Probably well deserved.

You’re not all special!

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I popped to the engravers this morning to pick up some trophies for a rugby festival I am running tomorrow and noticed a large pile of parcels for the local grammar school.

Seems they are awarding 4 trophies for their top ‘A’ achievers, a good recognition for the ‘merit’ pupils and two very special ones indeed.

Nice to see the school telling it like it is.

Toilet Paper Troubles

Read this before I am forced to delete it…

M has another month of fab prompts that you can see here

Today it is Toilet paper troubles.


 

I saw the prompt and my mind instantly went back to an event a few years ago now that you might like.  You also might not but it’s a true story either way.

It was a lovely summers day and I remember being sat in the living room, as we English are prone to do when we have good weather, when my eldest could be heard laughing hysterically at the top of the stairs.  I’m talking out of control belly laugh.  He was about 7 at the time, and Tom my youngest about 4.

“What’s so funny Sam” I shout up the stairs and he can’t answer, simply pointing down the stairs and out into the garden.  I looked and was at first uncertain until I noticed Tom wandering around the garden with his trousers around his ankles trailing a good ten feet of soiled toilet paper behind him hanging from his bottom.

Obviously my first instinct was to grab my camera to get a good video and as Sam continued to howl hysterically I headed down the garden to capture the moment for posterity.

At this point my wife was alerted to something going on and I heard a cry of distress from the upstairs window an the thundering of feet down the stairs as sh and Sam hurried down the back steps and into the garden too.

“What the bloody hell is going on” she shouted *or something like that) “and why the hell are you filming it and not cleaning up.  Curiously that wasn’t a question that had crossed my mind.  Perhaps that just shows how different men and women are.

Before I know it a hasty investigation reveals that Sam had tossed Tom a loo roll when he said he needed to go (we only had one loo  in the house at the time which Sam was using) and told him to go in the garden.  Which Tom did.

“Get some carrier bags” she says to me “and put that bloody camera away.”

The look on her face suggested that she was not to be trifled with so I hurried into the house returning with bags to use to clean up the mess.  By this point Tom had pointed out where he had relieved himself and the wife took one of the bags to pick up his leavings. 

Probably should point out at this point that I have a quite terrible gag reflex and am prone to heaving and lurching at the sight of bodily fluids which would explain why I begin to gag, eyes watering, as she attempts to pick up the remains of Tom’s lunch. 

“Just help will you and pick up that toilet roll” she says pointing to the yards of soiled twin ply littering the garden.  I respond by gagging uncontrollably as I near it, which in turns sets off Sam who himself starts to gag.

“What is wrong with you people” she shouts as we both stand there gagging as she ties the bag full of Toms number two but this sight is simply too much for Sam who suddenly starts to projectile vomit across the garden.

“Oh god no “ she shouts panicked clutching a bag of the youngest’s poo as I crack up unable to do anything other that alternate between laughing and gagging, “Just help will you, god what are the neighbours going to think.”

At this point we were about to find out not what the neighbours thought but certainly what their dog thought as she trotted along and quite merrily began to eat Sam’s vomit.

It is all very much a blur from that point on but I know there was screaming and shouting and the dog looked most satisfied with whatever Sam had had for lunch and I eventually stopped gagging though it was too late to recover the position.

It wasn’t long after that we started planning to have the second bathroom put in.

 

 

 

For my children

Some deep rambling stuff

My memories will fade one day

my eyes will shine less bright

and into dark I’ll surely slip

but you’ll remain my light

 

The best of me I hope I gave

My smile, my laugh my frown

from good and bad, your path I shaped

you’res the thing’s I’ve handed down

 

Your hand I help, your head I kissed

scraped knee and fever soothed

beside your bed all night I sat

a heart once hard so moved

 

And seasons pass, I watch and smile

you clamber, fight and strive

too quick to run before you walk

eyes bright and so alive

 

Each year that passes I embrace

such change and watch you grow

my hand let go you walk alone

and deep inside I know

 

Too soon my time will surely pass

alone you’ll be but find

your joy and hope and always feel

the love we leave behind

 

 

 

Through his mothers eyes

She watches, he, a picture of his father

beautiful and flawed

forever and always in her heart

protected, loved , adored

She watches, he, a picture of his father

beautiful and flawed

forever and always in her heart

protected, loved , adored

 

A world awaits, alone she prepares

first steps, first words, forehead kissed

hand held, knee scraped tears wiped

he – birthdays, Christmas missed

 

Held tight she wishes a life far more

than she can ever give

love overflows, it’s all she has

to pave his way to live

 

And seasons pass, she watches

he grows, eyes bright, unknowing

not realising what he does not have

the scars hidden, unshowing

 

Such pride she wears on tear worn face

a life surrendered without regret

to see him grow from boy to man

though her heart cannot forget

 

the life now passed her by,  in days

each lived but not her own

freely given yet taken too

by the man he has not known

 

 

 

 

 

X is for X-Rated

The time I nearly taught a class of 11 year olds about fetish sex by accident

A few days ago I wrote here about volunteering to teach code in a nearby school.  I expressed a degree of nervousness over the endeavour but was nonetheless excited at the prospect of sharing something of what I love.
Last Thursday came and went and for the most part it went rather well.  The children  were engaged and excited by the lesson, I am now known as “Mr Code Man” – which I absolutely love, and I will be returning this week.
It was touch and go though because of an issue with the content of my internet browser.
If you have read my blog then you might know that I wrote a whole series of posts on the crazy sexual fetish’s that are out there and much of my research came from a Huffington post article.  Now there is nothing deviant or inappropriate on my laptop.  My theory on such things is dont lie or hide things then you don’t have to remember anything.
Seems though that I happened to bookmark this particular site.  Just imagine the scene…
I hook up my laptop to the gigantic electronic screen in the classroom and it displays my desktop for them to see.  There was a small matter of XBOX alerts popping up because my kids were enjoying a snow day at home and I monitor their messages on my laptop.  Nothing untoward though and I quickly turned the alerts off.  It actually earned me kudos with the older boys in the class.
So there I stand, facing the twenty or so little faces and another 5 teaches and I click the browser and it opens up and there on the screen, projected to a size of 3 metres wide is this.   Now I only have 2 bookmarks in my browser and here they are…
fetish
Now I noticed it straight away and as fast as I could fumbled around to close it but eventually yanked the output cable from my screen somewhat flustered and closed it down, my heart pounding in my chest.
I looked around and it seems I got away with it but god, can you imagine if I had clicked it by accident…

Well that’s just super…

Kids. Honestly.

My dear children

I want the best for you but…

some days you are thick

Sorry thats the best I can do.   It is ten to ten and the eldest just told me he needs 6 sheets of filo, ricotta and spring onions for school tomorrow.  I want nothing more to shout and protest and stomp my feet as I was about to get in bed after this post but now I am off to the Tesco just up the road.  If they dont have it then I am going to the store in the next town.  But that’s ok right because I am an awesome dad.

I don’t feel it, I want to make him get dressed and go himself.  Oh, did I mention it’s snowing?  Yeah.  Loads.  Id happily watch him drag his forgetful arse out in a blizzard and drive behind him shouting valuable life lessons out the window.

I can just imagine his snow chilled little face pleading to get in the car as I bellow instructions about how to put up a shelf an how to make a good first impression.

What is more annoying though is that I knew it was food tech tomorrow and forgot to check what he needs.  So really I need to shout at myself.  But I am way past learning.

Stupid idiots the lot of us.  Right, where are my clothes I better get dressed again.

 

More stuff from my brain meat…

Charlie’s Journey – OWPC Challenge

Deep and insightfully insightfulnessness

I tried to say goodbye.

 

V is for Volunteering

Try imagine this…

The company I work for encourage its staff to play an active part in the community.   I used to think it was all just a bit of PR but my experience over the last few years has changed my mind on that.  It is easy to be cynical I admit but in addition to matching any charitable fundraising we do (to a limit of £500 a year) they also, to a degree, support us with a certain amount of time off work to pursue these causes that matter to us most.
Using some of this time, this week I will be embarking on something of an adventure as I
start to volunteer teaching code in one of the small schools one town across.   As part of

Code Club I will be teaching 9-12 year olds how to code in scratch for an hour a week on a Thursday afternoon.

There aren’t enough coders around and I believe it is a skill that breeds creativity and develops problem solving abilities that will be critical later in life and I just figured if no one else is going to do it I will.

Code Club is itself critical in this though and a wonderful endeavour and it provides a wonderful framework within which to work.  You don’t even have to be able to code to be able to teach it.  I can though so hopefully it will help immensely.
Initially I was rather enthusiastic and following a visit to the school though it was a great
idea but as Thursday looms it has dawned on me that will be teaching up to thirty eager
coders never having taught children before.  I have taught adults plenty at work but they are different and wholly more docile.
I may well have bitten off more than I can chew, and I am uncertain if I am the type to be shaping young minds and I am concerned that they will make me cry.  But, it is now too late to back out and by all accounts they are rather excited and if I do run away I
imagine they will hunt me down and go all lord of the flies on me because that’s what children do.
Oh well…

M is for Michael

that’s me…

Michael.  That’s me.

 

This seemed like a good idea when I did the title but now I am less sure.  If you’ve read me for more than a day or two then you know what I’m like and I don’t really need to tell you.  I have a wife and kids who I love, a life I enjoy immensely and very few filters or boundaries.

You know what, I think that will just about do.

You really don’t need to know that I love comics or rugby or television or films or coding or laughing or being grumpy, that’s all there for you to see.  You don’t need to know that I think Donald trump is a twat and that I find it quite heart breaking to see what he is doing to America because I grew up with all things American and it played a big part in my growing up.

And you dont need to be told that I like to make people laugh and dont take things too seriously and that I have a problem with authority and organised religion.  It’s all there to see in my writing.

Thanks for reading and I hope you continue to take some pleasure in what I put out there and if not, meh, I’ll get over it.

Michael

X

 

 

 

 

L is for loss

If I were not here tomorrow…

Were I to die tomorrow then there are so many things I would not get to tell my boys.  As melancholy a thought as it is it is one with which I have of late struggled though something I have yet to remedy.  Such words of wisdom that are a father’s to impart would go unsaid and they would quite possibly venture into this world as young men without my deep and considered understanding of so many things.

Whilst their mother would without doubt provide them the support they need as young men I would not be there to explain to them why they should always ensure they place the drill chuck back in the little holder thingy on the handle of the drill to ensure they are not forever heading to the DIY place to buy another.

I ask myself who, if not me, should be the one to explain why darts is a sport and motor racing is not and why being a Yorkshire-man is truly a privilege.

My heart is heavy with the thought that at my passing so ceases the chance for me to impart upon them how a man should approach washing dishes so as to ensure he never gets asked again.

Truly though I believe the greatest gift we can give them is our presence, time and attention without which we cannot pass on our biases and prejudice.

Good god, what if they grow up to be Manchester United fans?

 

K is for Kids

Just to be clear. They are not for sale.

I have two and I love them very much, which is lucky for them because there are days when I think they might just be a little bit faulty.  Don’t get me wrong, despite their obvious flaws I still think mine are actually more pleasant than other peoples – and definitely yours – and I have the tedious photo’s and long winded stories to prove it.

I think/hope that my eldest may well have the most wonderful sense of humour as just the other day he asked whether the Germans were still looking for the Von Trapp family.  Now don’t get me wrong, as an Englishman I am of a mind to think that somewhere there is a lower level Ortsgruppenleitner with a hatred for sing songs that is still hopeful of apprehending them, but truth be told that’s probably just me being awful.  I was troubled enough to ask him whether he was serious, and I am still not actually sure.

The youngest is a precious little thing who has the most delightful ability to believe his own lies and I am most certain that he is destined for great things – probably in politics or banking.  Such is his conviction that I often have to refer to the internet to support any argument I may find myself having with him.

Still, I wouldn’t be without them no matter how much I was offered for them – and trust me the little blonde one is worth big money in certain parts of the middle east.  The elder brown haired one is probably worth less though he has broad shoulders and a strong back and would certainly do the work of at least one small mule.

Not that I’ve researched it.  Honest.

To be fair, had I tried to return them or asked for a repair I imagine I would have been told that any damage they are currently exhibiting may well be my fault.

 

 

 

I is for i-spy

You can shove your i spy!

Before I get into this I would make the point that I love my boys very much and would do just about anything for them.

If in doubt understand that I will regularly unclog their toilet –  which they seem to prefer to only flush every third or fourth visit – with only minimal shouting and threats.  Look closely and you will see that the bonds of love are such that I have been known to tidy their rooms for them and only remind them once or twice that the option of adoption remains on the table until they are 18.

Still to be convinced?  My heart overflows with love so abundant that only recently I was witnessed preparing them 3 meals in a single day.  That’s true human kindness right there…

That said, there are limits and those limits come in the form of board games.  I really do not enjoy one bit sitting down with the family for an evening of board games and frivolity.  It takes almost no time at all for me to upset somebody because I refuse to let somebody win because they’re ‘only little’.  Play against kids of your own age if that’s how you want to roll but as far as I am concerned you want me to play, I will play to crush you.  Ideally I will make you never want to play board games with me ever again.

I know it makes me a terrible person.  I will pay for their therapy when they are older.  Might also explain why we have a cupboard full of unused board games.

The wife likes to play with the boys when I am away though, which is nice.

And don’t get me started on bloody i-spy.  As if driving in this country isn’t hard enough with it’s constant roadworks and sheer weight of traffic…I travel miles and miles having to try and guess the quite ridiculous things my youngest apparently spies.

Get lost Thomas you didn’t spot Batman, T is not for “Tornado” and you can get stuffed if you believe that you saw a clown in the car that went past us 5 miles ago.  You’re a liar and your lies make baby Jesus cry!

And don’t go crying to mum when I insist that Psoriasis begins with a P, and you’re no doctor so the dry skin on my elbows could well be something more serious and your diagnosis is worthless because you are only 9.

😉

 

 

 

H is for Home

I have lived in a fair few places in my life.

I have lived in a fair few places in my life.  Hull, Secunda, Mossel Bay, Grahamstown, Oudtshoorn, Knysna, Immingham, Barton-Upon-Humber, Sheffield, Sowerby Bridge, Brighouse and Halifax.  Not the one in Nova Scotia.   I think that’s all of them.

My instinct here is to explore the phrase that ‘home is where the heart is’, and looking back all of those places – perhaps with the exception of Hull (Which I left when I was 10) and Halifax (where I live now) – felt rather temporary.   I have very few, though definitely some, memories that I look back upon with fondness, and try as I might I find myself hard pressed to remember the feeling of content I have where I live now.

Perhaps it is the stage in my life that I find myself at, the life I have made for myself and the physical surroundings that all together make my current home something different to everything that has gone before.  It is not a fancy house by any means, only a small terrace in an average part of an average norther town but it is mine.  Or ours, as I share it with my wife and children.  It is the place that we have made our home for the last ten years and where the memories that mean the most to me have been made.

It is where I have watched my boys grow up, each room filled with magical memories of at least one of them covering it in vomit.  It is the place where I have threatened to paint and put up shelves and trust me, I will get round to it I promise.  When we are long gone somebody will pull up the carpets and see the large cock I drew on the wooden floors in the back bedroom.

We renovated it from top to bottom recently, and put everything we had into it to make it the place that we could spend the next decade though there is perhaps still not quite enough room for my comic collection.  Oh, and don’t get me started on the collection of things at the bottom of the stairs up to the kids bedrooms.

It is about more than just the four of us though, it is the place where my wife and I have made new friends and welcomed them into our home and been so very grateful when they have eventually left because we do rather like the peace and quiet too.

When I go out I see so many people that I know from the community, and I feel like I belong here and am part of the community and proudly so.

I love where I live, the house I live in and the people I share it with and who knows, maybe we would have been happy in any of the myriad of places I have lived but to me this one is special.

 

Next time…I is for i-spy

 

 

 

On the matter of inverting a penis.

As a parent you sometimes just do the best job you can then go have a beer.

I do as good a job as I can as a dad, and I know I fall short of the mark plenty but I do try.  I’ve heard it said that we learn how to parent from our own parents though I do not recall having a conversation with my parents as I have just had with mine over lunch.

I’m still away on holiday and on an all inclusive so have at this point in the day had a slushy strawberry daiquiri and two or three beers which might explain how the conversation came about.  I’m not sure really.

Anyway, there we are tucking into lunch when the subject of gender alignment comes up.  How?  I’ll be buggered if I know, it just did.  My kids are 9 and 12 so have to a degree been exposed to such things ever so slightly but for the most part it remains a matter of obliviousness at best and confusion at worse for them.  Given their ages I am quite fine with this and I am happy to deal with things as they come up.  As best I can I encourage my children to be tolerant and understanding of others and try not to make a big deal about such matters.

As I blundered through at one junction my son asked about transgender surgery, and at this point my wife was head down tucking into her lunch – probably expecting this to get rather odd knowing me as she does.

I have no idea why but for some reason I chose to try and explain penis inversion.  Thing is, I don’t really know if that’s a thing.  Well I do but I am particularly short of details.  She looked on in horror, and the boys with some bemusement,  as I chose to use an empty coca cola cup to explain how to invert a penis and turn it into a vagina whilst I had absolutely no idea what the devil I was on about.

I am a programmer not a surgeon.  I’m not even a very good programmer so you can imagine how poor a penis inversion sex change surgeon I am.  I think I used the word urethra at one point which made it sound wholly more convincing in my head but my wife’s exclaimation of “God Mike please stop” would indicate that it was not going as well as I had hoped.  Instead I ploughed on though explaining how you can still take a pee if your penis has been inverted.  I tell you, you’d be surprised the effort it takes to take a coca cola cup and invert it without ripping it asunder and causing them even more consternation than I already was.

By the time I was done they simply stared at me looking more confused than before I had started, and wondering why I had ruined a perfectly good cup.  I am probably going to have to do a little research on the matter and see where I went wrong.  With hindsight I think my choice of props was probably a bad move but they had earlier refused to go fetch me some hot dog sausages from the buffet so I had to use what was at hand.

Anyway, they don’t seem too scarred and they’re back in the pool now having a blast whilst I have another beer.

Blanketed in bliss

There’s no love like the love a mother has for her baby right?

 

Written in response to Michelle’s writing prompt which you can see here.


A shrill scream pierced the night, and had Adam scrambling from his bed before he was even properly awake, heart racing.  He flew from the bedroom calling for his wife, his head spinning and not daring to guess what had happened.

“Oh god, In here” came her voice, barely recognisable, “I’m in the babies room.”

Adam ran to the room and stopped in the doorway.  Jane was sat in the dark, quite still in an old rocking chair in the corner.  In her arms, wrapped in the blanket her mother had  bought for them, was the baby.

He hurried over to her.  “What’s wrong, is she okay?” he pulled back the blanket that he could see her face.  He knew straight away that she was not.  Her eyes were wide open, unblinking, and her expression unchanging and her body motionless.  “Jesus, her eyes Jane – what’s happened.”

Jane couldn’t reply, she simply sat holding the bundle tightly in her arms.

Adam took a closer look and realised that all the colour had disappeared from her eyes and they were completely black.

“I’ll call an engineer” he said placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder.  “It will be okay Jane.”

“I don’t want a fucking engineer” she screamed, “I want my baby!”

“Jane please” Adam said, not really knowing what to say, “They’ll know what to do”.

He didn’t wait for a response, and after a few minutes returned to the room.  “They’re on the way it won’t be long at all” he said, but she was not listening, she simply sat staring at her baby, crying.

After what seemed like an eternity a tall man in a sharp black suit arrived at the house and Adam lead him upstairs to the nursery.

“Mrs Goodwin” he said, reaching for the bundle in her arms, “time is of the essence, Please.”

Not looking up she allowed the stranger to take her baby and watch him leave the room with it.

“I will be in the next room” he said, “If you could just wait in here I will need to run full diagnostics.”

Adam stood next to his wife, nodded, and watched the engineer take the baby from the room.

Neither of them spoke, simply waiting for the engineer’s return.  Adam reached for his wife’s hand but she pulled away sharply.

“Mr Goodwin” came a voice “Could you come through please.”

Jane looked up at him and nodded. “I’m okay.  Go” she said.

Entering the guest bedroom his stomach lurched as he saw his daughter lying on the bed, a panel in the side of her head open and a connection from her head leading to a small tablet that lay on the bed next to her.

“What’s happened “He asked calmly, “what’s happened to our daughter.”

The Engineer paused struggling for words.

“I …” he hesitated.  He needed to put this into terms Adam would understand.  “There’s been a catastrophic failure” he said rubbing his chin “the main learning core went into overload and the emergency backup overwrote the last good file and we’ve lost everything.  All her memories and learning are gone”

He waited for Adam to reply but Adam stood silent.

“I’ve checked for an offsite backup but it looks like you never paid for the service – so I have nothing to work with.”

“We only just had enough for the basic model” Adam said, his face now pale.  “I thought it would be okay” he continued “I never told Jane, we just wanted the baby so badly.  Surely there must be something we can do?”

The engineer placed his tablet back into his bag and packed his tools away.  “Mr Goodwin, I am sorry sir” he said, “but there really is nothing that can be done to restore her to her last known state.  The best I can do is to flush the bios and do a factory reset but you will have to restart the whole programme and the last three months learning will be lost.  Even then I cannot guarantee this won’t happen again.  You should have taken the extended warranty sir.”


More stuff?

Pesky butterflies – Weekly Weather Challenge: Hurricane

I tried to say goodbye.

A generous portion of life – #Writephoto Challenge

 

These simply aren’t my fault.

Photo courtesy of Kuloser @ pixabay

 

Charlie’s Journey – OWPC Challenge

Charlie did so enjoy elephants.

Each night Charlie’s dad would tuck him up tight in bed, kiss his head gently and with a “sleep well Charlie” he would turn out the light and pull the door almost closed, leaving it ever so slightly ajar to allow the light from the hall to dilute the darkness just a little.

Charlie would lie quite still until he heard his dad’s footsteps trail away and, unless he was particularly tired, he would grab his torch and his favourite books and head under the blanket to escape to fantastical other worlds and far away places.

Tonight, however, was different.  Tonight Charlie was not under his blanket, instead he stood with his ear to the door, listening for the familiar sounds of his parents chatting in their bedroom until everything went quiet and he knew they were fast asleep.

As quietly as he could Charlie grabbed his rucksack from his wardrobe, and into it he pushed his Torch, a notebook and pen, his favourite teddy – Winston, a compass, some clean socks and the blue woolly hat his grandmother had knotted him for his birthday. “Perfect things for an adventure” he said to himself under his breath.

Quickly and quietly he dressed, and with his bag on his back and his shoes in his hands he tiptoed out of the room and along the hall until he came to his parents bedroom.

The door was open, and he could hear his father snoring inside.

He couldn’t fall at the first hurdle he told himself, there was an adventure to be had and he had been planning it for quite some time, at least a week.  Dropping to his hands and knees, holding his breath, he crept along the floor as low and as quietly as he could to avoid being detected until he was past the open door without incident.

He breathed again as he slipped down the stairs, avoiding the creaky steps, and slipped into the kitchen.  He took a small bar of chocolate from the treat drawer, 2 apples and a banana from the fruit bowl and a bottle of water from the fridge and added it to his bag and zipped it closed.  That should do for a few days he told himself, just long enough for him to find more food along the way.

After slipping on his shoes, struggling a little to do the laces – mum always helped with the laces – he grabbed his coat from the hook near the door, pulled it on and then put on his now rather heavy backpack.  He took a deep breath.  This was it.

He reached for the key in the door, and was about to turn it then remembered the note.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small handwritten letter which was folded in half and on the front he had written “To Mum and Dad”.  Inside it explained that he was going on an adventure, but not to worry because he was a big boy now and that he would be back in a few days once he had seen an elephant.  Charlie did like elephants.

Charlie returned to the kitchen, popped the note on the counter top and headed quietly back to the front door.  Turning the key ever so slowly the lock clicked and he pulled on the handle, not daring to breathe in case he was heard.  He stood motionless, listening for any noise from upstairs.

No noise came.

He pulled on the handle, the door swinging just wide enough for him to pass through and he felt the cold night air on his face as he slipped outside, pulling the door closed as quietly as he could.

“This is it Charlie” he said to himself, “the beginning of a great adventure”, and with that he walked off down the garden path into the night.  Reaching the old wooden gate at the end of the path he looked up, the sky full of more stars than he remembered seeing before.  It was so very very dark.  He suddenly felt rather alone.

Across the street Charlie noticed an old man in a long brown coat walking a small white dog.  It was Mr Morley and Chops, the man who owned the corner shop.  Chops barked eagerly when he saw him and Charlie was just quick enough to duck down behind the gate before my Morley turned to see what Chops was making such a fuss about.

“Calm yourself Chops” said Mr Morley as the passed down the street “People are sleeping”.

Charlie’s heart raced as he let out a long sigh.  This was far scarier than he had thought it might be.  “Come on Charlie” he said to himself getting up off the ground, “you want to see that elephant don’t you.”  He stood at the gate and listened to the sounds of the night. Far off he could hear more dogs barking there was the unmistakable sound of a police siren not too far away.

Charlie wasn’t too fond of dogs.  Or police cars, the sirens heart his ears.

Charlie scratched his head, then looked back at the house.  The landing light shone gold through the upstairs window and he could just make out the familiar pattern of space ships on his bedroom curtains in the darkness.

With a sudden change of heart Charlie raced back down the path, and opening the door hurried inside and pushed it closed.  He stood breathing heavily with his back to the door and then raced back upstairs, as quietly as he could, back to his bedroom – not stopping to crawl past his parents open door – and slipped into his room.   With his bag still on his back and his shoes still on his feer he jumped back into bed and pulled the blankets tight around his ears, only his eyes peering out.

The light from the hall was suddenly obscured by the familiar silhouette of his father.  “Are you okay Charlie” he asked, “what are you doing up?”

“I just went to the toilet” Charlie replied.

“I told you drinking that hot chocolate would have you up in the night” his father said and smiled, “back to sleep okay.”

Charlie nodded as his father turned to leave the room.

“Dad” he said.

“Yes charlie?” his father replied.

“Can we go to the zoo to see an elephant?” Charlie asked.

His father laughed.  “Of course” he answered, “now get back to sleep.”

 


Want something a bit different? Try these…

 

Screw you, one and all.

Family #writephoto

99 Word Challenge – Sound

 


wp-image-1954345006

https://jennifernicholewells.com/2017/09/17/this-weeks-challenges-september-17-23-owpc-ww/

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hedgehog and Mole – 99 Word Prompt – Music and Berries

You need to be careful when you go into the woods…

The challenge was to write something in only  99 words and to include the words berries and music.  It is 99 words on the button. 

The challenge can be seen here:

August 10: Flash Fiction Challenge


 

“Do you like berries Mole?” Hedgehog asked, emerging from the thicket to the sound of Sparrow’s morning music.

“Oh yes, especially plump and juicy ones!” Mole replied licking his lips.

“Then follow me” said Hedgehog, “I know a place where the juiciest berries grow!”

Hedgehog led Mole to a clearing where the bramble bushes strained under the weight of the dark fruits.

“I can smell them!” said mole excitedly,  “Oh Thank you hedgehog!”.

As Mole devoured berries hedgehog crept slowly away, passing Fox at edge of the clearing.

“He’s all yours” Hedgehog snarled “I expect payment in full tomorrow.”


 

 

More?  Try this or this

Photo courtesy of pixabay


I also decided to tag this in a daily prompt because I think it’s a great fit…

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/Delivery/

Mouse and Sparrow

Just a sparrow and a mouse having breakfast

…a story where nothing terrible happens written for my blonde haired son.


“Morning Mr Mouse” said Sparrow form the safety of  the high branches of the sycamore tree.

”Good morning sparrow” Mouse replied looking up, twitching her whiskers and wrinkling her nose.  “Why so high in the tree?” she asked scratching in the earth as she looked for bugs and worms.

“The cat’s about “ Sparrow answered, “you really should watch out Mouse” she warned “you don’t want to be cat’s breakfast now do you.”

“Oh I’m ok” mouse answered quite confidently “I know the cat that lives here and she’s old and slow and won’t catch me.”  Mouse tugged at a fat juicy worm she had uncovered at the base of sparrow’s tree.

“That worm looks delicious” Sparrow said eyeing up Mouse’s breakfast “it looks very plump and juicy.”

“Sure is” said mouse her mouth full, “why don’t you come and join me”.  She wasn’t a greedy mouse, and indeed it was a rather fat worm.  “I will happily share my breakfast with you” she said.

Sparrow looked about, her small dark eyes scanning for any sign of the crooked old cat.

“Sounds good to me” she chirped not seeing any sign of cat and she floated down to join mouse.  “Oh that does look good” she continued, tucking into one end of the chubby little worm as mouse munched hungrily on the other.

Mouse and sparrow ate a quite delicious breakfast together and washed their juicy worm down with the cool crisp water which lay on the fallen sycamore leaves following the storm the night before.

“So what now?” Sparrow asked, flying back into the boughs of the tree.

Mouse cleaned her ears and resumed scratching in the still wet earth. “Hopefully more worms” she laughed “It was delicious indeed!”

“Sounds delightful” Sparrow replied still scanning the garden. “I shall see you later perhaps ”she continued, and with a “thanks again for breakfast and watch out for that cat” she was gone.


 

Want other different stuff?

something terrible happens in this one

In this one there is a girl in the rain

and this might make you laugh but maybe you wont admit it

oh and this one i am rather proud of

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/shallow/