Wordle #71 “July 27, 2015″ – Joey Dogsbody

Posted on July 27, 2015 by Michael

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This week’s words to play with: Streetwise Ganglion (a mass of nerve tissue existing outside the central nervous system, Pathology: a cyst or enlargement in connection with the sheath of a tendon, usually at the wrist. a center of intellectual or industrial force, activity, etc.) Rags Bracket Implosive Creepy Delinquent Geometric Cheap Near Charnel (a repository for dead bodies) Extend

Joey Dogsbody was not the most streetwise guy around. In fact not only was he a nobody he was a hairy nobody. If he didn’t shave he developed massive growth around his face to the point where his face disappeared behind his hedge of hairiness.

His clothing was often described as raggy, it was true Joey didn’t care much about his appearance, which only added to the overall sense that he was all intents and purposes a creepy sort of guy.

In his youth he had been quite the delinquent and had become very familiar with the local police being on a first name basis with so many. Joey had, as he aged, developed very distinctive ganglions on his forearms. Large geometric shapes that bracketed his wrists in small dome like structures each more hideous than the other and only adding to the air of creepiness that was Joey.

He wanted to be somebody in life, his experience working in the town’s charnel had taught him that death was a permanent state and he had no immediate plans to go down that path.

Near to where he lived was a cheap and nasty hotel in which Joey conducted business. He sold cheap and nasty underwear, did a roaring trade especially in his range of implosive knickers unique in that they didn’t explode as was the common thought with underwear but rather imploded giving the wearer a more than stimulating experience.

Such was the success of his imploding knickers that he attempted to extend his business to the Sunday Flea market only to see his whole venture implode seriously when the more than serious and very creepy Bracket gang muscled in on his business driving him out as they claimed the market was a family affair and if they couldn’t sell the imploding knickers no one was.

Soon after Joey started up an on-line business and made a fortune selling his imploding knickers to the four corners of the globe including down town Conservativeville Montana.

Everybody wore them, there were thrills going on in every town in every second of the day. It was true to say Joey Dogsbody had created an industrial ganglion requiring not too much intellectual input for a whole bunch of physical delight.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/07/27/wordle-71-july-27-2015%E2%80%B3/

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Scribe’s Cave Picture Prompt #76 A Night In Upper Slobobia

Posted on July 27, 2015 by Michael

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As far as accommodation went it was the most miserable of places.

The torn curtains I could stomach but the mildew on the walls and floor was hard to get past. I kept thinking of the millions of microbes working feverishly to create the spoors that now littered the walls and floor.

But in the kingdom of Upper Slobobia beggars could not be choosers. At least if I was lucky it wouldn’t rain overnight as I huddled in the only corner of the room that didn’t appear infested with the mildew. In the back of my mind I had visions of other more devious creatures licking their lips in anticipation of a good feed from my bodily bits.

I looked around noting the old TV staring hopelessly into the room. A quick look at it had made me realise it was there more as decoration than as a source of entertainment.

As I settled down for the night the howling of wolves penetrated the night leaving me with one more thing to worry about.

Written for: http://caveofscribes.starvingactivist.com/2015/07/20/scribes-cave-picture-prompt-76/

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Writing Prompt #117 NoEnd House Part 2″ – Cornflower

Posted on July 26, 2015 by Michael

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Image: Yves

This week’s task we have asked to include the word “Cornflower” into our post.

When Myra received the invitation to attend the annual village ball she was in two minds.

Flattered that she would be asked, and by Sir Thomas of all people, was beyond her wildest dreams.

Sir Thomas was the most eligible of bachelors within the district and the man every girl in the village hoped would notice them and ask for their hand in marriage.

Myra worked in the fields by day. Her father managed the south field in which he grew in alternate years corn and potatoes.

Myra was not the most attractive girl by village standards. She sported freckles, was tall and thin and was forever being caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not that she was a naughty girl it was more she had an inquisitive mind and so her mind distracted her from her task of weeding.

So at break time she might wander off into the bush behind the south field and sit and observe the bird life and if she was lucky a few native lizards that ventured in close to the fields she worked in.

She was always being called back to work and the other farm hands referred to her a Cornflower, in no complimentary way as they regarded the vivid blue flowers that grew among the corn stalks as a pest and Myra was fast becoming one holding up the work that had to be done each day.

But today her mind went to the invitation she held in her hand.

She had never met Sir Thomas; she didn’t know how he could choose her over all the far more eligible girls in the village. But the invitation definitely had her name upon it.

Her mother was of course proud and pleased her daughter had been chosen. She began planning her daughters ball gown, she drew sketches of suitable gowns and had Myra sit by her at the fire after work so she could teach her daughter some of the rules of etiquette she would need to know to attend the ball.

Days flew by and Myra was a bundle of excitement as the big night arrived.

At 6pm a knock was heard on the front door. There stood the head coachman from Sir Thomas castle. Myra was bundled into the coach amidst the excitement of the entire family who gathered to see her off.

Sir Thomas was the perfect host. He was polite and well mannered and led Myra gracefully around the dance floor.

Many had crowded into the room, festooned with the best flowers in bloom, and in the centre of the room a huge array of cornflowers, their brilliant blue hue a telling centrepiece in the room.

In a break from dancing he asked if she liked the centre flower display and that cornflowers were his favourite blooms despite the farmers constantly complaining that they were nothing more than a weed.

After a few moments observing the display he asked her to accompany him on a walk through the castle gardens.

It was on the walk that he revealed his reason for asking Myra to the ball. He had as Lord of the Manor observed her at work and had been fascinated by her demeanour as she toiled each day.

It was her interest in nature that fascinated him. He too liked to sit and watch the bird and the forest life. He showed her a painting he had made of two people sitting in the forest watching a red robin in a nearby tree.

Myra was immediately embarrassed to notice that the figures in the painting were clearly she and Sir Thomas.

She gulped and held her hand to her mouth.

She looked at Sir Thomas. Where was all this going she asked herself?

Sir Thomas took her hand; kissed her fingers asked her if she would consider him as a possible suitor.

Myra was lost for words.

Her first thought was is he setting me up.

Her embarrassment was evident and she reminded him of the many beautiful and more eligible girls in the village.

Sir Thomas looked at her. Said he knew she was called “Cornflower” and that he said was all the more reason to ask her as he was looking for a girl with spirit and imagination and in Myra he saw just that.

Sir Thomas was about her height, he was a young man schooled in the fine things in life, Myra was a field worker. It would never work.

He sensed her apprehension and said to her, ‘Don’t say no, think on my proposal and we can take it day to day.’

Myra said nothing her mind a race with thoughts and how she felt about such a thing. Suddenly the ballroom centrepiece made a lot of sense as she considered the cornflowers a pest too having spent so many of her days pulling the things out.

As she walked back to the ballroom with Sir Thomas, her hand slipped into his. It felt right, safe and he leaned over as they reached the door and whispered in her ear, “I like your hand in mine Myra, please call me Tommy.’

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/07/26/writing-prompt-117-noend-house-part-2%E2%80%B3/

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SoCS July 25/15 – Vision

Posted on July 25, 2015 by Michael

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Badge: Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

This week’s word/prompt: vis in any form/s you feel fit….

I had a vision.

It all started when I went on a trip to a friend’s birthday party.

Revelation is such a wonderful thing when it hits you. Just when you think its safe to go out POW it gets you right in the kisser.

This vision was an insight into the lives of two old folks in a nursing home.

Married for over seventy years they had spent a long time together and in their final years were sharing a small room in the nursing home.

When I visited they were watching the TV, some right wing radically politician commentator was on sprouting his bias. Why they watched him I don’t know maybe the channel was stuck on that channel I wasn’t sure.

I was told previous to going there that the woman had dementia descending upon her and that I might have to experience her decline in some unfortunate ways.

But contrary to this she appeared in good spirits. She was lucid, knew who I was, knew where she was could hold a good conversation.

She had me well and truly conned until she made mention of wanting to work in the kitchen, to chop the carrots, anything to feel useful. But the nursing home staff were not going to allow that.

Then she told me about wanting to go across the road to work in the bakery, just to help out, no pay involved.

She again said the reason was to feel useful.

What she wasn’t aware of was that the shop across the road was across a four-lane highway with no crossing within two hundred yards either side of the nursing home. That she had limited mobility never entered her head.

So my vision was of the sad decline that happens to those we love suffering from decline of mental faculties.

I left her still arguing about the merits of helping out.

As we drove off I said to my friend you have to laugh don’t you at what she says, otherwise we’d go mad understanding the destruction old age and dementia bring.

Written for: http://lindaghill.com/2015/07/24/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-2515/

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Music Prompt #1 “Saint Lawrence River” – Inner Struggle

Posted on July 24, 2015 by Michael

This week’s prompt is based on the above song by David Usher.

There comes a morning when a lie

Surfaces its ugly head

Infiltrates my mind

Everything is pretence.

Around me people I thought friends

Laugh loudly

I told you so they said

The fantasy is just that

All make believe.

My head snaps awake

The day stretches out before me

My love sleeps peacefully

Oblivious to what my mind is screaming at me

But I have been here so often

I know so well the contours

It web of twists and turns.

In my journal I record this dream

I also rewrite my mantra

The stark reality of my life.

I hate depression

Its eats me up

Spits me out

It makes me eat, it starves my soul

Puts me in dark places

Tells me I am worthless

There’s no point to life

Everybody hates me

I should go eat worms.

I hide from the world

Who’d want to know?

Who’d understand?

Why reach out when my pathetic being

Repulses everyone around me.

In the predawn light you stir

You are my life, my light

You see I have been struggling

Your arms encircle me

My head you lay upon your breast

As you patiently coax me

To recount the horrors

To swear and curse the demons within me.

After we lie together

You stroke my head,

You smile a radiating love

I feel so lucky

You are here always to hold my hand.

It’s later over coffee

When I tell you

What you mean to me

No matter how often the inner struggle occurs

You are there and I love that you are

You save me each time,

You ask no payment

Just my continued love.

Its over coffee that I tell you,

I watch as you smile

Then those magic-humbling words

I love you

I’m so happy you are here.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/07/24/music-prompt-1/

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Tale Weaver #23– Family – Across Generations – Alma

Posted on July 23, 2015 by Michael

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This week’s task is to: Weave a tale based on your observations of this photo.

When Alma came home laden with the families shopping she was surprised to find that her father had already laid grandma out on the dining room table and was in earnest conversation with Mr Darby the funeral director.

As she packed away the groceries she heard snippets of the conversation from the dining room.

Tuesday afternoon, 2pm, the Far Chapel.

Her sister’s two children ran in demanding food, drink, a new toy to play with and Alma was not accustomed to the demands of small children looked flustered and concerned.

It was hard enough she thought looking after the baby who cried and threw up half the night.

Last week the effort of getting ready for the portrait had all but taken every ounce of her energy.

Alma was tired, worn out, could feel herself getting older by the day and it was unfair she thought to have been left with the responsibility of these children.

The portrait was necessary her father had said as grandmother was not long for this world and father had decided that the new technology would be utilised and so a record kept of the generations.

Alma had scowled through the entire process and wasn’t surprised when the prints came in and there she was looking miserable.

It was an accurate depiction she thought, she was miserable, she was not her usual happy self but the weight of the three children and her non-preparedness had left her bereft of feelings.

It was true she thought that she was only a shell now. A being capable of rote functions, whose feelings now didn’t amount to anything in the face of the present highly emotional situation.

I’m dying she thought, and these children are killing me.

She stopped for a moment as the older two disappeared into the back yard, biscuits in hand and thought of tomorrow and how like today it would be.

Grandma got it easy she thought, and these children had it tough, hard because she would be their stand in mother, capable of not much beyond barely functioning.

In the room above the baby stirred, another cycle of torment stared her in the face.

Gathering up her skirts she walked to the stairs barely noticing her dead grandmother laying in state on the dining room table.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/07/23/tale-weaver-23-family-across-generations/

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Wordle #70 “July 20, 2015″ Injury

Posted on July 22, 2015 by Michael

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This week’s words: Flatten Cephalic (relating to the head) Coagulate Innards Frequency Hiss Tinnitus (a ringing or similar sensation of sound in the ears) Spear Spray Radial Leviathan (a large marine animal such as a whale, anything of immense size and power such as a ship) Dogged

The tinnitus in his head he had gotten used to. The constant ringing was what each day brought him. The accident had brought him so much discomfort that what others may have thought of as unfortunate he considered normal.

The cephalic injuries to his head had left him with a flattened section, which gave him an odd appearance. To say he had landed on his head and that had taken the full brunt of the accident was to put it mildly.

He considered himself lucky that the accident, which exposed his innards and had resulted in radical surgery to sew him back together, had been a success. The reports of his guts being sprayed all over the sidewalk and his blood coagulating in his clothes were features he wasn’t all that keen to recall.

But one thing that wasn’t destroyed was his dogged determination to recover. Despite the fact that his speech was now greatly affected and his voice not much more than a hiss, the frequency of which ranged from mood to mood and he experienced plenty.

He was left with the memory of the leviathan he recalled as the bull elephant, his tusk spearing through him as he was lifted and dashed upon the ground.

Now the nightmare revisited him each night and even though his brain was now reduced, the memory of that day remained despite every effort to cleanse himself of such thoughts.

One day at a time he would tell himself as he found himself hissing a command for more pain killers…..

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/07/20/wordle-70-july-20-2015/

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Tale Weaver # 22: Fortune Cookie – A Tall Man will Influence your Life.

Posted on July 21, 2015 by Michael

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As a treat I broke open my fortune cookie.

A tall man will influence your life.

I smiled thinking the only tall men I knew were all jerks and it was a nice thought that someone anyone might step in and influence my life.

My lunch break over I headed back to the office, the copywriting business was dull most days and I’d been at it for over ten years now. My idea of adventure was contained within the pages of the texts I read and there was far as it went.

As I stepped out of the door I suddenly found myself on the floor. A hand came down to lift me up and in a daze I heard a voice ask me if I was ok.

Once I was back on my feet and dusted off I thanked my rescuer and stepped away towards work.

In my embarrassment I didn’t even look back to see whom it was that I had bumped into let alone had picked me up. I am such a bumble foot I thought to myself.

Back at work there was a note from my boss. He was a tall man though his hair was greying and he may have once been a handsome man but time had caught up with him as had middle age and like so many his age he had spread as he’d eaten.

Mr Jones was a pompous sort of man, always was on ceremony and addressed me as Miss Manith.

‘Miss Manith,’ he said. ‘We are expanding our business and soon we will be setting up an office in Australia.’

I stood there taking all this in, never thinking he was doing more than telling me about this development.

‘I want you Miss Manith to head up this new venture.’

I stood dumfounded.

‘You want me to move to Australia?’

‘Yes. That a problem?’

‘Well Mr Jones I have a mother to consider.’

‘Take her with you.’

‘Well I’d have to ask her.’

‘Good, settled then,’ he announced and dismissed me.

‘Ah Mr Jones, how do I get to Australia and where is it exactly?’

‘You serious Miss Manith?’

‘Yes sir, geography isn’t one of my strong suits.’

‘Can you Google Miss Manith?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Good. Your fares will be paid for, we have secured accommodation in Sydney, it’s all arranged all you have to do is get your passport in order and apply for a visa to get into the country. You aren’t a convicted felon are you Miss Manith?’

‘No Sir.’

‘Good you’ll be leaving in a month.’

I walked out of his office numb. This was not the news I expected.

Mom relied on me these days and I wasn’t sure how mom would take this suggestion of a move to Australia. I suddenly realised I knew nothing about the country. Kangaroos came to mind and a story on TV late one night about the myriad of things that could bite and kill you.

Later that afternoon I asked mom about the plan to pack up and move to a foreign country. Did they even speak English?

Mom shocked me, ‘When do I leave?’ she said.

Suddenly she was into her stuff and fished out her passport, clicked on the computer and was surfing through how to move to Australia.

The month flew by, meetings were followed by more meetings, mom had our visas organised, she sold off the stuff in the house she thought of as junk and we were set to leave.

We flew into Sydney and I was exceptionally nervous.

At the airport there was to be a contact to meet and greet us, take us to our new apartment and help in the orientation into this new life.

‘G’day,’ said a voice, ‘We meet again.’

I looked at this man, tall, dark and handsome.

‘You don’t remember?’ he said. ‘I bumped into you outside the Chinese restaurant a month or so ago.’

Oh I thought, I wished I’d taken a second to look for here now stood a tall handsome man and I instantly felt he was about to influence my life.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/07/16/2622/

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Wordle #69 “July 13, 2015″ Harve

Posted on July 14, 2015 by Michael

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This week’s words: Breach Chitin (a nitrogen-containing polysaccharide, related chemically to cellulose,that forms a semitransparent horny substance and is a principal constituent of the exoskeleton, or outer covering, of insects,crustaceans, and arachnids.) Socket Hour Message Sicken Wad Binary Tiptoe Flagstones Emanation Sluggish

My Aunt May use to say Uncle Harve was a binary character. Harve was one of those blokes who was both good and bad. He was a simple man to understand, you either liked him or you despised him. Most people couldn’t stand him. They sickened at the sight of him; he gave skunks a good name.

There was something chitinous about Harve. It was a chemical thing, he exuded an aroma, which emanated from a spot on his stomach and the more Harve ate the worse the aroma was. His emanation was such that his mum kept him home from school and placed a warning on the front door to any potential visitors.

Because of his condition Harve was a sluggish man, he didn’t do much, you’d never catch him tiptoeing around but rather he clumped around demonstrating his unhappiness through each laboured step.

He took to wandering the streets at night…. he’d walk around the block then the town then out of town. He could be seen at any hour a wad of hundred dollar notes in his pocket he’d often leave one or two on the flagstones as he passed, a slight grin on his face anticipating the look of surprise on the face of the person who found it.

One night he left a message for Dolores Machin a girl he liked. She had once borrowed a socket spanner from him and her gratitude and humble persona had stayed with him.

Harve knew it was a huge breach of the protocols his mother had set him to try and befriend any of the local girls but Harve was human despite his affliction.

Dolores never showed at the appointed time. Harve expected as much, why should she want to be associated with a stinky man such as him.

That night he went home feeling his smelly self more than ever. At the corner of his street he met two people.

His mum and Dolores smiling proudly at him.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/07/13/wordle-69-july-13-2015%E2%80%B3/

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Poetry 101 Rehab: Stacked

Posted on July 14, 2015 by Michael

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This week’s prompt is STACK

The back door slams

Slumped in the chair

Looking morose

A chair is kicked

Curses are uttered

A fist crashes into the table.

We ask the problem

You swear it wasn’t your fault

The other guy came out of nowhere

Just minding your business,

But you’ve stacked the car.

It’s a mess: police, ambulance

Tow trucks, blood, pain.

We look, no evidence its you

The other guy you say

Totally creamed me

He’s the worse for wear.

It’s all stacked against you

Speed, alcohol, irresponsibility.

Mum is shocked, relieved

She stacks away the washing up

Dad sits silently pondering

How to stack the odds in your favour.

You sit thinking on the repairs to your car

In your head a demon stacks

Reasons for your behaviour.

At the door a policeman brings

The worst news.

Written for: http://andytownend.com/2015/07/13/poetry-101-rehab-stack/

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