Writing Prompt – Hugh's Views & News

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Flash Fiction – A Small Invasion

Published on Aug 11, 2025Aug 11, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts30 Comments

Nobody took much notice of the small Halloween pod that appeared in the Griffiths’ small front window on the night before Halloween. They’d sold the place because it was too small, and the neighbours thought the new owners had placed the pod there. But they were wrong!

The mesmerising, faint green glow out of the eyes and mouth of the pod during daytime Halloween became brighter as the sun set and dusk arrived. It was a sight to behold, especially for the innocent local small children who couldn’t resist posing with it for photos. Their innocence, a stark contrast to the small danger lurking within, made them all the more vulnerable.

Photo of a halloween pumpkin — Halloween

Little did they know that the small creature inside was not just observing, but also making intricate plans. Its intelligence, a chilling reminder of the impending threat, was something to be feared and respected.

At the stroke of midnight, the pod cracked open, and the small, agile creature darted out. It was now a master of disguise, mimicking all the costumes it had seen. Its constant shifting and learning, and planning its next move, was a clear sign of the magnitude of the threat.

By dawn, the small population of the street had shrunk, mostly of children. Of course, nobody took any notice of me, the new owner of the Griffiths’ house, as I blended in seamlessly into your world, now a perfect mimic of your kind.

They asked me about the small pod and the missing children, but I denied any knowledge of them. Over the following twelve months, the city’s human population decreased.

On the run-up to Halloween, keep your eyes peeled for a small alien pod in your neighbourhood. But more importantly, keep a close eye on your neighbours. After all, every invasion starts small.

Written for Esther Chilton’s writing prompt: Small.

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Flash Fiction – Follow The Feathers

Published on Jul 23, 2025Jul 31, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts25 Comments

Slowly opening the front door, Adrian listened for signs of life.

Fairly confident that nobody was home, he stepped inside.

Should he go to the kitchen for snacks or upstairs to turn on his new PlayStation and watch his new favourite show? What lay on the stairs held the answer. Brightly coloured feathers going up the stairs piqued his curiosity to follow them. How did they get there?

An image of a carpeted staircase with some brightly coloured feathers lying on some of the steps.

Hearing muffled voices, he suddenly stopped and walked towards where they were coming from. The door to his parents’ bedroom wasn’t fully closed, allowing him to look through the small gap.

The scent of his mother’s perfume hit his nostrils. She was sitting down with her back to the door wearing a dress he’d never seen her in before, one his father had probably bought her. A feathered boa lay around her neck. The mystery of the strange coloured feathers was solved. He watched briefly as she scrunched her hair and wondered if she knew the zip on the back of the dress was not zipped up all the way. Had she had her hair styled differently? It didn’t look right. Something nagged at him.

“Mum?”

“Adrian!” came a deep, shocked voice. His father turned around to face the door, spitting a feather out of his mouth; his expression readable. “I thought you were going to Danny’s after college?”

Adrian froze, his heart racing. The sight of his father, clad in a dress, feather boa and wig, left him speechless. The room behind the door filled with an awkward silence, until broken by the soft rustle of the feathers and then laughter.

“Uh, I—” his father stammered, a mix of surprise and embarrassment washing over his face. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Adrian blinked, trying to process the scene. “Then what is it?” he asked, as he pushed open the door.

His mother laughed nervously and joined his father from the other side of the room, a playful spark in her eyes. “Maybe we should tell him. It’s about time he knows.”

With a sigh, Adrian’s father straightened and took a deep breath. “Alright, Adrian. This isn’t what you think. Your mother and I are part of a show for the charity gala this weekend. We thought it would be fun to do a dress-rehearsal at home.”

“Dress-rehearsal?” Adrian echoed, incredulity giving way to excitement. The mystery of the feathers and the strange scene before him transformed into something far more compelling.

“Yes!” his mother said, smiling brightly. “We could really use your help! How about you watch us rehearse and tell us what you think?”

Realising he was now part of this unexpected adventure, Adrian grinned. “No thanks. I’d rather go on my PlayStation. But have fun.”

As laughter filled the room, Adrian walked to his bedroom, his earlier curiosity now filled with enthusiasm for a new side of his parents and their secret world.

Switching on his PlayStation, Adrian didn’t play any games. He connected to the BBC iPlayer to watch a newly discovered show which had now become his favourite.

“Welcome to RuPaul’s Drag Race UK,” said another man wearing a dress. He looked far more glamorous than Adrian’s father did.

Written for Sunday Stills hosted by Terri Webster-Schrandt: – Theme: Feathers.

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Flash Fiction – Crossroads Of Desire

Published on Jul 7, 2025Jul 7, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts24 Comments

Bill found himself at a pivotal moment in his life, a crossroads where four paths presented a significant choice.

The first path urged him to continue as he was, the second promised a life of monotony, the third, a hidden path, offered a tempting solution. And the fourth, a choice he had contemplated but never acted upon, beckoned him.

The third choice, a path he had never before considered, now loomed before him. It was a problem he had never faced, one that had afflicted countless others but had never touched his life. It was a choice that carried a weight of uncertainty and fear.

With a sense of inevitability, Bill reached for the box that held the four blue pills. He’d made his decision and picked up his phone. He started his journey down path three.

An image of a middle-aged man texting on his phone. Sitting beside him is a woman of the same age, taking cash out of her purse. — Image created using WordPress AI.

‘I’ll be with you in an hour’ were the only words in his text message to Nina.

‘An hour?’ came the response. ‘I want you now!’

‘I need to run some errands for the Mrs first,’ he sent back.

Of course, the real reason was that he had to give the pill he’d just taken time to take effect, otherwise he couldn’t give Nina what he’d been giving her for the last five years of their affair.

A sad emoji with the words ‘See you in an hour, lover,’ came back.

Three miles away, Bill’s wife looked at the naked body of the younger man next to her. She remembered when Bill had a body of the man next to her, but Bill’s body had changed, and something didn’t work anymore.

“I’ve got to go,” said the young man.

Bill’s wife wondered if he had another client. “My payment?” he asked.

‘What a great choice I made,’ Bill’s wife told herself as she handed over the cash. She’d made the right choice and wondered if Bill had made any choices today.

Written for Esther Chilton’s writing prompt – This week’s prompt is ‘Choices.’

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Flash Fiction – Blue Sky

Published on Jun 16, 2025Jun 16, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts23 Comments

When Mike went back to the piece of wall art, this time on his own, there was something different about it.

There was still the blue sky and some fluffy white clouds, with a young man looking up at the sky through the V-shaped gap that had appeared in a stone-cold grey wall. The ground around the young man was strewn with rocks and parts of the wall that had fallen away, revealing the blue sky.

It didn’t take him long to realise what was different. Somebody had added a pair of blue wings to the V-shape where the wall met. It was the message he’d been waiting for.

Three minutes later, after gazing at the blue sky, with butterflies fluttering in his stomach, Mike stood on the precipice of his life, his blue eyes fixed on the future. He refused to look down, for fear of being trapped in his past. All he craved was the promise of what lay ahead.

With both arms outstretched, Mike positioned them at shoulder height. As the sun emerged from behind a cloud, making his blue eyes shine, a silent affirmation of his chosen path, he took a step forward. He flapped his arms, now transformed into wings, a symbol of his journey to his true love, David.

It wasn’t just the butterflies that soared; his final journey to reunite with David carried him through the artwork towards the blue sky. On the other side, he was greeted by a serene landscape, a testament to the peace and acceptance he had found.

With open arms, his first love, David, and the endless blue skies welcomed him.

Written for Esther Chilton’s writing prompt – This week’s prompt is ‘Blue.’

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Flash Fiction – Special Places

Published on May 14, 2025May 14, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts35 Comments

In her final moments, she clung to the happy memories this special place held for her—the vibrant parties, the infectious laughter, the shared joy, and the wonderful people she had connected with. Their smiling faces flickered in her mind, a bittersweet reminder of the past.

She remembered the day she’d lost the ring her parents had gifted her on her 21st birthday. Her future husband had found it and, at first, declined the reward her father had offered for its return. She was speechless that he had never proposed, but she’d been given away.

As she lay on the floor, her happy, special place slipping away, the recent memory of losing her tongue, a punishment for the incessant accusations, was excruciating. This place hadn’t been happy or special for all of the time, just most of the time. She needed to find her next happy, special place again.

Soon, a new special place will bring her happiness and peace.

Written for Esther Chilton’s writing prompt – Special Places

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Flash Fiction – Has Anyone Seen Felix?

Published on Jul 22, 2024Jul 22, 2024 by Hugh W. Roberts33 Comments

Time! I never have enough of it. Do you?

I have so much to do today and need more time before my visitors arrive. They’ll be here anytime. I don’t know the exact time, but it’ll be today. The anticipation is killing me.

But at least I have everything I need to do those household jobs. I only cleaned the house last week, but it needs cleaning again before they arrive. I hate visitors coming to a dirty house, don’t you?

I’ll grab the mop with the frayed handle and start with the kitchen, scrubbing every corner, even the ones that don’t need it. Then, I’ll move on to the bathroom, ensuring it’s spotless without a speck of anything suspicious. I need enough time to ensure I get rid of any proof of my recent visitor. I had better check that the stairs carpet is also free of fluff and fur and give it a good vacuuming.

When the supermarket delivery driver arrived with all the cleaning products I’d ordered, he asked if I had a bad cold. ‘It’s not a cold, just an allergy to cat fur,’ I told him. ‘I didn’t know you had a cat,’ he replied, his eyes widening in surprise. ‘I don’t,’ I responded. He looked at me as if I were some mad person. But at least he was on time. ‘And why all the bleach?’ he asked. ‘It was on offer,’ I lied to him. ‘You know how it is; can’t resist a good deal,’ I added nervously. For a moment, I thought he was on to me.

87 minutes later

Phew! Where did the time go? I’m finally done. And just in the nick of time, because here come the visitors. Don’t they look smart in their uniforms? Just like they did last week when they visited. Right, I better answer the door. I can’t help but wonder if they’ve figured it out yet. They’ve had enough time. They look like they’re here for a friendly chat, but little do they know I’m onto them.

“Mr Kingston. We meet again.”

“Yes. I thought you’d be back. Is this the third time?

“The fourth. I’m Constable Summerfield, and this is my colleague Constable Jones—-“

“There’s no need to show me your identity cards; I know who you are; come on in.”

“We need to ask you more questions about the recent disappearances of the neighbourhood cats. This time, I intend not to waste any more police time than I have to. Is that bleach I can smell? Every time we come around, you seem to have just finished cleaning. I wish I had the time to keep my home as clean as yours. Now, about those missing cats…”

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