#Three Line Tales: Solitude

For Sonya’s Three Line Tales prompt.

photo by Jeremy Bishop via Unsplash



Sunset sea, the colours in the sky and on the water, peace and quiet, she could watch it for hours.

Beaches, mountains, forests, there were so many peaceful places, she thought, where it should be possible to be discreet, keep to the sidelines, let the wild things take over, just observe.

Yet wherever she looked, however peaceful and secluded, there was always some fool taking selfies.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

34 thoughts on “#Three Line Tales: Solitude”

    1. Thanks Di! Mass tourism is getting a caning at the moment. Perso I hope the tide turns against it and the cruise liners find themselves denied access to ports idem no more hotels, aclamp down on Airbnb, fencing off historical sites, sites of natural beauty etc etc. Why do people want to go to a place if it’s only to send a selfie?

    1. It’s all the groups that arrive en masse. They don’t know what they’re looking at, don’t care to find out, just want a pic of them and their other half standing in front of it.

  1. Ah yes, the curse of the selfie. I frequently rant in my own posts about those who, in pursuit of the “perfect selfie”, turn their backs on what they’re meant to be looking at, so I’m reassured to know I’m not the only one who gets wound up by this ridiculous modern habit!

    1. It’s symptomatic of our complete disconnection from what’s going on around us. We reduce everything to what we want, put ourselves in the middle of the picture, and that’s all that matters. Things to do, places to ‘see’ the proof that you’ve been there, done that, but what, if anything at all, do any of the selfie brigade ‘know’ about the picture they’ve muscled in on?

      1. I was brought up on lemon juice and sugar, but had a mid-life crisis and fell in love with those fluffy American buttermilk pancakes, wallowing in maple syrup and with several rashers of crispy bacon on the side. Funnily enough I once got asked to do a “thought for the day” on our local radio station. I wanted to have a rant about elitism in literature, so I took as my theme the American tradition of having pancakes for breakfast, pointing out that while this would be anathema to many of my traditionally-minded listeners, there is nothing intrinsically wrong with it. As it is with pancakes, I continued, so it is with literature: there are many views about what constitutes a good read, and we should celebrate diversity rather than resorting to dogma. Books, like breakfasts, I concluded, are all a matter of taste. I thought it was rather clever, but I never got asked back to share further thoughts with my adoring public. Philistines!

      2. Interesting analogy. Which books do you see as the fluffy pancake maple syrup with side servings of crispy pig?
        I can’t even imagine starting the day on what you describe. Can’t imagine eating it at any point in the day at all. Mind you, the literary version probably wouldn’t appeal either.
        I preferred orange juice and sugar. I used to make them for the kids once a year but stopped when they requested Nutella instead of orange juice.

      3. Plainly, you haven’t lived ๐Ÿ™‚. Regarding authors, I think I was going into bat on behalf of Douglas Adams, who was a genius, and to a lesser extent Terry Pratchett, who wrote too much but at his best came close to genius. I love to laugh, and both of those men have made me cry with laughter. Oh, to have just 1% of the talent they possessed.

      4. I’ve only ever read one Terry Pratchett and wasn’t that keen. Admittedly I got it from the library here and the French translation might have been wide of the mark in places ๐Ÿ™‚

      5. He was rather uneven in his output, and I’m not sure his humour is translatable. My favourites feature Death as a main character; Death likes cats, rides a horse called Binky and SPEAKS IN CAPITAL LETTERS. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but it works for me. In one of the stories Albert – Death’s manservant – notices Death is troubled and asks if he wishes to be alone. Death replies I AM ALWAYS ALONE, BUT RIGHT NOW I WANT TO BE ALONE BY MYSELF. I often muse on that one, but rarely find myself laughing โ€ฆ

      6. There’s a comic book series about a girl called Nini Patalo who wishes on a star to be alone, and the wish is granted. Her parents are disappeared leaving her with just what’s in the fridge. It’s hilarious. Death is one of the characters, usually in the company of a woman in a blue frock with a halo called Jacinthe Marie and Brenda the psychic cod, and Jean-Paul a cave man whose refrigerated container falls out of a passing aircraft, oh and Frite the radioactive potato. It’s for kids. French humour at its best.

      7. I’d already worked that out ๐Ÿ™‚ The last time he was here, my brother in law bought the whole set of Nini Patalo books and he can’t even read French.

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