You think you can cast it that far?
Easy peasy do it in my sleep.
Go on then.
Ouch and darn it. Can you get the hook out of my bum?
Told you so. (140 Characters)
Written for: https://kmmyrman.wordpress.com/2016/12/27/twittering-tales-10-27-december-2016/
This week’s words: Sound Terminal Rum Cull (A rich fool, easily cheated, particularly by his mistress.) Knife Gutter Fabric Discolor Gloss Jackboot Passel (a group or lot of indeterminate number) Stroke Impatience
As Gutter Snipe breathed his last in his mind flashed a lifetime of sins. It was the third stroke that did him in.
The last few days when he knew his life was in its terminal stage he had reflected on his life. He’d been a rum cull; some might say he was cuckholded but no matter how you looked at it the word fool always came to mind when you thought about Gutter. His wife was Easy Nancy, a girl with a flaming head of red hair and a temper to go with it. She hated the sound of his voice and he knew that most days his life balanced on a knife edge for fear she’s take out some revenge on him either justified or not.
The gloss had worn off their marriage when Nancy discovered the passel of children spread throughout the town all claiming to be his offspring. It was clear that Gutter had been busy and it wasn’t surprising when Nancy stopped being easy and booted him to the Gutter.
Nancy was an impatient woman, more impatient when she was irritated and she was always irritated by Gutter. To make matters worse his passel of children seemed to be growing by the year. It explained she thought why the gloss had worn off their bedroom activities. Any mention of a bit of bedroom frolicking and Gutter’s face would discolour there and then.
Nancy took to wearing jackboots and she took to delivering Gutter a well-aimed kick when the need arose.
So the final years of his life had been lived making restitution for a life of sin to Easy Nancy. The fabric of his life was in tatters. Stripped by the sound of his voice grating on the psyche of his long suffering wife.
In death Gutter’s wife became more contented Nancy than Easy Nancy, the gloss came back into her life when his life insurance came good and with one sound stroke of the knife she severed all memory of him.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/12/26/wordle-135-december-26th-2016/
Take 10 minutes. Sit, Write. Whatever comes to mind, let it flow free and just write it down. Write down ALL the thoughts words, concepts, worries, everything – that strolls through your mind in the span of 10 minutes.
Yesterday was Christmas Day in my world. Its traditionally a family day and mine was no different. I spent lunch with my sister and she always puts on a fabulous spread.
After it was a return home, get organised for the night as it was my kids who were coming to have dinner with me and each other.
It was one of the memorable Christmas night dinners we have had. My second son is an artist and during the year a t-shirt was created with one of his designs on it. So I decided that it would make a good Christmas present for my kids and their partners. So I sorted out how to buy a lot and wrapped them accordingly trying as best I could to get the sizing’s right.
One of the things we did last night was to take a photo of us in our shirts. For the girls they were a tad long and for us growing boys a not as full as we might have liked.
As a result, we took a series of photos with hilarious results. The most interesting thing for me was my son posted one of the photos to Facebook and it has received an enormous number of likes.
We had a great time there is no doubt. Lots of laughter and merriment. Each of my kids contributes to the dinner, with chicken, ham and salads and a great dessert one of my girls sweetened us up with.
The only sad part of the night was that my youngest daughter whose marriage ended this past year did not have her boys with her as they were having time with their father. We know this is the way of it for the future and it’s something we have to come to terms with.
Gifts wise they gave me a new garden chair which I managed this morning to assembly with no embarrassing bits left over or mysteriously missing from the packed.
There’s no doubt that Christmas changes as you get older. Its significance changes slightly but you are always able to reach out to the ones you love, share your day with them and express your love, no matter how silly you might make yourself look.
Merry Christmas every one.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/12/25/writing-prompt-december-25th-give-me-10-minutes/
It didn’t help a lost cause to realise we were in fact lost.
Added to the trauma of that realisation was the fog that had quickly descended and was now thickening by the minute.
She looked at me and I at her, together we shrugged at the hopelessness of the situation.
What had started out as a first date was now bordering on a disaster neither of us was prepared for.
It was all my fault. I had suggested we take a walk after our dinner down the track to the gorge. I thought I knew my way around.
But the fog came in and almost immediately she began to panic. Demanding I take her to safety I looked in vain for any landmark to help me rescue the situation. Nothing appeared in fact everything disappeared. I turned around and she was gone. Then I panicked!! Stumbled and everything went black!
Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2016/12/19/fffaw-challenge-week-of-december-20-2016/
Strangler’s Tree stood in the paddock behind our house. It was an ordinary looking tree but when the fog descended it took on an eerie countenance.
Which was fortunate for the tree as its name came from the deaths occurring beneath its twisted boughs in the 1890s.
The strangler was my Great Uncle Horace who despite the evidence against him of being discovered with his hands around the necks of Pensive Di and Suzy Vincent on two separate occasions, pleaded his innocence all the way to the gallows.
There were moves by my family to tear the tree down but the community stepped in and protested against its removal as they argued my family needed to be reminded of the grief one of our kind brought to so many others.
So the Strangler’s Tree remains and the story of my Uncle persists and like all stories over time has grown in stature to the point where my family now run tours and talks on the tree and the life of the Strangler. A book has been written, you can buy any number of souvenirs and images of Great Uncle Horace adorning coffee cups, t-towels and t-shirts.
Great Uncle Horace has turned out far more lucrative in death than he ever was in life.
Written for: https://scvincent.com/2016/12/22/thursday-photo-prompt-fog-writephoto/
Image: Tim Mossholder via UnSplash
When the comet hit, the town lit up like a Christmas tree.
The town had never looked so good. The toy store literally shone as it disintegrated into a million particles and the biggest store in town, Cooper’s What Not Emporium, sparkled like a thousand sparklers as it burnt to the ground.
We were left wondering what to do about the gigantic hole in the centre of town.
It took four days before the fires were extinguished and another four days for the town to come to grips with the fact that Christmas was going to be a different this year.
The Mayor met with the council who met with the Disaster Committee and in turn met with the sub-committee of the Disaster Committee and all concluded that a disaster had occurred.
There was untold excitement among the community as it was the first time in remembered history that any branch of the Town Council had actually made a decision.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/12/23/finish-off-fridays-4-holiday-themed/
December 22, 2016 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that steps beyond. It can be a door, a tunnel, a worm hole in space. You can create an explicit for what “beyond” is or you can simply use the word. Follow the prompt where it takes you, beyond what you think you know is there.
I never knew real love until I met you. You opened a door I thought well hidden within me.
I was faced with a love I couldn’t get over. Why me I thought? What have I done to deserve this?
Years of trauma and abuse were pushed to one side. You allowed me to love you and you loved me in return in ways I never knew I could experience.
Just be you you’d say. You’ve nothing to prove. I’m impressed already so just stay as you are.
Nothing is easy is it? But every day we try again.
Written for: https://carrotranch.com/2016/12/22/december-22-flash-fiction-challenge/
At the end of the street where Cyril Rum lived he sat at his kitchen table and surveyed the scene outside. The day was warming up, soon he’d be shutting the blinds and pulling the curtains closed to keep out the midday heat.
Cyril was an angel though you’d never guess as he looked more like a middle aged accountant, short and balding and whilst on earth had put on a few kilos as he’d grown very fond of Christmas pudding. At the present time he was on an angelic sabbatical having spent his eternity at God’s beck and call. He had been one of the original heavenly hosts and he liked nothing more than a good singing of his favourite Christmas carol: “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” Cyril had been a herald angel and he liked to remember his ‘harking’ days.
He was on nodding acquaintance with most of his neighbours and it was a great surprise to find in his letter box a Christmas card, hand drawn and written from the Carter kids three doors up.
Dear Mr Rum,
Merry Christmas and best wishes for the new year.
We like having you as a neighbour.
Esme and Brian Carter.
Cyril was moved as he didn’t try to create any lasting friendships as he knew that in time he would be moving on. But the Carter kids had attracted his attention.
Their house was run down, the yards untidy, the kids Esme and Brian often in dirty clothes and looking unkempt. Their house was the only one in the street that had no Christmas decoration. Even the grumpy Mr Weston at No 20 in an effort to get into the Christmas spirit had set up a laser light show in his front yard and the whole street was amazed not just by the lasers but by Mr Weston’s embracing of Christmas.
But Cyril was flattered that these kids who appeared to have nothing had taken the time to write him a card and leave it in his letter box.
He decided to take a walk down past their house and knock on their door and thank them for their kindness. He was greeted by Mr Carter and a more disagreeable man you’d hate to find. Cyril explained why he was there and that he wanted to thank the children for leaving him a Christmas card. Mr Carter in his gruff way told Cyril there was no Christmas to be celebrated and slammed the door in Cyril’s face.
As he walked out through the front gate he spied the kids looking out at him through the front windows. Cyril knew there were people too poor to accept any sort of charity as it meant they had to admit their poverty. Mr Carter was one of them.
Cyril decided to try something he had always wanted to try. He’d dress as Santa Claus and turn up in the Carter household and see if he could change things just a little.
Being the right shape was an advantage he thought.
So he entered the Carter household on Christmas Eve and found Mr Carter heading for bed. Mr Carter was his usual drunk, he always seemed to have money for his drink and at the sight of Santa Claus in his living room he thought he was seeing things.
His protests were silenced by Cyril who merely waved his arm as any angel can do and Mr Carter fell silent.
Then with the spread of each arm he transformed the room into a room that said MERRY CHRISTMAS…. decorations of every sort festooned the room and in the far corner appeared a tree with gifts neatly wrapped under its decorated boughs.
Mr Carter was left speechless and every attempt at protest was greeted with his tongue feeling it was glued to the roof of his mouth.
The last thing Cyril did was present Mr Carter with a gift. It too was wrapped neatly and Cyril intimated to him that he open it there and then.
Inside was the children’s card to Mr Rum. Cyril had framed it and had written a message to Mr Carter.
“This is what you children are capable of. Do not deny them their childhood. You may not have much money but you can always encourage them to celebrate Christmas and be the wonderful children they are. You are blessed with wonderful, generous and loving children.”
When Cyril left he stood outside to see what Mr Carter did. Cyril watched as he looked at the card his children had written to Mr Rum. He watched as Mr Carter hugged the card to his chest and cried tears.
In later years the Carter house still didn’t have any external Christmas decoration but inside the house it sang of Christmas.
Every year Cyril received two cards, one from Esme and Brian and one from Mr Carter.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/12/22/tale-weaver-99-a-dickensian-christmas-22-12-16/
On holiday we love a selfie. Seconds later we were engulfed. She disappeared under the foam. Emerged bedraggled, but I saved the camera.(136 characters)
Written for: https://kmmyrman.wordpress.com/2016/12/20/twittering-tales-9-20-december-2016/
This week’s words: Relent Wildness The Fourth Rule (There is an exception to every rule.) Barefaced Amphetamine Swill Tidal Sanguine Reverie Avarice (greed) Zilch Sandpaper
She was not much more than a barefaced liar. It was the amphetamines talking not her. When she was high she was all talk, gonna take on the world and relentless in her desire to embrace the wildness of the given situation.
On days when she wasn’t high her sanguine personality was attractive and she was known to produce amazing results at the sandpaper factory where she worked.
There was a wildness about her and an unpredictability that when her reverie was disturbed her mind could produce swill of the most offensive variety.
It was almost tidal in that her moods swung as if influenced by the moon and when the tide was in she was at her worst, as if her mind sought and desired and was at its most avarice. She’d steal the shirt off your back, caring zilch for your welfare and the all too common fourth wall ignored in the pursuit of her avarice appetite.
It came as a great relief when her tidal mood swings went to the low setting for then she was someone to be reasoned with and often the sanguine aspects of her nature rose to the surface.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/12/19/wordle-134-december-19th-2016/
Morpethroad 