Mundane Monday Challenge #131 : Learn Photography


Renovations are happening at my house and in an attempt to brighten things up I added these flowers which came in an amazing range of colours.

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Weekend Writing Prompt #24 – Shadows


They existed because there were shadows. Without shadow, they would have frizzled in the sun’s heat and been nothing.

Nature had made them shadow creatures because the shadows needed something to call their own. Shadows are transient, and so there evolved the shadow creatures, small and not particularly attractive but content to hug the shadows as they migrated each day east to west and sometimes north to south.

They were proud creatures and understanding of their uniqueness gathered each evening in the last of the daily shadows to settle into the largest and longest shadow of all, the night.

Realising their existence depended on the shadows they rejoiced in their good fortune, sang their songs and chanted the end of day full of praise for the being that had allowed them to exist.

If you look hard enough, you might see them. They eat the remnants of sun-kissed grasses and the bark from the tree facing sunwards.

As a new day emerges, the shadow creatures gather in expectation of not the suns warmth but the emerging life-giving shadows provided for them.

So, the next time you are sitting in the shade on a hot sunny day, and you feel a nudge on your arm, it’s probably a friendly gesture from another shade appreciative being.


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Reena’s Exploration Challenge #Week 8


There have been times when you knew confrontation was going to be tricky, tough and downright scary.

It’s happened in both my working and home life.

I think I ‘stuff up’ a lot with no intention of doing so, and when confronted by authority of my wrongdoing I feel intimidated as now I am on the defensive and have to justify my actions.

It’s that thought of having to justify why you behaved in a certain way that causes us so much angst.

I know I have spent many a sleepless night worrying over a work place action that has required me to front the Principal the next day, when I did things which in hindsight reflected my lazy attitude to procedure.

But you can’t change what you have done, and so for me, it became a matter of let’s get this over and done with. Theirs is only so much berating of yourself you can do, and it’s never productive. So, for me, it was a matter of facing my ‘sins’. I’d eat humble pie if necessary and make promises to lift my game.

I found the longer I delayed action, the worse it got.

Though with angry partners it became a matter of delaying the inevitable. As for pain setting me free, I think that is a debateable point. I say this as there can be a lot of pain in freedom.


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First Line Friday -October 13th, 2017 – Crapsville.


Your line for this week is:

The autumn chill descended over the town and with it came rot and ruin. 

It was a seasonal thing for the town of Crapsville. The locals came to accept their town was crap, and in a crap town, crap happened on an annual basis.

Any day now they knew with the winter chill would come the autumn storms. Huge storms. It would rain cats and dogs for days, the creeks and river would fill, flooding would occur, and the crap rise and float along the surface and the town resemble an above ground cess pool.

George Snotworthy, the town mayor, knew the drill by now and every year prepared the residents for the evacuations and relief efforts needed to survive the rot and ruin that followed each deluge.

George knew the Crappers as no one else. They were despite their afflictions salt of the earth people, ever willing to pull with their neighbour to get the job done when a crisis hit the town.

The floods did nothing for the local cemetery as too much water, meant no burials, meant, keeping an eye out for the odd corpse which might float to the surface at the most inopportune time as had happened the previous autumn when he discovered his great grandmother’s coffin drifting by his kitchen window.

In recent times the town council has ordered that every person buried in the town cemetery have lead weights inserted into their coffins to lessen the chance of them rising.

So, the heavy damaging rains of the autumn did nothing for the prospects of the oncoming winter. With so much water about the winter came with a vengeance with ice and snow and the good people of Crapsville hunkered down for a long and cold winter.

So, where the autumn brought with it rot and ruin the spring was a time of activity to grow, harvest and to store enough produce for the approaching winter misery. They were a progressive people the Crappers, no disaster was treated as the end of the world even though so often it felt like it as they had resolve and it was their resolve that allowed them to confront whatever came their way.


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Thursday photo prompt – Tower – #writephoto


When he became a hermit, he thought of all the benefits of a life of poverty and chastity.

The prospect of a life of solitude was attractive to him as getting away from society and his past was the purpose of the exercise.

To try it out the Abbot sent him to the Tower, an ancient ruin on the edge of the monastery property. He was to spend three months there to see if this was the life for him.

He jumped at the opportunity. He saw it as diving straight in and was excited at the prospect.

To make it authentic once inside the monk who accompanied him and who never said a word the whole journey locked the door at the base of the tower and left him alone. He knew each week a box of supplies would be left for him.

Inside the tower, it was austere as he imagined. A single room at the top of the tower, a crude mattress on the floor, a table and chair and in one corner a small bookshelf crammed with meditative books.

A bucket inside the locked door he assumed was the toilet.

Left to himself the first thing that struck him was the silence. Outside nature did what nature did, birds chirped and small creatures that made noise did their best to shatter the never-ending silence.

He had been given a daily program to follow to help him adjust to his new life. Opening page one he read and began his three months.

Three months later the monk who delivered him came to collect him. In the past, the new monks were waiting by the door when he unlocked it to let them out.

This time there was no one there. He went up the stairs and found the monk on his bed. He was pale and obviously very ill.

The silent monk found cause to break his silence by reaching into his pocket and taking his mobile phone rang for help.


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Tale Weaver – #141 – Unicorn – 12/10/17


“You can’t train them you know,” said Miss Marble to Miss Monty. “They are more than a horse with a horn on its head. Despite what mythology tells you Miss Monty unicorns are the most contrary of creatures.”

The youthful Miss Monty beamed enthusiasm at Miss Marble. She had come to see Miss Marble full of ideas about unicorns and having one in her back yard.

Miss Monty was a new arrival on Grimace Street, and as Miss Marble was the longest living resident in the street, she had a lot to say about who did or didn’t move into the street. Miss Marble thought Miss Monty would add an air of youthfulness to the street, as many of the occupants were getting older and added to that, Miss Marble saw Miss Monty as potentially producing a child, and it had been a long time since anyone had heard a child cry on Grimace Street.

“But Miss Marble,” pleaded Miss Monty, “it’s there in the yard now and its so beautiful surely you must know something about caring for unicorns.”

“Well,” said Miss Marble, “they are tricky creatures that much I do know. My Aunt Mara had one and had no end of trouble getting it to get along with the other animals on her farm. It had a nasty habit of hunting down the cats and eating them. Has your unicorn shown any such tendencies?”

“No. Not for cats that I’ve noticed but it does lick its lips every time a dog wanders by.”

“Feed it lemon grass is what I suggest,” said Miss Marble taking a large plant from off her shelf and handing it to Miss Monty. “This stuff will give its mind nothing else to think about but getting the taste out of its mouth and at the same time develop a craving for lemon grass.”

A week later Miss Monty reappeared at Miss Marble’s door. Her face showed no enthusiasm at all, in fact, she looked quite worn out.

“Oh Miss Marble,” she blurted out, “the unicorn has gone crazy I’m sure. It’s running in circles, snorting, swinging about his head, its already skewered Miss Mans’ pet rabbit and Mr Fanggo’s pet rat. I’m afraid to go near it as I could end up impaled as well.”

“Goodness,” said Miss Marble, “have you been feeding it the lemon grass?

“Yes just as you said but I can’t control what else it eats can I?”

“What else has it been eating?”

“I did notice it was eating the tomato bushes I had just planted. Poor things hardly get a go on, and the unicorn helps itself and goes all crazy.”

“Ugh,” retorted Miss Marble, “tomato bushes are the worst things for a unicorn. Whatever possessed you to grow them?”

“I like tomatoes,” wailed Miss Monty, “Miss Marble what can I do.”

At that Miss Marble dragged a huge book from one of her shelves and began pouring through the pages.

“Ah ha,” she announced and immediately went to her store of ingredients and began taking down bottles and mixing a teaspoon of this with a teaspoon of that until a thin vapour began to rise from the mixture.

“When I say turn round, you turn round right?” said Miss Marble eyes focused on what she was making.

“Pardon?” asked a querulous Miss Monty.

“It’s a potion that only works if you have your back turned, now turn round.”

The two women then turned their backs, and behind them, they could hear the sounds of something happening. This went on for several moments until a rather obscene expletive was heard and Miss Marble announced the potion was ready.

“Take it home and mix it in the drinking water, a day or two should see everything settle down,” instructed Miss Marble.

“Ok,” said Miss Monty taking the sealed vial in her hand. “What’s that book called?” she asked.

“My Aunt Mara’s Eastern book of magic cures for all things great and small,” replied Miss Marble replacing it on its shelf. “The small one beside it is Aunt Mara’s Western book of magic cures for all things large and horrific. But thankfully I don’t get much call to take it down and use it. Not much large and horrific around these parts. But back on the farm, Aunt Mara had to deal with no end of the horrific. Terrible times they were, large hairy beasts, small hairy beasts and hairy beasts that sometimes were large and sometimes small. Each one intent on doing you harm. Thankfully those days are past. Now you run on home Miss Monty and let me know how the potion works.”

“Thank you, Miss Marble, I’m sure it will,” said a somewhat relieved Miss Monty and off she went to administer her unicorn with Miss Marble’s potion.

After she had gone Miss Marble sat and pondered the wisdom of allowing Miss Monty to come and live on Grimace Street. For if she was seeing unicorns and everyone knew unicorns didn’t exist what might she come up with next.

At least the potion would make her sleep.


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Writespiration #136 52 Weeks in 52 Words Week 41


What happens next in 52 words?


Josie wondered how long she might stay. Going home was not an option. If she stayed longer,  she shivered at the thought, he’d come looking. Looking left she saw the train station. A viable option. Contemplating the evening sunset she weighed up her choices. She turned left, leaving behind what was yesterday.


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