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

    Elaine was late coming home after a wonderful evening out with her new friend Robert. They had danced the night away at a local youth club and the time had just flown by. Elaine’s dad was a stickler for timekeeping and she really didn’t want to be late and get grounded. Robert had left her after the youth club had closed, when his Mum arrived to pick him up. They had offered Elaine a lift but she had declined in favour of walking home. In reality she wasn’t ready for her Dad to find out where she had spent the evening.  However there was just one way of getting home on time before her Dad’s deadline time and that was to take a shortcut through the local cemetery. 

    The gate was always open, day and night, no one ever bothered to lock the gates at nighttime for obvious reasons.

 The gate squeaked eerily when she pushed it open. Elaine shuddered to think of the short walk past the rows of headstones. An Owl hooted from the top of an Oak tree. Elaine’s heart was in her mouth as she broke into a run along the pathway.  A sharp wind blew and the trees alongside the pathway were bending and leaning towards her as she quickly ran past. There was a shape lying on one of the benches in the shadows that seemed to be a body. Elaine ran faster and faster until she raced through the gates at the other end and was soon at home knocking on the front door.

    ‘Hello Elaine, you are out of breath! Have you been running? You look all pale as if you’d seen a ghost. Come inside in the warm.’ exclaimed her Dad as he closed the door behind her.

   ‘Thanks Dad, I didn’t want to be late home so I ran.’

    ‘Silly girl, we wouldn’t have worried if you were a few minutes late.’

© Written by John Yeo


I am taking part in Mondays Finish the Story 24/08/2015, which is a challenge that provides a photo prompt and the opening sentence to your story. The rules indicate that the story you come up with must be between 100-150 words, not including the given opening sentence.

The link below takes you to Part Thirty-Eight

M I 39

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

Finish the story begins with:

“The cemetery spread along the area known as Devils Abode.”

Very few people attended the funeral of the wealthy Maxwell Dickus, a lot of people were startled, but glad to hear this news. The feeling was this parasite had gone to the right resting place and would feel at home in this particular abode.
The Brigadier was shocked when his interrogation unit was penetrated and an assassin killed Maxwell Dickus. The guards were under suspicion and interrogated.
Acting upon the information gleaned from the drone, Don Fernando’s team smashed into the hidden complex and after some fierce fighting were now in control. Marg, reunited with Don Fernando and Bella made arrangements to break into a strong room and strip the ill-gotten gains.
Dr. Dickus was missing, it was believed he had linked up with the mysterious Luigi and was now in hiding.
Marg, shocked and saddened that Paul Strang’s helicopter team were dead, patiently waited………Unexpectedly the boobytrap…….

(149 WORDS)
To be continued

Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

The link below takes you to Part Thirty-Eight


Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved


Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers ~ Writing challenge.

Hosted by Priceless Joy.

The goal is to write a story between 100-150 words (give or take 25 words) based on the provided photo.

Graveyard ~ Flash fiction

Photo prompt is provided by Sonya O.


by John Yeo

The funeral was extraordinarily well attended, people had arrived from all over the world. This man was respected, loathed, loved and hated in many places-. Some arrived to make sure he was actually dead and to raise a glass in celebratory style. Others were genuinely sad as the deceased had been extraordinarily generous to those who were loyal to him. Six black horses led the cortège pulling an ornate carriage, members of the family and very close personal friends walked slowly behind as the procession made its way to the cathedral.
The media were there. This man was a wheeler and dealer who had a very sketchy history of violence and contrastingly of genuine charity to those in need. This death was news and news kept the media arenas in business.
My research led me to an overgrown cemetery in a well-to-do suburb of London. I blinked tears away as the reality of the neglect of a forgotten mogul became clear. How the mighty are fallen in the dust of fragmented memory.
Goodbye Great-Great-Grandfather.

(174 Words)

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

This is in response to a challenge hosted by Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. If you would like to participate in this challenge or need more information, please click the following link:

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers