Finish Off Fridays #1: Privet’s Farm 11.11.16

Posted on November 11, 2016 by Michael

privets-farm-2

Privet’s Farm, isolated from other farms sat exposed to the elements. As a result, it withstood the elements in all their fury all year round. The orchard at the farm was not as well cared for, the peach tree’s forever looking decidedly unhappy. Closer in around the house and the out buildings the state of disrepair was obvious to all who wandered by.

Mr Privet was an odd man. Short and stout, who loved to shout, called his neighbours names that can never be repeated. He made enemies without really trying and it was a good thing many concluded that he and his farm was as isolated as they were. For three months over Christmas he was snowed in, a relief to the people of the town. Once the thaw began Privet started to complain and whine. People were glad he and his farm were as isolated as they were.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/11/11/finish-off-fridays-1-privets-farm-11-11-16/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

Thursday photo prompt – Secrets #writephoto

Posted on November 10, 2016 by Michael

secret

No one knew what went on or why it did at 83 Dell Street.

It was years before the secrets came out. In a darkened room, curtains drawn, anything was possible. Monsters could roam free; terror was a way of life.

Children would huddle in corners, arms wrapped around each other the only protection they had.

What made it always worse was the randomness of it all. There was no agenda, no timetable, they were at the monster’s whim and mercy. Though mercy was a quality it didn’t know much about.

The room was scant of furniture. Dirty mattresses lay on the floor, a floor that had seen better times but when you have victims aplenty you care little about their comfort as your own needs supersede all else.

To the outsider 83 Dell Street was like any other house in the street. Respectable, looked after, lawns mown, professional people contributors to the community.

Inside was a different game. Depravity, abuse, deprivation. No one knew about the children. The walls and windows had been sound proofed. It was the house to all and sundry of a well-respected couple.

The eldest child looked around and saw her silent siblings. Each lay on their mattress. Eyes focused on what she could never tell but eyes that were in the main vacant. Footsteps alerted them. The monster and his assistant stood at the door.

It was time she thought…..

 

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2016/11/10/thursday-photo-prompt-secrets-writephoto/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , | 23 Comments

November 9: Flash Fiction Challenge – The End

Posted on November 10, 2016 by Michael

november-9

November 9, 2016 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that pivots around an unexpected ending. If it’s the end of the world as we know it, what is the renewal? You can have history repeat itself. You can include dynamics that never change despite an ending. You can show a triumphant ending. A tragic one. A silly, “That’s all folks!”

 

The clocked ticked towards the end of the day. The heat was insufferable. He counted down the final seconds and got up to leave. Grabbing his bag, he made for the lift, the carpark, his car, the trip home, freedom from drudgery.

The lift moved. Then stopped. “Oh no,” he thought. Not now. Suddenly it plunged. Down it went. Around him were the faces of terror. Was this the end?

Then it slowed, he breathed again, the woman beside him spewed, the man opposite covered his wet pants. The lift doors opened.

Where had all the sand come from?

 

Written for: https://carrotranch.com/2016/11/10/november-9-flash-fiction-challenge/

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

Tale Weaver # 93 – November 10 – Never Give Up

Posted on November 10, 2016 by Michael

95917685

It had been a most exhausting day. Nothing seemed to go right; it was one obstacle after another.

But to his credit he never gave up, not for a second. After all he was determined his actions not go unnoticed and that the hand of the beautiful maiden, Olivia, who worked in the front office, would be within his reach.

But today was not his day. From the get go things had gone unexpectedly wrong. The kettle had sprung a leak, the toast burnt to a crisp and his morning cereal tasted decidedly nasty.

He had great plans that today was going to be a day when he impressed not only Olivia but his bosses as well. But as we know sometimes luck does not shine upon us and as he stood on the train station and heard the announcement that his train had been cancelled he knew he would be more up against it than he anticipated.

He even bought a small chocolate to leave on her desk, but he knew by the time he arrived at work now he had to catch a later train it might well be morning tea time. It was a hot day as well and soggy chocolate was not going to impress anyone.

So eventually he arrived at his work place, looked around and saw everyone hard at it, his boss staring daggers at him but with a slight shrug of his shoulders in his direction he settled himself to the task at hand. He then noticed that page six of an important report was missing, he needed page six as it held the summation of the report and without it he couldn’t move forward and couldn’t meet the deadline. He searched everywhere, on his desk, the floor, the bin; it was nowhere to be seen. He had everyone in the office looking as well just as Olivia came in carrying the next lot of work assignments.

He gulped as he saw her, he lowered his head as he heard his co-workers say they were looking for something HE had lost, he dared not look in her direction in case she too was showing dissatisfaction at his perceived incompetence.

He retraced his steps and discovered the missing paper, buried under his mouse pad. Feeling relieved and stupid at the same time he doubled his efforts.

He skipped lunch to try and make up for the lost time.

By afternoon tea time he was onto the newly arrived tasks and was feeling good when he took a bathroom break going via the front office where Olivia worked. There he saw her flirting with the head cashier and his heart sunk. He stopped and asked her a question, one he regretted, after all who was he to ask her how her day was going. She replied politely obviously aware of his earlier indiscretions.

As he left the front office he heard the muffled giggles from those conversing instead of working. He felt his face redden, hoped the floor would open up and swallow him.

As the day came to an end he wondered what could possibly happen now, his chances of impressing Olivia and anyone for that matter had all gone down the gurgler.

He was quite despondent as the day ended, the prospect of the walk to the train station, the inevitable wait and the real possibility of delayed or cancelled trains didn’t do anything to life his spirits.

An email appeared on his computer: A message from Olivia: “Would you like a lift home?”

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/11/10/tale-weaver-93-november-10-never-give-up/

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

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers- Sideways World

Posted on November 9, 2016 by Michael

photo-20161108072242355

Image: Iain Kelly

No one was surprised when the world turned sideways how quickly we all adjusted. There was a feeling that it could have been worse. It could have turned upside down which everyone feared.

Now we lived with our lives slightly bent over, we walked more crab-like than ever and we sang the praises of the guy who invented magnets.

Activities took a sideways turn too. Football became a game of being able to run uphill for forty minutes and conversely downhill for the same amount of time. Though it was chaos for those in seaside resorts.

The Sunday chess games in the park benefited from magnets. Gravity did mean a change to the way we not only walked but sat. But the seated games thrived. My son Crabbit was born after the change and  loving chess adapted quickly to life as it was.  His games with Fast Markey became the stuff of legend.

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2016/11/08/fffaw-week-of-november-8-2016/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , | 20 Comments

My Wild Place

Posted on November 8, 2016 by Michael

master_tosc040

There’s a wild place in my yard

Where my fairies hang out.

It’s a place I go when the world gets too close,

To sit with ‘friends’ discussing issues at hand.

On one side is Gabrielle

Ever wanting to listen.

She reaches out into my soul

Nothing is ever a problem

Always respectful

Never a cross word.

 

On the other side is Izzabel

Always at play, mischievous

Provocative, provoking,

Poking fun daring me one way or another.

I’ve placed my fairies

On opposite sides of the wild place

As one does play against the other

but they are patient with me,

tell me when to pull my head in

should I get “too” playful.

But each knows when I am troubled

I can tell as they are quiet when I approach

They always listen

Before they share their wisdom.

I’m lucky I know to have fairies in my day…

e0ebdfb9eed9714c0a64357d791a6cda

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 13 Comments

Wordle #128 “November 7th, 2016” Barney Tusk

Posted on November 7, 2016 by Michael

week-128

This week’s words: Irreplaceable Tusk Scapula (shoulder blade) Scarlet Ingenue (The part of an artless, innocent, unworldly girl or young woman, especially as represented on the stage.) Constitute Fetish Mistress Dose Maze Vandal Necroscope (Someone who can communicate with the dead.)

Barney Tusk discovered at the age of fifteen that he was a necroscope. It was not long after his sister Scarlet passed away playing Ophelia in the local Repertory Theatre’s production of Hamlet. Conveniently it was during the scene when she was reclined in Hamlet’s lap and he was referring to ‘country matters’ that she took her final breath.

The night after Barney was awoken by the ghost of his sister sitting on the end of his bed. She was older than Barney by ten years and was not happy that her life had ended in the midst of what she thought was her finest acting moment. That the critics had described her performance as that of an ingénue, pedestrian to he point of discomfort, was never revealed to her while he lived but Barney had since discovered that ghosts read the papers in particular the Theatre reviews and Scarlet was not at all impressed by what she had read. Her view that she was irreplaceable within the cast was not born out by what she had read and constituted a real problem for her in the next world. An eternity knowing she wasn’t as good as she thought was not a memory she wanted to entertain. So she sat night after night whinging to Barney wanting him to write letters of complaint to the papers pleading for his sister’s memory to be changed from pedestrian to at least competent.

Barney told his sister to go away as he had by now attracted a mistress, the beautiful Ivory whom he expected to marry and make Ivory Tusk. It had a certain ring to it he thought.

As he aged the visits by the dead increased. Word had spread among the deceased that if you wanted a dose of the real life Barney was the guy to go to.

Where the maze of life had befuddled many, death was no maze and the opportunity to create a fetish or two they never enjoyed when alive was often too overwhelming to ignore. Barney learned a lot about the dead from their fetishes. It seemed death created its own bizarre range of sexual attractions and many a ghost found unbelievable gratification from scaring the wits out of anyone they could influence.

The proliferation of ghostly orgasm in orgies Barney witnessed was greatly disturbing and troubled him very much to the point where he began to question the purpose of death if all it did was take one to another level of moral vandalism.

Barney decided to put an end to his necroscopic abilities and one night hearing two ghosts discussing the sensuousness they experienced when one rubbed the others scapula was the last straw as his scapula was always behind him and that is where he wanted to put every ghost he encountered.

Barney Tusk was found later that night, dead at the hands of his mistress, the less than desirous Ivory, his scapula broken, his stomach poisoned from an over dose and across his chest was written ‘irreplaceable’.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/11/07/wordle-128-november-7th-2016/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , , | 18 Comments

SoCS Nov. 5/16 – Novel

Posted on November 4, 2016 by Michael

socsbadge2016-17

I admire those who can write novels and long non-fiction texts.

They are driven people who find a thread and follow it to a conclusion.

I find plenty of threads and follow them only to discover after a while they unravel and I’m off on another thread that consumes me for a thousand or so words before I realise it has nothing to do with where I started. Its then I realise I have two potential novels and by that stage I’ve become somewhat disillusioned by my efforts. So I pack them away and look for another prompt of the 200-word variety and have a go at that.

It’s not a very novel way to approach writing I know. Novel writing takes take great discipline or a desire to make millions often through a false hope that you are in fact channelling Jane Austen or Shakespeare and the words on the page are going to survive the millennia to follow. Though in reality the truth is if your novel survives the shredder you’ve done very well.

So all those out there who produce novels in the hope of fame and fortune I wish you well and admire your resolve.

 

Written for: https://lindaghill.com/2016/11/04/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-nov-516/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , | 18 Comments

Microfiction challenge #21: The choice

Posted on November 4, 2016 by Michael

sedovgs_vybornevestalmihgtg

Image: Grigory Sedov

It was a choice no man should have to make. It was a choice no woman should find herself subject too. Mother had insisted I put myself forward. The Tsar had announced that all eligible women of marrying age in the village were to present themselves to the royal court as the Tsar was seeking a bride.

My mother had not long finished reading Miss Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and saw her own daughters as falling to the same unwed fate of the Bennet girls. So I was dressed in our finest and paraded before the Tsar.

We waited for such a long time and our feet grew tired, our backs ached and around me the other women were as glum as I was. Though it became more of a ruse to put others off by appearing disinterested when in fact most of them were keen to be selected.

Selection meant an escape from the drudgery of village life, an opportunity to mix and live within the royal court to look down on those who once thought themselves above you.

The Tsar entered the room and appeared embarrassed. He was nervous and yet polite. He spoke to each of us asked us our names and what we did with ourselves. My seamstress life didn’t appear of interest to him as he moved to the girl on my left and repeated the same question. When finished he left the room and we were all dismissed.

Thankfully I wasn’t selected, as polite as he was I had heard stories of the royal court and knew it wasn’t the life for me. Poverty and serfdom seemed to work satisfactorily for me.

 

Written for: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2016/11/04/microfiction-challenge-21-the-choice/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , , | 16 Comments

Thursday photo prompt – Anomaly #writephoto

Posted on November 3, 2016 by Michael

photoprompt-nov-3rd

Each morning William Grainger received two packages.

One was the takings, profits and margins from the previous day. The other was his lunch always packed in a brown paper bag and always containing a vegemite sandwich and an apple.

William Grainger sat at the same desk he had always sat at, its weathered and faded façade was what he liked about it, a little like himself he would say.

Today he saw that his company was worth in excess of seven billion dollars and his latest venture was reaping profits beyond his imagination. He studiously made his way through the figures in front of him and did his own calculations. It was his company he figured so he wanted to retain his hands on it as long as he could.

Satisfied he had the numbers right he packed the papers back into its package and summoned his assistant Edna, an ageing woman who had worked as his assistant since he had taken over the running of the company some forty-five years ago. He had Edna understood each other and she knew when to step forward and when to not.

Dutifully she filed the package and then made the coffee, poured him a cup and one for herself. She came into his office and sat with him as they sipped and nibbled at the meagre biscuits she provided.

At midday William went to his change room, took off his suit and dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt. Then waiting at the top of the stairs for Edna the two of them went down the stairs and across the street to the soup kitchen where they spent the next two hours serving the homeless and catering to their needs. Long-time soup kitchen recipients came to know William and Edna and never guessed he was worth so much money. Instead they saw him as a familiar and happy face who served the lunches and never let any of them leave without a handout of toiletries and essentials to keep them clean and tidy.

After the soup kitchen was closed William would call the staff together and go over the requirements for the next day. He had staff to carry out the buying and organisation of the handouts, all accounts were handled by him and there was never any suggestion of scrimping on anything. It was important for him to have the kitchen function to its full capacity. He did so because he recalled a time when it could easily have been him in line each day, fate had moved to favour him and he never forgot the agony of that time when it was touch and go if his venture would work or not.

In the afternoon when he and Edna returned to his office he took his vegemite sandwich and ate it slowly. It was another reminded that he should be grateful and generous to others.

 

Written for:  https://scvincent.com/2016/11/03/thursday-photo-prompt-anomaly-writephoto/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , , | 18 Comments