Tale Weaver – #237 – 22nd August – Weeds

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“Are you feeling run down?

Is every day a struggle for you to get through?

Has ambition become little more than wishful thinking?

Then you need…..”

“Enough!” thought Weeds Tussock. He’d read enough, and so far, everything he read was a summary of his life.

The more he read, the worse he felt, after all, his life was challenging on any good day.

He was at the bottom of the employment ladder, he was sure his employer kept him on more out of loyalty than because of his productivity. His marriage had failed, and his ex-wife was now living in the Blue Mountains with a guy who sold swimming pools. His children preferred to not see him saying he was an embarrassment to them, and he understood their point of view.

When he reflected on his life as he often did, as in the long hours between day light, he slept haphazardly and had a lot of time to think.

Maybe he should have been a poet he thought. His mum had always said he had a way with words:

“Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

What a shame

You’ve come down with the flu.”

 

The trouble, Weeds thought, was that from birth he had been up against it. His real name was Scott Alexander Tussock, but from his first day at school, the nickname ‘Weeds’ had been attached to him and stuck. Added to that he was a short kid, the basketball team was never an option, he hated pain and physical contact, so football was out, he wasn’t strong enough to play tennis and the only sport he stood any hope of playing was cricket as he had the right stature to be a wicket-keeper, but he disliked the game, so nothing came of that.

When he finished school, he went to the local TAFE to do a course in accounting as his father said accountants were always in work. Weeds was an efficient accountant, but that was all he was. He was a good team player but never a leader, and so he never progressed in the firm of Ledger, Payroll and Balance.

As the years passed, Weeds found the monotony of his job depressing and here he was today reading an advertisement for Dr Calm’s Uplifting Medicinal Rub. The ad said you simply rubbed it on and then awaited the uplift it gave you.

“What a load of rubbish,” thought Weeds but as he was desperate, he ordered two bottles, “What harm could it do?” he wondered.

Weeds Tussock retired from the accounting firm, he took himself on an overseas holiday, cruised the Rhine River and stood in wonder in front of the Eiffel Tower. Each night he rubbed some of the medicinal rub onto his private bits and sat back, he had never felt so good, so alive, he walked with a renewed spring in his step, he engaged in earnest conversation with his fellow travellers and more importantly he came to understand he had far more to offer than he ever realised.

Straightening his tie, he headed out, his date with Moyra from the upper deck was something he was looking forward to.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/08/22/tale-weaver-237-22nd-august-weeds/

 

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100 Word Wednesday: Week 134 – In the Sky

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Was it a bird? A plane? Space invaders?

There was general mayhem, to say the least.

A crowd gathered each person had their own perspective.

They stood riveted to the spot, looking up, unable to move their gaze from the phenomena above them.

As the objects came closer, it was evident their fears were unwarranted.

Hot air balloons, nothing to worry about here.

It was at that precise moment the lasers struck.

Around them, the landscape splintered, the time for general mayhem had passed.

Confusion and panic set in.

Above them, destruction rained down.

Cover and protection had become superfluous.

 

Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2019/08/21/100-word-wednesday-week-134/

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Crimson’s Creative Challenge #41 – Trout’s Farm Geese

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It was true to say that Crisp, my aged companion, didn’t like geese.

We were on a visit to Trout’s farm and the geese met us at the front gate as we alighted from our car.

“You go first,” said Crisp standing behind me.

“They’re only geese,” I said, stepping around them with Crisp standing closer to me than normal. Crisp was a lover of her body space, usually arm’s length from me, but today she was sacrificing that need.

“Nasty things geese,” she exclaimed, “as a kid, they chased me around the farm, they have a very nasty peck.”

They must have sensed Crisp’s fear for they started squawking, circling her as if they identified her as someone distrustful of them, and they were right.

It turned out to be one of the rare times on our holiday where Crisp showed how light-footed she could be.

 

Written for: https://crimsonprose.wordpress.com/2019/08/21/crimsons-creative-challenge-41/

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Photo Challenge #277 – Looking Up

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Image: – Jovana Rikalo

It’s a long way, isn’t it?

A long way.

Are they real do you think or are they an illusion?

Oh, they are real.

Can they be so many?

I read the other day that what we see is just a fraction of how many there are.

Do you think it ends?

No.

It just goes on and on?

Yes.

But you’d think it has to end somewhere?

Maybe it’s round like the earth.

Like Voyager will one day come back?

Possibly. It would answer a lot of questions.

I never get tired of looking up there.

It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?

Yes. So many. So far.

We are part of it, aren’t we?

Yes, however small we are, we are part of the great universe.

Even though in reality, we are nothing but an infinitesimal dot within it.

Humbling isn’t it.

Very much so.

I’m glad you are here.

So am I.

I don’t feel so alone when I’m with you.

Neither do I.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/08/20/photo-challenge-277/

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Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Week #33

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It seemed such a good idea at the time.

She was single. He was single.

Why not?

This thought echoed in his mind as if waiting clarification, it was a good idea.

Building up the courage and justifying to himself, it was a reasonable request he approached her and popped the question.

Her reaction was not as he imagined. She looked at him as if he was the carrier of some exotic disease and took a step back.

He had imagined their date would be as if sailing high above the clouds, the two of them wrapped in each other, talking incessantly, telling each the story of their lives, one fascinated in the other.

Reality was the sight of her turned up lip, the curt NO, the look in her eyes telling him she wouldn’t be seen dead with him.

Instead of floating into a world of belonging, he found himself deflated, his ego flopping to a lifeless heap.

He watched as she walked away, and made a resolution to never again put himself in that position. Humiliation leaves an eternal scar, he dropped his head, praying no one was watching what had just happened.

 

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2019/08/14/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-week-37/

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Sunday Writing Prompt “Train Ticket” – Liberty

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The line of people along the station platform resembled a lineup of zombies.

But these people were not zombies but rather liberated persons from the worst of the camps. Each man and woman carried a water bottle. Some sipped as they waited, most held onto their bottle and looked ahead.

It was easy to understand their apprehension at finding themselves on a train station and hearing the approaching engine. All of them had been delivered here in cattle wagons, cramped in, given no food or water and as a result, many of their fellow passengers died on route.

But now things were different, and as the train pulled into the station, they could see that this time they were to be transported in passenger carriages.

When the train came to a stop, they stood and waited. Not one ventured to board the carriage in front of them. They had to be urged to do so, and once they saw the carriages had food for them their reluctance dwindled.

With them all, on board, the train moved off and the passengers still in a state of shock and fear accepted the food parcels they were given. Tentative at first, fearing the worst, as they had all experienced unspeakable horrors in the camps, they began eating and feeling for the first time some respect and dignity.

They didn’t have homes to go to as most of their towns had been destroyed in the war, there were very few relatives left, they were displaced persons, and as they rode the train, they wondered where they might be going.

Freedom had come, and their release was like a massive weight removed from their shoulders. For the first time in years, they moved as men and women who could once again see a future for themselves.

The train hurried along its rails, past green fields and through towns that showed the scars of war.

After eating the men in one carriage started to sing. Soon the song infected all the carriages and men and women sang as one, celebrating a new life.

Eventually, the train stopped, and they looked out on a place they had never seen before. The colours were vibrant, the expanse of green reached the horizon, there were shops and on the platform were stalls set up with clean clothes.

Discarding their camp rags, they dressed and shed their past, at least in a physical sense. Showers and new clothes did a lot, but inside each person was a story that needed to be told.

 

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/08/18/sunday-writing-prompt-train-ticket/

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Reena’s Exploration Challenge #100 – A Huge Infinity Sign.

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When it happened, he was unaware he was the one. Around him, he could see other entities, but they appeared to be focusing on their own predicament.
In front of them was a huge infinity sign.
He wondered what it was all about, but any questions he asked fell on deaf ears, either that or no one knew the answers.
Each time he posed a question, the infinity sign pulsed as if to provide him with all he needed to know, which in his estimation was not a lot.
There didn’t seem to be a solution other than to follow.
Written for: https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2019/08/15/reenas-exploration-challenge-100/
Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments