Writing Prompt #140 “Collage 14″ – Loveable.

Craving-for-love

She lived in a small room at the back of the Chemist

An anonymous woman

Who read a lot, cooked or rather baked

Her goods in high demand.

Saturdays she attended the market

Set up her stall

Laid out her wares

Within hours she’d sold out.

People asked her for recipes

She gladly gave what she could

As any contact was better than none.

In her small room her thoughts turned

From baking and selling

From recipes and contacts

To the one she most missed.

Gone now but never forgotten

She craved to know

Was he still out there?

Was he happy?

Content to be away

Far removed from her needy clutches.

She had yearned for his love.

Dangling it in front of him

He laughed, ignored her overtures

Rather he took, took, took,

Leaving her a shell

Battered and beaten

Her soul in tatters.

She closed her door

Shutting out memory

Wrapped herself in all she knew

To ward off the tremors

The realisation that being

Nice was achievable,

Being lovable impossible.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/01/03/writing-prompt-140-collage-14%E2%80%B3/

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SoCS Jan. 2/16 – pause/paws

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“pause/paws.” 

 

I’m not a ‘paws’ person I have to say. I do try; don’t get me wrong I recently spent a week looking after my son’s house and his little dog. A small white fluffy dog called Ted who was always so pleased to be chasing a tennis ball up and down the back yard, sleep and then do it all over again. So I think for my first foray into being a dog person I don’t think we did so bad after all we did both like each other at the end of the week….

Cats are another thing for me. I’m not so keen on them as I see them as predators around where I live decimating the native bird population who obviously taste a whole lot better than the introduced species who thrive.

‘Pause’ on the other hand makes me salivate. And I mean that in the nicest possible way. As a drama teacher I taught my students the value of a pause. It provided so much in performance foremost being it added meaning….a well placed pause was often worth a hundred words, you just can’t get enough of a good pause….

Just think too of the value of pausing a moment to consider something, like the value or otherwise of a post such as this…..pausing is what we do a lot of in life for a whole bunch of good reasons rather than jump in and make some rash decision we stop, pause, see a consequence loom in front of us and then we have time to re-think our strategy.

The humble pause has such value in our lives I think I may embrace it as a New Years resolution for as we know to pause or not to pause, that is the question or is it the answer? I’ll pause a moment and consider….

 

Written for: http://lindaghill.com/2016/01/01/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-jan-216/

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Music Friday #23: “Neighborhood” by Space – My Neighbours

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=loReEUwxemM

 

‘Don’t go in there mister

There’s witches in there.’

The old dark house set back on the hill

Nestled in our neighbourhood

Its dark walls and darkened doors

Harboured old ladies

Aging spinsters

Reclusive and alone.

One wondered what they did

In those hours after dark

When silence must have been greater

Than any waking hour.

Did they conjure potions

Perform rites around the kitchen stove?

Did they read their bibles

Discuss Leviticus

The gospels and St Paul?

They were the old ladies of my childhood

Behind closed doors they kept the world at bay

Time robbed them of a life any different

I wonder what secrets they took to their graves.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/01/01/music-friday-23-neighborhood-by-space/

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Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Week #1- 2016 – New Year’s Eve

10 Pin Bowling

The opening sentence for the January 1st Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner:   “Of all the places I thought I would end up on New Year’s Eve…” 

I had planned a quiet night, as I was way past New Year’s Eve celebrations in hot and crowded places.

My son rang and asked if I’d fill in for their game as Jacko’s wife insisted he stay in that night.

So I dragged my bowling shoes out, found the appropriate competition uniform and off I went.

The alley was crowded as it was on comp nights.

The drinks were flowing freely as it was one of the few nights in the year where drinking was permitted. Needless to say as the evening went on the bowling became more wayward.

As midnight approached several bowlers were comatose, some were slurring not only their speech but also their bowling and the place was in danger of descending into bowling chaos.

The chimes of midnight and the celebration of the New Year sent everyone over the edge. Bowlers kissed and hugged other bowlers and their balls, Champaign flowed, my son caused a major incident by belly flopping down the alleyway and was promptly ejected.

We wound our way home in silence, losers again in more ways than one.

 

Written for: https://rogershipp.wordpress.com/2015/12/29/flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-week-1-2016/

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Tale Weaver 46: Creature Feature New Year – Kermit’s New Year Resolution

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Kermit lay in his bed. Another New Year’s Eve he thought. Another year home alone.

In Muppetville there were rumours that Miss Piggy was being lured in to a promiscuous relationship with Floyd the drummer in the Muppet band. Kermit was ropeable. Not on his watch he thought. Piggy was his girl.

As the New Year approached and he anticipated his silence to be broken by the crashing thunder of fireworks he made his one and only resolution.

This New Year he would ask Piggy to marry him.

It was time he thought, the flirtatious game she played, the looks, the suggestions, the lustful advances she made to him had taken their toll and Kermit was now determined to bring matters to a head. Though he shuddered at that last thought.

So he decided that come the morning he would go to Piggy’s house and ask for her hand in marriage.

He knew Miss Piggy would be over the moon, as she had wanted Kermit for so long. Now he was practically throwing himself at her she could hardly resist.

After all Kermit was sure that he still possessed his boyish good looks, his youthful charm and now he had a world of experience to add to his charisma as well. There was an advantage he thought in being a Muppet, age did not weary you, he looked as good today as he did sixty years ago when he first appeared pretending to be a lizard.

All night he lay in his bed considering the consequences of his action. He rehearsed his proposal, saw himself as down on one leg, ring in hand offering his love a future on a lily pad. Though he did rethink that bit knowing Miss Piggy wasn’t all that keen on water unless it involved copious amounts of mud. Over the years Kermit had watched Piggy wallowing in a mud bath and had secretly tried it himself and thought it was a cool way to while away a few hours with the ooze of the mud seeping into every pore of his skin. So he ticked off mud wallowing as a similarity they would both enjoy followed by a long cleansing shower.

The thing that did bother him though was what if Piggy had desires on his body. What if they mated what would be the outcome? A green pig? A pig snouted Frog? A beast the combination of the two? Flippers, trotters, tails, colours, croaks, grunts, the images floated through his head and before long he was in the grip of a nightmare of epic proportions.

He awoke sweating profusely. His mind raced.

‘What was I thinking?’ he asked himself.

‘Would Piggy settle for a platonic relationship?’

He was kidding himself he knew. Piggy was a raunchy girl. She had desires and drives that he did not have. She’d run him into the ground.

He sat up. Looked around.

The sun was just coming up on the New Year.

Outside he heard the now annual sound of Miss Piggy coming home from New Years Eve, her voice slurring the words she always said: ‘Kermie? Kermie? Where’s my little froggy woggy?’ Then the familiar pounding on the door.

Kermit did as he did every year. Slid down under his blankets pretending he was asleep, hoping she’d go away and resolving never to think of any New Years resolutions again. ‘And to think,’ he thought lying there shivering with fear, ‘that I almost thought it was a good idea.’

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/12/31/tale-weaver-46-creature-feature-new-year/

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FFfAW-Week of 12-29-2015 – Bert

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My Grandfather Bert was a collector. He had a thing for the works of man. No matter what it was if someone had bothered to create it and construct it Bert felt obliged to not only recognise it but also honour it in the way he saw fit.

This was usually in the form of mounting whatever it was and placing it in his front yard to show his neighbours.

We called his place the home for lost things. So much of the stuff he had standing around looking important was beyond description in terms of understanding what it actually was.

But Bert never let use stand in the way of his tribute. When asked what it might be used for he’d say: ‘It’s a wigwam for a goose’s bridle.’ And that would be it, no other explanation required. Everyone would nod and go about their business wondering what craziness they’d see the next week.

 

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2015/12/29/fffaw-week-of-12-29-2015/

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Photo Challenge #93 December 29, 2015 – Miranda McFairywand

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Miranda McFairywand was always considered a plain Jane amongst the fairies at the bottom of the garden.

They were a very perspicacious lot and gave Miranda a hard time as she grew up surrounded by elegance and beauty.

She lived her teenage years confined to the lily pads on the pond where she could sit for hours with the frog twins Fredo and Jacko. Being frogs they were not the ones to poke criticism at Miranda for they themselves were not examples of oil paintings either.

Miranda was blessed though with a magic no other fairy in her part of the garden possessed. Miranda had the ability to vanish. Disappear in a flash.

It irritated her peers and drove her parents crazy as they’d be talking to her one-minute and if she thought the conversation was tiresome she’d vanish without so much as a puff of smoke.

The McFairywand family were pond fairies. That is they lived beside the pond and were responsible for the upkeep of the pond and the preservation of the wildlife. Which meant they had one hell of a job keeping the marauding French fairies who all spoke in their foreign tongue and for whom a frog was a delicacy to be sought after, well away from their pond.

It was Miranda’s job, to protect the frogs at all cost. Several times she had confronted the Frenchies as they were called as they tried time and time again to lure her away.

She had grown very attached to her two companions, they were after all her only friends and even though they communicated by a combination of croaks and ribbets the three friends had found common ground.

To her credit being about to vanish did give you an advantage over any opponent and Miranda used all her skills to ward off the Frenchies when they came around. She’d drive them crazy by coming up behind them as they were about the snare a frog and yelling into their ears, Frogo frogo. It always frightened the Frenchies who were not very keen on being startled in any way shape or form.

So on this particular day she was lounging on her favourite lily pad discussing the merits of quantum physics with Fredo and Jacko when she sensed an attack. Immediately she vanished. She watched the French fairy crawl through the fairy grass at the side of the pond and as it stood to pounce with its fairy net she let scream with her high pitched fairy voice startling the attacker in such a way that it fell into the pond. Now anyone who knows anything about ponds, frogs and fairies will know that a fairy in the pond is anyone’s lunch.

Fredo and Jacko licked their lips as they settled in once again to discuss the physical properties of French Fairies and why it was their legs were so tasty.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/12/29/photo-challege-93-december-29-2015/

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Wordle #91“December 28, 2015” – Archie

week-91

This week’s words: Rigid Turmeric Silt Entropy Tobacco Lymph (Anatomy, Physiology. a clear yellowish, slightly alkaline, coagulable fluid, containing white blood cells in a liquid resembling blood plasma,that is derived from the tissues of the body and conveyed to the bloodstream by the lymphatic vessels. Archaic. the sap of a plant. Archaic. a stream or spring of clear, pure water.) Aftertaste Pulsate Admonish Filament (a very fine thread or threadlike structure; a fiber or fibril) Skinflint (a miser) Adhesion

I remember standing rigidly at the top of the stairs looking down on the mess that lay below.

The recent floodwaters had receded leaving a silt covering over everything of a turmeric colour and in the midst of all the yellowness lay Archie’s body. Such was the fall he had taken that his lymph nodes had burst and added a different shade of yellow to the overwhelming yellowness of the scene.

The week of the flood had led to a complete and utter entropy within society. Chaos it could be said was reigning supreme and entropy was having a field day.

It all left a bad aftertaste in your mouth, there was little point in admonishing anyone as who do you blame for a flood, if its going to rain cats and dogs you’d better be prepared to mop up the results and that was what we were left to do added though by the addition of Archie’s body seeming to take on more if the turmeric colouring that we thought was good for him. Though strictly speaking the turmeric coloured silt was more adhering to his body than anything else.

It was true that Archie was a womanising skinflint and it was truer that as a result of all that most people were not going to miss him, as they knew he’d be the last person to think of pissing on you if you were on fire. Archie ran his own disco where the music pulsated most of the night much to the horror of his neighbours.

Archie had made his money in the tobacco industry and loved noting more than a long afternoon on his veranda sucking on his favourite pipe.

But now the problem of who killed Archie had to be solved. The only clue was a rigid filament of lymph fluid found adhering to the tobacco in his pipe but was it enough everyone asked to lay the blame on any one person.

At first thought the police the state of entropy had to be quietened, rumours quashed and the rumourmongers admonished.

It became known as the great turmeric and silt murder. Its outcome governed by the fear of more filaments being discovered. All tobacco users were labelled suspects……

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/12/28/wordle-91december-28-2015/

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Writing Prompt #139 “The Magician” – The Dragon Trick

the-magician

Image: Mark Stavish

 

It is serious business

Being a magician isn’t for the faint hearted.

Once more my hand goes into the hat

I feel around

Nothing.

Nothing!

The bloody rabbit’s gotten out again.

I sit down crestfallen

No matter how hard I try

No matter the hours of practice

I fail every time.

As it is the pigeons are declining in number

As I’ve either crushed or suffocated them up my sleeve.

My future looks bleak

My one aim to be good enough

Practiced enough to do the dragon trick

But no, everything spells failure…

Hmm spells maybe that’s what I should try

Couldn’t go any worse.

No, no no no…..

I want to do the dragon trick

I’ve seen it done

My teacher gave me a dragon’s egg to rehearse with

I should be able to crack the shell

Out pops the dragon.

No luck so far.

I’ve tried to look the part

The long flowing hair,

Magician robes

A headband with an eye on it

Flame torches to give authenticity

Though setting mum’s curtains on fire

A minor setback, her insurance will pay.

Now what was that incantation?

Oops I can’t say it here, magician’s etiquette.

^%^(&&^$&^$%#$@)((&^%#$

CRACK….ARRRRRRROAR…..

Oh my goodness, back boy back

Ouch that is real fire……

Mum? MUM?…..

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/12/27/writing-prompt-139-the-magician/

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SoCS Dec. 26/15 – socks

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As fate or otherwise might have it yesterday was Christmas Day in the land to the far south. My son delighted in giving me a pair of socks with the statue of David on them. They are a pale blue colour, what do I wear them with I ask myself?

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Then again they are the second pair of said pale blue socks I own as I received a pair when I stayed in a traditional Japanese resort last year and part of the costume one had to wear was a pair of pale blue socks.

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If you look closely to the gentleman to the right you will see he is wearing a said pair of pale blue socks to complement his Japanese traditional dress.

So Christmas over and the celebration of pale blue socks over my thoughts turn to children and socks…..I am sure as my kids grew up they made a conscious decision to send me round the bend by constantly putting one sock in the wash…..as I was chief folder of clothes, amongst many things, the loneliness of the single sock became apparent as the pile of them grew week after week….

Despite large scale search parties send into the depths of their rooms so often no single socks were discovered.

I have noticed kids wearing odd socks and hear them say they have another pair at home exactly the same.

It must be a trying life as a sock. If your mate disappears the chances are you’ll lose your sense of identity and become just another statistic in a world of ever increasing single sockedness.

In recent years I have become ever vigilant of my socks, a missing sock results in an immediate search before it has time to escape through the cracks in the floor.

I like socks, I like them living as a pair, the single sock sadly has no future in my sock drawer…

Written for: http://lindaghill.com/2015/12/25/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-dec-2615/

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