Microfiction challenge #23: Dragons’ egg

Posted on November 18, 2016 by Michael

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The Dragons were held in high esteem in the town.

It wasn’t every town that could boast fire breathing dragons. Peter and Eunice Dragon were also pillars of society. They worked tirelessly on every committee and promoted the town at every opportunity.

They like every other parents believed their children to be not only the apple of their eyes but that everyone else should have a similar opinion.

The annual search for the golden egg was an occasion when the children of the town competed in a quest that was the pinnacle of prestige within the community.

The young Dragon boy, Freddie Dragon, was of an age to compete and his father keen for his son to achieve fame and fortune began a rigorous training program with his young and enthusiastic son.

A successful golden egg winner was the one whose nose was so finely attuned to the unique aroma of the golden egg that within minutes of the quest beginning they were onto the scent and away in the race.

So early morning training was undertaken, Freddie was a willing participant as he wanted nothing more than to bring home fame and fortune to his family.

The first thing his father taught him was control of his fire breathing as incinerating one’s opponents wasn’t seen as a sportsman like act once the race began. Especially since no other participant was likely to possess such a skill. Though young Frank Funnelweb had the ability to inflict a fatal bite if you antagonised him too much. The Funnelwebs were a very touchy family and the Dragons kept well clear of them.

The big day arrived and Freddie was pumped, ready to go, an early morning breakfast of roasted stoat and singed swallow and he was primed ready to go.

The towns youth gathered. Their family’s expectant their progeny would be successful.

From the start of the quest it became clear that Freddie had the upper hand. His nose in the air and he was off. He led the way, he went in directions that defied the field to follow.

Within twenty minutes there was the definite roar of a dragon from the third valley from the town.

To everyone’s delight Freddie emerged with the golden egg. He held it aloft in triumph as he paraded back to the town square.

Peter and Eunice were the proudest of parents and beamed with pride as their son displayed the spoils of the quest.

Like any quest or competition the Dragons were involved in there was the expected protest, the inquiry into how the second placed competitor suffered burns to his anatomy, how it was that so many of the participants returned with singed hair and eyebrows but such was the jubilation of the winner and his father’s booming pride (Dragons were very effervescent when they won anything) most objections were dismissed as coming from sore losers and they should get over themselves and train harder for next year.

The photo of Peter and Freddie Dragon was published in every community newspaper and later converted into a statue that to this day adorns the town square.

 

Written for: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2016/11/18/microfiction-challenge-23-dragons-egg/

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November 17: Flash Fiction Challenge

Posted on November 18, 2016 by Michael

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In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that is told around a campfire. It can be a bonfire, burning trash can, a fire pit, something flaming outdoors. It can be a prop, and you can tell the story of anything — ghosts, ancients, jokes. Who is gathered and listening?

It had been an exhausting day, a lot of trekking, we were tired and thankfully the tour leader organised dinner. We sat and ate in stupefied silence as the night settled round us. My three other trekkers wanted to sleep. Seemed a reasonable request until we heard a roar like none we’d heard before. It was just off to our left. We huddled unconsciously closer together. The next roar seemed just beyond the circle of light from the fire. No one spoke. We looked into the dark. Thoughts of rest slipped from our minds. There was a collective gulp.

 

Written for: https://carrotranch.com/2016/11/18/november-17-flash-fiction-challenge/

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Thursday Photo Prompt – Passage #writephoto

Posted on November 17, 2016 by Michael

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It was the final flight of stairs before you got to the THE PASSAGE that took so much out of you.

You had that sense of dread about you. You began to get a feel for what it must have been like for the condemned man.

But the instructions were very clear, up the stairs and down the passage to the right.

I clutched under my arm all the defenses I thought I’d need. It was just a formality I was told, as if this was anything but a formality.

Summoned to give my version of events before the Supreme Council was a bit much for a man who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. How could a Monday morning go so wrong so fast?

Reaching the top of the stairs my stomach rolled over I am sure, the nerves and jitters started, my chest tingled and my feet for some strange reason were refusing to turn right. Forcing myself I approached the reception at the end of the passage. An attractive young lady with a large name tag saying Amanda greeted me, took my name, pressed a few buttons and asked me to take a seat.

I became aware that everything in this place was vast. The stairway, the passage and now the waiting room.

None of this aided my nerves, the wait seemed interminable.

A door in the distance opened and a man appeared, called my name and beckoned me enter.

The interview took an hour. Two aged men and an equally aged woman sat and listened, asked questions, nodded and said they understood.

I was told to leave by the door to the left.

On the other side was a narrow passageway, then another door and going through it I found myself in the street. Nothing awe inspiring about the exit. I guess the entry was to intimidate those who came via the vast staircase, the passage and the waiting room. It worked on me. The Panel’s ominous final words, “We’ll be in touch.” echoed in my mind.

 

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2016/11/17/thursday-photo-prompt-passage-writephoto/

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Tale Weaver #94 November 17 Making Sense of Nonsense – The Nanny

Posted on November 17, 2016 by Michael

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It was the children’s nanny who first put me onto it.

The Nanny had a habit of looking down her nose at you whenever she spoke. Like she thought you couldn’t possibly understand the workings of children after all you’d hired a Nanny so you were obviously highly incompetent as a parent.

But she swore by it. Each night she would insist the children take a teaspoon’s worth before bed.

They slept well, they ate well, they exhibited the most perfect of manners and were on the whole the most agreeable children you could imagine.

But when she missed a day like when her mother died and she was called away to attend the funeral the children seemed lost without her and more than that misdirected in everything they did. They had no purpose, appeared listless and most times were thoroughly disagreeable.

We always welcomed Nanny back and she in turn would survey the children and taking her bottle of elixir carefully read the fine print on the back of the bottle before suggesting a change in the dosage.

Once the children were back on track everything settled down to what we knew as normalcy.

I happened to ask Nanny one evening after the children were in bed what the label on the bottle meant when it said “Take At Own Risk”?

Nanny looked at me in that way she did, recognising my obvious incompetence and now my more than obvious incompetence at understand the meaning of “Take At Own Risk”.

“If the balance is not right,” she said, “the children could end up in fright.”

Nanny had a way of speaking not only in rhyme but also in what appeared to me to be riddles.

“Children need the utmost care for fear they lose their hair. You know what we call a child with no hair Sir?”

“No what do you call a child with no hair?”

“Bald!” she stated emphatically looking intently at my own challenged pate.

Deciding that was all that needed to be said she’d leave the room with me feeling I should have known all that and I was just being silly in asking.

I asked her once if I could try the elixir but she stated it was not for me and if I did ingest some she could never take responsibility for what might happen.

But curiosity is a dangerous thing isn’t it. And I did sip some one night when she left the bottle on the kitchen bench.

The effect was immediate.

When Nanny came in to retrieve her bottle she noticed there was some missing. Then she saw me.

“The children will love their new pet,” she chortled, “make sure you stay away from any traps that are set.”

She picked me up and put me into an old bird cage. Shook her head and remarked that when I slurped I should not have burped.

 

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/11/17/tale-weaver-94-november-17-making-sense-of-nonsense/

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Photo Challenge #139 – Faith, Hope and Charity

Posted on November 15, 2016 by Michael

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Image: – Andre Govia

Mother Superior banged her cane on the desk

“Faith, Hope and Charity sit up.

What a misnomer you three turned out to be.”

Faith was a feckless girl

Hope was plain reckless

And Charity was simply thick,

At least in Mother Superior’s opinion.

“It’s a disgrace to the Lord that you girls be called

Faith, Hope and Charity

When you haven’t a brain between you.

It’s a wonder you know when to come in out of the rain.”

She admonished the girls at every opportunity

Empty vessels she called them

And sat them to one side of the room.

There they caused no trouble

Other than constantly chatting to each other

She’d whack the cane on the desk closest

Bringing them to order.

When the Bishop visited he marvelled at the girls

Dressed the same, the same gormless look,

They answered the same

When asked by the Bishop

to say an Act of Faith, Hope or Charity

“In God we trust.” They chorused.

The Bishop was beside himself with joy

Suggested to Mother Superior the girls be rewarded.

She bowed graciously, “Yes my Lord.”

But when he left she rolled her eyes

Joked with the class.

The girls sat silently, wondering what they had done

As around them everyone cheered

As Mother Superior announced a reward for all.

 

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/11/15/photo-challenge-139/

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FFfAW Challenge – Week of November 15, 2016 – A Sign of Hope

Posted on November 14, 2016 by Michael

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Image: Barb CT of the blog, Gallimaufry.

 

It was the old-timers who remembered. The times when the harbour was alive with commerce and trade. When fish as long as your arm could be caught off the jetty.

Then the great death came, the fish went away, people who went in the water became sick, it became a place to be feared.

Most moved away but a few stayed as they had nowhere else to go.

Over the years they evolved their own lifestyle.

They could fish but it was a three-hour drive to a safe place. They learned to grow their own food.

They sustained a life for themselves built around the memories of the past.

Last week was a glimmer of hope. A sea bird appeared. One old timer threw in a line and caught a fish, just a small one but a sign that life was maybe returning. It was cause for hope.

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2016/11/13/fffaw-challenge-week-of-november-15-2016/

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Wordle #129 “November 14th, 2016” – Tidewater

Posted on November 14, 2016 by Michael

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This week’s words: Mute Tidewater Wisteria Step Bibliotaph (A person who hoards books.) Guts Occur Breeze Faceless Fake Sharp Penetralia (The most private or secret things.)

The town of Tidewater was famous for many things, it housed the world’s most elastic elastic band, it was once the site chosen as the backdrop to the famous movie “ Gone With The Wisteria” and recently the world ant farm championships had been held there.

But it was infamous for other reasons one of which was it was home to a competitive collection of bibliotaphs. So competitive were they each had a tally board inside their front door for anyone to see should they be game enough to enter.

The guts of it all was a fierce desire by two of the bibliotaphs, Phillis Jackson and Ernest Face who despite his mute affliction, collected books with a passion that could only be described. He was the man you saw at the crack of dawn at the garage sales rifling through the boxes of books for any he didn’t already have, elbowing anyone out of his way. Mute Ernie as he was known was always trying to be one step ahead of Phillis who had her own equally underhanded methods.

Phillis was known to fake a heart attack or some life threatening illness diverting attention away from the sale and when every one was busy caring for her she would have her son, Ron the Rat Faced, grab as many boxes as he could and disappear with them.

Being such an innocent looking little old lady it didn’t occur to anyone that Phillis was a bigger con artist than Mute Ernie.

When Olivia Degranson’s estate was being settled it was well know that she had an extensive library. Both bibliotaphs lined up at the front gate well before dawn. They were joined by other bibliotaphs from the town each intent on adding to their own bibliotaphic collections in any way they could. But they were considered faceless wannabes by Mute Ernie and the wily Phillis. The deadly opponents elbowed them well out of the way.

With the gentle morning breeze at their backs the two waited in eager anticipation for the estate owners to open the gates and let them loose on the library collection.

When the gates opened Mute Ernie and the wily Phillis took a sharp left and plunged into the many boxes lined up on the pavement.

There was one book they both sought more than any other. The Secrets of a Downstairs Maid by Purpose Full, a Welsh author, the book being the penetralia of all things private and secret. In its day a book read by candle light late at night, a revelation to all of the perversions and secrets of the aristocracy, a book to giggle over with friends when you wanted to discuss the odd habits of the well to do, and according to the book they had many. It ran six hundred pages and was a very dog-eared text.

Mute Ernie saw it, grabbed it and held his prize high above his head. Phillis cursed him, wishing his guts would fall out and the book could be hers. Mute Ernie looked triumphant as he stood under the wisteria, grinning widely as the morning breeze washed over him.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/11/14/wordle-129-november-14th-2016/

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Writing Prompt November 13 – Abecedarian – It All Makes Sense….

Posted on November 14, 2016 by Michael

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One said to the other, “this is nonsense.”

The other said to the other, “no it’s an alphabet. Therefore, it must make sense. Alphabets are like that. Sensible. A way forward.”

“Can’t make head nor tails of it,” said one, looking puzzled.

“Just concentrate and see what pops into your mind.”

“That’s just it my mind is empty, like an infinite void.”

“I’m sure,” said the other, “there are things you can bring into play at a time like this.”

“Well let’s see…a) always there is a solution. b) be patient. c) careful what you think about as it could be a red herring.”

“Disastrous thinking I would say.”

“Egotistical to say the least.”

“Facetious is what you are doing.”

“Good you have caught on, should I stop?”

“Highlight of my day.”

“Idiot.”

“Just when I thought it was safe too.”

“Keeps you on the straight and narrow doesn’t it?”

“Laughing all the way to the intellectual bank.”

“Mind how you go though you could do yourself a damage.”

“Never I’m always careful, on the ball and quite often pithy”.

“Open minded?”

“Primarily!”

“Queer egg aren’t you.”

“Rarely do I get questioned about such things.”

“Staggered by your attitude, I think I’ll retreat and think a while.”

“Terribly sorry to put you to so much bother I really am.”

“Understanding is my middle name.”

“Varies from day to day doesn’t it.”

“Weak mind set and oh so unreliable.”

“Xylophonic blast from the past.”

“You think so?”

“Zounds yes.”

“So how did we go,” asked one to the other?

“You were right the first time.”

“How so?”

“It was all a nonsense.”

“It’s what happens when words and letters pop into my mind.”

“Cup of tea?”

“Oh would be nice.”

“One lump or two?

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/11/13/writing-prompt-november-13-abecedarian/

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Microfiction challenge #22: Utopia Ark

Posted on November 12, 2016 by Michael

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Image: Makis Warlamis.

We were assured it was safe even though it looked a little rickety. The brochure said it was the pathway to a new life. No more war, poverty, dodgy politics or disappointment.

The crack in the side was nothing more than a design fault, ‘nothing to worry about’.

We took off on our journey to Utopia, the ship creaked and groaned, shuddered and shook but rose into the air and moved in a reasonably straight line for a ship of its size.

We picnicked under the trees on the bow end, it afforded us time to cement our relationship. We were told the journey would take some time and there was nothing to see other than the landscape immediately surrounding us.

The first thing we noticed was there was no night. It was always day. We didn’t seem to get tired. Everyone we met was like us looking forward to a life where happiness and contentment was a way of life.

The air of conviviality permeated everything we did.

Time we came to understand had no meaning. No one asked us for anything. There was plenty to eat, drink and our accommodation was at best adequate.

We walked the circumference, we walked the diameter, we walked every which way and never tired of the fact that we didn’t have a care in the world.

Then there was an announcement and we all stood looking forward as the ship slowed. Ahead was a sign “Welcome to Eternity where everything lasts a long time.”.

 

Written for: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2016/11/12/microfiction-challenge-22-utopia-ark/

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SoCS Nov. 12/16 – “mem.”

Posted on November 11, 2016 by Michael

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The memo came in the form of a memorandum neatly typed telling me of the plan for the next day.

There was to be a memorial to my Uncle Fred. As it was Remembrance Day we were all asked to turn up to the memorial where a tribute would be paid to his memorable service to Queen and country…though I don’t think Uncle Fred had much allegiance to the Queen his was more to his next beer and Elsie Oates his girl.

When Uncle Fred left for the war across the sea he left Elsie a small memento of his membrum virile which she kept in her top drawer and I’m sure fondled each night.

Uncle Fred was a member of the First Rifle Brigade and fought on the Western Front. It was there he died too.

His memory of course lives on in our family, the small piece of memorabilia he left has always served to remind us that there is nothing certain in life. Last year my Cousin Harry wrote a memoir of Uncle Fred’s life. I read it and thought Harry’s memory was different to mine. There was not one mention of Uncle Fred’s membrum virile. I thought that a shame as that piece of memorabilia was what we all remembered most about him.

 

Written for: https://lindaghill.com/2016/11/11/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-nov-1216/

 

 

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