FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2018 WEEK #21 – Joyce’s Morning After

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Image: MorgueFile April 62433e902

After falling asleep on the beach the previous day, Joyce, my aged companion, awoke not feeling in the holiday mode. Her back and legs stung from sunburn and she refused, eyeing me suspiciously, to have anymore aloe vera rubbed into her.

Roger our tour guide had announced that today would be a free day.

Joyce made it clear that was precisely what she had in mind, doing nothing.

Unable to move I left her and returned sometime later with a breakfast tray. She managed to sit up enough to eat and looking out the window noticed a seagull on the window ledge.

The seagull like Joyce was looking beyond at the strange cloud formation. Roger had told us Morgue was famous for its clouds. Joyce called me to take a photograph, which I did.

This feature of life in Morgue distracted her enough from her physical woes, so for a few seconds, she was her usual cheerful self.

It was short lived as any movement resulted in her quickly returning to her painful self. After assorted grumblings, she instructed me to go out and leave her be.

I did so looking forward to another Morgue town experience.

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2018/05/23/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2018-week-21/

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In Other Words, library…

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From the moment of opening, the steady stream begins.

Returning adventures near and far, facts and figures of every description.

In a far corner a man huddles and takes in the daily news.

A woman in the fiction section searches for new romance.

At the desk guarding the sanctity of the library silence, the librarian glances at the clock and sighs.

Written for: https://patriciasplace.me/2018/05/23/in-other-words-library/

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FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2018L WEEK #20 – The Morgue Beach

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Image: MorgueFile April file8051277901708

No visit to Morgue was complete without a visit to the Morgue Beach situated south of the main town.

Roger our tour guide had requested we make an early start.

Joyce, my aged companion was looking forward to the beach.

She had packed her newly acquired swimmers and thought she cut a dashing figure when she paraded them before me the night before.

Joyce had once cut a dashing figure, but in her aged condition unlike a fine wine, she was more your cheap vinegar.

We arrived at the beach with the sun shining and the majestic sound of waves rolling languidly onto the sand. Immediately we dropped our clothes and ventured to the water’s edge.

Our joy was curtailed by Roger running down the beach pointing out the signs warning people to stay out of the water. Hearing Roger announce there would be no swimming was met with a collective sigh of disappointment.

Joyce never one to be deterred settled down on the sand to work on her tan. She fell asleep while I took a walk along the beach.

On my return, Joyce was looking more lobster than woman. She was burnt to a crisp and later in our hotel room once again acquiesced to me applying generous amounts of soothing aloe vera to her burnt stinging flesh.

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforthepracticalpractitioner.wordpress.com/2018/05/16/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2018l-week-20/

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Photo Challenge #215 – The Story of George.

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People never thought it was possible, but it did happen.

Spontaneous human combustion.

Right there before our eyes, all that remained of old George Warthurst, who’d, sat on the same park bench every day for thirty years.

George was a park personality, a man who could be seen every day and helped to settle the anxious and the wary because when they saw George, they knew all was well in the world.

Now in what witnesses said was little more than a puff of smoke George was gone and only his old leather glove remained.

The seat was also slightly singed, but that was nothing compared to the shock of George being no more.

He was at times a feisty man; he had opinions on most things and was never shy about sharing them with anyone who came close enough to hear them. If you did, you were sure to get a good earful as he had the quaint knack of sprinkling his opinions with a select array of expletives. It was the main reason parents warned their children to steer well clear of him.

In the aftermath, the local council decided to erect a plaque onto the seat marking it as George’s seat. The glove it had bronzed and placed above it.

It was a beautiful gesture, and the stories of George became part of park legend.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/05/22/photo-challenge-215/

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Twittering Tale #85 – 22 May 2018

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The house rumbling with spirits had been a home once.
Now it was the abode of ghosts.
One sat in a window looking over the sea, waiting for its love to return.
There were two floating in the basement, stuck below decks forever looking up.
Rescue was coming they knew, any day now. (274 characters)

Written for: https://katmyrman.com/2018/05/22/twittering-tales-85-22-may-2018/

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Wordle #197 – Burt Fage

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This week’s words: Rapid Material Beast Sequence Actual Amaryllis (a bulbous plant with showy trumpet-shaped flowers and strap-shaped leaves) Offscreen Untoward Negative Escapist Neurochemical (the branch of biochemistry concerned with the processes occurring in nerve tissue and the nervous system. Mellow

The soul alert went off and one thing that irritated the deities, Wayne and Greg, representatives of Hell and Heaven, was having their afternoon tea disrupted by someone dying. They were sitting in Hell’s Kitchen, Greg enjoying the best sushi to be found in eternity and Wayne a ham sandwich provided by Greg as payment for admission to the Kitchen.

The alert told them that Burt Fage, the neurochemical scientist, had just passed away and his soul was in urgent need of their attention.

Normally they had time after a person’s death to get to wherever the soul lingered, but in this case, the rapid sequencing of the alert caused them to make an exception and get on the job.

A quick perusal of Burt’s life led them to believe that even though the man’s soul was a mellow sort of character, he was also known as a beast and a grower of amaryllis and had a huge collection especially imported from South Africa.

Burt had made numerous television programs about the plant and was known to have acted in a beastly way to the cast and crew. Much of the material for the actual program was researched by his assistant for which Burt took all credit. Offscreen he was promoted as a lover of plant life and an extraordinary human being with nothing untoward ever spoken about him.

Burt’s soul was agitated which was unusual considering most souls in Wayne and Greg’s experience were usually puzzled by the whole death experience, but Burt’s was clearly irritated when the two angels arrived.

Before they opened their mouths Burt’s soul was full on about them not judging him from his life on earth and not to believe all the negative publicity circulating about him in recent times.

Wayne and Greg had seen this before, mainly from deceased American Presidents who looked immediately to any escapist tactic they could take.

Holding Burt’s life before him neither Greg nor Wayne were in any mood to suffer the pretentiousness for this man’s soul.

Burt seeing his life literally flash before his eyes, wished right there and then that he had a bunch of amaryllises to hold as they had given him comfort in life, but that was now a thing of the past.

With a series of rapid movements, the deities cast the untoward scientist from them, uttering, “Neurochemists get on your nerves don’t they?”

Burt found himself in a place, which at first didn’t seem so bad until he noticed the rise in temperature.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/05/21/wordle-197/

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Sunday Writing Prompt “Letters to Humanity” Arria to Grandad

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Dear Grandad,

My teacher said our homework was to write a letter to humanity. I discussed it with mum who said a letter to you would be neat as she says you are the most humane person she knows.

So I got to thinking about you and what I know about you. I did talk to mum who filled me in on some of your qualities; she seems to know a lot about you doesn’t she.

I remember as a little girl sending you a message saying you were the best sandwich maker. Mum was tickled pink by it all and made a recording and sent it to you. I can see you chuckling still over that.

When I think back on you, I remember you coming round to chat to mum and some days when mum had to go out you sat with me, and we’d chat. Do you remember all that?

I think you thought I’d never shut up as I was always on the go and never short of a word but you let me be me, and I’m forever grateful for that.

Mum said you were like that with all your kids and they are all in agreement that you were a pretty good dad.

As I grew, I liked it that you would take time to talk to me. You were always inquisitive, you asked me questions that sometimes I didn’t know the answer to, but you were patient and allowed me to ‘go on’ as you used to put it. At the time I think I was sure I was teaching you something, but in hindsight, I’m sure it was you being who you were, a teacher.

To me now I am older I understand more what humanity is, and I realise that you are the perfect example of it in my life.

I hope I can be as gentle with people as you are, I know I have a fiery streak, we red heads are like. You’ve been a great example of how to live Grandad, thank you for being you.

Love

Arria (Granddaughter No 2)

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/05/20/sunday-writing-prompt-letters-to-humanity/

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100 Word Wednesday – An Unexpected Change – Part 2

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The crying child seemed so far away.

She took stock of herself with arms and legs scratched and covered in mud and sand in uncomfortable places.

Around her was the detritus of what had happened. She wasn’t sure but was it a tsunami?

She pushed aside a tree branch and sat up.

What was the populous beach a short while ago was now gone. Everyone appeared to have been washed away.

The water looked its usual peaceful self, save for the vegetation and random bobbing body that had been swept into it.

Hopefully, she called out into the silent void.

 

Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2018/05/16/100-word-wednesday-week-71/

 

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100 Word Wednesday – An Unexpected Change

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It was a fine day, and they had taken advantage to go to the beach. He tempted her to paddle out onto the water where she would be able to see the ocean floor where fish and corals abounded.

The water was calm and the view spectacular.

Next, she was under the water being rolled like seaweed along the sea floor. She was powerless against the force of the water.

Something hit her, as she had no memory until she woke up some twenty metres from the water’s edge.

Among the devastation, a child was crying. Otherwise, it was silent.

 

Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2018/05/16/100-word-wednesday-week-71/

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Weekend Writing Prompt #55 – Twaddle

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The old man sat at his computer and wondered which form of twaddle he could produce today.

For reasons beyond him, his writing had generated an audience.

Most of his life had been a nonsense, so he was as the writing books told him, writing about what he knew.

He enjoyed throwing random words together; there was something cathartic in the process. It was he thought, a moment where he was in control when so much of his life had been under the direction of one other.

He put down ‘once upon a time’ and went from there.

 

Written for: https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2018/05/19/weekend-writing-prompt-55-twaddle/

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