Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Awaiting a Date.

Posted on May 8, 2018 by Michael

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Image by: Enisa

He was late, and my ire was bristling. My indignation seethed, as it wasn’t the first time. His casual attention to punctuality really got on my goat.

We had a restaurant reservation, and it was a restaurant where if you were late chances were they would give your table away.

I’d tried to explain this to him so many times, and always he promised to be ready on time.

I sat at the window looking down the street anticipating his arrival.

The longer I sat there, the more hostile I was becoming. In my mind, I thought of every nasty thing I could say to him. I hated being late.

Just as tension within me was at breaking point, I spied his sauntering gait rounding the corner. He looked up and gave me a wave attached to it was the smile I fell for every time.

Immediately every bad thought slipped out of my mind as I grabbed my things and heading out the door to meet him.

  

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2018/05/07/fffaw-challenge-166th/

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Twittering Tale #83 – 8 May 2018

Posted on May 8, 2018 by Michael

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Photo by Fabio Santaniello Bruun at Unsplash.com

We’d picked the best place with our taste buds bubbling.
So much expectation, we knew our order.
But in front was our dream in ashes.
Smouldering before our eyes, the chicken, the beef, the special lamb.
We couldn’t believe our eyes, our stomachs cried.
We went next door to Maccas. (277 characters)

Written for: https://katmyrman.com/2018/05/08/twittering-tales-83-8-may-2018/

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Wordle #195 – Holiday in Hawaii

Posted on May 8, 2018 by Michael

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This week’s challenging words: Clutch Escalate Propinquity (n)) nearness in place; proximity. Nearness of relation; kinship. The affinity of nature; similarity. Nearness in time.) Swagger Bikini Hawaii Waves Sempiternal (everlasting, eternal) Surf Nene (a barred, gray-brown wild goose, state bird of Hawaii) Driftwood Orange

On holiday in Hawaii with the surf rolling in and bikini-clad girls swaggering along promenades you couldn’t help but wonder at the beauty around you, the trees along the walkway, the rising hills in the background and the ever-present volcano smoking away in the distance. Always letting us know that at any moment the smoke could well escalate into something fearful and deadly.

It was the propinquity of the volcano that surprised me. Along the base of the mountain was a clutch of brightly painted houses as if painted that way so they could be seen from a distance should the lava flow come down the mountain and engulf them. If so it would be time to move well away.

The lava flows did come this week in a wave of steaming molten rock drowning everything in its path. It gave us reason to understand the sempiternal nature of the volcano, which has been there long before us and will be there long after we are gone.

Not far from the lava’s path was a clutch of Nene, looking concerned and ever vigilant as the flow came closer.

I watched the flow in fascination as its orange glow lit up the landscape. Nature at its most destructive and most captivating.

While all this was happening and the locals responded as if it wasn’t anything new, but part of living under an active volcano, tourists oblivious to the destruction it perpetrated in its path, collected driftwood along the shore, one man seeing sculpture in every piece.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/05/07/wordle-195/

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Time To Write: Sentence Starter 34 [Creative Writing – Mystery Month]

Posted on May 8, 2018 by Michael

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“I didn’t do it,” stated the small ginger-haired man, “I was just passing by, and I saw him there on the floor.”

The Judge looked down his long nose, adjusted his glasses and said, “But Mr Tilden, your prints are all over the knife.”

“Well yes,” announced the defendant, “I pulled the knife out of his chest and tried to stop the bleeding.”

“But the man was dead,” said the Judge, “ he died instantly. The knife in question was a kitchen knife and the police report it comes from your house.”

“Coincidence, your honour,” replied the man, “those knives are a dime a dozen. You’ll find them in many a kitchen.”

“I doubt,” retorted the Judge, “you’ll find many with your name engraved on it.”

“That’s a coincidence as well,” explained the small ginger-haired man called Phillip Tilden.

“I think,” said the Judge you had best rethink your story, Mr Tilden, there appears to be a lot of evidence against you.”

“Circumstantial, your honour. I wasn’t there, I didn’t do it, I state I am being set up.”

“By whom?”

“By evil forces within this very courtroom,” announced the accused, “look around your Honour have you ever seen a more guilty lot than those in this courtroom today?”

There was a moment’s silence as everyone cast his or her eye around the courtroom.

Eyes met eyes, eyes looked away, in the opposite direction, some eyes stayed down avoiding contact, but one pair of eyes stayed focused on the judge.

“Your honour,” announced the accused pointing at him, “ I accuse you of this murder. You had it in for the victim, you stalked him, you were seen outside his house on numerous occasions, I have evidence to show you, and you alone made his life a misery such that on the night of the 5th you stabbed him with a knife you stole from my kitchen.”

“Absolutely preposterous,” cried the Judge, “I am a Judge of the court, why would I kill this man?”

“You coveted his wife. You’d made several attempts to organise assignations, but she repelled everyone. You thought if her husband was not around you’d move right in,” said Tilden now sure of himself.

“Alright, I admit it. I killed him, the sod had it coming. He treated his wife abysmally, I did everyone a favour.”

“Take him down bailiff, this judge has judged his last case.”

 

Written for: https://rachelpoli.com/2018/05/04/time-to-write-sentence-starter-34-creative-writing-mystery-month/

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Weekend Writing Prompt #53 – Quiescent

Posted on May 8, 2018 by Michael

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His brain had been quiescent for most of his life. Never had an original thought passed through it.

So it came as a surprise when he published a novel that shook up the literary world.

Praised was lavished upon him, book readings were sold out, and he became a household name.

But how we wondered did he go from quiescent to active?

The secret lay within his dormant mind. It awoke one day and activated its sleeping self.

Before it knew it, an awakening had occurred, and words flowed forth.

One novel was followed by a next. People hung on every word.

He was quiescent no longer. (107 words)

 

Written for: https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2018/05/05/weekend-writing-prompt-53-quiescent/

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Envy: Vera Winston-Jones Part 5

Posted on May 6, 2018 by Michael

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Image: Envy © by Iza-nagi

Vera met Mary at her front door sporting the biggest of grins.

She took Mary in and invited her to sit in the sunroom while she made the tea. Mary carrying her mornings baking did so eagerly awaiting Vera’s news. Big grins usually meant big news in Mary’s estimation.

“You wouldn’t believe what I saw this morning,” said Vera setting down the teapot and two cups which Mary immediately saw were not Royal Doulton.

“Goodness,” replied Mary, “ something has certainly tickled your fancy.”

Vera was having trouble stifling her giggles and finally managed to settle herself enough to tell Mary the reason.

“I came out to get my breakfast, and there was Ernest dressed ready for work. He had on his uniform; he’s gone to work at Gonners just down the street. Apparently, he talked them into giving him a job on the paint counter as he made out he knew about paint. The only thing he knows about paint is, it comes in a tin, and you put it on with a brush.

But that’s not why I was laughing. On his chest was his nametag. Only it didn’t say Ernest, it said Ernie.

Now when you meet Ernest, and I’m sure you will at some unlucky stage, you’ll discover that he is very much an Ernest. In fact, up until now, he would yell at anyone who dared to call him Ernie. He believed Ernest gave him a sense of superiority and class. Yes, Mary very much up himself.

He told me Gonners wanted to have him known as Ernie as it was much less formal than Ernest and Ernie was more a name people might connect with and feel more confident when receiving advice.

Oh, how I’d love to be a fly on the wall when he tries to give out advice.”

“Well,” said Mary, “I can see why you are finding all this so humorous. But I can see too that for Ernest it must be humiliating as well.”

“Oh Mary, please don’t feel sorry for him. He deceived not only me but also every client he had each of who trusted him completely. He’s not only destroyed their lives but mine as well. He deserves every indignity.”

Mary could see Vera’s point and sipped on her tea looking around the room. She spotted the vase she had seen when Vera had moved in. She got up and wandered across the room to have a closer inspection.

It was a beautiful piece so like the one Ray had smashed. The only difference was the roses on Vera’s vase were a beautiful mauve where her’s had been pink.

“I had one very similar,” said Mary, “my grandmother left it for me. It was the only memento of her I had until Ray smashed it.”

Mary went silent as she felt the tears building up in her eyes and Vera came and stood beside her, placed an arm around her shoulder and gave her a cuddle which made Mary feel less conspicuous.

“This one was from my grandmother too,” said Vera, “they were obvious very popular once.”

“It’s beautiful,” replied a teary Mary.

“Well, I doubt Ernest even knows its here, to be honest. When we had to sell up, I buried in my suitcase when the auctioneers came. There was no way his folly was going to cost me my only connection with my grandmother.”

“A wise move Vera, when Ray smashed mine I had no idea he would do that as he knew how precious it was to me. He dismissed it as sentimental rubbish. I don’t really think I’ve recovered from that. Men can be so cruel.”

“They can indeed,” agreed Vera before inviting Mary to return to the sunroom where a fresh pot of tea awaited them.

 

Earlier parts can be read here:

Part One: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/23/envy-mary-dowds-story/

Part Two: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/24/envy-vera-winston-jones-story/

Part Three: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/25/envy-mary-dowd-part-2/

Part Four: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/26/envy-vera-winston-jones-part-2/

Part Five: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/28/envy-mary-dowd-part-3-2/

Part Six: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/29/envy-vera-winston_jones-part-3/

Part 7: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/30/envy-ernest-winston-jones-part-one/

Part 8: https://summerstommy.com/2018/05/01/envy-ernest-winston-jones-part-2/

Part 9: https://summerstommy.com/2018/05/02/envy-mary-dowd-part-four/

Part 10: https://summerstommy.com/2018/05/03/envy-vera-winston-jones-part-4/

Part 11: https://summerstommy.com/2018/05/05/envy-mary-dowd-part-5/

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Envy: Mary Dowd: Part 5

Posted on May 5, 2018 by Michael

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Image: Envy © by Iza-nagi

Mary woke the next morning feeling the best she had in a long time. Her mornings had been up until now a matter of facing up to another miserable day.

Even though she was relieved Ray had gone she missed the comfort of having someone in the house.

But yesterday Vera had come over, and their chat had been liberating. She hadn’t intended to blurt out her life story as she had, but something warm and understanding about Vera opened a door within her to tell her story.

She was feeling for the first time unburdened, and it wasn’t that Vera had any answers it was more she had listened.

In the end with cups of tea drunk and Vera’s teacake given a good shake, the two women parted, embracing each other to cement their friendship. Vera like herself had suffered in a marriage that was only a marriage in name. Like her, Vera had been humiliated by Ernest’s affair and betrayal.

Mary for the first time in a long time thought of her ordered day and decided for the first time in a long while that she didn’t need to stick to a routine. This was to be her morning. She’d do as she pleased as Vera had promised to call if and when Ernest went out and have her over to continue their chat from the day before.

Mary decided it was a good opportunity to bake.

So after a quick breakfast, she set to work baking muffins and her favourite honey ginger biscuits. After all, she wasn’t going to turn up at Vera’s with nothing to offer.

With the biscuits and muffins made she boiled the kettle and made herself a coffee. By now the muffins were cooled, and she wanted to try one to see if they were as tasty as always. She’d mixed apple and raspberry into her muffins, and they melted in her mouth. Her one trait Ray had praised was her baking skills.

Thinking of that sent her mind back to when he left. She didn’t know she was capable of such anger and resentment, it seethed and bubbled inside of her, and as he drove off, oblivious to her pain, she plotted revenge.

It was a spur of the moment thing. In one corner of the yard was a small rose patch Ray had planted when they first moved in. It was a symbol, he said, of their love and commitment.

Taking a spade from the tool shed, she dug up every single rose and cast them into the green waste bin. Never mind the possibility of the thorns pricking and scratching her, with her gardening gloves on she worked at a frenzied pace fearful of thinking too much about what she was doing as she dug each offending rose from the ground.

With the roses gone she smoothed over the plot as if nothing had ever been there and thought a good healthy hydrangea would be just the thing to take her mind from what was there.

Apart from her attention to the roses the rest of the garden had pretty much gone to rack and ruin. Mary had grand plans in her head, and unfortunately, that’s where they stayed. She’d sit out in the garden, under the wisteria trellis, on an old garden seat, and think about it, but couldn’t bring herself to act.

‘Just another aspect of my depressive life,’ she would think to herself.

Her phone woke her from her thoughts, and she answered to find Vera giggling and offering her an invitation to come over.

 

Below are the links to the earlier parts if interested in the whole story.

Part One: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/23/envy-mary-dowds-story/

Part Two: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/24/envy-vera-winston-jones-story/

Part Three: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/25/envy-mary-dowd-part-2/

Part Four: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/26/envy-vera-winston-jones-part-2/

Part Five: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/28/envy-mary-dowd-part-3-2/

Part Six: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/29/envy-vera-winston_jones-part-3/

Part 7: https://summerstommy.com/2018/04/30/envy-ernest-winston-jones-part-one/

Part 8: https://summerstommy.com/2018/05/01/envy-ernest-winston-jones-part-2/

Part 9: https://summerstommy.com/2018/05/02/envy-mary-dowd-part-four/

Part 10: https://summerstommy.com/2018/05/03/envy-vera-winston-jones-part-4/

 

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Senior Salon Roundup Post: April 30 – May 4, 2018

Posted on May 5, 2018 by Michael

A great place for all of us ‘Silver’ folk to share our blogging experience.

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SS Owl
A roundup of posts left during April 30 – May 4, 2018. Linkup at the Senior Salon.  I will share a weekly roundup after the closure of each session of all posts and provide a pingback to your blog. 

A friendly request:  Please ONLY share a POST Link and not your blog link.

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Thursday photo prompt: Ascent #writephoto

Posted on May 5, 2018 by Michael

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To the curious tourist is appeared a conventional ascending staircase.

Hardly surprising when you considered it was what staircases do.

The even more curious fact was, it didn’t come down.

This may seem, but if you look carefully you’ll notice the steps have footprints only going in one direction..up!

Our tour leader made us wait at the bottom to tell us the story behind the strange staircase going only one way.

The story begins in 1591 when the then owner of the castle, Lord Byron the Beautiful, in seeking the hand of the equally beautiful Charlotte, Princess de Gorgeous, who had fallen in love with him, asked her father, King Ivan the Difficult, for the hand of his daughter in marriage.

The king was fiercely opposed to the wedding and sought every which way to prevent it happening. His daughter being a head strong girl had demanded her father bless her marriage to Byron threatening to never speak to him again if he did not agree.

The king acquiesced but on the night after the wedding engaged the help of the local village witch, Morang the Forgetful.

The king explained he wanted a spell to prevent the couple ever leaving the palace. Morang being a tad deaf and slow on the uptake mixed what she thought was a spell just as the king required.

Once administered it could not be broken.

Her spell was meant to be delivered to the couple’s bedroom but the courier entrusted with the delivery, a stupid man named Kurt the Unreliable, dropped the potion on the staircase. It spread everywhere and being a thinking spell it wasn’t sure what it supposed to do with a staircase so took the easy way out and made the staircase a one-way affair.

It did achieve the Kings goal as his daughter and Byron were never to descend the staircase, nor was anyone else. To counter this, an external entrance and exit were eventually built, but this was years later when the skeletons of Charlotte and Byron were found wrapped together in their bed.

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2018/05/03/thursday-photo-prompt-ascent-writephoto/

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TELL ME A TALE IN 120 WORDS

Posted on May 5, 2018 by Michael

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Today’s prompt is:  Tell me a tale about a defining moment in your life.

 

On third August 1983, I was preparing for my weekly squash game when the phone rang.

It was my sister ringing to tell me my mother had died that afternoon.

She was a very active woman, she played tennis until she couldn’t hold the racket because of arthritis and then took up lawn bowls.

On the day she died, she went to bowls and then walked home, as always, and made my dad his dinner. She went to lie down and read the paper.

After dad ate his dinner, he found her dead.

That night as I lay in bed, I heard her voice saying goodbye to me.

She was 57. To this day I still miss her.

 

Written for: https://rantingalong.wordpress.com/2018/05/03/joelles-tales-first-thursday-of-the-month-tmat120-writing-prompt-for-may-2018/

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