Just a quick something
Brian looked into his wife’s eyes and sighed.
“I’m so sorry it ended like this” he said “I wanted it to work but I realise we want different things.”
Carla said nothing, staring back expressionless.
“I know” Brian continued. “I know it’s my fault I just…”
Brian paused, he had hoped for something. Anything.
“Fine, just fine” he said picking up his shovel and tipping soil over Carla’s already stiffening body. “Silent treatment it is…”
101 words with a twist thrown in just because…
Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we. 101 words allowed only. I know I said I was done with them. I lie.
Slowly Damien sneaked downstairs, not daring to breathe. He’d heard something, and he was convinced it was him! Christmas lights twinkled as he entered the room, his heart pounding, and there he saw a bearded, round bellied man silhouetted against the moonlight.
He had him!
“Sant…” he began to shout when suddenly he noticed two bodies lying unmoving on the floor. He knew from the matching reindeer slippers it was mum and dad.
The man stepped grinning from the darkness carrying a large sack and raised a gun with his free hand and pushed it into Damien’s chest.
“Merry Christmas kid…”
Photo courtesy of pixabay
The things that hold us back…
Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we.
I’ve a tale I would tell, and it might do you well
To pay heed and perhaps give some thought
To the things that constrain and the things that we blame
And on which were eternally caught
They’re the things in our heads, that live under our beds
And that lurk when we wake late at night
Paralysed by the doubt and the voices that shout
they defeat when we just cannot fight
Or you think you’re no good and that one day you could
be redeemed if you just do not stray
so you live only just and you hope pray and trust
that divine you’ll be carried away
so we stop in our tracks and we always look back
never trying to push on ahead
and were tangled in thorns and our minds they get torn
cant make sense of the thoughts in our heads
and you’re lying there scared and your wholly ensnared
to the things you believe are the truth
now perhaps they are not but you’ve sadly forgot
how to look for a sign or some proof
Unencumbered you’d find that the world can be kind
and there’s joy to be found and much more
we can live, love and learn and eternity spurn
for there’s hope here and now, life galore
The old clock in the hall struck seven as George sat down at his writing table as he did every night.
Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we…this one is in response to the Weaving Words prompt.
The old clock in the hall struck seven as George sat down at his writing table as he did every night. He opened the drawer and took out the pen she had given him on their 25th anniversary, then carefully took a sheet of the finest paper from a sheath and placed it on the desk in front of him.
He rolled the pen between his fingers and smiled as he read the inscription:
“My heart remains yours always.”
He pulled his chair to the desk, made himself comfortable and began to write.
My dearest Alice
Winter has come at last it seems, and the days grow shorter and we have had the first flakes of snow this evening. Fortunately I have a good store of wood this year, and the new people on the Henderson farm have assured me they have plenty to spare should I run short. They seem very nice, though I am not quite sure they are cut out for this life. Time will tell.
I took a walk by the river this morning, the air cold and crisp and the skies blue with the feintest whisper of cloud. Sadly the old bridge we built at Millers crossing has collapsed, and I fear age would insist that I am now well beyond repairing it.
Such memories it brought back and I remembered the yellow dress you wore the day we finished it. It seems like only yesterday, and the smile you wore with it remains with me to this day. As time passes it’s funny the things we remember and those we forget. The smallest details of our life together I still recall and yet major events now seem like a story told to me by someone else.
Sometimes I do wonder whether I have forgotten days we spent together, yet my heart remains full of those that are still so clear to me.
My heart remains yours always
George
Gently placing the pen on the desk George then folded the paper and placed it in an envelope that he pulled from the bottom drawer. Sealing it he then took a bundle of identical envelopes and slowly unknotted the string that bound them together.
Taking up the pen he wrote ‘Alice’ on the front and then bundled it with the others, refastening them together with the old coarse string and placing them back in the drawer.
He smiled as he stood from the desk, pushed the chair back in and turned out the light.
It had been a good day, she would have enjoyed it he thought smiling to himself as he climbed the stairs to bed.
Some families aren’t always what they seem…
Thanks to Michelle for the prompt
“Dude what the hell have you done?”
“I know I know, but he was keeping me awake all night every night. I couldn’t take it anymore, I snapped.”
“So you just bashed his head in? No one complains about you.”
“You gotta understand man, the wheezing – it never stopped. Night after night it just went on and on and on I couldn’t take it.”
“Oh the boss is so going to go ballistic man.”
“Shit shit shit shit shit!”
“Get a mop, bucket and tarpaulin. We’ll sort it”
“Oh gosh thanks man really, thank you!
“The seven dwarfs sounds better anyway…”
Photo courtesy of pixabay
On Sundays I think I will on occasion re blog an early most which post of you will never have read.
For my darling wife and my beloved children.
I write this to you in a moment of clarity, which these days are sadly so very few. They tell me I do not recognise you any more and that your names are lost to me, my mind fragile and my memories faded. I write this with haste as I know not when the clarity will slip through my fingers.
Today, of all days, I remember you. I remember it all. A lifetime of memories too many to repeat and my heart swells with joy at the life I have lived. The face of my beloved wife on our wedding day, holding each of you in my arms and the laughter – such laughter – of a life well lived and so widely shared.
Each and every Christmas is as clear in my mind as the day I lived it first, I recall each first day at school, each scraped knee, each lost tooth and every candle blown out on each and every cake. I remember those special moments that I shared with each of you that I cherish while I can and that overwhelm me so suddenly that I am given to tears of joy.
To my beautiful children, the pride I felt as you grew and blossomed and built lives of your own fills me now as it did every day watching you. To my wife, my love, my friend , my everything you were my inspiration and my light and I would gladly give every day I have left for just one more walk with you arm in arm.
Do not remember me as I am but rather as I was, and I ask that you mourn not the loss but rather savour each moment we have lived and loved and laughed.
They tell me that you may be here later, it is my Birthday after all, though alas I fear by then I will be lost to you again. If that is so then I would have you know that I will love each of you always, and in my heart I remember you.
Dad
Waiting for the lights to turn Ichabod felt something pressed into the palm of his hand.
Thanks to Michelle for the prompt
Waiting for the lights to turn Ichabod felt something pressed into the palm of his hand.
“What the…” he mumbled spinning round to see a tall pale man in a long dark coat walk away through rush hour crush.
‘For what you have done, today you will die at 8am’ the note read.
Glancing down at his watch he laughed to himself as he stepped out into the road, and in that moment three things went through his mind.
The first was “It’s already 8:59 you dumb fu…”, closely followed by “Oh bugger, daylight savings”, and the third was the number 34 bus.
Photo courtesy of pixabay
Caleb cradled the pistol in his lap, face contorted in pain, unable to to block out the sound of the piano.
Thanks to Michelle for the prompt
Caleb cradled the pistol in his lap, face contorted in pain, unable to block out the sound of the piano. It was Rachmaninoff’s no.2, her favourite piece. He’d watched her perform it the evening they first met.
Every morning he awoke and he could hear it and it never stopped until he closed his eyes to sleep. It’s emptiness, soaring heights, consuming passions and raging emotions all reminders of what he had done and that which he had hidden for so many years.
Enough. He put the pistol in his mouth.
Rebecca smiled, closed the piano lid, and drifted into nothing.
Photo courtesy of lailajuliana @ pixabay
From the corner of the room Gary looked down at his cold and lifeless body spread-eagled, face down, on the bed.
Thanks to Michelle for the prompt
From the corner of the room Gary looked down at his cold and lifeless body spread-eagled, face down, on the bed.
“Oh shit” he thought as a crime scene officer took photographs of the 12 inch black ‘thundercock’ hanging out of the back of his quite obviously deceased self. “What’s Karen going to think?”
The CSO pulled out her phone, snapped a photo, and quickly put it away again.
“I know him you know” she said to the police officer stood at the door.
“Yeah?” he replied.
“Yes” she answered smiling broadly, “ex-fiance, he cheated on me with his current wife.”
Photo courtesy of pixabay
With the sound of the pub fading into the night she pinned him to the wall biting his lip. She tasted of whisky and cigarettes,.
Thanks to Michelle for the prompt!
With the sounds of the pub fading into the night she pinned him to the wall biting his lip. She tasted of whisky and cigarettes,
“Is your mind mine?” she asked.
“God yes” he stammered, her hands under his shirt, nails digging into him.
“Your soul?”
“Yes!” he answered, her hips writhing against him.
“And your heart?”
“Take it” he said breathless. His wife wouldn’t know. “Just suck m…”
Fingers suddenly transformed to talons she reached inside his chest and pulled out his still beating heart.
“Men” she hissed taking a bite as he slumped lifeless at her feet. “Quite deliciousssssss.”
Photo courtesy of lightstargod @ pixabay
Just how much can you actually pack into 101 words? let’s see shall we.
Thanks to Michelle for the prompt!
“Sleep you two” Alan shouted smiling.
The twins giggled. “Yes dad.”
He rolled the conker they’d given him between his fingers and placed it on the bedside table. As he closed his eyes the dark shell cracked open and a silvery wisp spilled out, circled his head and darted inside his ear
He missed them more than he hated his ex-wife. Just. Monthly visits weren’t enough.
__________
As he sat in the back of the cruiser, pyjamas blood soaked he watched the silvery wisp crawl into the ear of the Deputy driving.
“They’re going to love you in county” he snarled.
photo courtesy of pixabay
He kicked out angrily, desperate to hurt her, wanting her to scream.
This morning I was looking for some inspiration to start doing a themed daily piece. I was listening to the Eurhythmics album 1984 (The one for the film adaptation of the George Orwell Book) and it got me to thinking about doing a Room 101 kind of thing in 101 words and on a dark and twisted theme.
Not quite there yet I then took another look at Michelle’s prompts over at Her Writing Haven. They are a great set of prompts and you should take a look at them, so I decided to use those as my daily prompts to be combined with my Room 101 idea. I may also combine them with the WordPress daily prompt if possible. Anyway, here is the first Room 101. The “Cradled and cocooned” prompt comes from Michelle and the “Dancing” prompt from WordPress daily prompt..
He kicked out angrily, desperate to hurt her, wanting her to scream.
“Oh look he likes it” he heard her say, that sickeningly elated tone in her voice. “He’s dancing.”
“He has your terrible taste in music” the man joked laughing loudly.
“Hey you, watch it” she replied happily. He could feel her slowly rubbing her stomach.
As if having to listen to her life coursing through her body wasn’t enough, he now had to listen to the awful music she played incessantly.
He really could not wait to be born and one day be old enough to kill them both.
The challenge was to write something in 61 words using the phrase “good and bad do exist” for the #MicroMonday Challenge
“So good and bad do exist because God made them?” Cassandra asked.
The vicar nodded.
“And the man who killed my daughter…” she paused waiting.
“He was evil.”
“But why create evil? She was 5” she asked angrily.
“God moves in mysterious ways” he answered, a hand on her arm.
She brushed it off angrily. “He sounds like a bastard to me.”
https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/127785315/posts/1654
You’d think we could be nice to each other wouldn’t you…
“Where are we going uncle?” Eleanor asked as she was swept slowly along with the crowd.
“To the memorial service” uncle answered not looking up.
“Why?” She asked holding up her sign just like the other excited children.
“Because you’re a good girl”
“Am I?” She asked.
“Yes you are” Uncle replied. “That’s why I bought you the backpack” he continued, his hand on her shoulder steering her through the crowd. “That is a very pretty sign Eleanor, did you do it all by yourself?” he asked.
“Mummy helped me make it” she said quite proud. She didn’t see Uncle very often since he moved away but he always bought her gifts when he visited.
He took her hand and lead her through the masses. There were so many people, more than she had ever seen before.
“I can’t see” she said jumping up and down, her view blocked by a tall man carrying a candle.
Uncle reached down, his hand snaked into her back pack. Leaning forward he whispered in her ear.
“Goodbye Eleanor.”
photo courtesy of Elaine Farrington Johnson
I feel rather tired of people being complete arse holes to other lately…
I am not best pleased.
It’s me, the Universe. Call me what you will, Jesus, Allah, Buddah, The Great Nothing, Merlin, Aslan…I do not mind particularly. My closest friends call me Darren.
Not been here for a while, so just popped in to check up on you and I will admit, you never cease to disappoint me. You really cannot be nice to each other for five minutes can you. I turn my back to enjoy a rather lovely supernova sun and when I come back you’re at one another like you always are.
I was going to list the wars you’re waging against each other but you know what, I really cannot be bothered. Please, slaughter away – the sooner you’re all dead the better. I plan to bring the dinosaurs back – they were far cooler than you lot. Oh, I may keep the Japanese – they’re cool too and I think a world populated by dinosaurs and the Japanese would be freaking awesome.
I was going to suggest that it’s about time the Americans took a good hard look at themselves and stopped shooting each other for no good reason but, well, for one they won’t listen because they seem rather fond of such beastly things and secondly, the NRA have sorted me out with a sweet holiday home so I should probably hold my tongue.
Oh, and do not go blaming me for those storms you’re having. Act of god my big fat celestial bottom. If you insist on ejaculating inside one another willy nilly and living wherever you choose with no consideration for common sense and then building homes on coastal swamps and places known as ‘Tornado Alley’ what do you bloody well expect. I didn’t send the storms and I didn’t give your kids cancer either (despite what a lot of the christians reckon) . Bad things just happen okay. It’s part of the circle of Life. You should listen to Elton John more.
I noticed what you’ve done to the polar ice caps too. Great job you dicks. I always liked them, lovely and tranquil they are. Do you not realise what a lovely planet you live on? Perhaps not – given the quite awful manner in which you treat it. I noticed a turtle with a plastic straw lodged in its nose. It’s not funny, stop laughing. You’ve dumped so much plastic in the seas that it will certainly outlast you lot. Good bloody riddance I reckon.
Oh, and special mention to the Americans. Bravo on Donald. As if being disliked by the majority of the planet wasn’t enough you choose that to be in charge. It has actually made my list of top 3 of monumental humanity cock ups. It is easily on par with the fact that the Greeks can’t seem to install decent plumbing – despite their creative genius, and the small matter of JarJar Binks. George..Serious?
I’m going now, I hope you finish each other off some time soon because I can’t wait to see a Ninja riding a stegosaurus, it is going to be frigging fantastic.
100 word Wednesday – The Chase
Photo courtesy of Werner22brigitte @ Pixabay
My very serious attempt at a Haibun is in there somewhere!
Courtesy of Colleen Chesebo, another weekly Haiku Challenge. It is the 52nd weekly anniversary, so I’m going to have a crack at the haiku, the Tanka and the Haibun. Congrats Colleen!
Haiku
Moved by the spirit
Preacher shouts loudly in tongues
Joy makes us donate
Let’s build on that with a Tanka
Moved by the spirit
Preacher shouts loudly in tongues
thrashes on church floor
he having a seizure? No?
apparently that’s god’s joy
Haibun. I think this is how they go based on what I have read. They can vary.
As I watched him lowered into the ground I remembered the things I no longer have and am for that I am grateful. At peace, I remembered and was thankful for those who’s beliefs and behaviour has guided me and helped me find my own path. As I say goodbye Late spring sun shines dappled through the trees and the distant laughter of children at play serves to remind me of what matters most.
Returned to the earth
A life so well lived and loved
memories abound
A breeze promises rain and as I walk away I am content knowing that there were few regrets and the echoes of life will ring on until they are no more and replaced by those influenced by what has gone before but has been forgotten.
Light fades at days end
Sleep and pass into darkness
a job so well done
See, I can kind of do serious 🙂
Something different?
Pic courtesy of Pixabay.
“Look at me boy” he snarled as Harley walked past, launching into another rant. “He will chastise you 7 times and you shall eat the flesh of you sons and daughters” he screamed.
In response to M’s writing prompt “A pinch of happiness”.
Harley was very much a man of habit. Each morning he would wake up at 6.45, hit the snooze button three times and then promptly into the shower where he would always use an exfoliating scrub. He liked the way it made his skin look.
He would then dress quite impeccably in a dark suit and pastel shirt, followed by a light breakfast of toast and orange marmalade whilst he checked his social media accounts and sent a good morning message to his partner who worked the early shift at the local hospital. A quick wash and dry of the plate and knife later and he would set off for work at precisely 7.45 a.m.
Monday to Friday the short walk to the underground was always punctuated by a stop off at the ‘Roasted Bean’ where he would have his usual skinny latte. He would smile at Rose, a pretty freckle faced girl, who would recognise him in the queue and ask how he was and he would always reply that he was fine thank you.
He was a good and kind man, loyal to his friends, faithful to his partner and wholly the sort of person you would very much like to live next to and he very much enjoyed his morning routine. It made him feel safe and in control. What he did not enjoy though was the short walk from the roasted Bean to the underground.
Every morning, stood on the corner just a short walk in the direction he was headed, stood a man who was very much everything that Harley was not. Under the dirt and long matted beard he was probably in his mid-fifties, but his blackened teeth and dark sallow eyes made it hard to tell. He would stand quite still holding a small polystyrene cup hoping for a few spare coins from the passers by, his clothes stained and torn and the stench of a lifetime of living on the streets filled the air around him.
As the morning masses streamed past with blank faces he watched them go by, mumbling to himself under his breath, only ever becoming animated at the sight of Harley. His eyes wide, spittle rained from his rancid mouth and he would spew a tirade of Old testament hate and bile as Harley approached, only stopping once Harley had crossed the busy road and disappeared down the tube station steps.
Harvey’s stomach lurched. “Here we go” he thought to himself.
“The people of Samaria must bear the guilt because they have rebelled against God” he shouted, pointing at Harley, “they will fall by the sword and their little ones will be dashed to the ground and their pregnant women ripped open!”
An old woman in a brown coat crossed the street to avoid him. Harley had tried that in the past but the man always followed him and he had given up. He had even tried different routes but the man always seemed to be there waiting, no matter which way he went.
Harley kept his eyes down and continued walking. The man seemed particularly vile today.
“See the day of the lord is coming” he continued as Harley drew close, his eyes wide and wild and a cruel smile spreading across his face “a day of wrath and anger and the infants will be dashed to pieces before their eyes and their wives will be violated!”
Harley was now directly opposite him. The stench of piss filled his nostrils.
“Look at me boy” he snarled as Harley walked past, launching into another rant. “He will chastise you 7 times and you shall eat the flesh of you sons and daughters” he screamed.
Harley’s heart raced, his fists clenched. He never responded, ever, but today felt different. He turned and look damn you”ed at the man, continuing to walk slowly backwards.
“Shut the hell up!” Harley shouted back, “leave me alone damn you.”
The man laughed loudly and took a step towards him. “Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock” he shouted grinning broadly and stabbing a filthy finger in Harley’s direction.
Harley continued moving backwards as the man sped up walking towards him.
“You’re mine boy” he yelled.
Harley was about to tell the man to go fuck himself but the words never got from his brain to his mouth. He heard a scream as he stepped backwards from the step and fell into the road.
The last thing that went through the mind of Harley Silver before his light was extinguished forever was the cackle of the man’s laughter.
It was different though, and for the briefest of moments he thought it sounded almost happy…
Photo courtesy of Leroy Skalstad @ Pixabay
More stuff? It isn’t all like that…Blanketed in bliss
Faeries: The long winter – Part 2
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
A generous portion of life – #Writephoto Challenge
Photo courtesy of Kuloser @ pixabay
More haiku, and today I will be using the phrase “Dead hobo doorway”
The haiku, so proud, tight, formal. So little saying so much. Mostly though I like to defile them with the ridiculous.
The snap of the glove
Not completely unpleasant
Prostate checked out fine
Left his phone unlocked
Wife browses the internet
Sweating profusely
Waves crash like thunder
grey skies, cold waters, time flies
Makes me need a wee
Red dress and pale skin
Heads turn, hearts race, open mouthed
Wardrobe malfunction
Cold blue winter skies
Crisp snow covers city streets
Dead hobo doorway
More stuff from my brain meat…
Charlie’s Journey – OWPC Challenge
Deep and insightfully insightfulnessness
My response to the Friday Fictioneers 100 word challenge inspired by the photo above. 99 words.
My response to the Friday Fictioneers 100 word challenge inspired by the photo above. 99 words.
Andromeda’s orbital engines hummed as Cole and Yin walked towards the marker on their heads up display, helmet lights slicing through the darkness.
Yin stooped and placed a soil sample in his analyser, noticing a pair of ash and cobweb encrusted shoes placed side by side. The map showed a school had once stood here. He poked the cobwebs with a gloved finger, and a small spider scuttled along the silky strands.
“Guess this place is all yours now mate” he said sadly, his helmet display blinking orange.
“Cole, radiation spike” Yin shouted, “get back to the shuttle, now!”
Want more stuff?
Armitage – Part 2Armitage – Part 2
PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter
I wrote this for the carrot ranch 99 word challenge but forgot to post it.
I wrote this for the carrot ranch 99 word challenge but forgot to post it. Its a 99 word challenge in response to the picture above. You should check it out, its s rather good site. Ill post it anyway, waste not want not…
Harold stood and watched the waves slap hypnotically against the shingle beach.
“Looks cold” Harold said.
“It’ll be fine” the voices replied.
One step forward, the waves lapping at his feet
“Do it” the voices urged, “do it now, jump!”
Two steps back. No, this wasn’t the right time.
“Get it over with Harold, now.” They pressed.
Fear gripped, three steps back. “This is wrong, I don’t want to do it anymore, I want to live” he cried.
He turned and ran straight into his father “Goodness” he said, “It’s ok Harold, maybe you’ll get your feet wet tomorrow”
More stuff…my stuff bucket overrunneth…
Your lunchtime limerick 10/9/17
I don’t have a dog called Caper – Daily prompt
Edgar stood looking up at the dark building stretching up into the night and thought how very much like stars the tiny windows looked, and he thought of his Grandfather.
The challenge was to write something using the photo using between 75 and 175 words. I came in at 173. You can see the challenge details here.
Edgar stood looking up at the dark building stretching up into the night and thought how very much like stars the tiny windows looked, and remembering his Grandfather he smiled. Even though it was so long ago he could still recall how he would sit on his lap and listen to the stories about the times before the stars went out.
In fact, before he was recycled he spoke of very little else, his mind frail and his memories just fragments of what they had once been.
In those last days he would sit on the small balcony overlooking the sprawling choking metropolis, his long empty flowerpots a reminder of a time when the sun still shone, and he would curse those that had thought only of themselves and had let this happen.
Still smiling he slowly climbed the cold stone steps for his own recycling appointment, his heart full of the memories of that wonderful old man, and wondered whether he might soon see him again where the stars still shone brightly.
More stuff?
Deep and insightfully insightfulnessness
https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/
Photo courtest of Pamela Canepa
my quest to determine whether a limerick can make the most horrid subject a little less so…
my quest to determine whether a limerick can make the most horrid subject a little less so…
I fellow I know, a romancer
lovely wife, healthy kids and great dancer
had it all so he thought
but it all came to nought
when he died really young of brain cancer
These Twins at birth were separated
who later in life met and dated
they had kids, sad to say
hip conjoined by the way
now in freak show they’re quite celebrated
“You’re adopted” says father to son
“and I’ve just had a chat to your mum
It’s just not working out
we don’t want you about
this parenting lark’s just no fun.”
Want to read more of my stuff?
Picture if you will a small village in Africa, and in a small mud hut in this village lives a man.
You know how people just say things? e all do it and today I think I shall mount my high horse and discuss one of those things people say quite casually that more than likely has its roots in some vague truth but is actually absolute drivel.
Now insist as much as you like, but I do not for one minute believe that laughter is the best medicine.
I am a firm believer that in fact, medicine is the best medicine.
Last year I had kidney stones, and as I lay there wishing for death to take me I can assure you that the last thing I wanted was to be regaled with humorous tales. What I wanted was drugs, and lots of them. Ideally I wanted them administered intravenously but I was quite open to the options of those taken orally or as suppositories.
In a near state of collapse as I was I would happily have allowed passing strangers to ram as many fist fulls of whatever took their fancy up my bottom if it came with the promise of even a modicum of relief.
Now I appreciate that there is an argument here on the effects of dopamine on the body, but my counter argument is that were I a syphilis infected crack fuelled man whore on death’s door then I would surely seek respite of an opiate nature in lieu of watching box sets of Black Adder.
Not yet convinced?
Picture if you will a small village in Africa, and in a small mud hut in this village lives a man. Let’s call this man Ebeneezer. Now Ebeneezer has a son who, due to a most awful set of circumstances, is riddled with aids and malaria. Sadly he also suffers from malnutrition, his little belly so terribly swollen and his face crawling with flies. His son is in a rather terrible way and Ebeneezer calls for a doctor, and as it transpires the red cross are in the area and send one over straight away.
“Oh thank you doctor” says Ebeneezer gratefully, “please can you give my beautiful boy medicine to help with the pain?”
Now obviously what Ebeneezer is seeking is something to make his son comfortable, so you can imagine his consternation when he is instead presented with a DVD of the complete works of Monty Python.
“Watch this twice a day” says the doctor “and he will be right as rain in a jiffy.”
I imagine that Ebeneezer was not best pleased, especially given that Ebeneezer does not have a television, let alone a DVD player.
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Of life and death
Maleban the Elder stands alone, the last of his kind, remnant of all that was but that is no more. His people are all gone now, returned to dust, and the final fiery moments of this world are his alone to witness.
A slow ascent into a hungry sun is his fate, and as proud custodian of the memories of a once glorious people he stands and calls upon his ancestors, the long forgotten ways of his people and the gods of old.
Eyes closed and arms wide he embraces the end of all days as lifetimes past, present and future disappear and are lost to the universe forever.
Photo courtesy of Sue Vincent
Want something different? THIS is different and THIS is way different. This is …well you probably shound’t read THIS…
Afterwards 