What a difference a day makes

One for Mr Walt as I know he rather enjoys these.

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Old Donald once had this mate Steve

Who he says we should now not believe

Evidence, bit by bit

Says that Don’s in the shit

From his tweeting please grant us reprieve

 

 

6 months of shenannigans

Well that flew by…

I started this blog without really thinking too much about it.  I started to write with no real intention other than to see what would come out of me, and what has come out of me so far are 467 posts in 184 days.  Occasionally I posted nothing, and on one particularly mad day I posted 14 times but mostly I just decided to write and see where that lead me.

Somewhere in there are stats which tell me I now have 370 followers, 16000 plus views, 7500 likes and around 5000 visitors.  I dont know if they’re good or not and they’re not the ones I look for for the most part, the one in particular that I look for most is the number of comments because I see those as a real indicator of engagement with people, and that is something I have really enjoyed which I did not expect at all.

People have been incredibly encouraging along the way and as I have got to know writers such as Mel, Walt, Linda, M, Dronsta, Ward, Leigha, Roda, Fandango, Penny, Dorinda and many more it has certainly helped me to keep scribbling away.  I must also thank my wife who has been hugely encouraging and frightfully patient despite the rather shocking nature of some of the stuff I have churned out.

I have also enjoyed reading other people’s work far more than I expected and there are some wonderfully engaging and talented people out there.  I dont get to read everyone as much as I would like and I probably do not read everybody that I should but I think we all struggle with that.

So what next?

Well I think I will just keep going and see where that leads me.  More of the same old stuff I enjoy writing and perhaps some new stuff as I challenge myself and hopefully along the the way you will continue to enjoy the words I produce and the order in which I produce them.

If I was to give anyone advice, and I dont propose to be in any position to tell anyone how to do anything, but if I was to after my 6 months of writing it would be this.

Just write about the things you are passionate about and which make you happy.  Find your voice and go with it, it’s what makes you unique.

x

Moonlit Excursions – Underworld 2

Heads turned as she walked into the club, a dozen pairs of desperate lonely eyes drinking her in as eagerly as they suffered what passed as beer in this place

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we.   I used to do 101 words, hence the title but I am scrapping the restriction.  They will still be a brief.  This is a follow up to one I did yesterday which you can find here…


Marcus Henderson was a fragile man, and he had for many years enjoyed his ill health about as much as he was enjoying the second beer just put before him.

He nodded a thanks to the bar tender and pushed a handful of credits towards him.  He didn’t really want the beer, and he didn’t want to be here, but somehow this is where he was and he had no idea why.   He just needed to be anywhere but there.

The original young girl on the stage had been replaced by her more voluptuous colleague, an engineered model no doubt given the size of her assets, and she was making easy work of hoisting herself up and down the pole.

“You not thirsty Marcus honey” she asked in her warm southern drawl, her red lips lingering on the ‘M’ just a little too long.  “You dont want it to get warm now.”

He pushed it away and readied himself as if to leave.  He looked up slowly as he spoke.

“It was very nice to meet you Miss…” He paused.

“Call Me Jessica, Marcus.  Very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise” he said  shaking her hand and then quickly pulling away.  “I must be going though” he added nervously “I have a dirigible to catch”  and with that he rose from his stool, pulled his coat tight and with his briefcase clutched to his chest he headed towards the exit and the neon night beyond.

“Be safe now you hear” she said as he walked away and up a small flight of steps to the club door.  She picked up movement from a dark corner and her eyes instinctively scanned the room and she watched two dark coated men rise and follow him as he left.  “Fuck” she said finishing her drink.  How did they know he was here?  She needed to act, and she needed to act fast or everything was going to go south fast.

“Thank you sugar” she said to the barman, waiting a few moments and then made for the exit.

The fizz and hiss of Neon lit the night, high sided buildings adorned with luminous invites to whatever dark craving you might call normal.  Across the road she spotted the two men weave between the street side vendors and the corporate nobodies that filled this part of time once night fell.  Pockets full and empty lives they moved from joint to joint in search of something that would pass for entertainment.

Heels or not she wasn’t letting this one get away and she skipped between the traffic shortening the distance between herself and Marcus’ followers and tucked in behind a  broad shouldered Colony Marine who seemed to be heading in the same direction.  Billows of steam hissed from street vents and the calls and cries of the market traders fought with the buzz of the traffic as she passed endless shopfronts selling everything from trinkets to weapons and somewhere in between you’d find the off-world girls and occasionally boys for those with an appetite for something a little different and a wallet to match.

She pulled the collar of her leather jacket up around her ears and darted from behind the marine and down a small side alley.  He had said he needed to catch a dirigible and given that there was only one zip station in the precinct that had a direct link to the airport she knew where he was going.  More importantly, she knew how to get there faster.

She picked up her pace and winding through near dark allies she headed for the zip station.  Here beyond the main strip and the glow of the neon hooded faces skulked in the shadows.

“What you after darling?” A tall thin man asked as she skirted the pools of water and garbage.  He reached a hand towards her and her eyes flashed bright, the glow of electric blue cutting through the darkness.

“H-hey sorry” he stammered recoiling in fear “I’m not looking for no trouble” he continued and hurried inside a dark doorway.

Jessica never broke stride and as she heard the clang of the door closing she rounded a corner and found herself just one block from the zip station.  She looked up feeling the first drops of rain beginning to fall, and there was a feint rumble of thunder in the distance.

They would have to come this way, and when they did she would be waiting.


 

Photo courtesy of pixabay

Nukes? Well why not it is a Wednesday…

Seems the Donald now thinks you have him to thank for Aviation’s safest year on record.

I wrote yesterday that “I will only post about Donald when he does something stupid, ridiculous or lies.  Seems fair right…”

I may have to go part time at work to make time for all the writing that needs to be done.  I rather enjoyed this tweet of his because it seems that the more insane his tweet the more harassed and under pressure he is and if this is anything to go by he is most certainly suffering, which is a nice thought.

Im hoping it’s given him a bit of an upset stomach and he keeps having to race off to the loo.  Not like anyone takes him serious but he is even less believable when he has to keep asking…”Can I just take a moment, I really need a shit.”  To which an aide will answer “but you just had a shit sir, is everything alright” to which he then answers “I make shits young man, the biggest shits.  The best shits. Presidential shits.”

He is just about to go into how Hilary never stood a chance with the small shits she probably did and about to insist that hers were “barely a shart”and that the rumour of her once producing a steaming log after a particularly meat-heavy Thanks Giving are just fake poos when he realises it’s too late,  turtle head has struck and he has kind of shit his pants.

again.

We can but dream people!

 

 

T is for Tea

Drink up before it gets cold.

I have written on the matter of Tea on a number of occasions though it was rather a long time ago and very few people have actually read them.  So I am going to rehash these two posts because, as I recall, they were fun and the first also touches on tea-bagging which you dont get to read about every day.  The other is about Aliens, and everyone loves aliens right.

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/29/more-tea-vicar/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/27/the-intergalactic-language-of-tea-daily-prompt/

Admit it, you thought it would be about Trump right 😉

The madness continues

Seems the Donald now thinks you have him to thank for Aviation’s safest year on record.

I will only post about Donald when he does something stupid, ridiculous or lies.  Seems fair right.  This was not on my writing schedule at all but when I saw his tweet taking credit for the lack of aviation deaths in 2017…

Fear of flying? No worries, no sweat

seventeen was the safest year yet

no plane fell from the sky

thanks to Donald that’s why

surely the greatest Pres’ yet

 

Hmm.  Not sure about sarcastic.  Think I am better at just being frightfully rude.

Seems the Donald think he is to blame

that no planes crashed or engulfed in flame

The blokes clearly not well

eat a dick, go to hell

you’re a fool and quite clearly insane.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shades of Chartreuse – Underworld 1

Heads turned as she walked into the club, a dozen pairs of desperate lonely eyes drinking her in as eagerly as they suffered what passed as beer in this place

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we.   I used to do 101 words, hence the title but I am scrapping the restriction.  They will still be a brief.  This might be the start of something.  Might well be a ‘To be continued…’  Actually, it could even be a middle or an end never mind a beginning.


Heads turned as she walked into the club, a dozen pairs of desperate lonely eyes drinking her in as eagerly as they suffered what passed as beer in this place.  With legs as long as her skirt was short she sidled up to the bar and effortlessly perched on the stool.

“Chartreuse” she said in a voice as smooth as silk.  The bartender nodded.

The room was dim enough to hide even the darkest of secrets and across from the bar on a small stage, lit only by a single spot that cut through the swirls of cigarette smoke, a pretty young thing wound slowly around a pole – her eyes dead and her mind anywhere but here.

“What’s your story” she asked a small balding man in a long dark overcoat sat two stools away.

He said nothing, staring deep into his glass.  He held a small battered briefcase on his lap and even when he drank kept one hand on it.

She took the glass of yellow green liquid from the bartender and slipped him ten credits.  “Keep the change sweetness” she said smiling.  He blushed awkwardly.  She was unnervingly beautiful.

“Not a talker eh” she continued, taking a sip from the glass.  “Well you cant come for the liquer either” she said putting it down, “so I guess you’re here for the girls then”.

“Im m-m-married” he answered.  She watched him for a moment.  He was small and very pale and beads of sweat glistened in the dim light.

“Aren’t you all sweetheart” she answered smiling and down one seat.  “Things not good at home then?” she asked.

“Everything’s fine” he answered curtly cradling the briefcase in his lap more tightly.

“That’s what my ex used to say” she said circling the rim of the glass with her forefinger “He’d say everything was fine and then I’d find him with Tracy or Kimberley or Julie or whoever the girl of the day was.”

The small pale man turned his head to look at her before quickly looking back down at the bar.

“He must have been a fool” he muttered.

“Oh thank you sweetheart” she said placing a hand on his arm.  Her bright blue twinkled as she flashed him broad smile   “I’m long past holding grudges though, he’s nothing but a story to me these days.  A distant memory and nothing more.”

He quickly took a drink from his almost empty glass.

“What’s your name sugar?” she asked.

“Henderson” he replied.

“First or last?” She teased.

“Marcus.  My name’s Marcus” he said.  She noticed him move ever so slightly towards her on his stool.

“Well Marcus” she said taking another drink from her glass, “Here’s to things being just fine.”


 

I think I might try continue this tomorrow…the prompt could work.  Moonlight Excursions.


Photo courtesy of pixabay

Another year, same old limericks

What? I like writing them…change isn’t always good.

Once a vicar quite fond of the whisky

found it made him quite hot and most frisky

one bleak Sunday in Lent

he’s caught pitching a tent

caused some fuss I can tell you , quite risque

 

That just about sets the tone for 2018 I reckon.

Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: Singe & Deep

Haiku challenge using ‘Short’ and ‘Sexy’. I feel I may be being set up…

Ronovan provides the words.  Then a haiku follows.  Though mine are kinda haiku in form only and I believe senryu in every other way.

 

I’ll try to singe them…

Deep subcutaneous burns

Can’t kill crabs with fire.

https://ronovanwrites.com/2018/01/01/ronovanwrites-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-182-singedeep/

Farewell

All good things come to an end…

To 2017…

See what I did there. 😉

I hope you’ve had a great 2017, and if not then I hope 2018 is better. And if you have had a great 2017 then let’s hope it wasn’t the pinnacle and 2018 does not turn out to be a steaming bag of dog poo.

Either way, life ain’t all that bad you know. See you all next year and a happy new year..

Love

Michael

S is for Screw you 2017

Oh 2017, face like a pool of sick and bogies

Oh 2017, face like a pool of sick and bogies

suckling us with your rancid saggy tits

filling our hungry mouths with your curdled filth

Our eyes watering as we gag on your putrid…

 

Only kidding 🙂

I have really enjoyed this year, despite how it may appear at times.  The year isn’t yet out and who knows what today will bring, but when it does close I wont be looking back any regret.  As I have gotten older I realise more and more that regret is a steaming bowl of maggoty stew and will only lead to you sat on the loo with your head in the sink praying to Jesus asking him to kill you as your body turns slowly inside out.

Ignore the maggoty stew I say and gorge on the wholesome soup of what could be because it had croutons and delicious chunky bits at the bottom…and it won’t make you shit your pants!

Words to live by!  BOOM!

Out of the blue #writephoto

Just a thought or two on Sue’s photo prompt something that could be the start of something else

 

The cold waters dripped from his body as he stepped slowly towards the shore.    The sunrise peeked through the gathering clouds as he emerged from water to land, the rocks cold and hard beneath his feet.

Standing in the shallows he looked down at himself and then around at the world laid out before him.  All was quiet bar the sound of his breathing and the beating of his heart deep within his chest.  Surrounded by the still waters and unyielding earth he looked to the skies as the first rains began to fall.

He smiled instinctively as the drops of rain started to fall onto his skin, mixing with the waters from the lake, and the noise of rain falling onto the rock and water filled his senses.

Stepping onto the shore he reached down and placed a hand onto a smooth rock, whispered quietly to himself and watched a carpet of dark green grass spread before him dappled with small white flowers.

He smiled again.  There was much to do.


 

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/3193846/posts/1714773044

Carrot Ranch – TUFF

This was part of the carrot ranch challenge to write a series of tweets all 9 words each.  11 of them to make a 99 word flash fiction.  I managed to get the structure wrong as it was meant to be just 1 sentence but I enjoyed tweeting it anyway.

 So I did all 8 of the Carrot Ranch challenges and it culminated in this.  You had to:
Do a 5 minute free write
Turn that into a 99 word piece
Turn the 99 word piece into a 59 word piece
The 59 word piece then becomes a 9 word sentence
And then you build the whole thing back up to a 599 three act piece.
I don’t remember a lot about it as I wrote it kind of drunk on Holiday but I do remember the experience being pretty cool as it really got to the heart of what you wanted to write.  Such a pity the drinks were all free that day.
So here it is:

First do a 5 minutes free write

Wednesday woke up and knew everything.  Everything apart from what had happened the previous evening (including who the fellow in bed next to him was).  His mind raced and his heart pounded as every synapse in his brain fired as the mysteries of the universe unfolded.  He sat up in bed breathing heavily as he understood the origins of mankind, who had killed JFK and why it was that the American people had voted for Donald trump.

He looked down at the man sleeping next to him.  “Not bad” he thought to himself, “must have been one hell of an evening.”  It then occurred to him that he wasn’t gay.  Not as far as he could recall anyway.

He thought for a moment about getting up but decided to lie down again as he realised how to cure cancer.  “Well that was easy” he said to himself as he struggled to piece together the events of the previous evening.  He remembered a few drinks, but not being drunk.

 

Now turn this into a 99 word piece

The light streamed through the window as Wednesday stirred.  His head hurt.  A lot.  Opening his eyes he sensed someone else in the bed next to him and rolling over saw a familiar face, still asleep.

It was the Barista from the coffee shop on the corner.  He liked the way he made an americano but wasn’t sure he liked it enough to have invited him to his bed.   Besides, he wasn’t convinced that his wife would approve.

Sitting up he rubbed his eyes wondering where she was and then, quite simply, he realised he knew pretty much everything.

 

Now turn this into a 59 word piece

Wednesday sat up in bed gasping, his pulse racing and a thousand suns exploding in his head. Where was his wife and who was this stranger in his bed?

Rubbing his eyes countless images flashed before them, and every synapse in his brain pulsated with a complete knowledge of everything.

Somehow he knew it all, everything known and unknown.

 

Then into 9 words

Breaking News: Man wakes up and knows absolutely everything.

 

 

 

 

Now build it back into 3 acts of 599 words

Act 1

Wednesday awoke with a start and sat upright in bed.  Bright sunshine flooding into his bedroom causing him to cover his eyes as his heart racing and a headache like a thousand suns going  supernova thundered in his head.  Instinctively he reached out a hand but his wife wasn’t there, she hadn’t been since the accident.

“Jesus” he said to himself falling back into the bed covering his eyes, he knew hangovers but this was different.  What the hell had he drank last night?

He wrapped the pillow around his head as the pain in his head began to grow.  His body tensed as wave after wave of pain began to flood over him.  Muscles tensed and sinews stretched and he convulsed as every synapse in his brain fired simultaneously

Through the pain he could see her face smiling at him and he could hear the sweet tones of her voice telling him that it was okay, that it would be fine if he just let it happen, that she understood why he had done what he had done.

Through gritted teeth he grimaced and shouted out.

“I can’t Emily, I cant I’m sorry but it hurts too much.”

“Just close your eyes Wednesday” she urged, “It will all be okay.”

“Im sorry Emily”2 Wednesday mumbled as the pain peaked and he cried out as he was overwhelmed and sunk into a dreamless sleep..

 

Act 2

When Wednesday awoke a few hours later the pain was gone and he felt an intense serenity. He could still feel her presence but the guilt was gone.  Nothing mattered anymore, especially the things he had done that he revisited in the dark of night.

His heart still raced but his breathing was calmed, and as he lay watching the late afternoon sunlight dance across the walls of the room he understood everything. Something had happened to him, something he couldn’t explain, but he knew that he was changed.

In those moments of intensity something had been revealed, a gift of knowledge, and the understanding of the universe was his.  He held a hand before his face and in that moment saw every atom of his being and understood the origins of humanity.  He watched the sunlight stream through the window and the mysteries of the universe were revealed.

His head to one side, again succumbing to sleep, he heard her voice calling to him.

“It’s my gift to you Wednesday, for what you did.”

“I’m sorry Emily” he said remembering the first time they’d met.

“Don’t Wednesday” she said, “Just sleep my love.  ”Sleep.”

 

Act 3

As sleep release Wednesday from her grip he stirred and felt alone.  He switched on the television and  watched the futility of mankind in their self-destructive pursuits.

“I can fix this” he thought to himself as he flicked through the channels, ”I can fix it all.”

“Are you ready to make amends” she asked as darkness fell across the room.

“I am” Wednesday answered. “I didn’t mean for it to end like it did” he said as he threw back the duvet.

“And when it is over, then you must relinquish all you now know.”

”And what happens to me then?” He asked. ”How can things ever be the same after what you’ve shown me?”

“Then you return to your reality Wednesday, your life, your guilt and your repentance.”

Wednesday got out of bed and pulled on the previous evenings clothes.  They smelled of liquor and cigarettes and an unfamiliar perfume.

“I thought I might start by curing cancer” he suggested, buttoning his shirt.

R is for Rugby

Think of it as a physical version of American Football.

Oddly Rugby hasn’t really come up whilst I have been doing this blog given that it plays such a large role in my life, and always has.

Born in East Hull there is the inevitable link to Hull Kingston Rovers and I remember going to watch them from a very early age.   You grow up in Hull and you’re either a Red and White or a Black and White, there is no sitting on the fence, and I was a red and white.

There was something really magical about trips to the games with my Dad and there was such a thrill when I would take the match day programme and try and get player autographs.  It’s nearly 35 years ago now but the memories of drinking bovril in the cold remain and there is still a real sense of just how important it was to me all those years ago.

We moved to South Africa in 1981 and rugby is a bit like religion over there, just more important.  I loved playing growing up and despite those huge Afrikaaners forever battering us it was there that I grew to love Rugby Union.  I am a Northern Transvaal fan at heart still and was fortunate enough to live there in 1995 when the Springboks won the world cup.  Talk about fever pitch, the country went berserk and it was truly an amazing thing to witness.

Now I get that it is not everyone’s cup of tea, and the rules can be confusing and there are two types which doesn’t help but there is just something about the game that I love.  Whether its the physical nature of the contest I love or the skill, speed and power I do not know, but something in the game just appeals to me.  It doesn’t matter what level it is played at I can just watch it because of the sheer pleasure it brings me.

There is a real community, honest and camaraderie about rugby too and it is that side of things I enjoy more and more as I get older.  I spend a lot of time doing work for the local club and both my boys play so most weekends are taken up in one form or another with something rugby related.

Hmm.  You know this might be the most bland and sensible thing I have ever written.  You know, that must show just how serious I take it.  I think I will stop right there because I feel very grown up suddenly and I seem to be an awful bore when I’m serious about something.