Reena’s Exploration Challenge #Week 11

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It’s late, and for some reason I find myself wading waist deep against a stream flowing away from me. I know I have to keep going, to keep struggling as in the distance is the place I want to be. I’m not sure what it is at this stage I am striving for, but it has to be better than where I have been.

As I continue my efforts, one foot placed in front of the other I feel the current pulling me back as if this is not where I should be but back in some place it thinks I should be.

At times, there are objects in the water, further making my attempts harder by the second. My back is bent, and I am determined to get to where I know I need to be.

Then I wake up.

I can feel my breathing is rapid, the exertion has impacted on me. My mind races to understand what has just occurred.

Then I know. It’s been a week since I left my marriage and this dream/nightmare of struggling against the tide/flow has happened more than once.

It’s a metaphor illustrating the struggle it has been all these years to break free from an oppressive and abusive marriage. It is not easy, I have left children behind, and I worry for them, there are financial concerns as I know my former wife will be out for everything she can get and more.

But I know despite everything weighing on me now that I am safe.

The act of leaving my marriage after 23 years has been freeing in so many ways. No longer do I feel a huge weight on my shoulders, now I have the opportunity to be me and create a life for myself.

My attitude today some eighteen years later is that it was the best decision I ever made not just for me but for my children. It was very difficult for some years until my children began to ‘vote with their feet’ and moved away from her too.

Today I have the most wonderful relationships with my children.

 

Written for: https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2017/11/03/reenas-exploration-challenge-week-11/

 

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Thursday photo prompt – Eye – #writephoto

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Within the eye were many eyes and each eye had a purpose.

The keeper of the eyes was watchful the eyes didn’t get beyond their station. Order was important. Without the eyes, all working as they should there would be no reflection and without reflection, “Well where would we be?” thought the keeper.

Today he was keen to inspect the eyes in the upper arch. This was the easy part of his job; the bottom arch was always a problem, and the keeper had never been keen on getting himself wet. But the bottom arch needed inspecting at least once a week just to be sure the eyes there were looking back at their counterparts above them.

He busied himself with the arch and noted the green eye at number seven position was looking a little haggard and in need of a clean.

“Just a bit of TLC,” he mused to himself, “everyone and everything needs a little love from time to time.”

Taking his cleaning cloth from his work belt, he applied the necessary eye cream and began to rub vigorously until the eye looked all but brand new.

Overhead he heard a noise as a group of visitors trooped across.

“Doesn’t the reflection look a brilliant green today,” he heard a voice say.

Smiling to himself he gave the eye a final rub before pulling on his goloshes.

 

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2017/11/02/thursday-photo-prompt-eye-writephoto/

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#MarquessaChallenge – “Someone To Hold” #fictionfriday #music #prompt

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Use the given line to create a fictional piece of writing:

“With the touch of your hand, you start a fire burning…”

It had been a shit of a week, and she’d had enough of kids, ex-husbands and work. Her work colleagues knew of her situation and suggested they stop in at the pub on their way home, and that one of them would drive her home. Her mother-in-law, saint of a woman that she was, agreed to stay late to sit with the boys.

The pub was crowded as always with end of the week thirsty mouths all awaiting a good quenching.

Across the room were a group of men in suits doing the same as she, unwinding from a busy week. One guy was particularly attractive, and she couldn’t help but notice him among the throng of suits.

After a few drinks, he began to look very attractive and noticed he too was watching her across the room.

She turned away embarrassed to have been seen and joined in the chat with her girlfriends.

When she turned back to look his way she could see that he had gone. A feeling a disappointment ran through her as she looked about but couldn’t see him.

Maybe it was for the best she thought to herself, I’m hardly in any position to enter into a new relationship and who in his right mind would want me with three small boys?

A drink appeared in front of her, and at the same moment, she felt a hand brush against hers.

She looked up and saw him. Close up he looked better than at a distance.

“Hello,” he said, and inside her, she felt the fires stirring.

 

Written for: https://marquessamatthews.com/2017/11/02/marquessachallenge-someone-to-hold/

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TELL ME A TALE IN 120 WORDS

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Today’s prompt is:  Why you love, or dislike, the holiday season.

In my part of the world Christmas in Summer is probably what you would call the holiday season. I like it for one reason, it brings my family together and it has become part of the tradition for my children and their kids to spend it with family.

It’s a special time of year, my kids when they were little loved the excitement of the preparations, the decorations, the visiting with family and especially the gift giving.

My family at one point stopped giving gifts to the adults and gave that money to a charity we favoured.

This year I look forward to my kids and their kids descending on my place Christmas Day evening to celebrate another Christmas together.

 

Written for: https://rantingalong.wordpress.com/2017/11/02/joelles-tales-first-thursday-of-the-month-tmat120-writing-prompt-for-november/

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November 2: Flash Fiction Challenge The Old Chair.

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November 2, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story a chair on a porch. Why is it there, and what might it mean? Think about using it as a prop or the main thrust of your story.

 

When his dad died, and he inherited the house, there were so many reminders of his dad. The one that impacted on him the most was the old wicker chair on the front porch. It was here that his dad sat most afternoons watching the neighbourhood go by. The two of them had sat there in his dad’s declining years talking over world issues and reminiscing about the good old days of his childhood.  The old chair was plenty worn, but he left it there. He found he needed it there, if made him feel close to his dad.

 

Written for: https://carrotranch.com/2017/11/02/november-2-flash-fiction-challenge-2/

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Tale Weaver No 144 – 2/11/17 – Fairy Tale – The Fairy/Magic Kingdom Apprentice

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Image: © kamipallet – DeviantArt

Amelia Marble’s Apprenticeship

The first thing Amelia heard upon awakening was the sound of her mother in the kitchen preparing for the day ahead. Amelia’s first thought was, “Oh great it starts today.’

Today her mother, Tolly, had told her daughter she would begin teaching her the art of being a witch.

Ever since she could walk Amelia had followed her mother around the place watching her gather the herbs first thing of a morning, cut them up, dry them out, mix them with this and that, deal with customers who came for relief from one ailment or another.

She particularly liked it when her mother worked with the cauldrons. They were housed in a separate room behind their house, which was several miles from the nearest house.

People in those times gave great respect to the witch and at the same time were wary of her as she had powers they didn’t understand.

But today was Amelia’s first day of officially learning the art of witchcraft.

As she entered the kitchen her mother handed her the bucket and Amelia knew that meant a trip to the well to fetch a pail of water. There was always water to be gathered and so she trekked down the well-worn track to the well at the bottom of the garden.

Her mother had spoken to her before about becoming an apprentice and that it meant learning all the tiresome mundane jobs, gathering the herbs each day, the preparation of them and the mixing and boiling that could take the best part of the day.

By the time this day had arrived Amelia was well aware that witchery was a lot more than spells and potions.

Her mother was also very aware that her daughter had an innate sense and enthusiasm for why things worked as they did. So it was going to be as much a learning curve for her as it was for her daughter.

On the first day of her apprenticeship Amelia learned that collecting the herbs and storing them was an exacting task. Some herbs could not be stored with others, some herbs looked innocent until you squeezed the juice out of them and they took on a whole new outlook.

Preparation her mother told her was paramount in the success of becoming a witch.

It took Amelia many years at her mother’s side to learn the ins and outs of witchcraft. There was always something new to learn and every now and then they discovered a new use of an herb they had not known of before.

Amelia in her own time was often experimenting with one herb or another. Often nothing happened and sometimes the pop of a clash of chemicals made her sit up and try and understand why.

Over time as customers came and went Amelia would slip a customer a different combination and see if there was any reaction. Every time she made a note in the concoction book as her mother called it. If a customer reported a failure, which was often a bad gastric reaction, Amelia would amend the book with a note to discontinue that idea or if the reaction was good then a note to say it had worked well on the village blacksmith’s bunions.

The concoction book was a growing tome that sat upon the shelf in the kitchen. It was placed there as Tolly pointed out it needed to be ready at hand as she received her customers in her kitchen.

Amelia as part of her apprenticeship began her own and over time it too grew into a sizeable volume. By the time she was twenty she had started a new one, as the first was so big and heavy.

It took Amelia many years before her mother introduced her to the cauldrons. Amelia had always been there with her mother as she stoked the fires and prepared for the ‘boiling’ as her mother called it. This was where the potions and the sometimes magic occurred. Here anything could happen and often did.

The young Amelia studied hard, she developed her own spells and potions, she attracted customers, and she also attracted the naysayers who saw her as evil and a danger.

She countered all opposition by always helping the villagers when in danger or when there was the threat of plague.

It was when she saved the life of Constance Goodwoman, a renowned anti-witch advocate in the town that the attitudes to Amelia changed and she was treated from then on with reluctant respect.

Amelia Marble grew into the witch she is today, the same Miss Marble at 46 Grimace Street.

 

If this is your first time reading a Miss Marble story and you are curious as to how she could still be alive you might like to look at this tale explaining her longevity.

 

https://summerstommy.com/2016/11/24/tale-weaverfairy-tale-prompt-94-alien-fairy-tales-11-24-16/

 

 

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100 Word Wednesday: Week 43 – The Writer

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Image Credit Hybrid

When I awoke I could tell he’d gone. The night before he said he was entering a writing challenge. Fifty-thousand words by the end of the month.

I looked in on him, head down bum up so to speak, typing furiously his mind focused on the story in his head, unravelling before him on the screen.

I wanted to encourage him as best I could so I left him and went to make the morning coffee.

Returning he nodded his appreciation as I settled the steaming cup beside him.

I left him there, his masterpiece evolving like time itself.

 

Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2017/11/01/100-word-wednesday-week-43/

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In Other Words, Saint…

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Write a story or poem of 5 Lines or Less using the word Saint

He was no saint that was for sure.

A larrikin, a boy among men a worry to his mum.

But when disaster struck he was first there, lending a hand, doing his bit.

People marvelled at his resilience, his work ethic.

Later in the pub, with a few drinks under his belt, his old self reappeared.

 

Written for: https://patriciasplace.me/2017/11/01/in-other-words-saint/

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Writespiration #139 52 Weeks in 52 Words Week 44

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This week write about the day you accidentally squeezed someone’s boob!

It was all innocence. She leaned against me, I swear she did.

Before I could react there it was, soft, luxurious, a heavenly moment.

There was a momentary silence, a gathering of thoughts, a realisation that asked, what next?

She saved the moment, took my hand, stepped back, smiled knowingly, moved away.

 

Written for: http://sachablack.co.uk/2017/11/01/writespiration-139-52-weeks-in-52-words-week-44/

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Wot I Shot Wednesday.

Each Wednesday is a quiet blogging day for me so I am going to post a photo or two I took today and write a short story/explanation about it.

You are welcome to join in and share your Wednesday shots as well.

It could be something you see when you get out of bed.

Your own bleary-eyed face could be included though I know mine could be troubling to some and be not necessarily a good way to start your day.

The shot can be of anything you saw during the day.

Good or bad doesn’t matter as you’ll see with many of my efforts.

I would like you to tell me the story if any about your photo and its backstory if it has one. Try and restrict your enthusiasm to tell me to 100 words.

Here is my image this week.

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When I was much younger I had an old neighbour who gave me two money boxes one of which is the above.

I know in this day and age it is politically incorrect but it is a part of our history that these money boxes were made and were popular at one time. My grandkids have found it intriguing working the handle and watching him ‘eat’ the pennies. They were known a ‘Joe Banks’. Anyway I have one and it still works though its in need of a make over I think.

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