December 1: Flash Fiction Challenge – A Gross Injustice.

december-11

December 2, 2016 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about something or someone not allowed. Maybe it’s about gender, race or other intolerance. Maybe it’s the cat who paws at the door, but not allowed inside. Maybe it’s a trail where dogs are not allowed. Go light, go dark, go where the prompt leads you.

 

I was good at sport. I played in the top teams. I was one of the first picked. But I was never made captain. No matter my success I was overlooked for lesser players.

I wasn’t the right sort of chap I was told. I came from the wrong side of the tracks. My background they said was dodgy.

I was far too working class to be considered. So lesser players were selected and I was ignored. A good team player. That was my lot.

I resigned myself to my fate. But underneath I fumed at the gross injustice.

 

Written for: https://carrotranch.com/2016/12/03/december-1-flash-fiction-challenge/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Microfiction challenge #25: The red tree

759px-old_french_fairy_tales_0008

Image: Virginia Frances Sterret

 

The Lady Frances was in a pickle. Things were not as they should be.

Her world was one of order and order was quickly going out the window.

There was one chance and she knew it was risky.

Approaching the leafless red tree was always fraught with the kind of danger you hoped always to avoid.

She knew that she’d have to engage with it and that at some stage the tree would insist she choose one fruit from its red twisted branches. But she needed answers and she needed them today.

So she set out to journey to the tree. It took her half a day during which time she created the questions she needed answers to.

Why was up looking down?

Why was right now left?

And why were the peasants more revolting than normal?

The answers she knew were always within the fruit she was urged to choose. The tree would sway with each question, shake and rattle about before the desired fruit would quiver and do its best to look enticing. She would be required to eat the fruit and let it all happen.

The Lady Frances stood before the tree and asked her questions. At first here was no response. Then the tree did sway, it did shake and rattle and then it came to a standstill. For an entire minute nothing happened.

Then the purple plum on the highest branch began to quiver and she knew what to do. Her outstretched hand reached up and the limbs of the tree bent towards her enough for her to pluck the fruit from the branch.

The plums rich dark colour stood out against her pale alabaster skin. As she sunk her teeth into the plum’s flesh the juice ran down her arm and onto her dress leaving an obvious purple stain.

Inside of Lady Frances the flesh of the plum went to work. It generated its message, it transmitted it to her brain and so overwhelming was it the good Lady Frances collapsed.

Hours later she awoke. The tree was gone; the plum was gone. All that remained was the stain on her dress.

In her mind there was a message and an urgent one at that. Realising its importance, she arose and hurried back to her village. Wrong had to be righted. Up had to stay up and down to stay down.

She found the ancient book of laws and waved her hand over it and instantaneously the book opened and the laws were altered.

She awoke the next morning to find all was right in the world. Each part of her world was where it should be and she was content.

The stain she couldn’t remove and that was good to.

Lady Frances, no longer in a pickle, hung the stained dress next to her other stained dresses and called for her dressmaker.

 

Written for: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2016/12/02/microfiction-challenge-25-the-red-tree/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , , | 17 Comments

Thursday Photo Prompt – Cracked Ice #writephoto

cracked-ice

“It looks so cold can it be real?”

“Of course it can’t be real. Its 40C here today, stinking hot and we should be in the pub with a beer and in the air con.”

“How could this creek be iced up on a day like this?”

“Doesn’t make sense does it.”

“Maybe we are dreaming.”

“Touch it see if its real.”

“You think I should?”

“Yes go on I bet its some sort of plastic coating on top of the water.”

“Ok here goes.”

“So is it cold?”

“Very.”

“Can’t be.”

“It is and my hand is frozen to it. I can’t move.”

“Stop playing with me. It’s got to be a joke.”

“I’m stuck I tell you. Help me. I’m not joking.”

“Give me your unstuck hand. Now on three I’ll pull you off.”

“Ok on three or after three?

“After three.”

“Ok.”

“One, two, three….you really are stuck I’ll have to go and get help.”

“Please don’t be long, I’m scared.”

“I won’t be long, there’s a shop across the paddock, I won’t be long.”

“Please hurry.”

“I will now let go my hand and I’ll be as quick as I can.”

“I can’t let go…you’re stuck to me now.”

“This is so silly. How can I be now, let go.”

“I can’t, we’re stuck together now.”

“Just relax your hand and let me go.”

“I’m trying. I can’t loosen my fingers. They are frozen too.”

“Well it’s a fine mess you’ve gotten me into now.”

“At least were together and we are cool and it’s such a hot day.”

“Shut up. I was going to break up with you today.”

“Guess you’re stuck with me eh?”

“Stuck is the word.”

 

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2016/12/01/thursday-photo-prompt-cracked-ice-writephoto/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , , | 12 Comments

Tale Weaver #96 – 1st December – A Place of Healing – The Lucky Rub Spa and Wellness Centre

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I was in desperate need of healing, care, love and understanding.

My heart was broken, my life was shattered, it was true I had become a shadow of my former self.

A friend recommended the Lucky Rub Spa and Wellness Centre to me. Whatever I needed he said they would provide.

So I packed my bag and booked in.

It was here I met Katy Cummins. Katy was the one who was to take me under her wing and tell me and show me the virtues of coming to the Lucky Rub. From the spas to the massage to the wellness lectures and meditation sessions Katy led me through the lot.

By day five I was beginning to feel different. All the health food, the diets, the exercise, the meditation and especially Katy’s massage technique was lifting me to new heights of awareness.

I was fast becoming wakened to aspects of myself I never knew I possessed. Katy worked on my mind as well as my body. Her dedication to her job was amazing. She lectured and demonstrated the latest in relaxation techniques, showed me ways to relax my body and my mind, led me through techniques that resulted in my total surrender to her processes.

By weeks end I was feeling a completely different person. My heart no longer felt broken, I now had resolve to face whatever the world threw at me. My soul was now intact. I saw a light in the distance and I was determined that no matter what I would continue after my release to pursue the programs she had initiated.

It was the day after this revelation that everything went askew.

The director of the centre called me in and wanted to know why I had avoided all the set programs that I had paid big money for. I stated that when I arrived Katy had taken me in hand and told me she was my personal trainer and consultant for the coming week.

He looked at me and asked if I was referring to Katy Cummins.

I said I was.

He rolled his eyes and pressed several buttons on his desk. The room was suddenly filled with large men in white coats. One carried what looked like some sort of restraining device.

Katy was out he informed them. The men in white coats scattered instantly.

“I’m sorry,” announced the director, “but Katy is from our closed ward. She didn’t perform anything sexual on you did she?”

The expression on my face said it all.

“Here,” he said handing me a small jar, “best if you pee into this and we’ll see where we go to from there.”

 

 

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/12/01/tale-weaver-96-1st-december-a-place-of-healing/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , , | 15 Comments

Twittering Tales #6 – 30 November 2016

rosc3a9_7748700626

It can’t be a chardonnay, its red.

No it’s a new grape variety, red wine chardonnay.

Taste it and see.

Well its different.

Hmm you got any more?

(140 characters)

Thanks for the link to the counter, it makes it so much easier…

Written for: https://kmmyrman.wordpress.com/2016/11/30/twittering-tales-6-30-november-2016/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | 13 Comments

The Origins of Miss Marble, Marble Juice and Galactic Dust

Last week’s Tale Weaver was a piece I wrote about Miss Marble and the aliens. At the end, I mentioned galactic dust and following some queries as to what the dust was I have written the following which may shed some light on where Miss Marble has come from, what Marble Juice is and the significance of the galactic dust. Here is the link to that post:

https://summerstommy.com/2016/11/24/tale-weaverfairy-tale-prompt-94-alien-fairy-tales-11-24-16/

witch7

The Origins of Miss Marble, Marble Juice and Galactic Dust

The Klator people had been visiting the earth for many millennia sourcing jupjup berries. They came to earth every two years as part of their orbit through the universe. In the beginning there had been several spaceships arrive. The earth had the perfect climate for the jupjup berry and they were plentiful. For the Klator the berries provided sustenance.  Their home planet was now uninhabitable and they were forced to live a nomadic life.

Their stopovers on earth were about harvesting and preserving as many berries as they could. With each visit they became aware of climatic changes on the earth.  They looked for new locations to plant seeds in the hope that by the time they returned the berries would be in fruit.

As time wore on, the places the berries would grow diminished for a variety of reasons. The climate did change, some years were poorer than others in terms of rainfall, heat and cold. As the human population spread they took over fertile lands previously planted with the jupjup berry. To the humans the jupjup berry was nothing more than an inedible pest and they destroyed as much as they could.

By the time of the middle ages, with the human population spreading and growing in numbers, the habitat of the jupjup berry diminished. Farms were expanding due to the need for more produce to feed the growing population.

This was a problem to the Klator. The issue of not being able to source the berries was looming closer and closer.

When they landed they avoided all contact with the humans. They saw the humans as a dirty, disgusting race content to live in their own squalor and offering little to the Klators.

One day, they happened upon a young woman gathering herbs in the forest near where they were harvesting jupjup berries. Curious that this young lady should be gathering herbs in that particular part of the forest they watched her.

The young lady lived in a small house in a street that was long and stretched away from the main town. She had inherited the house from her mother who had passed on her practice to her daughter. They were known in those times as witches as they dealt in all sorts of potions and medicines. Most of the townsfolk feared them especially when they had cures that actually worked. Many of these women had suffered the fate of the dunking stool. In many people’s eyes it was only a matter of time before this young lady suffered the same fate.

The Klator were curious in discovering the young lady had a keen interest in chemistry. She was keen to find out the properties of the herbs she used.

Sensing an opportunity, the Klator decided to engage with the young lady. Discovery they knew was a huge risk. There had been ugly exchanges in the past and they went out of their way to avoid any reoccurrences.

In the middle of the night they paid the young lady a visit. Startled at first, the young lady found she had not much choice but listen to the tale the Klator told. Mention of the jupjup berry enthralled her. She knew of the berry and knew most people considered it a pest and tore it out at every opportunity. The Klator asked her to look at the berry and see if there was a way the berry’s secret ingredient might be made.

The young lady looked at the berries offered to her and said she would see what she could discover. For several weeks she toiled at her task before discovering an alcohol the berries contained.  This  explained the berry’s bitter unpalatable taste.

Knowing a little about alcohol she worked to discover its chemical composition.

It wasn’t long before she discovered a sure way to produce it and in liquid form as well. She presented it to the Klator who, upon tasting it, declared it was ideal for their purposes.

They requested she make enough for the two years they would be away. With due diligence she carried out the task producing several barrels.

The Klator asked her name were told she was called Marble.

Marble didn’t think of them again as the next two years were a time of survival for her. Times were tough, there was much sickness and the plague was ravaging the country when the Kaltor returned. Seeing them at her door heightened her already high levels of anxiety. Right at that moment she didn’t need more pressure. The community was whispering witchcraft as she struggled to produce the medicine she hoped would cure the townsfolk.

The Klator had returned with the barrels from the previous visit empty. They asked her to fill them again and what was the name of the substance she made. She mumbled “Marble Juice” for the want of a better name and thought about the manufacture of the liquid for the Klator. It would take her a week to create enough to fill the barrels but in that time her own wellbeing might come under fire. The plague was not abating, the demand for her medicine was increasing. She explained all this to the Klator who were sympathetic to her cause.

They said they would give her an extra week to help her meet their needs and those of her community.

When they returned they noticed how much Marble had aged. She had not slept well, she worked long hours and the toll was showing.

With their barrels full they were grateful for what Marble did for them and so they gave her a bag of galactic dust. Their instructions were to mix a tablespoon of the dust in a pot of water and drink a half cup each day. Their message was it would give her energy.

Marble did take as they advised and found she did have more energy and could work longer. Before long Marble realised the drink she was taking each day was giving her more than energy. She noticed around her friends and family were growing older. She could not see the same deterioration occurring in herself.

Every two years the Klator returned. They brought Marble a bag of dust and collected their Marble Juice.

As time progressed Marble found people began to build houses along the road past her house. Over the years the area became known as grimace. It was what the workers did as they walked past her house, grimaced as if fearful of giving cause to attract Marble’s attention. There were rumours she was not only a witch but a very powerful one. It was just a matter of time before Grimace Street became its official name.

The only friend Marble had in the world was her faithful hound Sal. (Short for Salivate) She shared her half cup of life elixir with Sal each morning.

As the years went by Grimace Street grew around Marble. Neighbours came and went and Marble became known as Miss Marble.

The galactic dust she knew was invaluable. In the modern age with space exploration expanding and the search for extra-terrestrials ever increasing she knew that should any of the so called ‘experts’ find out what she had, there would be no stopping them in getting their hands on the invaluable dust. So the arrival of the Klator was always at night, in secret and the galactic dust always locked away.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 11 Comments

FFfAW Challenge – Week of November 29, 2016 – My Sister

photo-20161128154638337

Image: thanks to Louise at ‘The Storyteller’s Abode”.

My sister was a snob there was no two ways about it. She looked down her nose at everyone.

It was mother’s fault. As my sister’s role model, a haughtier woman, you’d never come across. My mother never said a lot, it was her look that told you everything. One withering look from her and you were cactus.

My sister inherited the same the look of distain, the appearance of superiority and the air of social aloofness.

She was courted by several men. Each had his good point and in my sister’s eyes multitudinous bad points. Lester Courteny was the ‘most’ successful. He actually went out to dinner with her. But he didn’t escort her home. She walked out during the dessert. The strawberry cheesecake wasn’t to her liking and neither was Lester.

She lived in her room, read extensively and said little to any man who approached her. I think my father had a lot to do with that.

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2016/11/28/fffaw-challenge-week-of-november-29-2016/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , , , | 33 Comments

Haibun Monday – Free for All – On Waking

spirit-of-flight-abstract-beauty-birds-colorful-fantasy-flowers-neon-peacock-feather-sky-1200x1920

Its early and outside its cold as I can see the wind bending the branches on the silky oak outside our window. I look across and you are sleeping still. Your face is at peace after the frantic nature of your journey. Last night we talked until late, so much catch up, so much laughter, so many stories, so much need to re-establish us.

This morning as I look at you and remember the girl I met all those years ago. Even in sleep I see the vibrant woman you are. I thrill at the expectation of you waking and our day beginning, the first of many. I settle beside you, watching your gentle breathing knowing how lucky I am to know you love me and allow me to love you.

I see your eye open. My heart skips a beat.

 

chilling breezes blow

soft breathing excites my soul

awaiting your kiss

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 42 Comments

Wordle #131 “November 28th, 2016” – Her Stelliferous Face

week-131

This week’s words: Grip Wave Penny Dreadful (a cheap, sensational novel of adventure, crime, or violence; dime novel.) Sedate Stelliferous (Having or abounding with stars.) Episode Plasma Slight Reference Moribund (In a dying state; near death. On the verge of extinction or termination. Not progressing or advancing; stagnant) Famous Fend

The first time I saw her I knew there was something stelliferous about her. Two things stood out, her smile and her eyes.

Both features awoke that feeling you had long thought of as gone. A childish sensation that once gripped you and now was little more than memory. As her stelliferousness rolled over you as if like a wave upon the ocean you knew there was no gain to be made in fending off the feelings that pervaded you reminding you that not everything in life was over.

She said she was a writer of Penny Dreadful’s and a famous one at that. Her fame was well known and people lined up at book stores in anticipation of her next edition in which each episode would explore the moribund character of Alexis Stagnation who would lead us through at times painful exploration of the crime she chose to confront us with.

She sat with me that Saturday afternoon, the giant green plasma ring on her finger dazzling me every time the sun glinted off it. She made slight reference to her writing being more interested in me and my fledgling career as a furniture maker. A career in which the sedate nature of my personality was imperative to the creation of the ideal chair or lounge.  I was passionate about what I did to the point where she asked if she could write a character like me into her next penny dreadful. I was flattered beyond belief and I think for one fleeting moment the stelliferous nature of my very plain face made a slight and pertinent reference to the stars that were shining in my eyes.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/11/28/wordle-131-november-128th-2016/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , , | 15 Comments

A morning with three of my grandsons.

572f8d376672a22cb1068026e8d7ffbf

Three of my grandsons are Jack aged 4, William aged 3 and Beau aged 2. Last Saturday morning I was on small boy duty as their mother went off on a Christmas shopping trip.

It was a series of adventures I have to say.

Their mother was ready to leave at 6.30am just as I arrived.

The boys slept and didn’t appear until 7.15.

William, aged 3, had forgotten his mother would be away. He went into his “I want my mum” routine which occupied him until he decided on having breakfast. Small boys are good at whinging for their mothers.

Breakfast was a circus all of its own.

Jack, aged 4, said he’d like pancakes and got out the mini pancake cooker.

I’d never seen one before. I hunted around in the pantry and found some pancake mix, you know the sort, add water and away you go. I asked myself how hard can this be?

I poured the pancake mix onto the cooker.  The first few tries resulted in pancake mix going everywhere but, hey I was learning. Then I had to figure out how to turn them over, easier said than done.

I looked at the initial small round mini pancakes cooking quietly and discovered that when I went to turn them they ceased being the beautifully rounded design they were intended to be and instead I had little piles of cooked dough.

Jack said he was hungry and could eat a thousand, oh great!

Eventually I had enough made that looked somewhat like pancakes and after he drowned them in maple syrup he took them away to eat while he watched a DVD.

Beau, aged 2, decided he wanted pancakes too. He is not as particular as his two brothers and didn’t care what shape they are supposed to be or what shape Grandad actually served them up as. So he was happy.

Then Will, aged 3, said he wanted nutra-grain. Being no nutra-grain he decided on Vegemite toast. I cut it up as I thought he’d like only to be told he wanted big squares. After making him another piece he told me he wanted triangle squares, so that was another slice of bread.

I made a mental note to tell his mother to give Will geometry lessons next week.

In the meantime, Beau, aged 2, and a little garbage guts, spies the toast and decides he wants toast too. He doesn’t care what shape it comes in so that was an easy fix.

After a while I went to see how they were going. I discover that Jack, aged 4, has only eaten a few of his pancakes and William, aged 3, had eaten all his toast and now wanted some apple. Of course Beau, aged 2, wanted some as well.

The time was approaching when the boy’s father would arrive to collect them. I am cleaning up in the kitchen when I hear Jack, aged 4, call “Grandad, Grandad.”

Jack is in the toilet, so is Beau, aged 2, who for reasons unknown, just at that moment, is watching his brother. Jack decides to get off the toilet to get a face washer to clean his bottom.

On the way, he drops some of what should be in the toilet on the bathroom mat; Beau, aged 2, steps in it and starts walking it round the bathroom mat.

So I arrive to discover one boy with a dirty bottom and one boy with a dirty foot.

I sit Beau on the sink to clean his foot with one washer, Jack is trying to clean himself VERY unsuccessfully.

I look at Jack and say you better get in the shower and get cleaned up. I send the now cleaned Beau out of the bathroom, run the shower for Jack and get him under it. Then followed by Beau I pick up the bath mat and take it outside.

I grab the hose and start cleaning the mat, then hang it on the clothes line, turn up the water pressure and wash it down some more being careful not to wet Beau who is more interested in Jack’s poo than he should be.

I leave the mat to dry on the line and I take Beau inside. I get Jack out of the shower and send him to get dressed saying his dad will be here any minute.

Jack, thankfully, does find clothes and gets ready.

The boys waiting for their father to arrive, decide to engage Grandad in a spirited wrestle having watched the teenage mutant ninja turtle movie and of course, in the push, shove and tickle of the encounter Will, aged 3, gets bumped on the nose and is soon in tears.

Just as Will is about to descend into a state of hysteria, his dad arrives. I breathe a sigh relief.

I see them off wondering how it was that at one stage of my life, I too had a tribe of small children and how did I cope? But as a good friend has since said to me, it’s why the rearing of children is left to much younger people than us.

Posted in Uncategorized, writing challenge | Tagged , , , , | 26 Comments