Wordle #183 – Lester

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This week’s words: Flame Obedient Dark Earn a Page (to learn a valuable lesson) Abrasive Gravity Complexion Mercy Harrow Xaeax (to get drawn into useless circular logic from paradoxes; a state of confusion resulting from mind games) Ability Fetter

When Lester reflected on it all, everything stemmed from his desire to be obedient. He wanted to please and to say as he went through life earning a page many times over should have given him the ability to discern more it didn’t as he found himself making the same mistakes over and over.

Instead whatever he learned only fettered him more and more to the dark merciless June.

She had been in the early days the flame of his life. He found her attractive, a well-educated woman whose opinions he liked to hear and discuss.

Once she had moved in he discovered a dark side to her. Conversations became reduced to xaeax encounters, as she’d argue the need for him to be a better man than he was. She had an abrasive personality, hidden from him until they joined forces and he soon learned the gravity of the situation when she continuously questioned his entire reason for being.

Each night was a harrowing encounter, which left him for the most part a drooling mess. The entire complexion of their relationship changed, he found himself caught up in her endless mind games, the gravity of the situation dawning on him when she began to argue his cooking skills were such that any dog would reject what he was offering.

His desire to be obedient and the flame to keep living went out over time, he needed to escape the xaeaxious nature of his life and in the fifteen years since he had freed himself he had had cause to reflect and decide to be merciful to himself and work towards living an unfettered life.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/01/15/wordle-183/

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Sunday Writing Prompt #237 “Collage 38” – The Little Girl Who Grew Up.

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When she was a small weed of a kid there wasn’t much to do apart from the radio on Sunday nights when her family tuned in to listen to the news and the weekly radio serial.

The rest of her days were taken up with survival.

Her sickly mother had become as another child in the household and abrogated responsibility for the welfare of the babies to her. She’d quickly become adept at changing nappies, making formula and feeding the two smaller ones.

She found solace in the books she found lying around the house, most of them penny romances her mother read while lying in bed and most likely age inappropriate for her, but words fascinated her and she devoured each one.

She didn’t consider herself as the owner of any special talent but as she aged the opportunity to write came and she applied her skill to writing her story in her unique way.

It was more a cathartic exercise than anything else but once published she found an audience who had similar experiences and who drew from her strength to begin their own journey.

She wrote of innocence lost, of deception from within family and the battle she faces each day with her own brand of demon.

The little girl grew up, touched the lives of so many, discovered her own compassion and ability to reach out to others had not been stolen from her along with her innocence.

Today she exercises her talents once again, writing the words of a story she knows is hers and one that inspires many.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/01/14/sunday-writing-prompt-237-collage-38/

 

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#JusJoJan Daily Prompt – January 14th, 2018 – Ultimatum

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Mum made it clear it was me or the dog, and she liked the dog.

I saw the writing on the wall and promised to make my bed and clean my room more than once a year.

She said that wasn’t enough and did I eat in her kitchen. If so I was expected to help keep that clean as well.

While this was going on the dog was looking pleased with itself and edged closer to mum.

With all that happening I grabbed a t-towel and moved over to wipe a few dishes.

As I did so I heard mum singing to herself and I wondered what the future held as it was hard work for a five year old.

 

Written for: https://lindaghill.com/2018/01/14/jusjojan-daily-prompt-january-14th-2018/

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Weekend Writing Prompt #37 – Misgivings

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It came as a surprise when she said she had misgivings. It was all to do with ‘us’, ‘we’ and ‘marriage’.

“You’re duller than I first thought,” she said over what was to be our last coffee together. “I was prepared to let you see what you were doing to me and maybe improve yourself but I’m afraid you’ve not. I’m depressed, I know I am, and it’s all your fault.”

I was stunned by her revelation as I thought I had been a very dutiful husband. Attending to her every need, responding to her sexual advances, providing a healthy paycheck each week for her to indulge in her favourite pastime, spending.

“Yes,” she said, “you do all that, but it’s always the same. Its like your stuck in a routine you think is okay and I’m expected to be grateful for the same old day in and day out. I said I liked my tea first thing of a morning and that’s what happens, I said I like sex a certain way and that’s all you do, there’s never any spontaneity, its dullsville is what it is.”

There wasn’t much I could say so I sat in silence.

“And that’s what happens when I say anything. You shut up, you don’t try to discuss, I’m sure you aren’t listening to what I have to say and that’s equally frustrating.”

She was right I did shut up, there was nothing I could say as I found myself tongue-tied once again. It was like a defensive trait in me, shut up, say nothing, that way they can’t attack what you say. It can’t get any worse, can it if I stay silent.

But it did. She got up and dropped her cup in the sink and disappeared into the bedroom. I suspected she was on the bed reading, which was what she did when angry with me.

But this time she re-emerged with her bag and a stuffed suitcase: “I’m going to stay with Myra for a while. I need some space, some time away from you. Don’t call me, I’ll call you when I’m ready to come back.”

With that she walked out and I immediately had misgivings of my own as I watched her back the car out and drive off in the direction of Myra’s, her long time best friend.

I had let her go, no fight, just resignation. Inside I knew she wouldn’t be back.

 

Written for: https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2018/01/13/weekend-writing-prompt-37-misgivings/

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100 Word Wednesday: Week 53 – Waiting

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Photo by Ivana Cajina

As the day ebbed away, I would see her hobble down the gravel path to the water’s edge. She’d wait there a moment or two before wading into the water. I knew her story, her husband many years before had drowned on the lake one night during a fierce storm.

She awaited his return thinking if she stood there he’d know she was waiting.

It made her feel she wasn’t giving up, some nights she’d sing, others she stood in silence. When the light finally faded to darkness, she’d wade out and head off up the track to her home.

 

Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2018/01/10/100-word-wednesday-week-53/

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January 11: Flash Fiction Challenge – Wet Ink

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January 11, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about wet ink. It can be artistic, writerly or something completely off-the-wall. Go where the prompt leads

 

My mother always said there was no point in crying over spilt milk, but spilt ink was a different matter.

There was immediate panic to clean it up as mum knew the stain would never come out. And it didn’t. Not that it happened much, but it was a constant source of danger.

Each of us was given a bottle of Swan Ink. We guarded it with our lives. Hours each day we practised our script, our curved lettering.

In front of us was the reminder to take care, the stain of the spilt ink fresh in our minds.

 

Written for: https://carrotranch.com/2018/01/12/january-11-flash-fiction-challenge/

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#SoCS & #JusJoJan Daily Prompt, Jan. 13th, 2018

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Today our post is to be based on the sixth, seventh, and eighth word of the document closest to you.

 

Cook, emigrated, Australia

 

The document I have been looking at of late is an email from a distant cousin about my mother’s father, Robert Cook. He has shed more light on my grandfather and his family than I knew before. He’s also cleared up a few mysteries.

My grandfather emigrated to Australia in 1900 with his father and three brothers. They settled in a small country town and worked as sawyers. I always wondered why they went to the particular country town they did. Turns out my grandfather’s uncle and family lived there, and so they went to be with family.

Of the four boys, three went to World War One, one was killed in France, one was so badly injured he never felt he could marry and one who survived, sort of intact was my grandfather. He was gassed a number of times, but in keeping with the times he was nursed back to health and sent back to the front. He died in 1950, a relatively young man by today’s standards. But his survival also meant I got to be born and grow up in the house he once lived in.

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Written for: https://lindaghill.com/2018/01/12/the-friday-reminder-for-socs-jusjojan-daily-prompt-jan-13th-2018/

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Reena’s Exploration Challenge #Week 20

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All around me are reminders of the past.

The children, in particular, are ever present as a memory of a past I’d rather forget especially the bits I feel ashamed about.

I’ve worked to be a good father, to be there for them, to help them whenever I could but mostly I learned to listen without judgement recognising them as individuals and people in themselves.

The adult relationships I have now I treasure.

I know it’s not easy for some parents to stop being a parent and accept their children for the adults they have become. I learned that allowing them to make mistakes and learn from them was a good thing as much as it hurts to see it happening. But the rewards have been multiple. We can sit and hold a conversation, laugh together, cry together, feel free to exchange ideas which are more often than not contrary to each other but trust we are not judging each other for what we think and believe.

Being a parent is not easy. There is a lot to cope with, and when you have a few kids as I do, you are confronted by ideas and opinions unique to them each.

But accepting them and loving them as they are is the best coping mechanism I have found, one that works for me.

 

Written for: https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2018/01/12/reenas-exploration-challenge-week-20/

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#JusJoJan Daily Prompt – January 12th, 2018 – aggravate

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You know that expression, ‘To leave well enough alone’?

Well, Charlie was not one to use that strategy when in trouble.

He was more your, ‘Let’s make the shit hit the fan and see what happens.’

It got so that you dreaded being with him out of fear something would happen and Charlie would be there in the middle basking in the chaos he’d created.

He was a most aggravating man. Even though we miss him since he took on more than he could chew in the form of a Number 34 bus, we do fell relieved we can go out and not be with his aggravating self.

 

Written for: https://lindaghill.com/2018/01/12/jusjojan-daily-prompt-january-12th-2018/

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Thursday photo prompt – Crow #writephoto

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Timothy Crow looked down upon the murder gathered before him. Since being elected leader of the murder he had taken the job on in as serious a manner as he could. And Timothy was very good at being serious.

Around him was the all too familiar “farckk, farckk” of the assembled crows.

He called them to order in his now perfected imperious farckk.

“There is a serious matter to be discussed,” he announced, looking down his beak at them all. “Jonathon Crow, the leader of our most accomplished “Farckking Choir has been murdered.”

The effect was immediate among the murder below him but it wasn’t what he was expecting. Where he was planning on a display of indignation, shock and horror, he witnessed mirth in the only way crows know how.

There came to his ears the collective ‘farckking’ of three hundred crows all shouting over the top of each other as they rolled on the ground.

Timothy was not impressed and called on them to stop farckking.

When silence was resumed he quickly reminded them that there was an obligation on each crow to discover who it was that murdered Jonathon Crow.

Was it the farmer, the butcher, the baker or one of their own?

There was one-thing crows were good at and that was organising committees. They had a committee for everything. Now they’d have one to investigate Jonathon’s murder.

A show of wings was called for and a committee selected which was universally farckked by all.

Timothy gave a parting farckk as he took his leave and the committee gathered to consider their strategy.

 

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2018/01/11/thursday-photo-prompt-crow-writephoto/

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