Tale Weaver #92: free form free flow (Nov. 3, 2016) – A Heavenly Hellish Dilemma.

Posted on November 3, 2016 by Michael

There had long been the thought that the earth and all its inhabitants were pretty much a lost cause. The Heavenly Head Office had over the millennia seriously questioned the Maker’s intention in giving the humans free will. All it did was make the humans lurch from one disaster to another, never learning from their mistakes. In a last ditch effort to salvage something from the creation of the earth the Heavenly Head Office had sent the Angel Gregory to Earth to see if anything could be saved, after all the Second in Command had tried way back and though he did have some success you couldn’t say that a history of war waged along religious grounds was any sign of significant success.

So Greg as he was known to his friends and neighbours found himself on the Earth surrounded by the worst lot of creatures he ever had to encounter.

The Angel Gregory wasn’t known in Heaven as a go getting sort of Angel preferring to hang out at the Saint Joan of Arc, French style café where the only thing served that generated any appreciation was the ham sandwich on rye.

On the other side of the coin the Downstairs Hellish Quarter celebrated the Earth as a never-ending supply of labour and lost souls. They had sent their best demon, The Demon Wayne, to earth to organise, prioritise and direct the souls as they came to usually an unhealthy demise. Wayne was good at his job. He sold Hell and all its virtues very well and Greg soon learned that if anything was to be saved he had to meet Wayne and do something about his selling technique. After all the attractions of Hell were many. It was the home of Hell’s Café and Sushi Bar known as the only place you could get decent sushi. Whatever lure you could use Wayne used for after all the beauty of being a demon and from Hell was you could tell people anything to get them where you wanted them, none of which had to be true.

Greg on the other hand had a hard time of it as Heaven demanded truth and honesty and the appeal of endless hymn singing, ill fitting halos and perpetual adoration wore a bit thin up against the attractions of Hell and Hell’s Café.

Greg and Wayne did meet to discuss their particular predicaments. They found they actually like each other.

It wasn’t long before they began to meet regularly and share stories and swap ideas. Greg made sure to bring a ham sandwich as Wayne had shown a particular liking for them and Wayne reciprocated with an order of sushi as Greg had made it clear you couldn’t get a decent sushi anywhere in heaven.

It was clear to both deities that they were on missions akin to a hiding to nothing. Both believed in their roles and both sought to do the right thing day in and day out but they both agreed it was a fruitless pursuit for who ever they took up or down turned out to be a huge disappointment to the management.

The one flaw in the creation of humanity was to not to give them free will but to tell them what greed was. The problem was it was ingrained in them that they took the concept with them no matter which direction their souls went in. So the Heavenly Head Office had to deal with a bunch of righteous souls insisting on being able to introduce their happy clappy religious hymns and the Hellish Head Quarters found the greedy lot coveted everything they saw, stole the matches to Hells fires and were on the whole the most disagreeable lot anyone ever imagined. In fact it was discussed endlessly of creating a third place in eternity to cater for the humans thought to be too terrible for Hell itself. It was a sad state of affairs all round.

Greg and Wayne pondered all this over coffee, ham sandwiches and sushi as they commiserated with each other on being the unlucky ones to have the assignments they had. Each week they had the same miserable conversation, which went on until the bells inside their divine heads went of to signal them to another job. They would reluctantly get up from their seats, wish each other well and head off to see there was anything to save or salvage from the latest soul to depart its human form.

“Same old, same old.” One would say to the other the feeling of dejection apparent.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/11/03/tale-weaver-92-free-form-free-flow-nov-3-2016/

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Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – The Bridge Tollar

Posted on November 2, 2016 by Michael

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Image thanks to Joy Pixley

It was the burden of history that weighed heavily upon the Bridge Tollar. It had seen its fair share of life and if truth be told it was just about feed up with the way history had treated it.

It was held responsible for the Barbarian hordes in the fifteenth century invading and pillaging the Castle Tollar. It lived a life of regret for it knew there would have been no pillaging and chances were the women of the castle might have stood a fighting chance against the barbarian hordes.

In the eighteenth century the duel between the white Prince Casper and his nemesis the black Prince Rupert had been fought up its good self. The bridge liked Casper and what a shame when Rupert’s shot sent him tumbling over the battlements in the icy river.

Life was such a disappointment.  Now they wanted to make it part of the Grand Prix circuit. Would the indignities ever end it sighed?

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2016/10/31/fffaw-challenge-week-of-november-1-2016/

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Haibun Monday #24 – The Bridge

Posted on October 31, 2016 by Michael

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I’ve been here a long time and I am the epitome of knowing a lot of water that has gone under me. I have been unchanged in a hundred years. A little rusty in places, a few planks replaced, but on the whole I have always been what you see.

I have seen the lovers, the desperate, the sad ones who have jumped, the morning wanderers, the evening ones hurrying home to loved ones or eager to escape the rigours of work.

I watch the seasons change, the colours of autumn, who wouldn’t love this time of the year. The rich reds and yellows and the hues in between.

I stand as the sentinel of the past, present and future. The familiar faces, the new acquaintances, the memory of good folk who not only crossed over me but stood and pondered a moment sharing their joy of the season around them. I look forward, the seasons change, the colours vary, I am content in arching this small valley.

 

bridging more than gaps

as autumn colours flourish

standing strong and tall

 

Written for: https://dversepoets.com/2016/10/31/haibun-monday-24/

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Wordle #127 “October 31st, 2016” – Derrick

Posted on October 31, 2016 by Michael

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This week’s words: Adverse Wrap Drouk (verb. To wet thoroughly. To drench.) Film Certain Seam Bedraggle (Verb. To make limp and soiled.) Debris Eschatology (Any system of doctrines concerning last, or final, matters, as death,the Judgment, the future state, etc. The branch of theology dealing with such matters.) Glance Sentry Deceive

Derrick had suffered a good and proper drouking and looked the perfect drenched mad man as he stood in the rain and waited outside Hilda’s Tavern. Despite the adverse conditions he was on schedule and knew that if he was patient his catch would come to him.

Being a part-time weekend axe murderer was no easy feat. He had studied eschatology extensively and knew the ins and outs of death, judgement and assorted doctrines dealing with deathly matters and the aftermath of the actions he took.

He took his studies seriously and liked to wrap things up on the one night. Leaving things till morning never really worked for Derrick, he liked to wrap it up, film it, post it and make sure there was no debris left to incriminate himself.

Tonight because of the drouking he was receiving he was looking decidedly bedraggled standing there in the pouring rain. His hair had washed down over his head revealing the bald patch he tried so hard to disguise but which his mum would say of him was a fruitless sign of vanity and certain to be his downfall.

Either way you looked at it Derrick’s actions had deceived his mother as he left each Saturday night saying he was going to the woods to chop wood. Which was in a way a truth as his first victim had been Billy Wood.

A glance at Derrick would have revealed a very insecure man. His day job as a sentry on the town’s battlements belied the truth that he deceived all and sundry as to his true purpose in life.

Outside Hilda’s Tavern he picked at the seam in his coat as he awaited Loose Lips Watson the woman who in the past week had glanced at Derrick and jumped to the conclusion that he must be the axe murderer because he looked dodgy, studied the weird theology of eschatology of a Wednesday night when every one else in the town was down the town square collecting the debris left over from market day.

Loose Lips had made such a fuss about Derrick insisting there was film of him outside Sadie’s ‘Feelin’ Lucky’ Salon the night Sadie was found in several pieces. Derrick fearing the worst of such an adverse rumour decided to put an end to Loose Lip’s loose lips once and for all.

A little after midnight Derrick arrived home, his firewood sack full, still looking bedraggled he glanced at his mum asleep beside the fire, took his trusty axe and oiled it down and wrapped it ready for the next weekend, just six days away.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/10/31/wordle-127-october-31st-2016/

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Writing Prompt October 30th: Judgement of Self – An Afternoon with my Girl

Posted on October 30, 2016 by Michael

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Image: Judgement Tarot card

 

My dear friend Isabella and I had been going out together for some time and we loved each other’s company. We spend most weekends together, planning, talking, tripping and just doing those things that couples in love do. We had made great plans for our future, buying a house, wedding and honeymoon to the places we always wished we could go. We were, you might say, frolicking in our own meadow.

Today we decided to take a walk down by the river running behind my place. It was a tranquil stretch of water and today was no different. There were swans gliding gracefully, ducks with their ducklings wandering along in single file, the occasional rabbit and once we glimpsed a platypus swimming close to the river’s edge. A little way along a snake slid across our path. Isabella screamed and jumped behind me. The snake stopped and raised its head towards us, nodded and went on its way. I told Isabella she was frightening the snake as it was just going about it daily business. She refused to take another step forward so seeing a small boat tied to the river’s edge I coaxed her into it and we set off across the stream. It was so peaceful and relaxing. She lay back in the rear of the boat as I paddled languidly along not a care in the world. Such was our state of relaxation I failed to hear the approaching speedboat which roared past us upsetting our boat in its wake causing me to drop the oars into the river. Before I could right myself I was up the creek without a paddle. Literally.

‘Grab it, grab it,” she roared at me.

All my floundering came to no avail as the oars and me slipped further apart. I sat there wondering what to do now as the boat began to drift with the current. Apart from the speedboat we had not seen a single soul on the river. Isabella was not very happy and saw this as a sign that all was not going to end well. To say she panicked is putting it mildly. She became frantic, saying we are going to die, where are we going, can’t you do something, have you always been this useless, I should never have agreed to coming here if the beasts don’t kill me the river will. And on it went. I’d never seen her this worked up before. “I just want to go home and finish alphabetically arranging my spice rack, labelling my drawers, the fridge needs a clean and the dryer is still on and will be emitting its alarm and the neighbours will be complaining, again, plus the man downstairs will have the shits and will be send me his horrid vapours day and night. I tried valiantly to calm her but she went on saying to me finally that I should know she is a girl with peeves and that she knew I’d accumulated a long list of them.

I looked ahead to where the boat was drifting my heart in my mouth for ahead was a series of rapids I never knew were there. Suddenly I was gripped with an unprecedented fear. Our future held untold dangers. I was at a loss as to what to do as we plunged into no man’s land.

 

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/10/30/writing-prompt-october-30th-judgement-of-self/

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SoCS Oct. 29/16 – “in/out”

Posted on October 29, 2016 by Michael

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She wanted to know before it all started if I was an in or an out. I didn’t quite understand the question but I soon learned what she was referring to.

Within hours of being in the same bed she came to some startling conclusions. I was in in some cases and out in others. She looked at my aging physique and notice my belly button was an innie. That seemed to please her but I don’t know why we don’t always have control over what is in and what is out.

That certainly went for sex. She was concerned that I was more out than in. It is an age thing I had tried to explain. It happens and there’s not much I can do about it. I said this as I slipped the all-important pill down my throat that I knew in thirty minutes would spring me into action once again.

That I understood my own situation seemed to please her and that I took steps to remedy the situation even more pleasing. Performance was a bit rusty but hey I said that can get better in time. She said she’d reserve judgement.

We did go in for deep conversation, trading stories of our inglorious pasts and then when that was all finished we went out for breakfast sat outdoors, indulged in some fine French bread and wine, yes even with breakfast.

That night she took me tenderly and led me in and out of a real life fantasy. An outstanding night-in to remember.

 

Written for: https://lindaghill.com/2016/10/28/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-2916/

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Microfiction challenge #20: Isle of the Dead

Posted on October 28, 2016 by Michael

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Image: Arnold Böcklin

The sentinels stood on the rocky outcrops watching the endless arrival of ships carrying the latest batch of the dead. Their own lives were in a state of stasis and inside they wondered where all these souls were going to fit. But they had come to realise, that for the dead, space was not an issue.

The processing centre was working overtime, the clerks already bags of bones were working frantically, the dead for reasons unknown, are not in possession of a lot of patience and the clerks were down the nubs of their already worn down fingers. Everyone had a destination whether to the upper levels or to the lower levels where they were given a shovel and told to dig.

Those deemed for the upper levels were given a napkin to keep their chins dry as the dead had an unfortunate habit of drooling. Death we were reminded wasn’t a bed of roses for anyone and to get used to whatever destination you were assigned to because it was for eternity and as Adam and Eve had since discovered it was a heck of a long time.

It was possible to move from level to level. Not every one of the lower levels was about shovelling shit. In some levels things got interesting if you call an eternity of folding paper into macramé shapes pleasant after a while. The powers that be did try to change it up from time to time but with so much complaining and unhappiness they knew their designation scheme was working because as they emblazoned on every wall you got what you deserved in the end and that karma was more than just a wish on the lips of those who had it in for you.

And so the ships rolled in everyday laden with the wide eyed and the ever willing schemers who thought they could bluff and intimidate in this world as they had in their previous one.

Those were the ones whose initiation was a shovel and pair of gum boots.

 

Written for: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2016/10/28/microfiction-challenge-20-isle-of-the-dead/

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Thursday photo prompt – Creature #writephoto

Posted on October 27, 2016 by Michael

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Legend had it that the Memory Creature lived in a cave on the edge of town and only the foolhardy went there as not everyone came back, not everyone found the memories they wanted and so often were confronted by a memory they thought had long been forgotten.

The Memory Creature had lived in this cave for so long and had accumulated so many memories it found it a terrible burden to be the keeper of what were the secrets of so many. In its brain it had found a place for the good, the bad and the ugly…..sadly for the creature the bad were nothing short of overwhelming.

But this was its purpose to be the holder of all these things but it did wonder why.

One day the Memory Creature looked out of his cave into the bright sunshine and remembered a time when its life wasn’t the responsibility it was.

It was a time when he had had a friend. The young mistress Gwen had been a frequent visitor one of the few who wasn’t terrified of him. Gwen would come and sit with him and play a game they called “Remember when.”

It was time of good and happy memory. Gwen recalling her childhood, the love of parents, the gratitude of a people who benefited from the kindness of her family, the plenteous bounty of the land and her growing infatuation with the young Master Lloyd from the nearby Manor.

Then one day she didn’t come and forever after he wondered what became of her and why the sudden disappearance. But it was a time of disease and pestilence and he suspected she has succumbed as so many did.

The beauty he saw was her memory, the store of those memories they had built up and which he now treasured.

So all these years later, his legend status now firmly established he slunk back into his cave and retreated to a time when he felt the love of another being not the gatekeeper of so many disturbing and best kept hidden memories.

 

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2016/10/27/thursday-photo-prompt-creature-writephoto/

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Tale Weaver/Fairy Tale Prompt No 91 October 27th – The Wood Nymph

Posted on October 27, 2016 by Michael

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When I first saw it, it was not more than a knot in the tree trunk. Then each week it grew and then it took shape and before I knew it there was the figure of a woman emerging from the trunk itself.

It wasn’t unusual around here to find unusual shapes in the trees. Not far away another tree had grown in such a way to give the shape of a woman and some smart Alec had painted a bra and pants on it to accentuate it all.

I didn’t tell anyone about this tree though, I wanted it for myself and I knew if I told anyone it would be defaced in no time.

Then one day the unlikely happened. I came down the path to the tree and noticed the woman siting beneath it. She was there running her fingers through the twigs and tree debris as if in memory of someone she knew lying there at the trees base.

I stopped when she saw me and in a flash she was back where she belonged. I approached and sensed her eyes watching me, hoping that I didn’t believe what I had just seen.

I walked up close and looked into her eyes, they had by now formed into the beautiful grey of the tree’s bark and I knew they were staring at me.

“Don’t touch me,” she said as I got within an inch of her face. “If you do I will be tainted.”

I stepped back. Not sure I had heard right.

With my arms outstretched I said, “I wont touch you.”

I sensed immediately a relief coming from her. So I stood back trying to think of something to say.

“Who are you?” seemed a reasonable request.

‘Jasmine,” she replied. “I’m a Wood Nymph.”

“What’s a Wood Nymph?”

“What you see. I live within the tree, we feed off each other, it’s a very mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“How?”

“In the night I go off and gather berries, fruits, the bark from other trees and eat them and when I join back onto the tree it takes from me enough to sustain itself and allows me to grow, the bigger I get the more I can provide the tree.”

“So how big might you get?”

“Well I’m pretty much fully grown now.”

“Is that all you do, eat and provide for your host tree?

“No I also perform some good deeds, counsel Wood Nymphs who get above their station, search out food sources for there are a few of us in this neck of the woods.”

“Well I’m not going to tell anyone you are here for fear some might want to damage you.”

“Oh and I can do this too.” And suddenly the Wood Nymph was not there; she had vanished into the tree. “Comes in handy when danger comes a calling.”

“But you didn’t do that when I came round?”

“No, thought you were a little different.”

In the weeks that followed the Wood Nymph and I would meet regularly and sit under the tree and discuss all manner of things. She and I got along very well. One day she said for me to touch her hand and outstretching it we touched and immediately I left a great force surge through my body…

“If I trust you, “ she said, “I can allow you to touch me and not be tainted but I will maybe taint you for now you are locked into my world.”

I looked around and I appeared to be inside the tree with her.

“What do I do now?” I asked.

“There’s nothing to be done.”

I looked at her puzzled.

“You are locked in now.”

It was then I saw the evil in her eye.

“Now to find you a nice home, you just the wooden sort of character I have been looking for.”

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/10/27/tale-weaverfairy-tale-prompt-no-91-october-27th-the-wood-nymph/

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Wordle #126 “October 24th, 2016” – Alice Hive

Posted on October 24, 2016 by Michael

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This weeks words: Keepsake Hive Filth Seduce Zone Crayon Alexithymia (Noun. Difficulty in experiencing, expressing, and describing emotional responses.) Search Bedizen (Verb. To dress or adorn in a showy, gaudy, or tasteless manner.) Wraith (An apparition. A visible spirit.) Deconstruct Convex (Adjective. Having a surface that is curved or rounded outward.)

Once again Alice Hive attended the English literature course and was once again disgusted at the tone and jokes that circulated through the lecture. Every text was littered with sex and violence. Such filth she considered was unnecessary and not what she signed up for.

Every text was deconstructed and every time the element of sexuality contained within the covers of the novels, she considered sacrosanct, was made plain for all to see.

Alice knew she suffered from alexithymia a condition that meant she was unable to express or describe her emotions. Sexuality was foreign to her; the feelings she experienced when a man attempted any seductive move on her were confusing and uncomfortable. So she rarely went out.

Her comfort zone was very narrow, she preferred an afternoon with her crayons working on her last colouring book which her therapist had told her would do her the world of good and it did for she lost herself in the patterns and colours.

She did have one vice and that was her desire to bedizen her dress with gaudy colours and clashing patterns all to gain some attention it was felt. Being of a convex shape to bedizen or not to bedizen was always a dilemma for her for she loved to wrap herself in whatever material came her way.

So though she didn’t enjoy the literature she was asked to read she did enjoy bedizening herself up at attend each lecture making sure she saved at least one of the lecturer’s handouts as a keepsake.

She became this odd woman around the campus at times wraith like in her appearance as she searched to comprehend the texts she was asked to study.

Finally Alice Hive sat the end of year exam. Bedizened to the hilt, dazzling to say the least she sought out a corner desk for there her alexithymia would not be noticed, she would be invisible, so she thought, removed from the filthy minds of her fellow students whose seductive tones so often sailed above her head.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/10/24/wordle-126-october-24th-2016/

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