after dog for a variety of reasons. The last kennel contained a solitary young dog who was curled up in a corner ignoring us all.

  Rosa said, ‘Meet Mist, a new arrival, he’s just settling in and is wary, unsure of everyone. He was a stray found on the moors, we were going to call him Mystery, but he only answers to Mist.’

   I softly said, ‘Hi Mist!’ 

   His ears pricked up as he leapt forward, wagging his tail furiously, he licked my hand and rubbed himself against my leg. With that I knew we’d found our new member of the family. Mist had simply massacred all my reservations. Martha just grinned and patted Mist on the head, she received an excited nuzzle in return.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.



FIRST LINE PROMPT ~ Bacon sandwiches always reminded her….


by John Yeo

  Bacon sandwiches always reminded her of the time she spent visiting a smallholding in the depths of rural Wales. Philip Jones was a hard worker on his land and managed to come close to self sufficiency in food. 

   My college roommate Patsy, his only daughter, would always extend an invitation to spend time with her family on this beautiful smallholding. Patsy was a tall girl, with long red hair and freckles all over her face and arms. We have always been inseparable friends.

     Patsy stopped me in the quad one beautiful spring day.           ‘Are you coming to stay with us again this year again Belle? you know you are always welcome. Dad always appreciates your help and we can enjoy ourselves in the village again. They still hold the Saturday dance in the village hall.’ 

Patsy had a habit of shortening my name from Annabelle

   “Yes please! I can hardly wait.’

  During the History lecture that afternoon my mind drifted over the coming visit. I was looking forward to playing with the farm animals again, feeding the chickens, walking the dogs and mucking out the pig sty. I had grown quite fond of the friendly  single family pig, I always had time for Priscilla, I swear she was extremely intelligent and I would converse with her while I was in the sty.

   The last two weeks at college passed in a blur, and we were soon on a passenger train speeding through the beautiful green hills and valleys that famously go to make up Wales. We were met at the village railway station by Mr Jones who shook my hand. 

     ‘Hi Annabelle lovely to see you again.’

  He gave his daughter a huge hug and smiling broadly

       ‘Hello Freckles! climb aboard both of you.’ Patsy frowned at this old nickname.

  In contrast to Patsy, Mr Jones was a short, stocky, well muscled man, with an unruly mop of brown hair that he kept in place with a fashionable Barbour hat. He loaded our bags onto the vehicle and we were soon on our way.

   We arrived at the smallholding where we were greeted by Mrs Jones, with a large pot of tea, a huge plateful of bacon sandwiches and buttered scones. Mrs Jones was a beautiful lady, tall with long red hair; it was obvious which side of the family the freckled skin came from.

 The bacon sandwiches were delicious and I couldn’t help enquiring after my friend Priscilla the family pig.

 There was an embarrassed silence as Mr Jones pushed the plate of bacon sandwiches towards me and offered me another sandwich. 

  ‘Such is the reality of life on a self sufficient smallholding.’

It was from that precise moment I became a life-long vegetarian.

©️ Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.