Always you… – SoundCloud

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Always you – Part 2

The second and final part of this short piece…

Part 1 is here

The cold metal frame of the trolley digs into my hands as we wander past the bust station, the street lights flickering into life in the growing gloom.

“It’s Just around the corner here” Tom says pointing as he shuffles along beside me, directing me down a long street of identical red brick houses that sit squat over the road like dark haired fisherman on a river bank.

Again he tells me how grateful he is and I reply and tell him that it is no problem at all.  

“Have you lived around here long?” I ask avoiding the puddles trying to keep my good work shoes dry.

“Oh yes” he says, a sense of pride in his voice.  “Been here since they went up new in the seventies.”  He straightens his flat cap and then pauses for a moment as if remembering before I jog him from his thoughts.

“This way?” I ask, shifting the weight of the trolley from one hand to the other.  I can feel the splashes of water soaking through the bottoms of my trousers. 

“Yes, yes straight on, not far now” he says pulling his coat tight around him as the rain continues to fall.  “Quite a thing it was back then you know” he continues.  “To buy our own home, took every penny we had saved up plus some we borrowed from the family.  But it was worth it in the end.”

“I’m sure it was” I reply and he leads me across the road and down a smaller side street.  Cars line one side, the water swirling and swerving around their tyres sweeping litter along.  Weeds strain through crevices in the path, and as we pass the houses the cracked paint, cluttered yards and stained net curtains tell of better times now past.

He tells me how he’s seen everything change so much over the years, and I’m reminded of my own grandparents who I see less than I should. 

“Just over there” he says and nods to a house with a neatly tended front garden and freshly creosote stained fence that stands out from the others.  The Gate squeaks as he holds it open for me and he looks almost embarrassed.

“Better get some oil on that” he says and pulls it closed behind me.

The gravel path, dark from the rain,  leads to the front door and Tom fumbles for his keys as I let him pass.  Eventually he pushes the door wide open and encourages me to head inside.

“It’s straight ahead to the kitchen” he says as I step into a small entry hall.  I’m uncertain if I should take off my shoes but head down the short hall anyway, desperate to put the trolley down. 

“Anywhere in there is fine ” he shouts taking off his coat and hanging it on a peg behind the door.  I place the trolley down gently on the light colored linoleum.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” He asks.  I check my watch.  Not sure if will even be worth going to the pub by the time I get home now.  Even so I decline politely but Tom insists and takes an old battered kettle from the stove and fills it.  “Please, take a seat” he says waving towards a small wooden table and chairs against a wall.  A biscuit barrel in the middle of the table in the shape of a bear grins at me as I sit down.  He seems grateful for the company and I find it hard to refuse.

Slipping off my coat I hang it over the back of the chair and It begins to drip onto the lino.  I start to apologise but he laughs, a glint in his eyes.  “Oh don’t worry” he says, “now if my Kathy was still here that would be another matter.  She liked things just right she did.  Very particular.”

His words are a mix of pride and sadness, and it seems to me a fair assumption that she has died.  Looking at Tom I guess he must be somewhere in his eighties at least.

“How long since you lost her?” I ask looking about. The kitchen is simple and compact with clear work surfaces and plain white cupboards.  A single plate and glass are drying next to the sink and a small vase of tulips sits on the window ledge which looks out onto the garden.  

“Oh nearly eight years now.” He looks out of the window as he drops three tea bags into a pot on a tray with two white china cups.  “One for each of us and one for the pot” he says smiling.  Steam begins to drift lazily from the kettle spout.  “You’d have liked her.” He fetches a half pint of milk from the fridge, “Everyone around here did.  Not a person she wouldn’t help if she could.”

For a while he says nothing more, concentrating on the tea.  He pours the boiling water into the pot and gives it a stir before bringing it over to the table and setting it down.    

“Do you take sugar?” he asks.

I shake my head even though I normally take two.  I don’t want him to have to do anything else.  He moves so slowly as if distracted, yet each action is so purposeful.  I wonder if this is the pattern of his days. A quiet private existence filled with the routines developed over a lifetime which are now all that is left.  

Waiting for the tea to brew he remembers that he has not yet asked my name and apologises. 

“Oh you have the same name as my father” he says when I tell him and his hand shakes as he pours the tea, the china cup clinking as he lifts it from the tray and offers it.  I accept with a thank you and add milk.  Just a little.

“So do you have any children?” I ask.  I don’t like the idea of him being alone all of the time, dragging that trolley to town once a week and then straight back home.

“No, it never happened for us.  it was just the two of us.  We would have liked a family but I guess it just wasn’t to be.”

I take a sip and add a little more milk.  

“Looks like the rain’s stopping” he says and asks if I want a biscuit, reaching for the grinning bear.

“No I’m fine thank you” I reply as he takes a KitKat from the jar and slowly opens it.

“Kathy loved a KitKat, always used to hide them from me.  I knew her hiding places mind, just pretended I didn’t.”

A distant single chime of a church bell tells me it’s half past six.  I check my watch to confirm.   I could actually probably still make it if I set off now, I might be a few minutes late but nothing major.  

“Do you need to get going?” Tom asks taking a bite of his KitKat. “It’s okay if you do, I am just so grateful for your help.  Not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t stopped to help me.”

I check my watch again and then pull my shirt cuff over it and reach for the biscuits.

“Maybe I will have one after all” I say lifting the lid on the bear barrel. “And then I’ll help you put that shopping away shall I.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Always you – Part 1

At this point I remember why I wanted to work in an office.  I’ve never been any good with my hands, unless you count typing, which most people don’t.

It was raining the day I met old Tom, my light summer coat proving completely inadequate against the violent deluge that fell from the dark November sky.

“Did you not check the forecast?” Joanne asked me as I stood huddled in the office doorway as she locked up.  I started to answer but the question was more an admonishment that an actual interest in my ability to plan for meteorological eventualities.  She didn’t wait to find out though and scurried under the shop awning of the bakery next door and lit up a cigarette.

“Those things will kill you” I told her trying to be funny.  Her withering glance told me I had been anything but.

“See you tomorrow then.” I shouted. 

She nodded and waved as she took a long drag on the cigarette, the embers lighting up the sharp features of her mostly unremarkable face.   

Waving back I turned as the rain cut through the pall of silver smoke and pulling my coat around me as best as I could headed off to catch the bus.

The number 45 runs just a few minutes from my place and If I hurry I’m thinking I might catch the Five-twenty which means I will be home before six and at the pub by seven.

Not wanting to get my good work shoes too wet I avoid the puddles as best as I can and trying to stay under cover I head past rows of unremarkable shops all closing for the night.  Lights blink out and shutters rumble closed as people, seemingly as grey as the sky above, head home after another day not wholly different to the day before and likely quite similar to tomorrow.

The place has certainly seen better times I think to myself, and that’s when I saw him.  

He had the posture that only age can bring, hunched over an old blue shopping cart and the rain cascadied onto his flat cap and spilled down his long brown coat.  

“You alright mate?” I ask him checking my watch.  I’d normally not bother asking but somethign about him said he needed help.  And if everythign is okay there’s still time to get the five-twenty.    

He looks up slowly, his face long and gaunt with thin lips and deep set dark eyes.

“Bloody wheel’s come off” he says pointing a long bony finger at the right side of the trolley, which I can now see is sitting quite lopsided.  “Typical when I’ve just bought my week’s shop.”  He shakes his head and fumbles with the wheel.

I tell him I’ll take a look if he wants and he nods appreciatively. “My eyes aren’t great, thanks” he says.

At this point I remember why I wanted to work in an office.  I’ve never been any good with my hands, unless you count typing, which most people don’t. That said even with my limited knowledge I do know though that it looks knackered and tell him so.

“Oh that’s no good” he says shaking his head and he asks me if I think he needs a new one.

“What do I know” I think to myself and check my watch.  If I don’t leave now It’ll be gone eight before I get to the pub.

I nod and scratch my chin as if I’m suddenly a shopping trolley mechanic.  “Do you need a hand with it?  Are you going far?”

“Oh yes please” he says, his face brightening.  “Are you sure?”

I shake my head and tell him it’s not a problem really and he smiles.  “Not too far” he says, “it will only take ten minutes.”

 

Electric Dreams

Part of a thing that might be part of another thing. It probably needs an ending or another part or a first part really…

I wrote a bunch of prompts you can read about the process here.  This is my response to one of them.


Benton turned in his seat looking over towards where Blake the OpsCom stood hands on hips staring at the bank of screens.  A hundred different images flashed before him and his gaze flitted from one to the next searching desperately.

“Sir we have her on screen forty seven now, she’s in 1692.  Status red.  She is way off of her time line and it looks like she’s got herself into some real trouble.”

“Jesus Christ” exclaimed Blake stepping forward.  “Bring her up on main comms.  Full resolution, all channels.”

Benton’s fingers flashed across the keyboard and the image jumped to two large screens on the wall above the array of smaller ones.  The screen crackled with interference and the sound was patchy, but from their angle they could see a grey sky swirling above a thick crowd in front of a large oak tree.  There were probably thirty people all told, all dressed in little more than rags and the signs of hard and desperate lives etched across their gaunt faces.

The wind whipped autumn leaves around their feet and dirty faced children huddled against their parents as a larger, round bellied ruddy cheeked man came into view.  Dressed all in black save for the crisp white collared tunic beneath his heavy brass butoned jacket a number of mothers pulled their children close as he stood and stared.

“Are you certain this is Cassie’s feed? Can we get boots on the ground?” Blake asked, panic in his voice.

Benton shook his head.  “It is her sir weve have the genesis protocols in place and confirmed but we can’t get assets in place in less that 30.  We’d need to recalibrate the chamber and we don’t even have a full geolocation.  She’s somewhere on the east coast but she’s so far out of time the techs can’t get a solid ping.  Her tracker is bouncing all over the place.”

Blake remembered his training.  “Officers never run” he told himself.  Dont scare the troops and all that but it was easier said than done though.  It was his wife out there and every sinew in his body told him to run like hell.   “Order Brave team to suite up anyway” Blake instructed. “And tell the techs to get the chamber ready and to get me that geolock asap.  Nothing else tops this.”

Benton nodded.  “Sir, yes sir.”

Blake looked at his watch as the image blurred and then sharpened again.  The man grinned a black toothed smile and licked his lips slowly.   His bulbous and heavily veined nose gave away his love of liquor and the tight fitting tunic was a certain sign of priviledge and power.

“I will ask you just once more” he shouted with a flourish of his hand in which he held a heavy leather bound book which Blake assumed to be a bible.  “You will tell us where you came from and how you know of these things of which you speak.  They say you dream of these things and cry out in the night as if haunted by the dark one himself.”

“She bears the mark” a stooped old woman in the crowd shouted shaking a stick on which she had been leaning.  “And I hear her speak of metal birds that fly and horseless carriages that speed across the land.”

The man raised his hands to the sky.  “She claims to know that which no man can know” he proclaimed and the crowd murmered.  The screen shook momentarily as a stone was thrown that seemed to strike her in the chest.

“Christ Cassie what are you doing there” Blake shouted desperately as the screen panned down and he could see her bare feet where she stood on a pile of wood.  Blake turned his eyes wide and panicked breathign heavily.  “Benton come on man, get me that geo lock now damn it.  We need to get her out of there before they…”

“Sir the techs have said they cannot get a lock.  She’s not showing up in any of the known time streams.  She’s invisible to us and without the lock we cant pull her out.”

“How the hell can she now be showing up?  We’re getting her feed aren’t we.  She’s there.  We can bloody well see her.”

Benton lowered his eyes and tapped at his keyboard as Blake returned his gaze to the screens.

“Where is your tongue woman” the fat bellied man barked, “do you not know the punishment that awaits you?  Have you nothign to say for yourself?  Does the old woman tell the truth?”  He turned to the crown and raised the book in his hand and they cackled and began to shout.  A young boy picked up a stone and pulled back his arm to throw it before his mother grabbed his hand and took it from him sharply.  The screen focussed on her and Blake could see a sadness in her face.

“Benton.  Geolock NOW” he shouted.  “We need to get her out of there before they…”

“If you will say nothing woman then we must assume you cursed” the man shouted spinning around and approaching Cassie.

Cassie seemed to shake her head but said nothing.

“Say something damn it” shouted Blake.  “Do something Cassie you’ve been trained for this.”

Again the screen crackled and blurred and then panned across the crowd as they became more and more agitated and vocal.  Slowly the angry twisted faces came into view and then disappeared until once more only Cassie’s feet could be seen.

“If you will not speak then you will burn” came the now cruel and manic man’s voice.   The crowd bayed and howled as a fiery glow flickeder across the screen.  “You shall return to the place of darkness if you will not repent.”

Blake turned to Benton but Benton just shook his head and looked back down. Fighiting back tears and with clenched fists he turned and walked towards the exit of the room.

“Screens off.  Get me that lock and inform Bravo team to prepare for recovery.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Leaves of Autumn

Gerald stared out across the broad lawn, leaves skipping across the surface as the wind chased them through the garden.

I wrote a bunch of prompts you can read about the process here.  This is my response to one of them.


 

Gerald stared out across the broad lawn, leaves of red, gold and brown skipping across the surface as the wind chased them through the garden.

“Can I get you anything Gerald” a kind faced nurse asked, pulling the rust coloured blanket up onto his lap.

Gerald looked at her over the rim of his glasses for a moment before answering.  “No.  No thank you” he said slowly.   He was pretty certain that she was new but something in the back of his mind told him that he knew her from somewhere.  Somewhere else though.

“Okay dear” she said walking away smiling. “Dinner will be at seven, it’s pork chops tonight, your favourite.”

“Did you hear that Albert?” He asked the man in the blue pyjamas sat next to him.  “It’s pork chops again, third time this week.”

Albert didn’t reply and stared out into the distance.  Albert always stared out into the distance these days though he did enjoy the pork chops.

“Is she a new one Alfred?” Gerald asked him without expecting a response.  “I’m certain she is but she seems to know I like pork chops.”

Albert blinked.

“No I don’t quite remember either” Gerald continued.  “Everything seems a little fuzzy you know.”

Albert blinked again.

“And I’ll tell you another thing, not only are we eating a lot of pork chops Alfred but it seems to have been Autumn for a rather long time.  Do you even remenber when it was anything but Autumn because I don’t.”

Gerald pulled back the blanket from his knees and let it drop to the floor.  There was a word he was looking for but he couldn’t quite find it and then just before he had it he felt it slip through the his grasp like the wind that whistled through the trees outside and teased the leaves until they sailed to the ground.

His old gnarled fingers gripped the arms of the chair as he attempted to lift himself up onto his feet.  He felt a shooting pain in his stomach and stood bent over.

“Gerald, what are you doing?” came the voice of the new nurse before he was able to steady himself.   His legs felt weak, like they hadn’t been used for a long time.  He looked down at them noticing how thin they seemed.

“Come on you” She said placing a hand on his arm and easing him back into the chair.  “Whatever is he like eh Albert?” She asked Albert smiling.

Albert stared straight ahead though Gerald noticed him stiffen ever so slightly.  He didn’t remember much but he didn’t remember Albert being so fat.

“There really is no need to be up and about Gerald whatever is the matter?” She asked sharply.

Gerald tried again to stand but felt once more her arm on his shoulder and this time more forcefully and he sat back in the chair.

“There’s something wrong here” Gerald said as she once again put the blanket on his lap.  “Everything feels wrong, what’s going on?” He demanded.

The nurse’s eyes narrowed and she placed a hand on each of his shoulders as she leaned in towards him.

“Now Gerald let’s not get upset, you know how it effects Albert.  There really is no need to concern yourself and you don’t want to miss out on pork chops tonight now do you?”

She stared deep into his eyes and it sent a chill through him.  He scrambled in the recesses of his mind, everything a blur and tried to remember something, anything.

“What have you done to me?” he whispered as she continued to stare at him, pinning him where he sat.  “What have you done to Albert and why can’t I remember?  Why is it always autumn?”

Albert.  That was it.  He hadn’t always been like this.  It wasnt’t always pork chops and autumn.  Before there used to be…

“Gerald, you really need to settle down” she said, her tone now ominous her smile long gone from her face.  “You’re upsetting Albert see.”

Gerald turned slowly and saw that Albert was staring across at him, tears running down his fat cheeks.

“Albert I…”

Nurse stood upright looking down at him.  Gerald suddenly felt very small and there was a knot in his stomach.

“Now shall I get you those pork chops?” she asked with her fake smile now plastered once more across her face.  “I’ll fetch you some too Alfred.”

Gerald nodded as Albert continued to stare at him before nurse settled Albert back into his chair.  She straightened him up and again he faced the wall as she tucked Albert’s blanket tight around his legs and patted his stomach.

“Albert loves his pork chops don’t you Albert.”

Gerald watched her walk away and push through the double doors at the far end of the room.

“Albert, what’s going on” he whispered.

Albert turned towards him, his eyes wide and breathing heavily.   A mix of pain and fear was etched across his face.

“Christ man what is it” Gerald pressed.  “What’s going on?”

Albert opened his mouth to scream holding his stomach but no sound came out.  His face contorted and eyes bulged as his mouth continued to widen and his face reddened.  His lips, stretched thin,  turned white and then began to bleed as his voiceless scream continued and his eyes began to roll back into his head.

Gerald forced himself from the chair once more, his heart pounding in his chest and his head spinning.  He looked about and began to move as quickly as he could towards the double doors.  His legs felt like they would buckle beneath his as he shuffled in his slippers, and turning back he saw Albert reach out an arm towards him and even in this state it seemed to him to be somethign of a warning.

He slowed as he reached the doors and stood pressed against them, breathing heavily.   Nothing made sense, nothing felt real.  he shot a glance back at Albert and saw he was slumped on the floor in fromt of his chair.  Surely the only thing he could do was to call the nurse.

Gerald reached for the door handle but before he could push through them he heard the voice of the nurse beyond them.

“Just get those pork chops ready” he heard her bark.  “And add extra we need to fatten them up.  The pupae are getting hungry and Albert’s will be ready to hatch before the spring.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Firestorm

It’s funny but when you join up you think it’s going to be endless excitement and adventure, and sometimes it is, but what they don’t tell you is just how much time you’ll spend sitting around.

I wrote a bunch of prompts you can read about the process here.  This is one of them.


>Log date 2243>>

>Location>>>Confidential>>

>Status >>>Transmitting>>>>>

It’s funny but when you join up you think it’s going to be endless excitement and adventure, and sometimes it is, but what they don’t tell you is just how much time you’ll spend sitting around.

‘Hurry up and wait’ seemed to be the mantra most days once we’d finished basic training , and even with all of that down time there wasn’t much to see on Mars at all so when we were posted to the Orion system everyone couldn’t wait to get star side.

We were stationed about five hundred thousand miles off of Rigel because it was a known dropping in point for the Confederacy, and brass figured that it was best to wait for them and hit them as soon as they dropped out of faster-than-light.  What Brass didn’t figure though was that they had the drop on us and when we dropped out they were already there waiting for us with most of their fleet.

They say your training just kicks in instinctively when it needs to but you know, I remember the klaxon’s sounding shrill as we scrambled across the deck and seeing the Aspidistra getting torn to shreds through the hanger doors, and I wanted to be anywhere else.  Jenson didn’t even make it much beyond the main hanger when a Fed ship took him out and most of the lads didn’t suffer much better.

I took a few of them out before I ran out of ammo but they were all over us because nothing had prepared us for just how ferocious and desperate they were.  Picking us off one by one they didn’t seem to have any regard for their own lives and they just wanted us dead.  All forward vessels were taken out within the first few minutes and those of us that scrambled were no match for them.

I was left drifting when my main power drive took a hit and I guess I was lucky because I was dead to rights but just slowly drifted beyond the carnage.  With my comms down and only life support ticking over I watched as a huge nova bomb took out the main attack carriers of the Foreshadowing and the Callista.  In the silence of space they simply evaporated into a billion shards of pulsating light and in a blink of an eye 15000 lives were lost.

I think it’s been five solar cycles since I saw the last of the explosions, time escapes you when you’re drifting through nothingness, and I don’t think anyone is coming to find me.  Power is low and there is less than a few hours left in the reserve tanks.

I’m not sure this will ever reach anyone, it probably won’t, but if it does then tell my folks I’m sorry I ddn’t write more often.

Status >>>Received>>>>>

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Soldier Part 4

A thing where I only write every second piece. Sorry it took so long to get back round to it.

A.P. (I am sure he has a name but for the purposes of this we shall go with A.P.) asked me if I fancied some sort of collaboration thing when he writes a piece then I follow.

I was asked to do this before and I wanted to and then I realised I have less time than I would like to really make an effort so I didn’t do it.  Nothing has changed but this time I said yes and so A.P. goes and makes a quite eloquent and intriguing post and I figured I better get it done as it would be frightfully rude not to so I seem to have written the follow up piece below.

There weren’t really any rules other than he does a piece then I do.


The soldier part 4

Part 1
Part 2

Part 3

The amber district is many things to many people, but not one those who call it home choose to do so.  If it were a wife then it would be a stooped old crone with less sense than teeth, though possessing very little of both by most acceptable standards.  Were it a friend then it would surely be the duplicitous wife stealer of a compadre with a taste for the warm wet crone mouth.  Were it a husband then it would surely be the never home and whore addled…well you get the idea.

It was a most unpleasant place indeed and not somewhere that you would choose to spend your holiday or even a long weekend.

With no idea of where she ought to be Tes pulled the cowl of her cloak around her ears and with eyes downcast walked through the tall stone archway that lead to the main market.  Unfamiliar smells assaulted her nostrils and made her eyes water and the buzz and bustle of the market filled her ears.

“Hey Darlin’” came a voice over the hubbub.  “You after something special then?” Somehow she knew it was aimed at her and she couldn’t help but look over. “What can I get for you?”

He was dressed in the usual mix of rags and dirt of most of the people down here, his face worn and wrinkled.  A broad smile met her as she looked up at him.

“No thank you “ she said nervously and turned away.

“Oh come on” he continued.  “Whatever you need I can get for you.  You after a young boy maybe?”

Tes shook her head.

“Girl?”

She turned slowly to face him again.

“I need neither thank you kindly and I would suggest that perhaps…”

“Oh blimey, I know you” he said raising a finger in her direction.  “You really better be careful down here sweetheart there are those that might well not take kindly to you being here.”

Tes looked about worried, pulling her hood further over her face.  He could see her nervousness and lowered his finger and spoke more quietly.

“You might want to come with me” he said his broad smile now gone from his face.  “I think there’s someone you might want to see.”

 

Old Walter McDad

Really not sure where this came from…

You can listen instead of reading if you prefer.

 

 

Old Walter McDad finds such joy in the sad

The depressed and the rather quite tragic

He would dance with delight if your shoes were too tight

Spilled your tea on your crotch? Oh quite magic!

Caught your knob in your zip? Caused your foreskin to rip?

He would high five in great celebration

Birth defects?  He loves those.  Diabetic? Lost toes?

Well to him they’re such cause for elation

 

Enjoys watching the poor, mocks the sick and what’s more

Steals the cash from the tramps at the station.

Takes a dump on your lawn, tells your kids to watch porn

Big wide grin at your grandma’s cremation

Fingers crossed at the vets they declare that your pets

need to be put to sleep with much haste

Phone the docs and the answer is that you have cancer

He’d take joy, he knows its in poor taste

 

For Walt spends all his days in such terrible ways

Don’t ask why he just does ‘cos he can

At a hundred and one he’d still rodger your mum

He’s a rather quite nasty old man

So watch out and beware at the top of the stair

As he’d gladly push you in the back

You go head over tit and he’d chuckle and sit

Watch you bleed as he enjoys a snack

 

Beginnings – 5 – Unexpected Revelations

The tale of Darren and Julie

M does a marvellous set of prompts each month, today the prompt was Spontaneous Eruptions.  I am sure you aren’t surprised at what I came up with.  I recorded it too though so you can listen rather than actually reading it.  See how kind I am…I hope it works.

 

https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2018/07/01/july-writing-prompts/


The tale of Darren and Julie

 

Once a chap said “I Do”, his wife said she’d be true

And in bliss they did spend all their days

In bed things were quite hot and they cared not a jot

For the flaws in their deeds and their ways

 

For they say love is blind but alas her behind

Grew quite plump and his ardour it waned

And he seemed now quite dull and there came then a lull

In the bedroom “Boring!” she complained

 

“Well your cooking is foul” he proclaimed with a scowl

She complained that his chores were undone

and with pinky quite crooked she complained how he looked

“You’re a cow” he did cry “like your mum”

 

There were slamming of doors, and so started the wars

And she went for a drink with his mate

So he signed up online had a jolly good time

Second base from an internet date

 

They fought over the cat she poked fun at his fat

Rotund tummy, he scoffed at her thighs

So she scratched up his car, he cut up her best bra

And on facebook he posted foul lies

 

So she slept with his dad and that made him quite mad

So she dry humped a tramp near some bins

Then he had a tattoo of her name and some poo

She jerked off a red head pair of twins

 

And at last it did end, for they just could not mend

The sweet love that was now oh so broke

And they went separate ways but that’s not how it stays

Even though its been weeks since they spoke

 

For one night on the booze he did text “I did lose

Something dear how I wish wed not split”

And she lonely and sad (and she quite missed his dad)

Said “I miss you come round in a bit”

 

Now they’re trying again and it might end the same

Or they could this time round find love true

Now he needs to just find a tattooist most kind

To remove what he inked near his bum…  

 

 

Beginnings – 4 – Spontaneous eruptions

The legend of Arty McFarty

M does a marvellous set of prompts each month, today the prompt was Spontaneous Eruptions.  I am sure you aren’t surprised at what I came up with.  I recorded it too though so you can listen rather than actually reading it.  See how kind I am…I hope it works.

https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2018/07/01/july-writing-prompts/


The Legend of Arty McFarty

 

Once a fellow of some girth, a man of little joy or mirth

Who sad spent all his days self loathing and most glum

Teased by all and not respected and each night upset reflected

On his life which was quite empty and no fun

 

He had no wife and children none and friends alas were all now gone

And so he pondered his existence and felt small

And he came to the conclusion he was under the illusion

That he really ought to not be here at all

 

Quite intent to bring an end and without life or love or friend

At the cliff top he now stood, but lo a vision

It was the ghost of his dead mum and she insisted with his bum

He’d seek revenge on those who point with such derision

 

She spoke kinds words and reassured and from the cliff top he was lured

And she reminded him that he was in her heart

and he indeed possessed a gift and it so gave his heart a lift

when she proclaimed he had the world’s most fearsome fart

 

And so with deadly fierce eruption he blazed a trail of fowl destruction

Wreaking vengeance on all who had made him sad

At work he let off in a lift, three people had to miss a shift

it made a lass have fits and nearly killed one lad

 

His bottom spewed such fearsome gases that his neighbour now wears glasses

When into her letter box he let one out

He could hear her scream and stumble and she dropped her apple crumble

And threw up when out into the street ran out

 

He blew off down at the store and the milk curdled and then more

Or less the whole place had to be evacuated

At the pub he was oft goaded so near the fire he exploded

Watched it burn with joy, oh how these folk he hated

 

Farted then into a pram and in the face of an old man

then on a beggar who would oft be rather rude

And to a church he made a visit, left his own unholy spirit

and to a shelter where he dropped one on the food

 

And so he found his true life calling with his anus most appaling

Havoc he did wreak and eyes did stream

And all his days he spent unleashing anal thunder most unpleasing

Vile bottom burps most nasty and oh so obscene

 

 

Beginnings – 2 – Turning back Tuesday

Serena stared at the news headlines scrolling across her vid implant as she weaved her way through the mass of morning commuters. Grey skies stretched into the distance, the rain seemingly never ending, and pulling her hood over her head to keep off the rain she watched as the report showed the fall of Mombassa and the rout of the Central African Forces.

M does a marvellous set of prompts each month, and whilst I couldn’t face anything more than the nonsensical last month after my In-Between effort of May this month I am good to go again and am going to do a series of things that could be the beginning of something.  The prompts give me something to latch onto and to see what I can do with them and will be between 250 an d 500 words.  They may be the beginning of something they may not.  Sometimes I need to see it on paper to know how I feel about an idea and whether it will grow wings all of its own.

Today the prompt was Turning back Tuesday.  I am sure you can see why…

https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2018/07/01/july-writing-prompts/


Serena stared at the news headlines scrolling across her vid implant as she weaved her way through the mass of morning commuters.  Grey skies stretched into the distance, the rain seemingly never ending, and pulling her hood over her head to keep off the rain she watched as the report showed the fall of Mombassa and the rout of the Central African Forces.

 “Hey watch yourself” barked a dark suited man as she nipped in front of him, clipping the briefcase he was carrying.

 “Sorry mate.”  She raised a hand by way and smiled to herself.  People could be such stiffs. 

 Stood waiting for the lights to change Serena changed channels to ‘K-Pop-100’.   Above, the buzz and whine of the faster vehicles darting through midtown filled the air, their neon undercarriages cutting through the gloom, while down at ground level the heavier transporters and trams rumbled through the puddles.

 A breaking newsflash interrupted Serena’s vid as the lights blinked green and momentarily distracted she stepped out into the road.  Before she could finish the headline she heard a scream and felt a hand on her shoulder and was dragged back onto the pavement as a heavy goods wagon thundered past inches from her face, the wind throwing back her hood.

“Oh my god” she started but as the words left her mouth everything froze. 

Everywhere fell silent, unmoving, people mid stride and cars suspended in the air. 

“Who the hell stopped her?” came a harsh voice from the crowd waiting to cross the road.  “This was carefully planned.  What threw it off?”

 “No idea sir” came a second voice, this one more timid than the first.  “Timings seem to be about a second out according to my readings.  I can rewind and recalibrate if you want.  We have enough time to do it over.”

 There was a pause as a tall blonde haired man pressed through the bodies in front of him and stood in front of Serena.  He wore a long dark coat over black trousers and shirt and his face was gaunt and pale.  He reached out a hand and caressed her face. 

 “Shall I do it sir?” The second man asked as he squeezed past the unmoving pedestrians, a glowing tablet device in his grip.  “We have about a minute to redo and resync the time line.”

 The taller man sighed and cracked his knuckles before turning quickly and disappearing back into the crowd.

 “Okay, rewind and redo,” he shouted, “and let Head Office know she’s incoming.”  He paused for a moment before continuing.  “And Po” he added menacingly.

 “Yes?” said Po as he punched at the screen of the device in his hand.

 “Don’t get it wrong.”

Beginnings – 1 – The Right of Wrongs

The pale lights lining the corridor flickered and dimmed as the ship descended slowly towards the planet surface. Je-Sar grimaced as the unfamiliar pull of gravity dragged on her, every movement suddenly a huge effort.

M does a marvellous set of prompts each month, and whilst I couldn’t face anything more than the nonsensical last month after my In-Between effort of May this month I am good to go again and am going to do a series of things that could be the beginning of something.  The prompts give me something to latch onto and to see what I can do with them and will be between 250 an d 500 words.  They may be the beginning of something they may not.  Sometimes I need to see it on paper to know how I feel about an idea and whether it will grow wings all of its own.

Today the prompt was The right of wrongs and it got me to thinking about right and wrong (obviously I hear you say) and the wrong of right and the rite of wrong and so on.   

https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2018/07/01/july-writing-prompts/


The pale lights lining the corridor flickered and dimmed as the ship descended slowly towards the planet surface.  Je-Sar grimaced as the unfamiliar pull of gravity dragged on her, every movement suddenly a huge effort.  The black clad guards pulled at her arms to keep her on her feet, their heavy jackboots clanging on the metal plate flooring..

“On your feet” the taller of the two barked. “You’ll get used to it soon enough.  Now get in there.”  He punched a flashing green button in a panel and it turned red and a door slid open with a hiss.

The second soldier laughed, his eyes cruel and a hand on his rifle. “It’s time to go home” he said.  “We’ve looked after your kind long enough.”

Je-Sar fell through the door and turned to watch as it clanged closed behind her.  The pod was small, with her arms spread wide she could touch all four of the plain metal walls that stared back at her.  Save for a low metal bench along one side and a thick rimmed portal window there was nothing else inside.

She stared out through the small window as the planet below grew larger.  A vast arid landscape stretching as far as she could see.  It was A home she had never known. 

A world to which she was being returned because there was no longer room for her kind up there.

Footprints – #writephoto

A revisiting of sorts

In response to Sue’s photo prompt.


“Hey Boss, have you seen what Mary’s been writing?”

“That footprints in the sand woman?”

“Yeah her”.  Jonah scratched his head and laughed.  “Did you have anything to do with it?  I know what you’re like, whispering in their ears like you care”

“Look, I never asked to get stuck on this planet ok, I never asked to be immortal and I certainly never asked to be anyone’s lord and saviour. He continued, quite vexed, “2500 years I’ve been here. I get bored.  Not once have those upstairs even bothered to so much as pop in and say ‘Good Job’ or  read one of my reports, I’m sorry”

“What did you do?”

“Ok so I popped into her dream and I gave it all that ‘I was carrying you ‘ business.  I also gave her cancer.”

“Boss, you’re such a dick.”

The Soldier Part 2

A thing where I only write every second piece

A.P. (I am sure he has a name but for the purposes of this we shall go with A.P.) asked me if I fancied some sort of collaboration thing when he writes a piece then I follow.

I was asked to do this before and I wanted to and then I realised I have less time than I would like to really make an effort so I didn’t do it.  Nothing has changed but this time I said yes and so A.P. goes and makes a quite eloquent and intriguing post and I figured I better get it done as it would be frightfully rude not to so I seem to have written the follow up piece below.

There weren’t really any rules other than he does a piece then I do.

Oh well this is what I managed today between going to the tip, taking the boys to rugby, making dinner and then watching a film…

This is Part 1


The King sat and waited with a patience that he seldom enjoyed.  Things in the palace were often so frightfully dull and for once there was cause for some excitement.

“Is it done” he asked as Bentwhistle laboured back through the room, the guards following closely behind.  It wasn’t every day your sworn enemy met his doom so it was something to be savoured.

“Yes my Lord, he is banished.” Bentwhistle replied bowing ever so slightly and wringing his hands.  “He will trouble you no more your majesty.”  As much as he was a fool he was also still the King, and if he was to maintain any sway over the kingdom he needed to ensure that he kept his ear and protected his position.

The King’s face brightened measurably.  “Oh that is good” he said clapping his hands like a young child.  “So very good indeed, he really was quite the trouble maker you know.  He did have me worried Bentwhistle, most troubled for sure.”

“He shall trouble you no more my liege, from this day forth he will know only the pain of an existence beyond this plain and for eternity the separation that a traitor deserves.”  Bentwhistle smiled as he said this showing off blackened teeth in his dark red mouth.  “

“And there’s no way back you say?” The King asked, still somewhat wary of anything that would challenge his throne.  “Mother would not be happy if he was to return, you know how she is.”

“He is gone my Lord, there is no return from the Beyond.”

“Oh how excellent, Mother will be most pleased.” He said excitedly, his overly large head wobbling on a neck that seemed to struggle to keep the body and the head connected in anything other than a haphazard fashion.

The King reached for his cup.  “A toast” he shouted loudly raising his cup into the air, wine sloshing from it onto the bounty of food laid out before him.  The gathered court sat at long tables before him raised their glasses as they stood to their feet.

“To me” the King cried with great excitement and it echoed back.

“To King Luther” the court cried with little excitement over the banishment but considerably more gusto given the wine was now likely to flow all night.  They raised their cups to the king and drank deep.

As the gathered dignitaries and officials tucked into the feast before them Bentwhistle backed slowly away from the king and slipped away through a side door behind the dais upon which the throne sat.  There were things to be arranged and with everyone otherwise engaged this was the perfect opportunity.

Future Perfect 2

The tour shuttle cruised slowly above what remained of New York City harbour and came to a halt and hovered, her anti-grav fusion engines little more than a feint hum. 

Jay peered through the flap of his small grubby tent, once white but now a mottled mass of browns and blacks.  The storm seemed to have passed and already the sky was filling with the thick acrid smoke of camp fires.  He pushed through to the outside and looking about, the thick mud seeping over the top of his shoes.

“Where you going boy?” Snapped the old man from the tent opposite.  “You better be careful out there”

He might only be 13 but he had seen enough to know how to look after himself.  Mr Brabbin was harmless enough, he had lost his wife and three children to the plague so could be forgiven being grumpy.

“I will Mr B” He said reaching down and patting the lump in his pocket, checking it was still there.  “I’ll bring you back something.”

“Good boy” Mr Brabbin mumbled climbing back inside his tent “just like my Jacob”.  Jay watched him disappear and headed off across the camp towards the river without bothering to secure his own tent, it wasn’t like he had anything worth stealing.

Through rows and rows he walked, people emerging and getting back to what they spent most of their days doing, which was not a great deal.  Dirty faced children milled about and the smells and noise of a million refugees filled the air.  The food drops were due soon, which was the highlight of the day, but outside of that it was a pretty miserable hand to mouth existence they lived.  Each week an envoy from New York would fly over and update them with the latest immigration status, and each week it was the same old story.  New York was full.

Even from this far out he could see her in the distance, her hab-zones reaching high into the sky.  They were so large they dwarfed the old skyline, huge structures of concrete and glass built to house those that were lucky enough to make it in before they stopped all movement in an out of the city.

He followed the line of tents until they lead him down towards the shoreline, the black waters of the harbour stretching out before him in the distance.  He picked up a rock and threw it at a sign that warned that a one hundred metre wide stretch of land around the water’s edge had been mined.  He winced as the rock ricocheted from the sign and rolled across the ground.

He climbed up onto an oil drum and reached into his pocket pulling out a ration pack, ‘Courtesy of the New York City State’ stencilled across the silver foil packaging.  Sitting there watching the shuttles buzzing around the high towers of the city in the distance he bit off the corner and squeezed the contents into his mouth.  Probably Banana but it was hard to tell.

As palls of smoke drifted from the camp out towards the water’s edge he watched the supply drones growing larger as they headed across the bay towards them, large spider like craft with their legs wrapped around the containers of food and water.  They would drop their contents and then monitor the distribution from above, with any sign of unrest ensuring that perpetrators would soon discover that they were also heavily armed.

He craned his neck as they buzzed overhead, shouts and commotion from the camp filling his ears. He finished his ration pack and screwed the packaging into a ball and tossed it towards the warning sign and watched it fall to the ground into a pile of the discarded silver packages.

The sound of a patrol boat in the harbour caused him to look up and hurriedly he pulled a small notepad and pencil from a pocket and scribbled the time and a description of the boat.  Leafing back through the tattered pages he noticed that it was running a minute late.  Pretty unusual for automated craft he thought.

For a while Jay just sat, scribbling notes into his book and watching the shadows grow longer as the sun began to dip in the sky.  It wouldn’t be long now.

Soon two men emerged from the tents heading towards the shore about forty metres away.  It was the nightly ritual, a run for the city and a chance of a life away from the desperation, death and disease of the camp.  Dressed in little more than rages, their faces gaunt and eyes sallow they moved slowly, the setting sun warm on their backs.

They paused at the edge of the restricted area and then, without speaking, set off towards the waters edge.  Jay watched, his heart racing and the paper in his hand shaking as step by step they drew nearer and nearer to the waters edge.  A step became five metres and five metres became ten.

He noticed one turn to the other and smile but in that moment there was an ear splitting thud and an explosion of dirt and fire and both men were thrown up into the air like rag dolls.  Limbs torn from their bodies they didn’t even have time to scream before they came back to earth in a plume of smoke and falling debris.  The taller of the two set off a second ear splitting explosion as he landed and he disappeared in a pink mist spread across the ground and reflected in the late evening sun.

As the smoke drifted away Jay uncovered his ears and flicked through the pages of his note book.  On a small diagram of the shore front he marked the spot where they had triggered the mines.  Their loss was his gain, and it had him one step closer to his own freedom…

Future Perfect 1

The tour shuttle cruised slowly above what remained of New York City harbour and came to a halt and hovered, her anti-grav fusion engines little more than a feint hum. 

The tour shuttle cruised slowly above what remained of New York City harbour and came to a halt and hovered, her anti-grav fusion engines little more than a feint hum.  The low winter sun glistened off of her silver sides and inside her passengers pressed themselves to the windows.  To the east and out towards the Atlantic they could see the city lights were already burning brightly, 25 million people crammed into towering glass and concrete hab-zones.  To the west the refugee tents stretched as far as the eye could see, fires burning and palls of acrid smoke twisting and writhing into the sky.

Caleb pulled on his father’s sleeve.

“Why don’t they move to city dad?” He asked pointing to the tents.

His father paused.  “There just isn’t room son” he said looking away.  “The city is full.”

“Full?” Caleb said confused “we have a spare bedroom?  We have lots of bedrooms.”

“It’s just full son” he said putting a hand on his shoulder.

Caleb looked at his father and knew that it was best not to ask again.  He was a patient man but some times you had to know when to stop asking questions.

“Where do they come from?” he asked.

“From the south” his father answered “they’re the ones that made it.”

Caleb knew about the South, his tutor had talked about it.  “They’re the ones that survived the plague? ” he asked.

“They are yes, many died but it could have been much worse.”

Caleb sat upright,  he knew about this too.  “Tutor said that if it wasn’t for the great wall we would all have died, we’d have been over run.”

“Exactly” his father replied proudly, “if it wasn’t for the wall none of us would be here now…”

Faeries: The long winter – Part 5

As far as she could see the dark pine trunks contrasted against the thick blanket of snow that stretched before her broken only by a dark smear of a track that wound its way through the wood just a stone’s throw from where she was now crouched. 

I had the urge to return to this.  Let’s have another part shall we.  It was only ever meant to be one part…

Faeries: The long winter

Faeries: The long winter – Part 2

Faeries: The long winter – Part 3

Faeries: The long winter – Part 4


Kostromo brushed away the snow at the entrance of the narrow cave exit and looked out across the wood before her.  As far as she could see the dark pine trunks contrasted against the thick blanket of snow that stretched before her broken only by a dark smear of a track that wound its way through the wood just a stone’s throw from where she was now crouched.

“It looks safe” she said to fox in the tunnel behind her.  Behind fox, owl and rabbit pushed forward to get a glimpse of the wood.

“We must hurry” Owl insisted flapping impatiently. We must find a place to hide ourselves.”

“All in time my friend” Kostromo said turning to him.  “All in good time.  We must not be hasty, soon this road will be filled with those from whom we hide.  We need only follow them from a distance, and we must not be seen.”

For many months now no news had come out of the north wood, and every time the Frog King had despatched his spies none had returned.  Day after day reports of strange creatures marching down the road filtered back to his caves but never word about where they headed once they headed beyond the black river.

“Dark forces” muttered rabbit.  “Dark forces indeed.”

They needed to know more so Kostromo had chosen rabbit, owl and fox because not only did they have keen sight but they were brave, they knew the wood as well as any of the animals and were fleet enough to escape should they be seen.

“Owl, take cover in the highest branches and hide yourself well” Kostromo instructed moving to one side to allow her to pass.”

Owl nodded and blinked and in a flash she hopped from the mouth of the cave and launched into the cold morning air, disappearing into the tree tops.

“Rabbit, fox” Kostromo continued, “head up the bank to the left and follow the path to the north from up on the ridge.  Stay below the ridgeline and do not let them see you.  I shall wait here until they pass.”

Without a word rabbit and fox slipped from the cave and disappeared into the snow leaving Kostromo alone in the small entrance in the side of the hill.  She should be safe up here, it was close to the road but the entrance remained obscured by the fresh snow that had fallen the night before.

After only a short while Kostromo heard something approaching from the south.  Something unfamiliar.  At first the noises were muffled and difficult to make out against the whistle of the icy wind that blew through the pines, but they soon turned to the stamp of marching feet and the clink and thud of metal on wood and leather.

She crouched low and pressed up against the side of the cave entrance, her gossamer wings pulled in tight.  She melted into the shadows and watched as a small squat creature burst through the trees and scurried along the path, stopping in the road directly across from where Kostromo hid.  She held her breath.  It was nothing she had ever seen before, the size of a badger but with a longer head and with small red eyes set deep in its skull.  It raised its h  It was covered from head to tail with thick black fur and a long tailed trailed through the snow behind it.  Slowly it sniffed the air looking about then stood quite still.  It looked high up into the tree tops and then up to the ridgeline and then raised itself up onto its back legs as if searching for something.  It was then that Kostromo noticed the rows of long sharp white teeth in the creatures blood red mouth.

She held her breath, heart beating furiously in her chest.  Surely it could not have detected them.  What felt like minutes passed as the creature stood, nose high in the air.  The noise of the thump of feet grew louder and louder and Kostromo saw a dark mass of creatures break through the trees heading down the track.

Every part of her screamed hide but she felt transfixed, terrified to move for fear of the creature spotting her.  She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm her mind and slow her racing pulse.  She breathed deep and slowly opened them again.  She looked out towards the path and noticed the creature was no longer sniffing the air.

It was staring straight towards where she was hidden.

 

 

 


Photo courtesy of pixabay

Faeries: The long winter – Part 4

Through the caves the frog king led Kostromo, following the light of the river as it lead ever downwards.  They passed through a small narrowing in the cave wall and she could feel the rock against her skin

I had the urge to return to this.  Let’s have another part shall we.

Faeries: The long winter

Faeries: The long winter – Part 2

Faeries: The long winter – Part 3


Through the caves the frog king led Kostromo, following the light of the river as it lead ever downwards.  They passed through a small narrowing in the cave wall and she could feel the rock against her skin.  It was warm to the touch.  The frog king saw her run her hand across the surface.

“By the light of the river and the warmth of the earth have we survived these many years” said the frog king as he hopped alongside Kostromo.  “Were it not for this place we would surely have fallen to the darkness long ago.”

The narrowing in the rock wall had lead to another large cavern, the ground flatter than before and the river now wider and throwing up more light into the space.  She could not see the ceiling but on both sides were steep craggy walls.  She noticed movement as she looked about and as her eyes became accustomed to the light she could make out row upon row of small caves scattered.

“Welcome to our home” the frog King said with a smile.

He hopped down to a small raised area next to the river and croaked loudly, the noise reverberating around the space.  Slowly there emerged from the dark caves all manner of creature and they began to make their way slowly to where the Frog King waited.

“So many creatures” she said to herself as she watched them descend and pass her.  A wood nymph brushed by her and nodded slowly.  Her skin that of a silver birch, slender arms and legs and her hair a mass of dark green tousles.

It seemed all the creatures of the wood were here, magical and non magical alike.  From high up the wood sprites fluttered down slowly, their gossamer wings blue from the light of the river.  Butterflies, sparrows, larks, dragon flies and all manner of flying creatures filled the air and around her feet there there gathered what seemed to be every creature that had roamed the forest that would have eagerly welcomed her in years gone by.

The magical creatures stayed further back, as if uncertain of her presence.  She noticed two squat cave trolls whispering to each other and a dryad looked away as Kostromo tried to catch her gaze.

“People of the forest” boomed the Frog King, his voice echoing throughout the chamber.  “We have long waited in the dark and in the cold, resigned to the long winter.”

There was a bustle of chatter and a family of field mice scuttled up the nymph to get a better view.  Though the Frog King was speaking Kostromo felt all eyes on her.

“But now, Kostromo has returned once more.  There is hope once again that spring may return to the forest.”

The Frog King paused dramatically.  At first there was silence, no creature spoke and none moved.

“Spring has returned” shouted the younger of the field mice that had earlier found it’s vantage point in the hair of the nymph.  “Kostromo has returned.”

As if released of their fears, a cry of celebration went up from the gathered creatures.  The great cavern reverberated with the shouts and calls as they gathered around her and the Frog King.

He looked across at her, his blue eyes shining and smiled.

 

 


Photo courtesy of pixabay

Butter Brickle – Underworld 3

Marcus Henderson was born to a poor mid-west family just after the second American civil war. 

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.

Part 1 is here

Part 2 is here


Marcus Henderson was born to a poor mid-west family just after the second American civil war.  His parents had picked the wrong side and they had paid a heavy price for those decisions for years afterwards.  Like so many who had felt it was their duty to reclaim the America of their forefathers his father had died a broken man and his mother a shell of the tender and caring woman he remembered from his very earliest years.

As he walked towards the Zip station he thought of them and of the promise he had made his father as he lay dying, his body riddled with radiation poisoning. He would have been proud of the man he had become.  Proud of his sense of duty and his loyalty to family and a cause that still lived silently in the heart of so many.

“Don’t forget what they did” he could still hear him saying.

With rain falling and the inky blackness of night now descended on the city he reached into his pocket and fingered a small wad of credits.  Just enough to get him to the Airport and then it was off planet.  He gripped the briefcase more tightly and turned a corner.  The Zip station was just a block ahead and he quickened his pace.

“I’ve done it” he said aloud and allowed himself to smile.  It was probably his first smile in years.

Unfortunately for Marcus Henderson, with the exception of a brief moment where he managed to muster a “what the…”, those were the last words to ever leave his mouth.

From the corner of his eye he caught a blur of motion, a whiff of perfume and then he was suddenly dragged back into a small loading alley running parallel to the main walkway.  He felt arms around his throat and despite kicking frantically he could not fight back.

There was a brief “Shh” in his ear and in one swift movement there was a crack as his neck snapped and he slumped lifeless to the floor.

“Heavier than I thought” Jessica said to herself looking down at him and reaching down and prying the briefcase from his fingers which she placed it on the ground next to a dumpster.  She then went through his pockets and found his cash, ID Papers and a packet of butter brittle.

“Sweet tooth eh” she said.  “Don’t you know sugar will kill you sugar.”

She didn’t have time to get him into the dumpster and pulled him out of sight.  Not a minute too soon too as she heard hurried footsteps and through the patter of the rain  listened as the two hooded men walked past oblivious to what had just happened.

“He must have headed into the station” she heard one say.  There was definitely the hint of a Russian accent.

“Head up to the main concourse” the second told him breaking into a run, “I’ll check the departures.”

Jessica stood in the darkness, rain falling, and listened to the their receding footsteps.

“Job done” she said to herself and picked up the case and pushed the cash and ID papers into her jacket pocket.  She tossed the butter brittle at the dead man’s feet.

“Nothing personal Marcus” she said heading back out into the night, “I’m just doing my job.”

Carrot Ranch Rodeo Challenge 5

In Challenge 5 of the Carrot Ranch Rodeo, writers were tasked with writing a complete 99-word story using Twitter.

In Challenge 5 of the Carrot Ranch Rodeo, writers were tasked with writing a complete 99-word story using Twitter. Of course, they couldn’t make it that simple. Every #Twitterflash story also had to be 11 sentences with exactly 9 words each.  This was my effort which was singled out by one of the judges which I was dead chuffed about.

Is anyone else seeing what I’m seeing out there?

If this is how things end I’m getting drunk!

Apparently they come in peace, but my mate Jed’s disappeared!

How drunk am I because I think Im #insideaspaceship

I’ve managed to evade them, is anyone reading this?

Ive found Jed, watching him from an air vent.

Sweet Jesus, they seem to be probing him now!

How the dickens did they fit that in there!?!?.

I think the bloody things are laughing you know.

Oh bloody hell they’ve spotted me, PLEASE SEND HELP!

The visitors are our friends and come in peace.

C. Jai Ferry (@CJaiFerry) commented:

“#PickALineAnyLine! If I had seen any of these lines on Twitter, I would have immediately clicked to read more. Each line is a story in itself, and I had to read faster and faster to see how it all worked out.”

 

Tales of Tinsel – Room 101

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…”

 


 

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Room 101

So, 30 prompts, 30 days, whatever 30 times 101 words amounts to…

Thanks to Michelle for the prompt

Okay this was scheduled but I want to be done with the challenge, so I am pressing publish right now! 

Now, as challenges go that was quite something .  I set myself the goal of using every single November daily writing prompt from Michelle’s page and to do a 101 words on each, all on something a bit weird or odd.

As a writing experience I tackled it by writing all the prompts on a page in word and then under each I bashed out the basic outline for the story and the twist.  The prompts really fired my imagination and I did the whole lot in one go and it took me about an hour or so.   A few changed as I progressed but for the most part what you see on my blog is what I planned on day one.

Now I only started the challenge on the tenth of November, so I thought I would do one a day and catch up the others along the way but as it turned out I wrote the first 8 in one day (as I had a day off work) and within 7 days I had written all 30.   Once I started I seemed to not be able to stop and it felt great ticking them off and completing that idea.

I’m not quite sure where I found the time but the planning helped in that I was working on them in my head before I started writing.  A few took some heavy editing in terms of word count early on but by the 30th post I could mostly write it and come in at about 100 words without trying.

What I like is that I think I could probably do something more substantial with each one so am really happy with it as a process, even if some of them are a bit crap.

Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed them and thanks again M for the prompts, they were fab!  If you don’t follow Michelle you should.  Do it.

Michael


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Bedknobs and Broomsticks – Room 101

Saving the worst for last.

Thanks to Michelle for the prompt

Okay.  This is the last Room 101 and the most stupid and rubbish.  It is an unedited version that I bashed out and when I read it I had not a clue what the hell was going on.  Broomsticks made me think witches, bedknobs made me think bed knobs and that got me to dildo’s and suddenly we have this abomination.  It made me laugh though so stupid is it and I thought I would leave it as it is as a reminder to myself that its okay to have a really crappy first draft and sometimes ideas just don’t work.


The swirling contents of the large Iron pot hissed and fizzed as Hilda tossed in a handful of wolfsbane.  “Agnes, fetch the stranglewort from my bag” She asked leaning over the pot.

“This is brewing up very nicely indeed” she said to herself cackling.

“This?” Agnes said holding up a small silver bottle she’d taken from a large cloth bag.

“No no girl” Hilda snapped.

“How about this?” she said presenting a posy of white flowers.

“No, STRANGLEWORT” Hilda said angrily.”

Agnes rummaged around.

“This?” she said holding up large wooden dildo.

Hilda blushed.

“Let’s just leave it out shall we…”


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The art of boredom – Room 101

Ever feel like this is all just one big joke?

Thanks to Michelle for the prompt


“Boss, that’s a terrible idea” Caleb said shaking his head.

AJ smiled, his brown eyes twinkling.  “I’m telling you they’re stupid enough to fall for it.”

“You think?”

“Oh absolutely, remember Hitler?.  You underestimate their self-destructive nature.”

“But why?  Seriously?”

AJ huffed.  “I’m bored.  Bored of this planet, bored of these people.  I really do need a new assignment.” He paused, sensing Caleb was almost persuaded.  “Plus it could be hilarious, especially when it comes out what he did to his daughter.”

“Fine” said Caleb resigned.  “But don’t blame me when head office find out.”

AJ grinned.  “Good call, good call”


Photo courtesy of pixabay

Ceiling wax – Room 101

Sam closed his eyes and pulled the blankets over his head to block out the scuttling of the creature across the ceiling…

Thanks to Michelle for the prompt


 

Sam closed his eyes and pulled the blankets over his head to block out the scuttling of the creature across the ceiling.  He knew it was there, he could see the trail it left.  Every night it appeared, crawling and scratching and watching him as he slept.

He would wake his mother screaming but she simply could not see it.

“There’s nothing there” she’d insist before kissing him on the forehead and tucking him in tightly.

“It’s just a dream Samuel” she would say as she closed the door.

The creature scuttled into the dark recess of the corner and waited…


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