Creative Expressions #12: Abandoned – My Mother

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Image: Caerlynn Nash

My mother went to the shops. Said she’d only be a minute.

I was five.

I waited and waited.

Still I wait.

When you are five and afraid you stay where you are left. At least I did.

I was hungry, upset, my mother always came back.

But this day nothing like that happened.

A policeman came and took me to Aunty Beth’s.

I stayed with Aunty Beth, I watched the street each day, hoping.

I still hope for there is no word of what happened.

While hope exists you hang on to it.

I refused to believe that I was abandoned.

My mother was not like that.

In recent years I have explored the possibility that she was taken, that my abandonment was forced on me and not one of choice.

The police have nothing despite their best efforts.

It means I wander the earth with this awful sense of loss. Every child needs a mother and I am thankful to Aunty Beth who did what she did out of love and a sense of sorrow that her sister had abandoned her child.

One day I know there will be closure for me.

But thirty years on I still sleep with her photo beside me.

Written for: https://penntonic.wordpress.com/2015/03/03/creative-expressions-12-abandoned/

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Photo Challenge #50 -Twister– March 3, 2015 – There’s a Twister

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Image: Keiko McCartney

There’s talk of a twister

Yeah, yeah, yeah

There’s a twister around the corner

Panic, panic, panic

There’s a twister in our street

Fear, fear, fear

There’s a twister near our house

Brace, brace, brace

There’s a twister eating our house

Pray, pray, pray.

There’s a twister moving on

Spin, spin, spinning.

Daddy sits among the debris

Momma clutches Gran’s broken pot

Little brother wanders lost

Little sister weeps quietly

Shaken they survey the end of the world.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/03/03/photo-challenge-50-twister-march-3-2015/

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100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week#169 – Agony

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This week’s prompt: …so what time did you say it was?…

I awake. My face is buried in long grass. My mouth feels like a gravel pit.

My body doesn’t want to know what happened, or when.

My mind thinks, trains, planes, a ticket to somewhere.

I will my head to lift, survey the scene.

The scrub is thick. I listen no noise. Where am I?

The silence wraps around me.

I am suddenly afraid.

Is this death?

A pain in my leg answers the question.

It screams agony.

I panic.

I recall a voice: So what time did you say it was?

Written for: https://jfb57.wordpress.com/2015/03/02/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week169/

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Monday’s Finish the Story – March 2nd, 2015 – Young Dan

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Image: Barbara Beacham

Finish the story begins with:When it came to a challenge, Jim Smiley just had to jump right in!

He was that sort of guy. Game was the word to describe Jim.

Today was the Devil’s Haven County Fair and Frog Hop.

The challenge was to beat the Mayor’s cane toad, Cassius.

Jim took Young Dan out of his coat pocket, kissed him on top of his smooth head and placed him at the start line.

What happened next was mayhem.

Dan hopped, Cassius pounced. Dan’s splayed legs was not a good sign. Jim picked up his friend, sadly beyond his most comforting kiss.

The mayor grinned a winner’s grin, Cassius looked smug. Jim plotted revenge.

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Written for: https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/03/02/mondays-finish-the-story-march-2nd-2015/

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Wordle #50 March 2, 2015 – Brother Andrew

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This week’s words: Madcap (wildly impulsive, heedless) Blister Strap Aureole (a halo) Accident Howl Gnaw Flagellation (flogging, associated most frequently with BDSM or religious penitence) Craven (cowardly) Scale Victim Shelf

Brother Andrew knelt on the stone floor before the altar. He had been there for much of the night. His madcap behaviour from the previous day had resulted in his penance being a night of restitution before the Sacred Heart in the hope that he would repent the scandalous accusations he had made to the Abbot.

For a long time it had gnawed at him that all was not what the Abbot had him believe. On a scale he had never anticipated the extent of the revelation had shattered his faith, his place in the monastery was now in question.

The men he lived with were not saints. The aureole that was said to shine above their heads masked an evil he never thought possible among men of such strong religious fervour.

Underneath their cowls they were craven men only to happy for no other reason than their own perverse pleasure, to inflict on others pain and degradation of the lowest order.

Many young brothers had fallen victim to their need for distraction from the harshness of monastic life. Those who fell victim and who didn’t recover were written off as accidents within the monastery and who would question the devout monks when they reported such an accident.

Flagellation was a common practice, a penance metered out by one particular monk who made sure he was nearby when the strap was applied noting the blisters that appeared on the recipient’s back and buttocks.

The howls of the victim would often echo through the cloisters, the monks in prayer at the time prayed for the soul of the victim, believing he was being cleansed of his sins.

The belief that this practice was wrong and perverse had gnawed at Brother Andrew for so long that on this particular night with the memory of his friend Brother Anthony’s howls of pain still penetrating his soul he decided it was time to make a stand.

Knowing where the strap was kept he made it his business to take it from the shelf above the Sacred Heart statute and bury it deep in the soil behind the vegetable plot.

He then fronted the Abbot and made his feelings known before stripping off his cassock and leaving it on the floor before stepping out the front door of the monastery on his way to a new life. There was no way he was going to become another ‘accident’ within the monastery walls.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/03/02/wordle-50-march-2-2015/

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Writing Prompt #96 “Cacodemonomania” March 1, 2015 – The Old Couple

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“Cacodemonomania is the pathological belief that one is inhabited, or possessed, by an evil spirit or entity.”- Wikipedia

The old couple sat together in the doctor’s waiting room.

They huddled as one. Their arms wrapped round themselves as if needing protection from the cold and what ever was around them.

They faced into each other as if wanting to be unnoticed.

They looked occasionally around the room to make sure no one was watching. Every so often they would look at each other and the old man would nod subtly to his wife.

There was a slight commotion, the old man moved, looked about, wrapped his arms tighter around himself.

‘He’s here,’ he said to his wife.

‘What? No he can’t be. You promised he’d stay at home.’

‘I thought he would. I asked him I said stay home I don’t want you with us today.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He laughed. Said he’d go anywhere he wanted.’

The old man then farted loudly, belched and shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

His wife was looking more and more concerned. She was nervous, reached into her handbag and took out a tissue and held it to her nose as if wanting to mask her identity.

The old couple sat still.

Then the old man stood. He walked across the waiting room, he grabbed a magazine a man was reading and threw it to the floor. He then turned off the waiting room TV, he went to the brochure rack and began pulling out the brochures and dropping them on the floor.

The old lady fearfully crossed the room and took the old man’s arm. He shook it off, cursed her, pushed her away whereupon she fell back onto the chairs behind her.

The old man laughed but not the laugh of an old man but the maniacal laugh of a man possessed.

It was then the Doctor walked in, came up behind the old man and injected him with a needle.

The old man screamed, flayed his arms before slowly sinking to the floor.

The doctor’s nurses came and picked up the old man and carried him into the surgery.

Laying on the surgery bed the old man slept peacefully, occasionally his body rippled as if something was trying to escape, but his body was soundly unconscious.

The doctor listened to the old lady making notes as she told her tale.

‘He’s getting worse isn’t he,’ said the doctor.

‘He doesn’t have much control,’ said the old lady looking lovingly at the man who had been her partner in life these past fifty years. ‘The drugs only last so long. I’m afraid he is going to hurt either himself or me. The demon is getting stronger and is in so much control. He’s convinced there is nothing he can do to control it like he used to. I think its time.’

The doctor looked at the old woman and saw the tears in her eyes. He knew that over the years of treating her husband that this day would come.

‘I’ll make the arrangements,’ said the doctor looking over at the old man whose brow was now furrowed as if aware what was being planned while he slept.

But, thought the old lady, he knows what must happen. They had discussed it so many times over the years.

They both knew this day would come.

And now, it was time.

The doctor passed a form across the table.

‘You sure?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she said her voice trembling, her wrinkled hand shaky as she scrawled her signature for the last time.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/03/01/writing-prompt-96-cacodemonomania-march-1-2015/

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SoCS February 28/15 – Acquaint/Friend

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Image by Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

This week’s prompt in association with Bee’s Love is in da blog: acquaint and/or friend.

I had an acquaintance once. If you can believe I have the wherewithal to actually acquaint with anyone in the first place.

I remember the day well, it was a Friday, I’m sure it was a Friday, because Friday’s are special in my world.

They always fall right before Saturday and on this particular Saturday coming there was an event I was looking forward to. It was going to be lamington bake day and as you would all know there is nothing quite as exhilarating as a good lamington bake.

But all that went out the window as on the Friday, as I was saying, I had my one and only encounter with what I would like to believe was an acquaintance.

The actual act of acquainting snuck up on me when I wasn’t anticipating it. I was in the supermarket buying the sponge cake, the chocolate icing, and the coconut all in readiness for the lamington bake the next day.

I dropped my change as it turns out and it was picked up by a woman who thereupon engaged me in conversation.

Soon we were in the food court having a coffee and a muffin, then it was lunch, then dinner.

Saturday morning I woke up in a strange bed, a strange house and a woman beside me I vaguely recalled from the day before.

She looked at me and I at her. She suggested it was time I left. I did.

It was, I later reflected, a surreal experience.

I saw her yesterday at the supermarket and in the true tradition of an acquaintance she nodded politely in my direction and hurried off.

Now I am left with this memory of the woman I acquainted and now feel obliged to refer to as an acquaintance. As time passes I’m not sure if her name was Lindy, Lulu, Lacy, Lily or Lucy.

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Written for: http://lindaghill.com/2015/02/27/special-edition-friday-prompt-for-socs-february-2815/

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Fairy Tale February 27th 2015, “Atlantis” – Letter

Imagine that you are on a quest to find Atlantis and you really find it. How would it look like? What kind of people are living there, is there magic? Is there a religion? Try to write a story about your discovery of Atlantis.

Dear Kris,

I know where it is.

Through the ferns in the photo below you’ll find the portal to Atlantis.

Fairchild-tropicalforestI’ve known about it for some time. It is a corner of my garden behind the bird’s nest ferns and so well disguised it was by accident that I found it.

Its not the sort of discovery you tell people about mainly because the Atlantians have asked me not to. They placed the portal where it is to protect themselves from as they put it: ‘Human greed.’

I go there every now and then. I have to make request to the fern fairies who in turn convey my request to the gate keeper who then determines if the a visit is in order or not.

It is the most amazing of places. You come through the portal into a landscape that feasts your eyes on the most picturesque of scenes. Wide-open streets, busy, always busy with commerce and trade. The inhabitants are a mix of people from a wide variety of places. Some resemble people you know, some are as you imagine aliens, some are simply unique.

For me the Alabaster folk are the most alluring.

d90f09ccd2b3a990c89615031e574071They are tall and elegant, they speak a strange language of clicks and slurs, which flow from their delicate mouths with a fluency that is captivating.

I have no idea as to what they are saying but their vocal intonations and complete lack of any identifiable phonetic sounds make them all the more fascinating.

They run a series of cafes in the city of Atlantis and let me say their version of a café latte is to die for.

My visits are always accompanied by Partnell Ollifoot, my liaison with Atlantis. Only through Partnell am I allowed anywhere in the city and I am sure there are places he will never show me but as they have ascertained I am no threat to them they are happy to allow me into the places Partnell takes me. There is only one stipulation that I take nothing back with me. The last thing they want and me as well is any indication of their location by me slipping up and leaving a clue.

Moving a portal is a harrowing ordeal and Atlantis has been moved a few times from ancient times and they don’t want to have to go through that discomfort again too soon.

Today having written this to you has whetted my appetite to visit again. The fern fairies have taken my request and now I await an invitation into Atlantis.

Please read this letter and pass on my love and best wishes to Aunt Margaret. She likes to know about such things.

Regards

Your cousin

Michael

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/02/27/fairy-tale-february-27th-2015-atlantis/

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Scribe’s Cave Picture Prompt #61 – Uncle Brewster

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Image: radiology nurse technician, WW1 France 1918

Uncle Brewster was the first man to play with the idea of full body armour for the local constabulary.

In his day in the wilds of colonial Australia it was common for the bushrangers to use the police as target practice and Uncle Brewster being the practical man he was decided enough was enough and so set himself the task of developing an armour that was both practical and serviceable.

Uncle Brewster was at that time married to my Aunt Agatha a woman of some means and purpose. She took this photo of her husband the day he perfected his armour. The headpiece speaks for itself but his body protection left a little to be desired as his theory of the concave surface being such that bullets would be deflected was not as successful in real life as he had hoped for.

His early death at the hands of the bushranger, Granger the Gorgeous, was the last time Uncle’s armour was ever worn.

But as my Aunt was reported to have said at the time, he went down in a shower of shrapnel, with his boots on and not a scratch on his head.

Written for: http://caveofscribes.starvingactivist.com/2015/02/23/scribes-cave-picture-prompt-61/

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Tale Weaver Prompt 2: Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner February 26, 2015 – Entities

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Your tale weaver prompt this week is to plan a dinner party and invite 2 “entities” living or dead, to supper. Entities means you can include living or dead mythical, alien, human guests.

My table was set.

My menu was my most competent dishes.

A week before I had noticed a flash in the back yard.

Then a knock on the back door and there stood Single Entity. Behind him stood Double Entity.

Behind them stood a rather large spheroid object sitting in my yard, a small trail of steam coming from its under carriage.

For years I had dreamed and wished for the aliens to come and land in my backyard, come in and have a cup of tea and tell me all about what they were on about.

Now here they were.

Single Entity introduced himself in the most beautiful English accent.

Double Entity as his name suggests was two in one. He was constantly in earnest conversation with himself over most things.

‘It’s a stupid idea.

Why?

Because we’ve been here before.

Not here.

They are all the same.

They are not.

Once he learns who we are he’ll run off screaming. They all do.

Oh come on let’s give it a go.

I’m protesting I want you to know that.

To say the evening was a success is put it mildly even Double Entity at one time managed a smile though to do so he had to break into the conversation he was obviously having with himself over the main course and whether or not he should ask for seconds of my now famous Sausage and Cabbage Bake.

‘Why are you here?’ I asked

‘We are galactic travellers,’ replied Single. ‘We have been on the earth for many years and tried contact but to no avail. You are a sad race of beings. It’s a miracle you haven’t wiped each other out when so many are intent on killing.’

‘Thankfully we can be invisible so we aren’t noticed unless we want to be.’

‘It was your mind we tapped into,’ said Double, his eyes being the only feature that betrayed his non-humanness. They were of the deepest blue with a red iris, very striking and you couldn’t help but look at them. That and they blinked on the vertical.

‘We read minds and most of the minds we have come in contact with are filled with nonsense so we haven’t bothered to engage. But your thoughts of dinner and hospitality intrigued us.’

‘So here we are,’ said Doubles double. Double’s double had a stringent sounding voice; you knew where you stood when it spoke.

Dessert brought about their love of sweet as they slurped and licked their lips with utterances of delight at the pavlova I had made.

‘Excellent meal,’ said Single.

‘We agree,’ said Double

They then showed me examples of their cuisine.

Holding up their hands their palms became screens upon which appeared images in the highest definition you could imagine.

I was mesmerised by what they showed me.

They announced they were soon to return home.

‘Would you like to come?’ asked Single

I hesitated only a second in asking:

‘When are you leaving?’

‘Now!’

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/02/26/tale-weaver-prompt-2-guess-whos-coming-to-dinner-february-26-2015/

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