Mother isn’t happy, but we are unaware. Oblivious. Lost in our thoughts about how long we will have to sit in this stuffy room on the 15th floor. Thinking about the weekend and a good few glasses of something special.

I look around at my colleagues. I think that’s what you call the poor souls that spend their days together. Not out of choice but in debt to institutions in bigger buildings than this. Paying back the debt on theirs.

Then a droning noise, like someone is drilling the centre of he building. Then it stops, briefly as the table we are sat around starts to move around like a Ouija board, as if we have upset someone from the other side.

I hear screams from another room amid shocked pale faces in mine. Some dive under the table; some head for the door. I sit frozen, wondering what magnitude it is. The building has base isolators so it shouldn’t collapse. So they say. Who’s hanging around to find out ?

We sit in our cars, gridlocked. Pedestrians overtake us, crunching on broken glass; some crying; some unsure. Somewhere there are people I care about that I can’t reach. Not by phone or car or good intentions.

Note to self. Focus on real life and love. Quite a jolt.


© Ash Cheyne 2017

Daily Prompt Challenge – Jolt






It was no real surprise that our flight was cancelled. The wind the night before nearly made me airborne. Or was that the glorious wine from Patrick’s private collection ?

It was a long weekend and determined not to shorten it we took a cab back into town and had breakfast in Joes Garage. Then we crossed the road and took in the Warhol exhibition, pretending we were already there.

It rained when we finally got there. Movie rain. Straight down and bouncing off the concrete like we were at the thought of being together. Record stores and witchcraft and spells and vodka martinis in the Morrison Hotel bar

We didn’t want to go home in the early morning.


© Ash Cheyne 2017

Weekly Photo Challenge – Surprise


We had been skiing in Chamonix all week. We had a great time although I worried about her, my daughter, a lot of the time. I can get by in French but one day we crossed through the Mont Blanc tunnel into Italy. I know the names of a lot of food, but that’s about it really.

Towards the end of the day, we got lost and passed a small pile of bodies that had crashed into each other, presumably at typical Italian high speed. She froze as I told her to come down the other side and not to look. She looked terrified and tearful.

Then we saw some huskies and her world brightened immeasurably. Fear and trepidation vanished. Without a thought she put her hand out and petted the animal. The mother I think. Penetrating eyes met childlike innocence and all was well. Secure.


© Ash Cheyne 2017

Daily Post Photo Challenge –  Security









Curve ball

Not in the groove though

Can’t get that feeling

he had way back

when he was part of it

The machine


that explains the convenience

of the truth

we choose

To believe

in something we like

A minority vote

for good


© Ash Cheyne 2017

Daily Prompt Post – Outlier





My First Time

So, here we are. You and I wondering what happens next. A friend said it’s a brave thing to bear your soul to millions of people. If I’m that interesting then I’m sure I’ll get over it pretty quick, but for now I’m pretty nervous that maybe no one will care or that my site looks naff.

I write stories. Some short and some very, very long. Oh, and some poetry too. I often get asked if they are fictional. As they are all based on things seen, heard or done, then there are elements of [distorted] truth in there. So let’s say faction.

Each week I plan to write about the stuff that bothers me or makes me laugh. Then, suitably entertained, you may wish to take a look at some of my other stuff. Stay tuned.