Three Things Challenge, 11 August 2018


Today’s things are: bishop, vicar, post

Miss Teresa was in a tizz as today she’d organized the local Vicar to come to the school to give us a religion lesson. She posted at the front of the room a notice saying the vicar was coming and any kid who didn’t want to attend could bring a note from home saying they should be excused.

Everything was progressing well until the Vicar rang and told her the Bishop would be coming as well. This only panicked Mis Teresa as she knew the Bishop was a crabby unpleasant man and one who would intimidate her class.

And he did, he towered over them telling them their sins would result in suffering eternity in the fires of hell. Such was his spiel even Miss Teresa felt intimidated by him.

Afterwards, she sent us all out into the playground where we gathered round the old grey post to discuss the morning.


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Reena’s Exploration Challenge #Week 49


What is it that lives inside our bodies, and drives our actions? Is it a god, a monster or a ghost?

I think that within us are elements of each of the above.

As humans, we are susceptible to emotion, and we can swing as easily as the wind can change direction.

We are also very greedy which suggests an overinflated perception of ourselves.

We are one of many on this earth, yet so many of us believe the universe revolves around our particular needs. Maybe that is the epitome of being human.

I know I have demons inside of me. When life is tough, I hear my ‘unworthy demon’ at work trying to convince me of the futility of my thoughts and actions. This demon held court within me for a long time, but in the most part, I have been able to shuffle him off into a quiet corner to await the next time he sees the opportunity to pounce on me.

The ghost is something from the past. It is the result of abuse, the slings and arrows of life where I have been thrown from pillow to post and in laymen’s terms have become damaged goods. This has greatly affected my ability to connect with people. I live alone for a reason, one to protect myself and the other to spare someone else the pain and anguish of living with me. The beauty of living alone is your ghost is content because it doesn’t need to remind you of your frailties.

The god inside of me and I think there is something like that is the voice telling you what is right and wrong. This is about empathy and as a one-time teacher you had to have empathy for those students who struggled and who needed you to understand them and not cast them aside because they didn’t conform to the expected standards.

This is about giving and understanding that we all receive in our own way. It’s also about understanding why you are who you are. Never perfect but always wanting to do the best you can. Somedays you know you’ll win and somedays no matter what, you don’t.

Humans have developed into complex characters. Some we love, some we deplore.

But each of us is here on the same earth, and we owe to each other to try and balance out the good and bad within us.


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August 9: Flash Fiction Challenge – The House in the Woods


August 9, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes an act of “peering from the woods.” Go where the prompt leads.


As my sister and I walked along, lost and bewildered by the never-ending path through the woods, we eventually came to an old house.

Peering from the woods, it seemed so unusual to see a house anywhere in the woods.

There was a small chimney from which spiralled a plume of smoke.

At last, we thought here was help. As we approached the house, there was the overpowering smell of sugar and lollies.

I touched the side of the house and licked my fingers. It was gingerbread. We ate ravenously, and it was at that moment the door opened.


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Three Things Challenge, 10 August 2018


Today’s things are: dolls, crackers, questionable

Miss Teresa’s life lesson was somewhat questionable today. She came into class with a box full of Barbie dolls and proceeded to explain to us the facts of life.

Considering our age, we were a little lost as she went on explaining the difference between mums and dads. We already knew most of what she was saying, after all, we did get on occasion to see our parents naked as scary as that was.

Nat Toupo we all thought was a bit crackers because one day his mum who was from Scotland and as white as snow asked Nat if he’d noticed anything different between his mum and dad. Nat’s dad was from Tonga, and the question puzzled him as he sought an answer to the question. In the end, he said he had noticed a difference and that it was his dad had a penis.

Miss Teresa continued her lesson, most of us tuned out as she was talking about stuff we didn’t have a lot of interest in. But I do recall her telling us to take care of our bodies as they’d be the only ones we’d get.


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Worth A Thousand Words # 25 – A Life is Born



I’ve been cooped up in this egg for as long as I can remember.

You any idea how uncomfortable it is with your legs up behind your head, my feet aren’t exactly soft and luxurious, and several times a day I’d find them digging into my head which is soft and extremely cute if I say so myself. On top of that my beak is getting bigger and there’s just nowhere to put it, like its stuck on the front of my face in a space where movement is very limited.

But I’m about to break free, I got so fed up I’ve been banging on the shell this past week, and at last, it’s given way.

Its bright out isn’t it. I wasn’t ready for that. I mean there was the hint of light through the shell but nothing as blinding as this.

My eyes are not adjusting as quickly as I’d hoped.

On top of that, I’m feeling very hungry, and I hope there’s at least some sort of smorgasbord after all this effort.

I often heard my parents talking, their excitement is obvious, after all, I’m their first. They will be proud of me I know they will.

I’m about to push my head out. Won’t they be surprised when they see me?

I intend to be as adorable as I can, win them over, have them gushing over me and have them spoil me like no one’s business.

I’m looking out and oh my goodness, but there’s this huge ugly thing staring down at me.

My mother?

Let me crawl back into the egg, save me, this is a hideous sight.

She looks at me and curls a sound that is immediately comforting. She nudges my small beak with her gigantic one, and I feel her shoving something into my mouth.

Its soft, it’s mushy, it’s disgusting.


She shoves it deep into my mouth, and I gag, is this to be my life from now on?

Suddenly there’s a huge shadow over the nest, she coos loudly and I see a huge flapping of wings, feet land beside me that simply terrify me and I hear my mother announce my father has arrived.

He is equally as ugly as my mother, and it suddenly dawns on me that I too will grow up to look like them.

My prospects are fading as I now struggle to free myself of the egg shell that has been my home. Outside the air is cold, the food disgusting and I now realize I am going to grow into a bird I don’t want to be.

My mum reassures me that every new chick has felt the same. Confronted with your future and coming to terms with it is never easy.

I’m to stay in the nest and feed from my mother’s mouth, from my father’s I have reservations as I never know where his mouth has been.

But hunger soon gets the better of me, and I’m finding my mouth open every time they return and regurgitate into my mouth. I decided it’s best not to question what it once might have been for when you are hungry you’ll eat anything that is given to you.

Life in the nest isn’t too bad. My wings are growing, my sense of bravery at flying from the nest is rising.

Mum says the day is coming where I’ll have to leave the nest, and I look forward to it but not in the way it arrives.

I’m looking over the edge thinking it’s a long way down when suddenly I am propelled into the air. Mum is shouting, “Spread your wing, spread your wings” as I plummet towards the ground. I spread them, close my eyes and feel myself take control of my fall. A few flaps and I’m airborne, and my life as an eagle begins.


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Thursday photo prompt: Summer #writephoto


It rippled through the field like a breath of fresh air.


At long last, the winter was over, and the warmth of the Spring and Summer would descend, and life would be its summery pleasant self.

The creatures and beings who inhabited the field felt the warmth descend upon them and their minds turned to what was needed to make this the best summer ever.

First thing was to shake off the slumber of the winter. One creature looked at another, rubbed their eyes in unison and without looking any further knew what had to be done.

Above them, the blossoms had already arrived providing a food source for they were all hungry and until some could get back into hunting mode, the flowers would suffice.

But as soon as they could, it would be a return to ways of nature. The hunters would hunt, the gathers gather, the weak find ways to survive and the strong assert their dominance.

A field mouse feeling it was still safe to wander through the vegetation was rudely awakened by a swooping sound and felt the talons around its body as it lifted off the ground. It’s squeak alerting all other field mice of the danger.

The hustle and bustle of summer was under way, and each entity pursued what it did to make it the entity it was.


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Worth A Thousand Words # 24 – Great Uncle Horatio



The painting of Great Uncle Horatio’s final voyage hung in Grandma’s hallway and was always a point of conversation if not controversy.

Great Uncle Horatio had been a pirate. Not just a pirate in name but very much a pirate in practice.

He wore a patch over one eye, walked with a limp from a battle he once had with Bandit Pete, a rival pirate, where Pete landed a blow to his thigh that severed several muscles which never fully repaired themselves.

He sailed the seas causing havoc wherever he could. His reputation was such that many sailors when confronted by him preferred to throw themselves overboard rather than deal with him. Dealing with him often meant prolonged pain in places you’d rather not experience pain in and drowning or if you were lucky, a shark attack was often the preferred option.

He rejoiced in his name being the cause of nightmares to other sea farers. After he had taken a ship and removed whatever treasure it may have had he would indulge he and his crew in loud and drunken parties long into the night.

But his days soon became numbered for as he aged he found himself being criticized by some of his crew as to his behaviour towards the women he captured on some of his raids.

It was clear to them Horatio didn’t like women and treated them poorly. Among many of his crew, there was a code they stuck to that you didn’t harm women any more than you had to. Horatio didn’t adhere to that code and treated the women he captured as playthings, and so discarded them once he had finished playing.

It got to a point where there was a showdown one day after he’d been particularly nasty to a woman who challenged his authority and for her protests, he immediately lopped off her head.

On top of that Horatio was not happy when his authority was challenged and the man who dared to question him that day was thrown overboard and left to drown.

But his actions only stirred up more animosity among the crew who secretly discussed his behaviour and determined to act against him.

The next day they came across a ship sailing west, and as it was low in the water, they knew it contained cargo that would afford them a bounty to celebrate over.

The ship was easily overcome, and the crew dispatched. On board was a load of wine barrels, all full of rum, wine and spirits. As well there was food, enough to feed Horatio and his crew for several weeks.

Later that night with the captured ship tied up beside their own vessel they feasted. They emptied several barrels, and by morning all the crew were so inebriated they slept long into the day.

By afternoon a storm was building, and as the crew awakened, they became aware of the dangers facing them.

As they had taken from the captured ship all, they required they cut it adrift. The sailors saw their opportunity to finally overcome Horatio who still asleep was easy prey.

As a group, they went to his cabin and tying him up dragged him onto to the deck. Horatio by now awake screamed his protests and demanded to be set free, or there would be consequences.

But the men confronted him with their grievances and told him it was the end for him but they would give him the possibility of being saved. They bundled him into an empty barrel and securing the lid cast him into the sea.

At that time the storm was just building, and the barrel bobbed about in the now swirling water, and they watched as it was blown closer to rocks.

The crew set sail for home, and Horatio’s memory was all there was left of him.

The painting was done by one Gladimus Shanks a crew member who dropped the painting at the door of the family home. The painting was taken in and hung in the hallway, and there it stayed.

The family were not at all surprised to hear what happened to Horatio for they well knew what a low-life scumbag he was. But as the family, apart from Horatio, were accountants, the story of the pirate uncle gave the family a sense of infamy, and in their line of business that was like a breath of fresh air.


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