Writing Prompt #179 “Collage 30” – You Being You

Posted on September 25, 2016 by Michael

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It’s all about letting go,

Knowing there is but one

Who with a flick of their tongue

Can send you off into an ecstasy

Only a lover will provide you.

 

It’s all about giving your all

Knowing if you let it flow

The love will consume you

Take you places hidden in your heart

Not all lust but a desired yearning.

 

It’s all about the risk

Taking flight, succumbing to passion

Soaring over others in your search

For that ultimate feeling, acknowledgment

You trust your life in the warmth of his hands.

 

It’s all about that moment of knowing

He is the one who wants you

Just for you being you.

No pretenses, no wishfulness

Just you being you, perfect at all times.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/09/25/writing-prompt-179-collage-30/

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Microfiction challenge #15: Freedom

Posted on September 23, 2016 by Michael

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Image: Ilya Repin

The priest had woken her just before dawn urging her to be ready. It was the day, the day they made their escape into freedom.

For months she had languished in the basement hiding for fear of discovery and now there was a light shining in her face, a light symbolizing her desire to flee and find a better life.

Here was her chance and she was going to take it.

Once dressed and pushing as much as she could into her hand luggage she followed the priest through the early morning. The village was just awakening and no one was up to notice the woman and her priest hurrying through the streets.

The woman kept looking behind her making sure there was no one following and more importantly no one spying on their departure. She dreaded thinking what Vlad would make of it all when he discovered she had left the village, fled leaving him in no doubt she never intended returning to his abuse and control.

Her steps were in tune with her heart which pounded all through the morning until they reached the ocean. The priest signaled to her they needed to cross the causeway to the distance island before the tide cut off their pathway. From there he had organized a boat to take her far away and into safety.

They had only a short window of opportunity and already the waves were rolling over the low causeway and before long her dress was soaked and she was struggling to keep her balance as the tide washed over her. The priest urged her on, finally reaching and taking her hand, guiding her to the island where she sat exhausted and wondered if it was all worth the stress of it all. On the island was a small hut in which there were dry clothes, food and to her delight a bed to rest upon. The priest went to gather wood for a fire as she changed and calmed herself looking out every so often to the now drowned causeway hoping not to see any sights she knew would strike fear into her.

That night she and the priest prayed their prayers of gratitude and as she settled herself to sleep the night the sense she was soon to taste the freedom she longed for slowly materialized as a reality.

Written for: https://janedougherty.wordpress.com/2016/09/23/microfiction-challenge-15-freedom/

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Music Prompt #61 – Evanescence ‘My Immortal.’

Posted on September 23, 2016 by Michael

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It was all tears and fears that first day

I checked in I thought you were checking out.

Excitement slipped into trepidation

‘Where had you come from?’ I heard you ask.

‘I’ve always been here just hanging around

I’ve been your boy you my girl

Nothing has changed,’ I tried to say

‘Just physical circumstances, I’m still me.’

‘But you’re taller then I thought!’ You said

Looking up into my eyes you saw

I know you did the tell tale sign of my humanity.

What if when you got to know me

I was a monster, a fiend in disguise.

Then the wounds would be real, the pain for no gain

I’d be the one propping up a corner

As you bounced off the other three

I’d be holding steady until there was no point

And you waved as you kissed me goodbye

Through the boarding gate and into the sky.

But I don’t, didn’t ever want any of that

So I hold all of you, so close to my heart

It feels as if it might well burst

As I look at you and hear you say

‘Come here my boy, I’m your girl

Lets make this work, I hunger for you

I want so much to spend my days

Just with you, tears some day, fear some days

But always you, my constant, my rock.

Take me hand my precious boy

There’s a path I want to share with you.’

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/09/23/music-prompt-61-evanescence-my-immortal/

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Tale Weaver #86, September 22: “I wanna be a paperback writer.” – Dingle Crestworthy, Paperback writer

Posted on September 22, 2016 by Michael

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I am a paperback writer thought Dingle Crestworthy as he sat at his keyboard finishing off his latest western thriller.

Dingle was the award-winning author of the Dry Gulch series. I’m sure you have heard of them if not read many. “Shootout in Dry Gulch”, “Dry Gulch Sheriff”, “ Dry Gulch Gunslinger” the list goes on and above his desk was his array of awards honouring the contribution he had made to the development of the paperback novel.

His favourite was “Dry Gulch Princess” the story of the day the stagecoach came to town carrying the Princess Mona. She was an immediate sensation within and without the town.

She flirted with all the boys and irritated the women. Dry Gulch was awash with romantic notions and assassination thoughts.

Dingle had created reoccurring characters in his novels. Letcher Bambach was the villain, and a cad in every respect from kidnapping to tying his female victims to the rail tracks. Esther Kincaid ran the town brothel and was also the Mayor, Dry Gulch was a small town and multi tasking was required.

Pussy Panter was the town’s glamour girl and every guy had at one time or other tried to pander to Pussy but she kept her distance and hissed at their every advance.

Lester Grace was the sheriff and kept the town law-abiding except of a Friday night when the ranch boys came to town, offered Lester a few drinks, got him drunk and from then on it was anything goes until Saturday morning when Lester sobered up to discover his town had become a real wild west town with shootouts and bodies littering the main street of men and women just that fraction slow on the draw.

The Princess had run amok on this particular Friday night, breaking numerous hearts and caused Percy Fairweather and Justin Savage to fight it out over her heart.

They faced off and drew, it was a simultaneous draw and their guns roared, the two men at first smiled before crumpling to the ground, both shot through the heart.

The Princess ran first to Percy and then to Justin, tears flowed and she was distraught that her promiscuity had led to the deaths of these fine young men.

On the final page of the novel the town gathers at the town gallows and just as…….

Wait! You’ll have to go out and buy “Dry Gulch Princess” to find out the thrilling conclusion….no spoilers here thank you.

Dingle Crestworthy loved telling that tale. He loved it because it meant his sales went through the roof and that meant an extra fat royalty cheque would be coming his way and one thing Dingle loved was the feel of money.

Right now his next best seller was taking shape beneath his greedy fingers, “Dry Gulch and the Philosophy Rock”. He was sure he was onto another winner….

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/09/22/tale-weaver-86-i-wanna-be-a-paperback-writer/

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Who’d a Thought

Posted on September 21, 2016 by Michael

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Who’d a thought you would do it

Who’d a thought you could do it

After the day you had.

When shit rained down on you

Your ego taking a pounding

Stripped of immediate hope

And sounding so desolate,

I thought you were giving up.

Then as you do so often

You astounded me with words

Words only you can write

Of commitment and dedication

Paving a future path

When all seemed to be floundering.

There it was before me

And I couldn’t help but shed a tear

That you’d put aside the day that was

To help me with the predicament

Staring me in the face.

Is it any wonder I stand in awe?

 

 

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Photo Challenge #131 – A Girl Who Once Was!

Posted on September 20, 2016 by Michael

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Image: – illdispose.deviantart.com

She had it all at her feet

A world revolving round her.

That was last week

Queen of her street you might say.

Now it tumbles, crumbles around her

Disintegrating as beside her

Others feel their strength

Step forward

as she… as she…..as she….

Drowns!

I watched her fade away

Into the depths she’d sunk too.

Each moment deeper

Way out of control

Spiralling into the mire of her abyss;

Until there was nothing

But a sparse memory

Of a girl who once was.

She wasn’t as fazed as you might think,

She’d learned there was more than

One thing making her whole,

For expectation hastened her demise.

Today she takes stock

Knowing where her passion truly lies

That there is a place for her

Just not where you might expect it to be.

I stand back applauding

As from the depths she rises

Emerges renewed with enthusiasm.

There is a path forward

One that will give her soul

A sense of fulfilment.

I’m an observer standing

Watching

Cheering

Waving her on

Her wisdom astounds me

Her commitment to her belief

Is staggering to embrace.

I can only stand and marvel

Wonder at the progress, the path,

The journey she allows me to share.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/09/20/photo-challenge-131/

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Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Aunt Liz

Posted on September 20, 2016 by Michael

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Photo: Joy Pixley

The boarding house my Aunt Liz lived in was all timber with a magnificent timber staircase. As kids we loved to run up and down the stairs playing all sorts of games.

Aunt Liz would tell us there was a sick man on the third floor and to be quiet. Over the years there was always a sick person on one floor or the other. We realized it was Aunt Liz’s way of keep us quiet.

Mum called Aunt Liz a spendthrift. She reckoned her sister had loads of money but you’d never know it as everything in my Aunt’s unit was old and worn, like her.

When she died mum went to clean up her place, threw out the old and patched clothes and went looking for her sister’s stash.

Under the floor boards in the kitchen was a space in which there was a bag containing more money than I’d ever seen. A note was attached telling mum to spend it wisely.

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2016/09/19/fffaw-challenge-week-of-september-20-2016/

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Wordle #121 “September 19th, 2016” Peter, Paul and Mary

Posted on September 19, 2016 by Michael

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This week’s words: Microlith (a tiny stone tool, often of geometric shape, made from a bladelet and mounted singly or in series as the working part of a composite tool or weapon, especially during late Upper Paleolithic and Mesolithic times..) Forward Futile Nothingness Glitter Eyes Breath Feral Esurient (hungry, greedy) Sillage (noun: the degree to which a perfume’s fragrance lingers in the air when worn.) Bramble Exalt

Peter felt exalted, Paul felt an exaltation coming on and Mary couldn’t have given a rats either way. That’s how it was when they realised they were standing looking at the microlith before them. To the boys it was a major discovery to Mary is was a rock with sharp edge. In her head there was no proof it was anything other than what they could see.

Mary had become aware that the boys were both esurient to discover the one thing that would thrust them into the limelight but at times their esurience drove her crazy as they believed that every bit of rock that glittered was their ticket to fame.

It was futile she realised trying to talk sense into them. They had their eyes on the impossible goal as far as she was concerned and that meant paying her little to no attention. She was nothing but an exalted tea lady as far as she was concerned.

Her days were spent in the nothingness of the continuous search by the boys. She realised she had nothing to look forward to and that both boys were becoming more and more feral in their attitude to her and the search. Now that believed they had found the mother lode they would become more unbearable than they already were.

Mary was a chemist where the two boys were geologists and poor ones at that going on their excitement of finding a rock shaped like a potential blade. Under her breath she cursed them and their stone and decided to take matters into her own hands as they were neglecting her more and more.

She knew that the perfume she wore each day was of little consequence to them so she decided to add a little bramble juice to it and see what might happen. That small minute addition produced a sillage, which left the boys staring agape at her. All thoughts of micoliths, fame and fortune paled into insignificance as the boys with tongues hanging out began to follow Mary around.

In her mind Mary could see there was nothing futile about what was happening, their eyes had that glitter in them that said all that glitters is gold and she knew she was that gold. Their feralness took on a whole new proportion and it was all exacerbated by her breathing new life into both herself and her precious boys who found Mary their newly exalted one. As she drew the flaps on their tent closed that night her esurience for her boys was near to out of control.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/09/19/wordle-121-september-19th-2016/

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Writing Prompt September 18th: Tell me so I can tell you

Posted on September 18, 2016 by Michael

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Image: http://miriadna.com/preview/still-life

My focus goes to the crab, cooked and ready to be consumed, to be sprinkled with a little lemon juice. The lemon has been peeled and is awaiting my grasp sits upon a fruit stand with additional lemons should they be needed. A knife with checkered handle sits balancing on the edge of a table set for a luncheon repast. A food installation awaiting consumption, the tomes supported by an old water vessel sit behind the blue and white plate containing the crab give off an old world feel. In front sits an elaborate oil burner sitting above the bread rolls, selected nuts and a polished sea shell resting on an old lace lined cloth. In front a small plate contains a bunch of black grapes resting in a fruit bowl and behind them is a seeded condiment with an elaborately ornate serving spoon.  In front is a salad dressing vessel.  The entire feast set upon a table with a table cloth partially covering it awaiting your arrival.

This was far more difficult than I initially thought!!!

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/09/18/writing-prompt-september-18th-tell-me-so-i-can-tell-you/

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SoCS Sept. 17/16 – est

Posted on September 17, 2016 by Michael

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They were the best of friends. You’d see them of a morning, just as the dawn was breaking, striding down the street sometimes hand in hand, sometimes their hands would be in the throes of an animated conversation about one thing or another.

Two old grey haired people. He was her best friend but she was his bestest friend.

They were their own mutual admiration society. She’d say you are a clever old man the way you write those stories and he’d say she was the cleverest because her’s made sense.

Now that the spring had arrived and the magpie attacking season was over they stepped out with renewed confidence. They were the ablest folk you could imagine.

There was nothing ancientest about them, they were very much up with the times and to suggest otherwise was to do them a serious disservice.

Occasionally they venture out on the balmest of nights but not often as they loved their 6pm Television program, From Blandest to Bleakest.

They were blest with good health. Both had the bluest of eyes. But they were the brightest pair of Octogenarians around.

 

Written for: https://lindaghill.com/2016/09/16/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-sept-1716/

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