MONDAY 22nd MARCH 2021

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

It is not generally known,

The amazing geography of historical Rome

Was built on seven hills, two of which were hollowed out.

The history of the Roman Empire is an impressive tome

Detailing the historical rise and fall of the empire.

Except for these unknown hollow hills

Under the foundations of historical Rome.


For millennia completely unknown

Beneath the foundations of historical Rome.

The fables surrounding this secret were never brought out

The mysteries built up a treasure trove of history grown

Seductive with the telling, filled with historical desire

To unearth the mysterious hollow hills

Under the foundations of historical Rome.


The two hollow hills joined by a catacomb

Beneath the foundations of historical Rome

Hold a colony of a million mysterious bats, flying freely throughout

Stalactites hanging above a moss-covered mysterious throne 

Naturally formed from an interior flow of volcanic fire.

Warming the historical skeletal chills.

Under the foundations of historical Rome.


© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved


I wrote the following piece of Flash Fiction for our Church magazine in response to the monthly theme of Inflation.


Image Courtesy of pixabay.com



by John Yeo

  It started as a tiny spark that jumped from the orange flames with a crack that made old Ben jump, as a gleaming ember settled on his hand.
Ben, well known as a worthless, no good, lazy member of the parish, was roasting a plump pheasant  in the embers of his campfire.
Ben cursed volubly and brushed the ember from his hand, causing a large area of his skin to be affected by the burn. Ben ate his meal and as his hand became painful, he made his way to the local surgery where it was cleaned and dressed by the Practice Nurse.
   ‘How did you manage to do this?’ Nurse Amelia enquired.

  Ben thought for a moment and said, ‘Oh! I discovered a fire in the woods and I noticed it was beginning to burn out of control heading for the village. I simply stopped it from spreading.’

Soon after, with a cacophony of sirens, six fire engines from several of the neighboring towns descended on the village. There was indeed a large fire burning out of control in the woods. It seemed to have rekindled itself somehow.

Later in the Pedlars Arms, Robin the landlord and some of his cronies were excitedly discussing the events of the day together.

   ‘I understand we have a local hero, Poacher Ben discovered a forest fire that was heading towards the village and he single-handedly doused it and saved the lives of us all. Sadly it started up again the emergency services were quick to respond.’

‘Wow! you mean that worthless wretch is a hero.’ said Roger, the local Draper.

‘Yes that’s right,’ continued Robin, ‘I understand Mrs. Peabody has telephoned the local rag and they are sending a reporter to interview him here. Sarah my wife is comforting him and cleaning him up right now to face the Press.’

Ben quickly became a celebrity as he described the fire that he had somehow managed to divert towards the river bank.

The local newspapers had banner headlines. ‘Local hero saves his community.’

A certain wise member of the village was heard to mumble.
‘If it takes just a spark to start a fire that becomes a raging conflagration.
It needs but a tiny pin to deflate the inflation of an ego that becomes hugely inflated.’

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved



This is a piece of Flash Fiction I wrote yesterday for our church magazine, in response to the theme of Orange.


Image © John and Margaret



by John Yeo


 The day started with a fantasy flow of colours liquidizing the rising sun’s reflections on the clouds. Reds combining with yellows creating a dominating orange that filled the sky to herald the start of a brand new day.


   “I’ll have to get the pupils interested in the distant past by bringing the past back to the present. We need to get the feel of antiquity by enacting the period physically.”

Mr. Smithers, the History master was addressing his dog Pooch. An exercise he frequently carried out since he had lost Matilda, his late wife of 30 years, to the dreadful scourge of Cancer.


“Fire in the sky needs the purification of fire on the Earth.”  Intoned the mystical tribal shaman, as he rubbed two pieces of tinder together to create a flame. The members of the community watched spellbound as the fire took hold.


 A spark found its way to some bone dry ferns in the outskirts of a small town in Spain. Wild fire instantly took hold and spread fast. Orange flames dominated the fire devastating the growing foliage on the edges of a forest with many species of wildlife, scared and vulnerable. Fleeing the flames, predators, and prey running together, oblivious of everything but survival.

Birds feeding on the orange berries of a Rowan tree flew up with a cloud of fluttering wings above the heat and fumes emitted by the orange flames that incinerated everything in their path.

The orange uniforms of firefighters were highly visible as they lined up, desperately trying to control the blaze and stem the greedy red, yellow and orange flames.

The firefighters gradually brought the blaze under control then still alert, yet relaxed, they took a break under a green tree that showed flashes of a ripe,  remarkable orange fruit. Sweet to taste with luscious fleshy, juice-filled quarters. Orange segments were distributed to the firefighters for much needed liquid refreshment, and to build up reserves of energy.

Meanwhile, an orange emergency helicopter landed on a field surrounding an impressive church, to rescue a heart attack victim.

The rescue personnel rushed to give CPR to the victim, who happened to be the mayor of the local town.

 A service of thanksgiving was performed in the church as the townspeople and the rescue personnel gave thanks to God for the survival of everyone in that tiny community, in the face of wildfire.


 Mr. Smithers the history teacher was visualizing the Shaman dressed in a traditional fiery orange loincloth.

 “Yes Pooch, Today, I’ll have to teach them to respect the dangers of fire.”


 The day ended with a fantasy flow of fiery colours from the setting sun’s reflections on the clouds. Reds combining with yellows creating a dominating orange that filled the sky at the end of another day, leading to the last day of the future.



Image ©️John and Margaret


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.


Image provided by Priceless Joy from Pixabay


by John Yeo

    The form of transport to reach the solar exterior was incredible, a cross between an ice making-machine and a reforming, non-inflammatory stage.     

     The Rock group would have their images projected into space, where the performance was relayed by satellite.

     Earth in the sixties was a melting pot of music. A furnace of scorching mesmerising ideas. The message was in the music with money to burn. The lead singer was a showman with more than vocal magic to entertain his millions of followers. This man was capable of using magical means, disappearing in a puff of smoke then reappearing in his flesh and blood form instantaneously. The audience were raised to heights of illusory reality, the lead singer was belting out the scorching themes of fantasy. The stage and the auditorium were suddenly plunged into pitch black darkness as the lights went down and fire broke out, leaving a burning guitar blazing in the centre of the stage. Sadly the singer perished in flames generated by solar heat the guitar continued to burn. The trick backfired.


(175 WORDS)

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers



Image ©~ John and Margaret

DAILY PROMPT on Word Press ~ 20th  Sept 2015

“Tell us about a time when everything seemed to be going wrong — and then, suddenly, you knew it would be alright.”


(Pure fiction) 🙂

by John Yeo

The first thing that led me to believe that this was going to be one of those days, was when my absolutely reliable, dependable alarm call failed to sound I woke two hours late for my work, to discover that my mobile phone had stopped working, exactly one hour before the alarm was due to sound.
I immediately attempted to telephone my office to say I was running late but my landline was out of order and I still had no signal on my mobile phone. l switched on the television to catch the news, the newscaster was rambling on about all the troubles in the world, but there wasn’t anything about local communications failure. I switched it off in disgust.
I thought I may as well accept the fact that my morning was missing, why shouldn’t I indulge in a good brunch and start work in the afternoon. I put some toast under the grill and eggs were frying in the pan when there was a knock at the door. I rushed to answer the door to find my neighbour on the doorstep. “Have you a telephone that works?” She asked.
“No!” I replied. “I am going in to work this afternoon!”
Suddenly I smelt smoke and my smoke alarm went crazy, I realised what I had done and slammed the door in her face. I quickly went to the kitchen to find the oven was on fire so I raced to the sink and filled a bucket with water and tried to put the fire out. Too late, I realised that water and electricity do not mix, just as the lights fused with a crack and a mains fuse blew.
Then sirens sounded and bells were ringing as three fire engines raced up, summoned by my neighbour who had smelt smoke at the same moment I did when I slammed the door, and she had stopped a passing car-driver who had immediately raced to the fire station.
I held my breath as the electricity company arrived to restore the power, and the telephone company arrived at the same time to carry out repairs to the communications systems.
My telephone line restored, my mobile phone rang with a call from my Mother to say she had one of her headaches and would I mind bringing her some tablets after I finished work. I took another deep breath and attempted to quickly explain the situation, but I had to hang up on her as my landline sounded and there was a loud knocking at my door at the same time. I answered the door to find a policeman on the doorstep investigating a burglary at a local store where the thieves had disabled the local communication systems. The call on the landline was the telephone company apologising for the break in communications. Next I got a call from my mobile phone company apologising for the failure of the mobile signal, neither of the two incidents were related. I took another deep breath as I called my house insurance cover company and after much argument and clouding of the issue they promised to send an assessor to assess the damage. I finally got through to the office and my employer said this chain of circumstances was so far-fetched, it had to be true.
I then exhaled loudly as I realised everything would turn out OK!

It would be another day tomorrow. It is my birthday. Yes!!!!!

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

Picture it and Write ~ THE SHAMAN

 This is the latest Picture it and Write prompt from Ermilia’s blog


As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia



by John Yeo

The shaman had many tricks up his sleeve to help him perform his healing miracles. He was a travelling healer practising his trade with the use of herbs and complex spells to communicate with the spiritual world. One day he came to our village with a following and began to have visitors from the surrounding area as his fame spread rapidly. When an important lady from our village, the wife of a hunter, became very sick the shaman was called to work his magic to make her well. The shaman spent many minutes in a trance before he began, suddenly he shouted at the top of his voice! “Everybody leave at once!” The people were in awe of the reputation of this man, they responded immediately, leaving the shelter, except for her son little Oki, who hid in a corner behind some skins. The shaman chanted prayers and prepared ointment that he rubbed on the woman’s brow and heart. Oki was shocked when he produced a shiny knife from beneath his cloak and began to sharpen the edge of the blade, then to his horror his mother groaned as the knife cut into her chest. Oki leapt from his hiding place and shouted: “Stop!” The shaman, who was in a trance and unable to respond turned to Oki and lashed out with his ceremonial knife. Oki sustained a lethal wound, but in his death throes he took the dagger and plunged it into the shaman killing him instantly. Several hours later the villagers discovered three dead people in the shelter and burnt it to the ground.

Some time later the shiny multi-coloured knife was discovered in the ashes.

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


Pen n tonic Creative Expressions

Each week on Tuesday Pen’n’Tonic will post a word, a phrase, a picture, or an idea that will constitute a prompt from which to submit a poem, a flash fiction piece (not longer than 250 words), an original photograph, an original artwork, or a combination of these things that you think applies to the week’s theme.

“This week, I give you one of my own original photographs. I can’t wait to see what you have to offer this week. Enjoy!”


Bonfire. © penntonic.wordpress.com



by John Yeo

We will let the fires of life burn out and in the dying embers we will sit and dream.
We will remember the fire that burned through our bodies when we fell in love.
Then the fire of ambition when we first started college, the knowledge that added fuel to ignite our dreams.
The fires of protest, when we held firm beliefs and we were prepared to die for our feelings.
The fires that burned fiercely in our minds as we aged and ignited the fires of freedom in the minds of our children
Proudly we have shared the fire and watched our children ignite the flames in the next generation.
Dreamily as the fires of our lives glow and the embers burn out we make our final decision will it be Cremation. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust?
Suddenly a shout of joy as our Great Grandchildren run towards the dwindling bonfire. “Come on Great Granddad and Grandma, wake up and come inside before the fire burns out.”


Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

Picture it and Write~THE FOLLY

This is the latest “Picture it and Write” prompt from Ermilia’s blog



The Picture is provided and credited by Ermilia

by John Yeo

Mrs Green was odd, she lived alone without any human companionship, just her canary and some goldfish.
The cottage that was her home was a very small cottage with a thatched roof. China ducks flew on the wall, visible through the front room window, behind an aspidistra plant on the window sill.
Mrs Green was very aged, some said she was in her nineties, nobody knew for sure, she always kept herself to herself. We had never seen any visitors to her home except for the doctor or a nurse if ever she was taken poorly, or tradesmen delivering milk, bread or groceries.
Then came the fire that suddenly erupted in the kitchen and burnt the cottage to the ground, Mrs Green, sadly was consumed in the flames and passed away.
The cottage stood derelict for some years until it was explored, with a view to building on the land. There was a brick-built folly in the garden, that looked crumbling and derelict, but somehow had remained intact over the years. When the door was broken down and entry gained a treasure trove of clues to the background and lifestyle of the eminent scientist and author, Felicity Green was revealed. There were many books lining the walls, and piled in heaps on the floor. Many hand-written books of scientific remedies for curing warts to a revolutionary new cure for some forms of cancer. There were notebooks full of her copper-plate handwriting and poetical works with pressed flowers.
On a very dusty ornate antique desk, littered with articles for her work and many dried herbs, lay a handwritten volume of the most beautiful poetry I have ever read.
We preserved her wonderful folly as a permanent memorial to Felicity Green. Many millions of pounds in revenue have been accumulated from her scientific discoveries, and her amazing poetical works will live forever alongside, William Shakespeare and many talented writers down through the ages.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo, All rights reserved