Saturday’s Mix–27 May 2017 – Counting my “Blessings”.

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When things went, pear shaped at home the park was my place of refuge. My favourite spot was at the far end of the pond and there I sat and looked at the water pondering my life, future and prospects.

My thoughts were interrupted by a wedding party descending on the pond. As it was Saturday afternoon this sometimes happened and I looked across at the bride all smiles in virginal white and the groom looking like a man who had won the lottery.

Then for reasons unknown it all changed.

Something must have been said because I could see the bride look daggers at her new husband, he barked at her and then she returned fire.

Soon the bridesmaid was at the throat of the groom, the bride was in tears and the best man was leading the groom away a safe distance.

There was shouting, then I assumed the bride’s father arrived and took umbrage at the groom and before long there was an all-in fight. Fists were flying, language sprayed across the park, a crowd was gathering, the bride was by now distraught and the mother of the bride swung her handbag at the now defenceless groom.

It did disturb my reverie.

It made me realise my marriage, as crap as it was, didn’t go to shit on my wedding day.

All that came later. “You poor bastards,” I thought, “have you any idea what you are getting into?”

 

 

Written for:  https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/27/saturdays-mix-27-may-2017/

 

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SoCS May 27/17 – smell

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This week the word to explore is “smell”.

Was that you?

Was what me?

That smell.

No, it wasn’t and I resent the implication that every smell you detect has to be me.

Well, it usually is.

It is not.

Smells in this house and you my love go hand in hand.

It could be a mouse. I’ve been putting out a few baits.

Why are you telling me this?

Could explain the smell is what I’m saying.

The smell is in this room. Very close to you.

Could be a dead one under the bed.

Under the bed?

Yes, it happens.

Not in my house, it doesn’t.

You better have a look then.

I’m not getting under the bed, you look, you put out the baits. You didn’t leave them where the kids might get at them, did you?

I don’t think so.

You don’t think so?

Well, think about it. Paulie is looking poorly, Pete is looking perky and Sarah’s as sour as always.

That’s a relief, they are ok then. So, are you going to check under the bed or not?

Ok, when you say it like that I have no choice, do I?

No, you don’t.

Well, I checked and can you go get the dustpan?

What?

Have him out of here in a jiffy.

Oh my God, under our bed?

Well proves it wasn’t me!

 

Written for: https://lindaghill.com/2017/05/26/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-2717/

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First Line Friday 26.05.17 – The Stenham House

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This week’s first line: The Stenham house was an ancient locked thing and nothing returned there except for crows. 

There was an irony in the fact the house had been the site of several murders in the years before it was locked up.

And now a murder of crows occupied the place, their cries reaching out across the valley to warn anyone coming close that this was a place of death.

Crows are not welcoming.

It was a sad cold place and people were happy to stay away for fear of disturbing the ghosts whom they knew lingered in the blood-stained hallways.

Now it was home to the crows though some thought they acted more as sentinels of danger, that the house was unfit for humans and should be avoided.

Their cries and ominous presence certainly made that clear.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/26/first-line-friday-26-05-17/

 

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A Thousand Acts Of Kindness

Sometimes it’s good to be reminded that people are good and will help in times of need.

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May 25: Flash Fiction Challenge – Andy Longhorn

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May 25, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a that includes the word longhorn. You can go with any of its meanings or make it a name of a person or organization. Cheese or cattle, technology or place, what can you create from the western icon? Go traditional or new; go where the prompt leads.

 

Andy Longhorn was the lawman in my part of the world. Everyone called him Longhorn and no one was sure where the name came from though some women in the town thought it was because…but that was just hearsay.

He cracked the great cow rustling caper back a few years ago. Tracked down those thieving wretches and put them well and truly out of business. That act alone made the town feel a debt of gratitude to him.

He never wanted any reward. He wanted a quiet town. A quiet town meant a happy Longhorn, and that suited us.

 

Written for: https://carrotranch.com/2017/05/26/may-25-flash-fiction-challenge-2/

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Thursday photo prompt: Derelict #writephoto – Mrs Savage

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The story was that Mrs Savage had lived in the old place and after her death it had been left to ruin.

She had been married to Mr Savage, a railway fettler who was killed working on the train line one cold foggy morning.

Mrs Savage lived on in the small house until her death aged 94. There was no family and certainly no will.  So her death began the argument as to who owned the house. The Railways argued it was theirs, the local council the same. As is the case in these matters the house was left and neglect moved in.

Living in the town we all knew the story. I watched over the years the house deteriorate more and more. Before it fell to complete ruin I decided to go and have a look inside.

It was a dark and dingy place. A fire box at one end and a bed at the other. I was surprised at what was left of it. Mrs Savage had died and no one it appears bothered to clean the place up. There were still cups and plates, a few pieces of cutlery lay on the floor. Her old ice-box left open and destroyed by time.

As I looked around I thought how could anyone have lived in this house? But it’s all relative isn’t it. What you know is what you know.

For Mrs Savage I’m sure knew it was not the best place in town, but I’m also sure she saw it as a roof over her head.

 

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2017/05/25/thursday-photo-prompt-derelict-writephoto/

 

 

 

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Tale Weaver #121 25.05.17: Reverse/Naughty Fairy Tales – Hilda-May’s Night Out.

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Image from The Paper Bag Princess by Robert Munch.

In a cloud of dust, smoke and other unmentionables the Fairy Godmother made her entrance.

On the bed, twiddling her fingers was Hilda-May.

As the dust, smoke and unmentionables dissipated, the Fairy Godmother, whose name was Mabel, looked up and rolled her eyes at the sight of Hilda-May.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady, I’m doing my best.”

“I wouldn’t say polluting my bedroom as you do every time is doing your best,” replied the precocious Hilda-May.

“Well, I did say I missed a few classes at Fairy Godmother college and one of them was “Making the Perfect Entrance.”

There was another roll of Hilda-May’s eyes and she then settled into staring out the window as Mabel attempted to right her dishevelled attire. This was a common routine when Mabel came to visit and tonight Mabel sensed there was something Hilda-May was wanting.

“So,” asked Mabel now organised in her dress, “what is it you are wanting tonight?”

“There’s a ball on at the Prince’s castle and I’d love to go.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” asked Mabel.

“Well I haven’t a thing to wear and my ugly step sisters are demanding I get all their home done before the morning. As it is they are each too repulsive to attend, even mother has her nose out of joint because she wasn’t invited.”

“Oh dear, “said Mabel to herself. “Ball dresses, I think I was away that day as well. Though it can’t be all that hard, can it?”

“Do you know style and sophistication, Mabel? That’s what I want.”

“Well how about some fancy shoes, I know about shoes.”

“No, I want a gown to have them all looking at me and wishing I was their date.”

Mabel thought for a moment then waved her wand and Hilda-May was suddenly wrapped in a ball of wool. Not saying a word, she waved it again and the normal Hilda-May stood before once again.

“Hmmm, so what about the step-sister’s homework?”

“Oh, that? All but done. The least of my worries. I can write anything and they are too stupid to know if it’s right or not. Now concentrate Mabel and get me a dress.”

The Fairy Godmother was now a picture of concentration. In her mind, a thousand and one spells ran in circles often bumping into one another until finally, she thought she hit on the magic formula.

With a wave and a swagger, she threw all she had into a dress for Hilda-May.

There stood the young girl, her hair and make-up looking stunning and a dress that left Mabel wondering just where the inspiration for it came from.

Hilda-May looked at herself in the mirror and nodded approval.

It was a short little black number, low in the back, plunging in the front with small diamantes littering the lower parts.

“I was thinking something more traditional, Mabel, but this will have them all talking.”

“Talking they will,” replied her Fairy Godmother, “I’d be wearing my best knickers as well.”

“You are such an old prude Mabel. But don’t worry I shall be very discrete.”

“You look beautiful Hilda-May.”

“Thank you, Mabel, but don’t you think the glass shoes are a little over the top?”

“They maybe my dear, but you never know they may come in handy later. And don’t forget, we have been through this before, but the spell wears off at midnight.”

“I won’t forget. I don’t want a repeat of the last ball when everything fell off me as the clock struck twelve.”

“That’s good dear, now have a good time.”

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/05/25/tale-weaver-121-25-05-17-reversenaughty-fairy-tales/

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FFfAW Challenge-Week of May 23, 2017 – A Day at the Seaside

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Image: Louise at ‘The Storyteller’s Abode’.

We had a lovely time at the seaside. Mum and dad, little brother Will and older sister Sarah.

Mum and dad had packed a picnic.

My brother, sister and I went to the water’s edge. Dipping in our toes we squealed at how cold it was.

Around us, seagulls flew here and there, forever savaging leftovers or chips thrown to them by other seaside goers. There were boats on the water bobbing about as boats do, all under a sun that sparkled on the water. Mum called to us to put on our sunscreen as we had the sort of complexions the sun loved to cook.

As we stood before mum, patiently having the screen applied, we noticed mum’s eyes grow wider. We turned as the grey shadow in the water came close to the shore, grabbed a boy in the shallows and disappeared into the depths.

Everyone was numbed by the event. As if nothing had happened the water returned to its peaceful self.

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2017/05/22/fffaw-challenge-week-of-may-23-2017/

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100 Word Wednesday: Week 20 – Queue*

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Photo By Bikurgurl

The queue stretched further than we anticipated but as we stood at the end of the line we were immediately infused with the excitement of those ahead of us.

We had all the band’s albums and had played them endlessly as we travelled to the venue.

Within minutes more people walked past to the back of the line and I felt a bit sorry the late comers might miss the opening songs if the line didn’t move a bit faster.

As I thought this the lights went out. My ears rang. People cried. No, I thought, not to me.

  • Like so many around the world, I have been moved by the senseless atrocity in Manchester. Despite the appalling loss of life, I have been encouraged by the reports of acts of kindness and compassion shown by people from all walks of life. This alone gives me reason to believe in the innate goodness of people.

Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2017/05/24/100-word-wednesday-week-20/

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Twittering Tales #3 – 23 May 2017

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His last day was Thursday. He never liked Thursdays.
Pension day was weirdo day.
Odd people and odd kids.
He prayed they stayed home.

Written for: https://katmyrman.com/2017/05/22/twittering-tales-3-23-may-2017/

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