Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Fang and Dang.

Posted on February 28, 2018 by Michael

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Image: © Fandango

Fang and Dang decided that the Old Dutch windmill would be the ideal place to meet up after the heist.

Today they were targeting the bank. There was a shipment of gold being delivered, and Fang and Dang saw it as payday.

They had it all planned, the time, the getaway, the rendezvous, it was the perfect plan.

It all went smoothly until they realised hadn’t counted on the weight. They couldn’t carry it all and weighed down there was a problem.

In the distance they heard the police sirens, Fang turned left, Dang turned right, both struggled under the weight on their backs. The police arrived in time to see the two idiots labouring along the street, then to everyone’s amusement the straps on their packs broke and the gold scattered on the ground.

“Drats,” said Fang to Dang, their plans of being rich suddenly put on hold.

In the background, the old windmill rotated as if giggling at their folly.

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2018/02/26/fffaw-challenge-week-of-february-27-2018/

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Conversations with Marjorie Nettlespawn 5

Posted on February 28, 2018 by Michael

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I hadn’t seen Marjorie for a few weeks. She was, as she put it, laid up with her feet giving her the gyp.

But this morning she bustled in, dropped her drink bottle on the kitchen bench and parked herself on a seat looking out over the farms out the back.

I asked her how she had been and she said she was worried. Her eldest nephew was a nurse working in New Guinea, and in the past few days, there had been a massive earthquake, 7.6 in intensity. Where he was working was pretty much on top of the quake.

She went on to tell me she had spoken to her nephew who she said was pretty shaken up by what had happened. The quake was so intense as to lift him out of his bed and landed him on the floor. His quarters are shipping containers fitted out with a bed and not much else. The quake lasted a good 35 – 40 seconds, and he thought this could be the end for him. The most terrifying experience of his life.

Miraculously no one in his part of the camp was injured or killed, but the damage is significant with the main water tank ruptured. To make it worse, there had had since Tuesday over 50 after shocks including one shortly before he rang her.

Marjorie was visibly shaken as she recounted what he had told her and because he was part of the medical staff he was considered essential staff and so was staying to help in any way they could. The damage and loss of life has been significant made even more difficult by the isolation of the highland communities. What roads there are have been cut and where her nephew works is a fly in fly out sort of place. So there are no fleets of ambulances and rescue crews flooding the area, everything comes in by air.

By the time she has spilled everything about her nephew, I had a coffee made for her which she was grateful to sip on as her nerves began to settle.

I said, “I’m glad he contacted you, at least you know he’s ok Marjorie.”

Marjorie looked at me and said, “You never think of family as being in those places you see on the TV where there’s some natural disaster going on. But he’s the right man for that situation, all that study and experience he’s had in Emergency Care.”

“I’ll keep my fingers and toes crossed for him,” I said passing her a chocolate biscuit.

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100 Week Wednesday: Week 60 – The Bank Robbery

Posted on February 28, 2018 by Michael

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Photo by Savs

It was the dumbest idea taking the puppy to a bank robbery.

He said he had no choice as his mum was suffering with gout, his dad had heartburn, and his sister was ‘entertaining’ her boyfriend, in her room.

Needless the say everything went downhill from the word go.

In the hysteria of the holdup, the pup got over excited and jumped out of the bag and ran around the bank yapping insanely.

I chased it, then tripped over the feet of the security guard my mask fell off as I grabbed the pup just as the cops grabbed me.

 

 

Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2018/02/28/100-week-wednesday-week-60/

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In Other Words, devotion…

Posted on February 28, 2018 by Michael

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She watched him step ahead and move away but her devotion to him forced her to follow.

He wanted space and she was okay with that, but she liked to be around him.

She wanted to show him that she cared more than words could say.

In time she knew he’d come back and she wanted to be there for him.

Her heart was pounding and when he turned and beckoned to her, it skipped a beat.

 

Written For: https://patriciasplace.me/2018/02/28/in-other-words-devotion/

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Twittering Tale #73 – 27 February 2018

Posted on February 27, 2018 by Michael

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photo by MabelAmber at Pixabay.com

Twas a grand old crossing. Proudly it stood in all seasons.
As age does weary us so too with crossings. Splintering, weathering, all took a toll.
I knew how it felt when bits started to fall off.
Now it leans as do I.
It’s just a matter of time I’ve them say.
Til the morrow then. (275 characters)

Written for: https://katmyrman.com/2018/02/27/twittering-tales-73-27-february-2018/

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Wordle #186 – Miss Marble and Chamomile.

Posted on February 26, 2018 by Michael

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This week’s words: Cancer Fairy Sideways Farfetched Chamomile Bleach Assure Granite Supression Layogenic- A person who appears attractive from a distance but not up close Transparent Autophobia- also called monophobia, isolophobia, or eremophobia, is the specific phobia of isolation; a morbid fear of being egotistical, or a dread of being alone or isolated. Sufferers need not be physically alone, but just to believe that they are being ignored or unloved.

Miss Marble of 46 Grimace Street woke to the sound of frantic knocking on her back door. Immediately alerted, she knew there was only one being who knocked on her back door at this ungodly hour.

Sure enough upon opening the door stood Chamomile the Garden Fairy from the other side of town.

Like all fairies the further you stood away from Chamomile, the better she looked, and she was always careful to stand an arm’s length from her so as the delay the layogenic effect of looking at her too closely.

Seeing Miss Marble triggered Chamomile’s tongue and this time it was a farfetched story of autophobia. This was Chamomile’s default story to Miss Marble. Chamomile had a morbid fear of waking up one morning and discovering she was alone.

Previously she had come in a panic believing all the fairy population had a cancer that would wipe them all out. Another time it was about a chemical the farmers were using close to their village, and it was having a bleaching effect on all and everything with an anticipated similar result.

Miss Marble knew with a mere sideways glance at the trembling fairy that it was her job to assure Chamomile that no such thing was happening.

All this was built around the fairy belief that as gregarious folk being the last was a death sentence in itself.

To suppress this fear, Miss Marble has developed a special potion of crushed and pebbled granite, which she would administer to Chamomile once she had managed to settle her down and reassure her that all was well.

Chamomile happily took the potion and after a momentary set of spasms and shudders looked lovingly at Miss Marble.

The potion had the effect of making everything appear transparent, and Chamomile as she had done on the many occasions she had been to Miss Marble looked embarrassed by her behaviour.

Her autophobia now treated Chamomile apologised for bothering Miss Marble and flew out the door and back to her garden on the other side of town accompanied by a whole new transparent view on life.

Miss Marble patted her dog Sal on the head and ambled back to bed.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/02/26/wordle-186-2/

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Sunday Writing Prompt #243 “Core Beliefs”

Posted on February 25, 2018 by Michael

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I find this a very challenging task.

For me, a core belief is thinking I want to be the person I am.

Which of course is open to interpretation.

I say this as my perception of me is one thing, what others see is something very different.

To anyone reading this, all you see are the words on my page. You come to a conclusion based on what you read. You have no inkling of the physical being writing this.

Whereas my children see me in the flesh, faults and flaws all out there for them to see. And yet they still love me. Remarkable isn’t it.

But to me I decided long ago now that I am who I am, I can’t change my past, I can move on and live as best I can.

I choose to live an isolated life, my circle of friends is very small mainly because of life traumas that send me scurrying like a hermit crab back into my shell.

Being who I am means being wary of other people, not trusting them and being content in my small world.

I only trust a few people, as they allow me to be who I am and accept me for that.

As my best friend says to me on this subject: “You can take me or d.”

 

Written for: https://mindlovemisery.wordpress.com/2018/02/25/sunday-writing-prompt-243-core-beliefs/

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The Royal Blogger’s Bash

Posted on February 25, 2018 by Michael

George and I had saved our pennies to attend the Blogger’s Bash. It was exciting, as apart from the mammoth journey to get there it would avail us the opportunity to rub shoulders with the elite of the blogging world.

We had researched the venue, watched the video from the previous year, noting the various celebrities we would like to make contact with.

The week before George made mention of the Royal wedding happening at the same time.

He wondered if we could steal away from the Bash and have a look at the wedding. George was of the belief that he had descended from Royalty. A very distant Aunt had given birth to an equally distant Baron, from that child and through many generations George had been born.

He set to work studying train timetables to discover the most efficient route from the Bash to the wedding.

I did suggest watching it on television like everyone else, but he argued we’d come so far why not make an effort

George had a soft spot for Harry whom he thought was a pretty good bloke and at the same time thought Megan was a bit of all right.

“How hard would it be,” he said, “to stand in the street and see them drive by?”

As it turned out it was impossible. We stood twenty deep on a corner where the wedding car went by in a flash.

“But we were there,” he argued, proudly displaying the Union Jack he found on the ground after the cavalcade went by.

Back at the Blogger’s Bash we were missed, especially as George had won the short story prize and as he wasn’t in attendance it was awarded to Gustav Plastine, of Iceland, the second placed entry.

Word Count – 294

Written for: http://sachablack.co.uk/2018/01/31/the-bloggers-bash-blog-post-competition//

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Weekend Writing Prompt #43 – Heartbeat

Posted on February 25, 2018 by Michael

Prose Challenge – In less than 175 words, write a story that uses the sound of a beating heart for dramatic effect.

The alarm went off, and we all thought: “Oh not again.”

There were procedures, so it was a matter of following the evacuation plan.

This alarm was different, what started as an evacuation drill soon turned to lockdown.

I locked the doors and told the kids to sit until we received the all clear.

Then the pops started. From the end of the outside corridor, the pops were mixed with the screams of terrified students.

I told my charges to get on the floor, pull their desks over and hide behind them.

The door-handle to the classroom turned but it didn’t move and outside the pops continued as the screaming became more frantic. The rapid-fire increased, bullets punctured the classroom windows, around me students screamed. They huddled together, some clung to a companion, I found myself behind a desk where a girl was weeping.

Then there was silence. We held our breaths. There was a thumping; I thought the girl was hitting something. But it was her heartbeat.

The collective beating of hearts was all anyone could hear.

 

Written for: https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2018/02/24/weekend-writing-prompt-43-heartbeat/

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Music Challenge #23: “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’” by Nancy Sinatra #musicchallenge #MLMM

Posted on February 24, 2018 by Michael

She did have boots,

Big ones, cute ones, pointy ones and grubby ones.

They were made for walking; I have the scars to prove it.

In the years we were married she walked all over me

Not always in her boots,

Her words had far more impact

When emotionally charged

Like a work boot grinding you into the ground

Her words could make you feel responsible

For every ill upon the earth.

The beauty of wearing boots

Was you felt invulnerable

She was always right,

No matter how wrong her logic

She never or rarely lost an argument

You succumbed in the end

Trampled upon with relentlessness

You gave up only for the sake of your own sanity.

So the next day, in new pair of boots,

She’d step up to the mark

And you’d cower in anticipation of another humbling.

It wasn’t a matter of:

“ one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.”

It was every day.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/02/23/music-challenge-23-these-boots-are-made-for-walkin-by-nancy-sinatra-musicchallenge-mlmm

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 21 Comments