Herculean Task

Flea Market, Shoreditch, London, Uk

It was a labour worthy of Hercules. Flynn had hardly slept the night before owing to his awareness of the task that was before. Now the time had come and he would have to pull together every ounce of courage as he was about to enter into the unknown. This was not just the stretching of his comfort zone, but a true unheaval of the established order.

“All you need to do is go in and get it.” The words reverberated through his very being.

He took a deep breath and proceeded into the precincts of the charity shop and approached the counter.

“Do you – do you have a red scarf with dragonflies?” he asked. “My Gran said she thought she saw one here.”

“If we do it will be along the back wall,” the middle-aged volunteer said.

Flynn took another breath before setting out past the mismatched dishes, shapeless cardigans, and the ever present mustiness of the air.

There it was the scarf of his quest. He snatched it from the rack and hurriedly returned to the till.

“That will be two pounds,” the volunteer said kindly.

Flynn whipped out his phone to pay.

“Sorry we only take cash,” the volunteer said.

Cash? Flynn though, beginning to panic. Who uses cash?

Unwilling to be defeated he said that he would be right back and made his way to the ATM.

Flustered but not defeated, he returned and made the purchase.

In so doing Flynn had overcome the most extreme test yet to be encountered by a Gen Z. Little did he know that his greatest labour was yet to come when he would have to do battle with Gran’s rotary phone.



FOWC with Fandango — Extreme


Man, Portrait, Old, Elderly, Elderly Man


It is a lecture full of wind

As the professor repeats stuff long-tinned

The same address over the years he’s made

Rather than a new one – as he still gets paid

Research is what he sees as his trade

Producing new editions – twice a decade

So until he discovers something new

It’ll be that same old lecture that’s given to you




Police, London, City, England, British

What is meant by “Policing by consent?”

The thing Robert Peel tried to invent

Is it merely policing in the Crown’s name

Or upholding the laws the people proclaim?

Public opinion gives its consent

It’s not up to the individual their opinions to vent

The law is the law

And all should be treated the same

If you disagree, you might well in gaol remain


FOWC with Fandango — Consent


Choppers, Harley, Davidson, Wall, Art

This was going to be Brian’s great chance. After three years proofreading for other people’s articles, he was being given the chance to do some real journalism himself. He knew just the story he was going for, he had long wanted to expose what was happening behind closed doors at that bikers’ bar. He had gotten a motorcycle license a few years before, though he was sure his little Suzuki wasn’t going to impress anyone. He therefore drove to the next town over and rented a suitable machine. He then donned his carefully crafted costume, and ran through his back story. He was sure that he was going to be taken into the crowd, and once in, he was going to find out what was going on in that seedy joint. Well, the impression wasn’t exactly what he had hoped for. In fact, the only thing that was exposed that day was him, when he was set upon by three huge bikers who stripped him, and sent him scurrying away in his birthday suit.


FOWC with Fandango — Expose


Poppies, Field, Meadow, Wheat Field, Field Of Poppies

“Something’s not quite right here,” Bryn said taking a quick look around.

“What do you mean?” Konn asked.

“This field. Where has the grain come from?” Bryn asked.

“I see what you mean,” his companion said, loosening the strap on his sword.

The two had been wandering for weeks through desolate landscapes. The invasion had occurred in the early spring and most of the fields were still unplanted. But even that was last year. How could they have not noticed fresh crops before they found themselves in the middle of the field? How could they have been so oblivious to the signs that there was life to be found somewhere nearby?

“We need to act calmly and angle towards that treeline to the left,” Bryn instructed.

“I’m with you,” Konn replied. Slowly they altered their course and the only real indication that they had changed direction was the trampled stalks they left in their wake.

As they were about twenty yards from the trees a hail of arrows began to fall from the direction they had originally been heading. The pair then made a sprint to the trees, and braced themselves for defence.

“I wonder who is shooting at us,” Konn said.

“Let’s not wait about to find out,” his companion said.

“Agreed,” Konn said.

Once it was plain that there would be no attack they set out again in a way to distance them from the grain field.

“Well, they weren’t Goblins. The arrows are wrong for that,” Bryn observed.

“And they don’t eat bread either,” Konn rejoined.

“Let’s leave the loaves to whoever planted the field.”

“I think that’s wise, but we are going to need find other people eventually.”

“Let’s just hope for a better welcome next time.”


FOWC with Fandango — Oblivious


Stone Bridge, Fog, Mystical, Old Bridge, Fantasy

There it was, the promise of sanctuary. If he could just get across the bridge he would be home free. But could he make the last hundred yards in his present state? Were there any of the Count’s minions lying in wait? There was only one way to find out, and Cullen pulled tight the belt that held the splint to his broken leg and drew his sword. It was all or nothing now. All that mattered in life was the bridge.


FOWC with Fandango — Bridge