Tale Weaver/Fairy Tale #113: the quest 30.03.17 – Sir Gladys Thostle

Posted on March 30, 2017 by Michael

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Prince Charming woke up to another day of boredom in the Tower of Boredom.

PC (as he was known to his friends) had been stuck in the tower for a long time. Ransoms had been demanded, but so far none had been forthcoming.

It was the Wicked Witch who had turned up on his doorstep one morning and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse in the form of a needle to his arm. He woke up in the Tower of Boredom and had been there ever since.

The Wicked Witch thinking PC was a sure-fire way to make a quick quid had sent demands for his release, but all that came back were requests for her to keep him as he needed to be taught a few lessons about the real world and now she had taken the initiative all that could be achieved.

Now he was her responsibility, and she had no other alternative, other than killing and disposing of him, and she was not that sort of wicked witch as she had a thing about blood, so she kept him in the tower. Each week to his amazement she turned up with his meal schedule for the week.

PC was not used to looking after himself and after looking around the tower discovered it had everything he needed to survive including a kitchen. The Wicked Witch brought in a box of vegetables and ingredients along with easy recipes and PC was felt to figure it all out, or starve.

And so, life took on a predictable course. He would rise in the mornings and walk to the window and look out over the vast wilderness that was his world.

One morning he caught sight of a rider approaching. The rider was a long way off, and PC’s hopes of rescue rose as the rider appeared to be coming closer.

The rider was, in fact, Sir Gladys Thostle, knight extraordinaire, sent on a mission to find out if PC was still alive and if so to perform a valiant rescue, valiant enough to get a good write up in the papers at least.

Sir Gladys remembered PC as a precocious brat of a kid who in her opinion deserved all that came his way, especially if pain was involved. She had been on the receiving end of plenty of his meanness as a child growing up and now she was a knight of the realm she felt the time had come to pay back in some way his unkindness.

As she approached the Tower of Boredom she had to negotiate the Gates of Boredom, installed by the Wicked Witch to keep unwanted strangers away. However, as no one had ever shown any interest in rescuing PC she had instructed the Gates to allow through any one silly enough to think PC was worth rescuing.

So, it was with some surprise that Sir Gladys Thostle arrived at the gates and found them open.

She ventured through and soon was at the base of the Tower. High above she could see the arms of PC waving frantically.

The Tower of Boredom had a door in the base with a note attached.

 

“If you have come to rescue Prince Charming, enter here, follow the steps to the door at the top of the stairs. The door to his room is open, he is too stupid and conceited to know that, take him home and pretend to have rescued him. I have gone to my yoga class. Good luck, the Wicked Witch”.

 

Thinking it might be a trap and having remembered the first lesson of rescuing people such as Princes and Princesses, “If it looks easy if probably is, so beware.”

By the time, she reached the top she was feeling more and more apprehensive. There was no danger. The door to his room was open, he was standing there in the middle of the room looking decidedly lost.

PC didn’t recognise Sir Gladys Thostle who proceeded to tell PC that there was great danger and that he’d best stay close for fear of the tower Troll awakening and ripping his princely body to shreds.

Believing everything she said PC kept in step with his rescuer as they made their way down the long narrow staircase.

Every so often she would stop and feign danger, knowing PC was a second away from soiling his royal pants as she laughed uproariously inside.

Once outside she told him he had to wear a blindfold as they made their escape as she wanted to shield him from the horrors they would encounter on the way home. PC was willing to do anything to enable his escape.

Despite the blindfold, it didn’t stop him talking non-stop the whole time. Sir Gladys did think of a gag, but as a knight, she was attuned to tuning out in the face of adversity.

By nightfall, the quest to find PC was all but over and the castle was in sight.

She removed his blindfold, and he could see home. PC looked ahead and inside vowed to find a way to seek vengeance on all who had wronged him, the face of the Wicked Witch forever in his mind.

Sir Gladys waited for a word of thanks from PC, but as none was forth-coming, she understood why the conceited bastard was abandoned to the Wicked Witch.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/03/30/tale-weaverfairy-tale-113-the-quest-30-03-17/

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Whiteout Wednesday #9 –

Posted on March 29, 2017 by Michael

She was the kind of woman who is infused with beauty and light and a loving reality emanating from an equally loving universe.

She was the comfortable woman

He was the kind of man tired, middle-aged, balding pushing a baby carriage I feel a wave of pity for the poor, toad-like bastard.

He was the kind of “I don’t really want more kids” man

She was the kind of woman who slept with rock stars, movie stars and sports legends You measure up nicely

She was the kind of stab you in the heart woman

He was the kind of man who’s incapable of anything resembling warmth, love and intimacy, I have money a lot of money

He was the kind of you’ll never want for anything man.

The original text:

CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #362

She was the kind of woman who said, “I hope this special day is infused with beauty and light and that all your hopes and dreams crystalize into a loving reality emanating from an equally loving universe.” He would have been more comfortable if she just said, “Happy birthday.”

He was the kind of man who said, “Whenever I see one of those tired, middle-aged, balding schmucks pushing a baby carriage down Montana Avenue behind his thirty-year old, yoga-fied, Pilate- sized, armoire shopping, second wife, I can’t help but feel a wave of pity for the poor, toad-like bastard.” She would have been more comfortable if he just said, “I don’t really want more kids.”

She was the kind of woman who said, “What difference does it make if I’ve slept with rock stars, movie stars and sports legends? You measure up quite nicely to all those guys.” He would have been more comfortable if she just said, “Stand still while I stab you in the heart with my intrauterine device.”

He was the kind of man who said, “I’m a worn-out, emotional wreck who’s incapable of anything resembling warmth, love and intimacy, but I have a lot of money and you’ll never want for anything.” She would have been more comfortable if he just said…. No, actually, she was entirely comfortable with the way he put it.

 

Written for: https://blackcatalleyblog.wordpress.com/2017/03/29/whiteout-wednesday-9/

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Twittering Tales #23 – 28 March 2017

Posted on March 28, 2017 by Michael

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My neighbour sunbaked nude
For many years in complete privacy.
My drone flies over, hovers, then swivels
sending images to make my eyes pop.

Written for: https://katmyrman.com/2017/03/28/twittering-tales-23-28-march-2017/

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FFfAW Challenge-Week of March 28, 2017 – Mrs Louise Thrum

Posted on March 28, 2017 by Michael

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Image: Louise from The Storyteller’s Abode.

There was much expectation in the drawing room as the dinner group gathered to hear Mrs Louise Thrum sing her newest creation, her aria from her new opera, The Storytellers Abode.

Accompanied by her husband, Randolph Thrum with the assistance of her daughter the precocious Millicent Thrum there was a murmur of excitement as Louise prepared to deliver her finest composition to date.

As Louise prepared, Millicent dropped the entire score onto the floor. In the melee that followed the pages were mixed up and Randolph usually a very calm and affable chap was visibly disturbed such that he burped loudly before seating himself, his composure shaken to the core.

Louise not to be deterred launched into her performance.

Her magnificent voice was at once at odds with the sight of her bloomers around her ankles, her audience noticed and despite every good intention erupted into titters that soon exploded into full on laughter.

Louise, mortified beyond belief, stopped mid-performance, stamped her foot loudly and told them they could all sod off.

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2017/03/27/fffaw-challenge-week-of-march-28-2017/

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Wordle #148 “March 27th, 2017″ – Josh Lutalica

Posted on March 27, 2017 by Michael

week-148

 This week’s words: Cheek Heavy Insect Skin a Razor- Drive a hard bargain. Instant Greed Helpless Meander Assail Mediocre Passage Lutalica

 

Josh Lutalica was often asked the question of what is it like to be you. He was an unusual man. Tall and thin, reserved, intelligent but with a wicked sense of humour and an infectious smile.

He didn’t play the games most other men played. He didn’t go to the pub after work, he didn’t swear and curse at his bad luck, he didn’t beat his wife and kids. He was what some thought of as a nice man, not a stand out as in extrovert, but a gentle man who seemed at ease with who he was.

He accepted his lot in life. You couldn’t say he was greedy, that wasn’t his style nor was he in any way helpless and from a distance it would appear he was mediocre and meandering his way through life in fact he was doing the opposite.

Josh Lutalica had a clearly defined passage to walk through in life. In the instant he decided anything, he knew where he was going and who he was taking with him.

He had that ability to know when to skin the razor, negotiation he developed a skill at and he showed on more than one occasion the cheek to bid high knowing he may have to bargain as time went on.

I saw him once being assailed by some angry parents, their children they felt had been short changed by him where in actual fact it was the children who had tried to heavy him and he had stood his ground not afraid to take them on at their own game.

It was all over a lizard insect that Josh had found on a trek through the Himalayas and his students believed he had made the whole story up.

Josh knew his truth, knew who he was, knew his limits and was prepared to stand by the man he was.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/03/27/wordle-148-march-27th-2017%e2%80%b3/

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Sunday Strange microfiction challenge – Princess Marm

Posted on March 26, 2017 by Michael

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Image: The Princess picking lice from the Troll: Theodor Kittelsen

It’s not easy being a troll. We get a bad wrap most of the time, well all of the time if truth be told.

If you take away the ugly factor what is left?

We are despised, shunned, cast out and feared in every place we live.

It’s true you know no one loves a troll.

I am grateful to Princess Marm for giving me sanctuary here in the dungeons.

Yes its dirty, damp and lice ridden but it’s a safe place out of the rain and gaze of those who would only do me harm.

I’m not like other trolls you may have met. I’m a vegetarian. Never liked the taste of meat and I know we are feared because we have a bad habit of eating humans but not me. My mother was beside herself as I was growing as I was more than content to munch on a carrot rather than a human leg.

“You’ll never amount to anything,” she would say as I pulled another carrot. “Think of what the neighbours will be saying.”

So from when I could I was cast out and sent a wandering the hills and dales, chased from one place to the next.

Then I met Princess Marm. She was initially frightened of me, I am a sight you have to admit. But when she saw I meant her no harm she started to communicate.

We were hesitant at first, as I had had nothing but bad experiences with the humans.

As it turned out Princess Marm was a lonely girl, shut away in the castle by her overbearing father and forever in need of contact of some sort.

I found I could pour out my heart to her and to my surprise found she also liked reading. I should point out that reading was the straw that broke the camels back as far as my mother was concerned. “Trolls don’t read,” she would exclaim and take from me whatever it was I was reading at the time and cast it into the stream that ran past the rocks we lived under.

One day while we were conversing about the literary merits of the novelist Charles Dickens, she stopped in the midst of our literary conversation to say she was sure she had just seen moving in my fur.

It was then that I had to admit there were many things moving in my fur and that it was a curse of me being a troll that ‘things’ thrived in my fur.

“We can’t have any of that,” she cried and urged me to sit in front of her while she began to preen me.

I have to admit it was and is a most satisfying feeling her fingers working their way through my fur and her gasps of delight as she extracted something from me. We both agreed Dickens’ work took on a whole new meaning and dimension as she worked her way around me.

So as time has passed we meet each Sunday and I sit patiently, enjoying the attention I have to say while Princess Marm picks and prods at my good self. It usually means a sleep uninterrupted by having to scratch oneself in the middle of most luxurious dream.

 

Written for: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2017/03/26/sunday-strange-microfiction-challenge-6/

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Saturday Mix – March 25, 2017 – Bastet – Spring

Posted on March 25, 2017 by Michael

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Image: Edgewood Garden, Washington State

 

A brief story about spring.

The first thing is the increase in warmth. The sun seems stronger, the light brighter and around you there appear the first of the spring blossoms.

You realise the season is changing as the days grow longer and the temperature such that you can discard warm clothes in the middle of the day.

I watched as a willy-wag tail flew about excitedly because he and his mate had nested on the clothesline next door. The sight of babies in the nest, feeding from their parent’s mouths has always reminded me of spring as a time of rebirth and renewal.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/03/25/saturday-mix-march-25-2017-bastet/

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WRITING CHALLENGE: See It, Write It – Jane’s New Shoes

Posted on March 24, 2017 by Michael

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3neQZqFP3M

No 3: The place where the nanny is crossing the street and the little girl almost gets run over – HOW would you set that up in a written story so we jump when we read it?*

No 3: The place where the nanny is crossing the street and the little girl almost gets run over – HOW would you set that up in a written story, so we jump when we read it?*

Nanny held Jane’s hand as they walked down the street. They were on a strict mission. Jane’s mother had instructed the Nanny to take Jane to Hobson’s Shoe store for a new pair of school shoes.

Jane being the headstrong girl she was had her opinions about fashion and that included school shoes. Her mother had been adamant that the shoes be the correct type, enclosed leather, so Jane would not be excluded from practical classes as she had the previous week.

Despite Jane’s argument that the shoes required were daggy and uncomfortable, Jane also argued that none of the other girls wore them and why should she.

Her mother hated one thing more than arguing with her daughter, and that was receiving phone calls and notes from the school saying Jane was not doing this or that or was not presenting homework nor applying herself to her studies.

The social embarrassment was more than she could tolerate and so it was that Nanny had been instructed to take Jane forthwith to Hobsons and return home with the prescribed footwear.

As they walked down the street Nanny kept thinking with each step that it was only three blocks to the shoe store and then three blocks back. She thought this as Jane went on with her incessant whinging about her overbearing mother who never listened to her and who didn’t care if she became a total social outcast as a result of buying the worst shoes imaginable.

They had to cross three streets on their way, and as it was close to midday, the streets were their usual busy selves. As they approached the corner of Main and Smith, the Nanny thought it wise to take Jane’s hand as the pedestrian traffic was heavy as people milled around waiting for the traffic signals to tell them to cross.

They were on the end of a long queue of people waiting to cross. Nanny was not paying much attention to the traffic or the people around her as she had walked these streets many times before and her mind was on automatic as she approached the crossing. All the while there was the constant complaining from Jane who, like her was paying no attention to what was happening around her.

The lights changed, and the crowd moved forward and spread itself across the pedestrian crossing. By the time, they had reached the kerb the lights had changed and were flashing red to wait but Nanny wanting to get her outing over and done with stepped out onto the road just as a car driving down the street arrived at the crossing. The old man driving had obviously not seen the red light and wasn’t paying close attention to the people crossing as he approached.

Suddenly in his peripheral vision, he saw a movement and slammed his foot onto his brake pedal. The car jerked to a stop, the lady and the child stopped and looked at him in horror. In a panic, he moved forward across the road and disappeared amidst a shower of car horns and expletives. The Nanny couldn’t help but notice the vehicle was being closely followed by another old man pressing on his car horn the entire time.

The nanny stepped back and took in a breath, then another. Jane was none the wiser she noted. Her mouth was still on about shoes and how wretched her life was going to be after today.

The Nanny stood at the crossing gripping the girl’s hand, praying she would shut up long enough for the day to be over and she would rid of the precocious child.

 

Written for: https://danalatorre.com/2017/03/24/writing-challenge-see-it-write-it/

 

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March 23: Flash Fiction Challenge – Tough Audience

Posted on March 24, 2017 by Michael

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March 23, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write about an audience. It can be broad or small, and gathered for any reason. How does your character react to an audience? Is the audience itself a character. Go where the prompt leads.

 

It was a tough audience. I knew they would be. Some idiot had billed me as a playwright and writer and would probably sing them a song.

I was terrified to say the least. My play had been a moderate success on its first outing but how would it stand up to a city audience.

The audience looked at me with obvious scepticism not believing an unknown could pen such a potentially successful show.

I told them of its origins and then I sang the signature song from the show. I knew I had a winner with the song.

 

Written for: https://carrotranch.com/2017/03/24/march-23-flash-fiction-challenge-2/

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SULLY AWARD COMPETITION NOW OPEN!

Posted on March 24, 2017 by Michael

This looks fun

heylookawriterfellow's avatarHey, Look! A Writer Fellow!

Will YOU be the lucky winner?

Last week on this blog I asked you a question: “Should I start a writing contest?”

I followed up my question with a promise: “If there is enough enthusiasm for a writing contest, I will start a writing contest.”

So. Was there enough enthusiasm for a writing contest?

Sort of!

And that’s good enough for me.

Welcome to the First Annual
Sully Award for Excellence in Writerishness!
(WOO!)

The (one and only) winner will receive a bunch of valuable prizes!

A $20 gift card to Starbucks, because writers need to wake up before writing.
A $10 gift card to iTunes, because writers need to be in the right mood while writing.
A $20 Gift card to Barnes & Noble so you can read after writing.
And, best of all, a beautiful SULLY AWARD CERTIFICATE, because great writers deserve great accolades. The certificate will look something like…

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