Writing Prompt #115 “NoEnd House Part 1″ – Sun Room

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Image: Yves

It was sheer pleasure so often

To enter this room, the one on the right

You enter through the plush doors

Turn right and enter a sunny and welcoming place.

I see you still sitting as you do

Day in, day out,

Awaiting time to call your number

To say to you ‘Its time Kate

This is your last day,

The sun will shine tomorrow

But you will enter the realms of memory.’

So often we lounged on the cane chairs

The ones you had pulled up to the window

To make the most of the light

The sun, the birds singing

The flowers that grew with enthusiasm

Under your guiding hand.

I miss you in this space

Your calm, your generosity

Your kindness to a small boy

Seeking knowledge,

Learning from your experience.

Your room is now gone,

I looked the other day

The windows are modernised

The wooden shutters permanently shut,

The lounges long moved on.

A boy sleeps in there now

He has no knowledge of the joy

That once permeated the walls

The delight I took in taking in your stories

All gone now, soaked into the well of my memory.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/07/12/writing-prompt-115-saint-lawrence-river/

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Magpie Tales – Self-Love

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He is out there

I’ll follow the tracks

They lead in one direction.

The man won my heart

Then snapped it in two

As If I didn’t matter

As if I wouldn’t notice

Him leaving on the two fifteen.

But I am determined, resilient

I am not to be ridiculed

Made the butt of so many jokes

I will pursue him

Hunt her down

Let them taste a little of my

Carefully placed self-love and devotion.

Written for: http://magpietales.blogspot.co.uk/

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SoCS July 11/15 – Ring

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Badge by Doobster @Mindfull Digressions

This week’s word is “ring”

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Hullo

Oh Michael is it?

Yes.

Joan from the Lottery Office.

Oh really?

Yes just calling to say you didn’t win anything this week.

Oh!

Yes it’s a new policy to ring random losers and offer them that little bit of personal attention as I know you like everyone else in this week’s draw was looking forward to a slice of the Hundred Million if not the whole lot.

Oh well you’ve saved me looking up the results then.

Yes I have Michael and might I say the numbers you chose were looking promising before the draw.

Well thank you, but I would think they look promising every week.

Oh exactly Michael but this week I looked at them and I thought, those could be winning numbers so I crossed my fingers for you but to no avail I am afraid.

Well I appreciate your interest and your call.

Well as I said we give random players a ring each week just to console them in their misery at not having won.

What about the winners don’t you ring them too.

Oh yes Michael but they are called by the operators trained in giving good news. I’m a consoling expert. I ring losers, like you.

Oh I see. Will you call each week?

No as I said it’s a random call. We have a lot of losers each week, so chances are you may never hear from me again.

Oh ok then. I like checking my ticket each week. Until I check it there’s a chance I may have won.

Oh yes Michael there is always that chance, which is why you play isn’t it.

Well yes, I understand that I am not supposed to win.

Well yes that is true, imagine the chaos that would occur if everyone won each week. We’d be ringing our fingers off every week.

Well we wouldn’t want that.

No and I’m so pleased you are understanding. Its losers like you that make our day worthwhile. Some losers you know just cry and blubber the whole phone call.

Must be tough some days.

Oh that’s not the half of it.

Well thank you for calling.

Oh Michael my pleasure and don’t forget to buy your tickets for next week so you could in line for another random losers call.

I’ll look forward to the ring on my phone.

Of course you will, but don’t hold your breath.

Written for: http://lindaghill.com/2015/07/10/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-1115/

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Fairy Tale Prompt July 10th 2015 a Dutch tale – The Lilies

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This week’s Fairy Tale prompt is about “awareness” and “greed”

Amanda McWood raised her eyes brows and uttered a low expletive under her breath.

Her mother rolled her eyes and found herself worrying once again about her determined daughter.

Amanda was a demanding child. It wasn’t that she was an overly indulged child but more so she knew what she wanted and was determined to live life her way.

Added to that Amanda had grown into a very beautiful child, she attracted attention wherever she went but at the same time had become known as a bit of a shrew. She was a breaker of hearts and had a reputation of telling prospective suitors where they could stick their intentions.

For the most part Amanda lived in her own little world. She would play in the forest and would often bring home an injured animal. Her room was a menagerie of birds, frogs and small furry creatures that hid in corners or Amanda’s pockets.

What worried her mother the most was Amanda’s insistence that she was never alone as she had the Lilies with her. Her mother never saw a lily anywhere near her daughter and began to worry that her daughter was a little disturbed.

Despite her headstrong attitudes to most things Amanda was on the whole a happy child.

Mother would often find her engaged in fervent conversation behind the wood shed and when she made herself known would find Amanda standing there talking to the air.

The Lilies Amanda would explain, kept her sane, balanced and had been her constant and most loved companion.

This sort of talk made her mother super concerned. Amanda was fourteen and it was time to consider the possibility of marriage for her daughter, after all the mother had four younger children, and it was a struggle to keep them all fed and clothed as her husband worked away all week and she was so often on her own.

So the reason Amanda had raised her eyebrows on this particular day was her mother’s mention of the ‘M’ word.

The village was expecting a visit from the Lord of the Manor, Count Johannes Vandersmuthenberg and the word was he was on the lookout for a wife as his previous wife had passed away. The Count was willing to offer some eligible young lady the chance to become the lady of the manor.

Horrified by the thought of being married off to ease the burden on her family Amanda fled to the forest and sat there crying her eyes out. There was no way she said to herself that she was going to succumb to marriage to a hideous old man such as the Count. He had a reputation of being a greedy pig of a man, of not treating his wife or any of his servants well.

‘It sucks doesn’t it,’ said a voice to her left.

Amanda looked around and saw Lily sitting beside her as forlorn as she herself felt.

‘What will become of me?’ asked Lily. ‘I cannot go with you to the Manor as I am confined to this forest.’

They both sat there contemplating the cruelties of the world they lived in.

‘He may not pick me anyway,’ said Amanda.

‘Of course he will, you are the most beautiful girl in the village.’

‘Looks aren’t everything,’ said Amanda, feeling her ire beginning to rise.

‘They are as far as the Count goes. He wont care about anything else but how good he will look with you on his arm.’

‘I’ll run away.’

‘No don’t what will I do then for a friend?’

‘Oh yes, I can’t take you with me can I.’

‘No. Don’t even think about it.’

For some time they sat there, Amanda’s tears had dried and the unlikely two sat together their heads in their respective hands.

‘You know,’ said Lily, ‘you could come and live with me.’

‘I could?’

‘Yes. It’s a bit tricky but nothing is impossible.’

‘How?’

‘I would have to get permission from the Head Lily but its been done before. The Head Lily is very sympathetic to maidens in distress.’

‘So I could become a Lily?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s a big call Lily. What about my mother, my brothers and sisters?’

‘Well the alternative is to maybe become a Vandersmuthenberg. Do you want to take that risk?’

‘Never. When can I change to a Lily?’

That evening Amanda’s mother worried about her non-return from the forest. It was getting cold and she knew that the freezing overnight temperatures would soon bring her daughter home. She sat up all night waiting for Amanda to come through the back door.

By morning she was getting frantic and began thinking her daughter had met some accident and was lying dead in the forest.

Search parties failed to find any trace of the lost Amanda.

Some months later the mother was hanging out the washing when she noticed a small cluster of forest animals near the gate that bordered her yard with the forest.

Curious she approached them and saw them look towards the forest as if bidding her to follow.

In a clearing in the forest she was met by a sight that left her breathless. There in the middle of a glade in a glow of light stood her daughter, Amanda looked more beautiful than ever, radiant was the word she thought of.

Amanda stood and looked at her mother, love burnt in her eyes, and as tears flowed from the mother Amanda was joined by others who floated down from the trees and stood beside her daughter.

Amanda spread her arms in acknowledgement of her mother and the others who crowded in around her.

She mouthed the word, The Lilies, to her mother, her smile radiating a love the mother had never before felt.

In her cottage at night the Mother sewed by candlelight. She worked late for a reason. As the old clock chimed one in the morning a light appeared in the room. Amanda sat opposite her mother. She only ever stayed a few minutes but in those moments Amanda emanated a soaking love on her mother. The mother reflected on how pleased she was her daughter had been such a determined child in the face of so much greed in the world.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/07/10/fairy-tale-prompt-july-10th-2015-a-dutch-tale/

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“Words to Write By” Prompt #13 – Henry Weaver

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This week’s words: eggplant waiter linger spacious stiffen misconceive mystical deracinate precipitate weaver

Henry Weaver wormed his way through the crowded café. He was meeting his old teacher, a man he had not seen in a long time but one he had always liked while at school.

He spied the tell tale profile across the café, the body was a tad more rotund than he remembered but it was him all right.

When Henry was fifteen his parents had deracinated Henry from his then school to one in the Middle East and whilst the experience had been life learning he had missed the mates and teachers of his old school.

Warm handshakes and backslaps later they sat and engaged in a conversation like it was yesterday they had parted.

The waiter took their orders for an eggplant salad and didn’t linger to ask about dessert as that could be arranged later. The café was not the most spacious they had been in and so the noise level meant they had to lean into each other to hear the conversation.

Henry related his experiences in the Middle East, the mystical times he had had with one of the servants in the house. He didn’t want his teacher to have any misconceptions about his time there rather to say everything had assisted in making him the man he was today.

He did regret he said the need his parents had to precipitate his departure when they did as his father only received twenty-fours notice of his start date on a job that was to be greater than he ever expected.

Henry stiffened when he recounted his father’s death, a car accident that took his father instantly and left him to care for his distraught mother.

They had moved back to Australia and Henry settled his mother into a nursing home as her condition worsened and he was unable to provide her with the twenty-four-seven care she needed.

The respective lunches devoured, they sipped on their tea and coffee and planned another lunch at which time Henry would regale his aging teacher with mystical tales of the Middle East.

Written for: https://therattlingbones.wordpress.com/2015/07/09/words-to-write-by-prompt-13/

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Scribe’s Cave Picture Prompt #74 – The Holiday

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Fortesque-Symthe had saved for over a year to go on holiday to the old themed hotel, The Brassington Arms.

He and Lady Clarice had sailed half way round the world to arrive at this place.

Their faces told the story. Shock and horror.

At $500 a day they were expecting only the best.

Instead they found a run down dilapidated once was beautiful hotel.

Sure the tsunami had played havoc on the tourist venues but at no time did the hotel suggest there was an issue with their establishment.

The good Fortesque-Smythe sighed at the sight of the still wet lounge, the damp looking staff and the absence of a café even did not enthuse them in any way.

To make matters worse the staff who were in attendance didn’t seem to be interested in them at all.

Fortesque-Smythe looked around at the forlorn hotel, his good wife was huffing and puffing in indignation.

They had booked two weeks.

They saw the mops, the brooms, the cleaning tools and implements.

Never having done a days work in their lives they had the best and most rewarding holiday ever.

Written for: http://caveofscribes.starvingactivist.com/2015/07/06/scribes-cave-picture-prompt-74/

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Tale Weaver #21 – Flight – The Accelerated Memory Machine

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The meaning I am using is: an extravagant or far-fetched idea or thought process: his research assistant was prone to flights of fancy.

My assistant Igor was an invaluable man to have around. He was diligent and meticulous in everything he did.

But some times he was given to flights of fancy.

Such that at times I had to threaten to cut of his bits and feed them to Boris our pet crocodile who swan in the pond below our workshop and who would at times I am sure lick his lips in anticipation of some morsel of Igor falling his way.

Igor was a great one for exploring the possibility of anything. Whatever our project Igor would ask if we could inject a little more electricity in to this bit or that, put a different brain into a body and see what might happen.

There were times when his perverseness far exceeded my own.

The town Constable had come to us to see if we could determine the cause of death of Alphonsus Patrick. Mr Patrick had been found floating dead in the river and the town were secretly pleased to see his demise as he was a cruel and miserly man and his death brought a sigh of collective relief from the community.

The Constable suspected foul play and asked us to see if we could examine the body and make any conclusions.

Mr Patrick’s bloated body was laid on our examining table. Igor walked round it, prodding it here and there. He was making sure Mr Patrick was dead, as Igor didn’t like the man either. Mr Patrick had once owned the town tower in which Igor was living and had forced Igor to leave after several generations of Igor’s had lived there.

It took us several days to examine Mr Patrick. We cut up bits and weighed them, looked under the microscope, opened his head at which Igor was disappointed to discover he did have a brain.

Igor made a suggestion of powering up the Accelerated Memory Machine, a pet project of his to animate the brain and reveal its final thoughts. Igor had tried it on a few sheep and so far had received a few baas but nothing concrete.

I explained to Igor that his machine was nothing more than a flight of fancy but Igor wouldn’t take truck with such a claim.

Later that night as I was heading to bed I heard an almighty crash coming from our laboratory.

I rushed down to find Igor standing over the dead Mr Patrick his Accelerated Memory Machine powering up, numerous coloured cables running from Mr Patrick back into his machine.

As I opened the door I saw a massive volt of electricity surge through the cables and into Mr Patrick. The body sat up.

Looked around. His arms flayed. His body shuddered as the electricity erupted through his body. His mouth opened. There came from the most blood-curdling scream I had ever heard. His eyes bulged. The veins in his forehead were pushed forward. Then he uttered ‘Mary O’Dwyer.’ He collapsed back on the table. Smoke oozed from his skin. The smell of cooked flesh permeated the air.

Igor stood and turned off his machine. He looked pleased, satisfied.

‘And?’ I demanded

‘Tell the Constable to arrest Mary O’Dwyer’ Stated Igor in a matter of fact manner.

‘We can never tell anyone of this,’ I said. ‘We can explain the scorch marks on his body as evidence of our exhausting autopsy.’

I looked at Igor realising the Accelerated Memory Machine was not a flight of fancy as I first thought.

As I said at the beginning Igor would sometimes get above his station.

That night Boris looked more satisfied than normal.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/07/09/tale-weaver-21-flight/

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Poetry Prompt Wednesday #14 – Tomorrow’s Hope

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Today’s task: take the words “Tomorrow’s (_____)”, fill in the blank, make it the title of your poem and then write the poem.

Tomorrow’s hope seems so far away

In the face of adversity, we shy away.

Do you succumb to pressures?

Do we stop living, accept our lot?

We live a short space of time

We can engage in the every day

Take it, as that’s how it is.

We can say fate intervenes

And casts a shadow so deep

There seems no light at the end.

We can imagine there is no tomorrow

That today is as good as it gets.

That pleasures are for others

The fortunate ones who take

Who never have to suffer, who don’t care.

But what if your tomorrow is all about hope

Of believing your life can change

That misery in keeping strange bedfellows

Also offers blinding hope.

That if we take it, the future is unclear

But if we don’t the present is the future

With all the pathetic angst we will rail against.

Tomorrow is hope, always hope

Never to be defeated by mediocrity

We look forward, see what we need

Step in that direction, take firmly

The hand that is extended.

 

Written for: https://therattlingbones.wordpress.com/2015/07/08/poetry-prompt-wednesday-14/

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Poetry 101 rehab: Hiatus

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Take a break

STOP!

Step away.

Your lifestyle has made you fraught.

I watch as you struggle

There’s so much to do

So many places to go

People to meet and greet.

You can only stretch yourself

In so many ways.

It is time to cease arguing.

Do you know why?

Can it be the sound of your own voice?

Is that what you want to hear?

When the rest of us

Crave silence.

This hiatus is a time to

Reinvigorate, rejuvenate, recycle

Yourself and us.

Give yourself time to reflect

What are you on about?

Where do you want to go?

Who do you want to be?

Do you want me along side you?

My hand extends to you.

I wait patiently.

Written for: http://andytownend.com/2015/07/06/poetry-101-rehab-hiatus/

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FFfAW: Week of 07-08-2015 – A Day Out

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Photo: Vanessa Rodriguez.

It’s a vineyard Joyce.

They make wine from the little grapes.

No wine Joyce, not whine you do too much of that now days.

You know Joyce, reds and whites, some with bubbles?

Joyce you aren’t making this any easier.

Sorry love, I didn’t mean to make you cry.

Yes you can have some more grapes and I wont let the bad man take them off you.

(Takes a deep breath)

Bill had decided a day out of the nursing home with Joyce would be good for both of them.

She was so far away from him; so childlike it broke his heart to see her as she was.

He remembered her joy at Christmas when she would give him a sealed envelope. It contained the destination of their next holiday, Joyce loved surprising him.

Now Bill was surprised when she knew who he was. He hated thinking they were strangers to each other.

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2015/07/07/fffaw-week-of-07-08-2015/

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