Photo Challenge #63, Holding On, June 02, 2015 – I Hold On

Posted on June 2, 2015 by Michael

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Photo Credit : Beyond Hope

Bang.

Push.

Thrust.

Your head slams against the wall

His weight over powers you

He drags you to the bedroom

Thrusts you down like a rag doll.

You stare off

Turn off

Think away

Don’t resist

He’ll stop

The pain seers through you

You are ripped beyond repair

As your brain screams

Rape.

I look at you now

So many years down the track

How is it, that you

Carrying such mental scars

Can be this woman before me?

You love, you laugh

Your compassion for others

Humbles my feeble attempts.

I love the ground you stand upon.

I know you see my faults

My scars are deep and some still raw

But you have looked past all that is physical

Dismissed all fear of disappointment.

You’ve looked into my soul

And seen the true me

Hiding, wanting to emerge

And you have coaxed me out

Taught me to trust

To love

To play

To know I am forever loved.

I hold on to who we are

And I love who you are.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/06/02/photo-challenge-63-holding-on-june-02-2015/

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Mondays Finish the Story – June 1st, 2015 – Horents the Spider

Posted on June 1, 2015 by Michael

2015-06-01-bw-beacham

Finish the story begins with:  “What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

In the fairy world Horents the spider spun webs of allure and deceit.

Along each strand were delights of every imaginable kind. The sweet, the sour, the bland and the simple ghastly.

He catered for every taste and liked to sun himself and throw at each passer-by the temptation to “Come into my parlour.”

Horents was a chubby spider, he ate well, and he enjoyed eating, as there was always someone gullible enough to take that one fatal step.

When he pounced, gone was his gentle persuasive self, for in the blink of an eye he injected his venom.

As Horents devoured his prey he would look out at the world going by and smile to himself having no doubt that one of those who flittered past would one day come that little bit closer.

 

Written for: https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/06/01/mondays-finish-the-story-june-1st-2015/

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Wordle #63 “June 1, 2015″ – Crucifixion.

Posted on June 1, 2015 by Michael

week-63

This week’s words: Terse Reel Rancor (bitter, rankling resentment or ill will; hatred; malice) Surge Crucifix Testimony Croon Effervesce (to issue forth in bubbles) Cromulent (fine, acceptable) Grotesque Viscous (of a glutinous nature or consistency; sticky; thick; adhesive) Hexagonal

It was the grotesque nature of his death that most appalled me.

Before in some anti Christian act they had crucified him and left him to die. I knew in the end he would have suffocated, as that’s what happens to crucified victims.

The rancour among us at this despicable act was obvious as we gathered around the murder scene and surveyed the mutilation.

There was talk of a vigilante in our midst. There was a surge of voices wanting to bear testimony to the fact that this death could not go unpunished.

I stepped up to the body and noticed blood on his hands had taken on a viscous consistency and it appeared to be bubbling as if effervescent.

The talk of vengeance was taking on a cromulent tone among the men gathered as fear of another such strike grabbed their attention and their argument for action was beginning to sound like a sensible thing to do.

Their attention was drawn to Hank Paters whose crooning voice was lulling them into an atmosphere of mob action. Hank had the ability to make any dire situation seem solvable with good old-fashioned violence.

Hank was backed up by Carson Smithers a terse and dim witted man who saw the opportunity to rise to the occasion by egging on the crowd to action. Both men worked together to reel the crowd in and soon they had the voices of those gathered baying for the head of whoever it was that had perpetrated this grotesque crime.

It wasn’t long before the men had arranged themselves in groups and armed with hexagonal hammers they set off in pursuit of the killer.

I watched all this from a distance refusing to be drawn into this equally grotesque charade, my own rancour at their behaviour in accepting this cromulent behaviour only served to make me terse towards men who the day before I had held in the highest esteem.

By dawn there would be three more crucifixes and we all wondered just who among us was the real killer.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/06/01/wordle-63-june-1-2015/

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Writing Prompt #109 “Zero”

Posted on May 31, 2015 by Michael

http://www.zeroshortfilm.com

Timid boy

Humiliation

Ridicule

Intimidation

His butt the butt of many a joke.

Gentle in nature

Always on the edge

Thought of as weak

No asset for anyone

Never selected, never considered.

Overlooked for promotion

Little worth to anyone

But Lyla saw what none had seen

Reached out a hand

Led him home.

A man unlike other men

Saw no need to thrust and parry

Preferred to nurture

Build and savour

Reap the love that came his way.

Different was fine

He was content in that

A family with Lyla

Little individuals like him

Gathered around to hear his tales.

At last his time ran out

He stood among them

Received their thanks with graciousness

They said he would be missed

As they lined up his replacement.

A work colleague

Said thank you friend

You asked if I was ok

No one but you bothered

I’ll always remember that.

Stepping out on Lyla’s arm

Derision no more

Reverence and gratitude

Bestowed on his name

Will we see his like again?

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/05/31/writing-prompt-109-zero/

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Word Of The Week (WOW #20) – Remonstrate

Posted on May 30, 2015 by Michael

wow

Remonstrate : make a forcefully reproachful protest / argue in protest or opposition

My mate Tim lived on a farm not far out of town and we would often go out there to see what was happening and more importantly to see what his dad was up to.

His dad was a man who had worked his whole life and loved being a farmer. But he was an emotional man and many was the time we ventured out to the farm to be entertained by Tim’s dad. He didn’t do it deliberately, at least he never thought so but so often he would be out on the tractor at the far end of the south paddock when he would remember something.

This was in the days before mobile phones and walkie-talkies. We arrived this one afternoon to see Tim’s dad standing on the seat of his tractor waving his hat in the air attracting his wife’s attention who was often on the back veranda watching with curiosity the remonstrating of her husband.

Tim’s mum would be waving back, Tim’s dad would be getting angrier as obviously his message wasn’t getting through.

We’d stand there watching, suppressing the desire to laugh as to do so to an angry man only exacerbated the issue.

We didn’t need to laugh to make matters worse, as after a while he’d stop waving, stand there looking incredulously at us and then as an act of sheer frustration at our obvious inability to read his actions would throw his hat down and stamp his foot.

The comic value of his actions stayed with me and he would often be seen out on the farm gesturing to the house only to have us look blankly at each other.

I remember one day when his waving reached an almost frenzied state we thought he might pull his shoulder out of its socket and I turned to Tim’s mum and asked her what he was remonstrating about.

Tim’s mum was a very dry woman: “I haven’t got a clue.” she said dipping her hand into the bag of peas she was shelling and going on with what she was doing. “He’ll be up here to say if it’s all that important.”

I looked back to see Tim’s dad deliver his hat once again into the dirt.

Written for: http://heenarathorep.com/2015/05/29/word-of-the-week-wow-20/

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Fiction Friday Prompt #8 – The Dog Planet

Posted on May 30, 2015 by Michael

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Today’s prompt is to write in 3rd Person Point of View about a either a teenager or 60 yr. old (or both?) about to embark on a dangerous adventure.

Grandad was adamant that he could do it.

The journey would be a ‘piece of cake’ to quote him.

After all he sad what could go wrong journeying six light years to Planet Mans to see his old school buddy Petro Civoleela.

People did every day he argued and there was no stopping him. One thing I could say about grandad he was a determined old cove when he set his sights on something he wanted to do.

Planet Mans was a new colony across the other side of the Pacific Galaxy a once thought of destination so far away as to make it impossible for humans to ever get there in their lifetime.

But with new wormhole technology it was now possible to travel these great distances in a short space of time.

Grandad was sixty-two at the time and a reasonably fit man for his age.

We stood at the take off terminal and bade him farewell.

A day later we heard the news that flight 67/01 was in trouble somewhere near the dog planet Joey…

We waited anxiously for news of their plight.

During the day radio contact was made with the ship and it appeared everyone on board was ok but that the ship was caught in the gravitational pull of the dog planet. If they couldn’t repair the damaged turbo hyper driver then disaster was to befall the entire ship.

Everything had gone pear shape when a rogue asteroid had collided with the ship. Thus the damage. Therefore our concern and worry.

Grandad was the last of my grandparents. His wife had left him for a robot some years before and that action only cemented our belief that she was obviously crackers.

Without her he had flourished, found ways to renew himself and we were, despite our initial reservations, inwardly happy to see him take off on this journey.

There followed a series of sleepless nights, communications where haphazard but we prayed and kept vigil for any news.

My sister suggested we prepare for bad news, as the situation grew dimmer.

Knowing grandad as I did I knew he would be very positive about the situation he was in…whatever happened I knew he would be ok…it was us I was concerned about.

On the fourth morning came news in the form of a message from him.

He was well, in good spirits and told us that he may not come back from this flight and in fact if he reached Planet Mans he had plans with Pedro to stay indefinitely. He knew we would have protested had he told us before he left. He was sorry to do this but as his current predicament looked dire he wanted us to know of his decision and that he loved us and always would.

We all looked at each other, flabbergasted at this news.

But his present issues were more pressing. At least on Planet Mans we would know he was alive.

Here was a day with no news.

Communications had been lost.

His demise was sudden. No one would have wished for Grandad to have gone out that way.

We held a memorial service for him during which we retold the stories about him that we knew he loved to hear.

We told a few he probably didn’t want to hear as well.

But it was, as we knew he would have wanted. A celebration of his life. We toasted him numerous times, we shed tears, we laughed, we remembered a man who was so much a part of our lives we wondered how we might get along with out him.

But as his Grandson Jack said: ‘He had a lot of stories didn’t he.’

Looking at each other we knew we had heard Grandad’s voice through the mouth of young Jack and yes we agreed he had a lot of stories.

Written for: https://therattlingbones.wordpress.com/2015/05/29/fiction-friday-prompt-8/

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Fairy Tale Prompt May 29th 2015 “dancing” – Gratia Day

Posted on May 30, 2015 by Michael

Oonagh

The task for this Fairy Tale prompt is to write a short story or poem about something you celebrate every year.

Amongst The Ferns the word Gratia was on everyone’s lips.

The coming of spring was a time of celebration and every fairy within the garden was busying themselves with preparations for the festival where thanks and gratitude was expressed in unique ways to the Fairy Queen.

It was such an important festival that all other activities were put on hold for the week before so preparations could be concluded in readiness for the weeks end festival.

Inside the giant bird’s nest fern the fairy folk were about sewing together fern leaves to make festival garments. Chriten and her family were makers of the finest leaf hats in the entire fern garden and soon she knew there would be a steady stream of fairy folk coming to her door to purchase hats for the ceremony, which to everyone’s excitement would bring the Fairy Queen before them.

This was the only time of the year The Fairy Queen appeared among her people. She lived in her palace atop the tree fern where she met with dignitaries from the many fairy folk who lived beneath her.

It was also the time of sacrifice and there was a buzz amongst the fairy communities as to who would be chosen this year.

It was highly prestigious to be chosen and even more so if one of your clan was chosen you got to display the Queen’s standard above the entrance to your village.

There was great competition among the various clans and Chriten hoped that this year one of her sons might be chosen.

This happened at the weeks end and the entire fairy population would gather below the mighty tree fern to watch the queen descend to greet them.

Weeks end came quickly; there was fervour of anticipation as the time approached for the Queen’s entry.

This year the likely hopefuls were lined up in a line at the base of the tree. Chriten was pleased to see her eldest son standing tall amongst the young men to be considered.

The Queen to a majestic fanfare descended and began her dance. She circled the tree all the time inspecting and focusing on the candidates.

With each step she left in her wake a glitter of sparkles. Children would dive in and try and secure a sparkle in their hand as they were considered of great value and would add to the importance of a particular clan the more sparkles you could salvage.

After two circumnavigations of the tree she went into a trance like state, she began to swirl, her skirts spraying sparkles in every direction over the assembled fairies. These sparkles could not be caught but rather were absorbed into whichever fairy they touched. The fairy folk entranced within this spectacle swayed in rhythm with her dancing and held their breaths as she approached each selected candidate and taking his head in her hands, smiled lovingly and like osmosis took him into her skirts.

The fairy folk looked about at the jubilation on the faces of the clans from whom the selected candidates had been chosen.

Chriten was left smiling broadly as her son had been one of the three selected. She thought of the prestige this would bring to her business. She began to plan a hat that she would make in his honour.

The Queen then raised her hand and said the only words she uttered on this day:

‘The fairy world is safe. Go about your business, prosper and be happy.’

With that she slowly rose up into her palace taking with her the love and gratitude of her people.

Thereafter followed a celebration that went long into the evening as the fairy communities observed Gratia Day.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/05/29/fairy-tale-prompt-may-29th-2015-dancing/

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SoCS May 30/15 – Almost

Posted on May 29, 2015 by Michael

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Badge by Doobser @ Mindful Digressions

This week’s prompt: “almost.” 

I have lived an almost life.

I have been told I am almost loveable and that heartens me no end. You know that feeling when you know you have almost made it and in the love stakes that is an achievement I think.

I almost married the right girl and I would have I am sure if she hadn’t turned out to be the psycho bitch from hell. It wasn’t all her fault I do have to shoulder some of the blame after all I do have a long list of peculiarities none of which sadly for you readers cannot be revealed here for fear the psycho police find me and then its certainly almost curtains for this little bunny.

I almost had the perfect job, a job that paid well and required little work. I sat in a back corner cubicle day and day out staring at the walls and drinking coffee, by knock off time I was high as a kite on caffeine almost jumping out of my skin.

Then one day a supervisor, obviously lost, wandered past and asked what I was doing and who I was. I explained who I was and what I did in terms that almost won me the day until he looked me up and discovered I did next to nothing apart from warm a seat. Well I did explain to him that next to nothing was almost a something.

Now I do almost nothing apart from write best selling novels. I don’t see writing as a chore, as work, its like I almost wish I hated it but I don’t. I disappear into my stories and characters and so often wish I was almost as smart and strong and quick witted as the characters in my books.

So an almost life can come to something even a reclusive one such as mine where the almost loveable like me flourish in our own little dung heap of mediocrity, content with what might have been in a world that doesn’t take prisoners but rather spits you out and almost treads you into the ground should you contemplate sticking your head out of the place you at best, almost hide in.

Written for: http://lindaghill.com/2015/05/29/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-3015/

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Wordle 188 – Miss Marie

Posted on May 29, 2015 by Michael

188

Miss Marie stood in front of the class

The miserably neglected children milled around.

The room a flutter of whispers.

The call for action Miss Marie dreaded

Miserable pirouettes from equally miserable students.

Marcy in her food stained leotard

Juliette her eyes cloudy from what she’d been snorting.

Fiona her belly spilling from her uniform a size too small.

There were moments when the resolute Miss Marie

Could have turned her back and forgotten everything.

It would be an easy decision

The Royal Ballet couldn’t be as hard a gig.

Written for: https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2014/11/23/wordle-188/

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“Words to Write By” Prompt #8 – Marigold

Posted on May 28, 2015 by Michael

This week’s words: review fume downstairs marigold bitter steady unemployment helicopter misery western

Marigold was fuming.

Again her boyfriend had let her down.

She had come downstairs that morning after a night of massage oils and absolute delights that had left her gasping and her bits still aquiver.

Her boyfriend, Manuel, was by trade an unemployed helicopter pilot and she had that sudden bitter taste in her mouth realising he had yet again done a runner on her.

So much she thought for his promises of a cooked breakfast, of a cleansing massage upon the kitchen table and lunch at the Steady Eddie Steakhouse that afternoon.

This had happened that once too many times for Marigold and she decided it was time to review her relationship with a man who clearly hovered just above the status of bald-faced liar.

Her emotional misery was obvious as she rode out that day. It was time to make a change. Change was always good.

She stopped at Harry’s Cowboy store and bought herself the most expensive western outfit he had.

Turning her car onto the highway she set her GPS for the most western place she could think of and let the car do the rest.

Written for: https://therattlingbones.wordpress.com/2015/05/28/words-to-write-by-prompt-8/

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