Crimson’s Creative Challenge #64 – Crisp and the Sculpture.

Posted on January 29, 2020 by Michael

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Crisp, my aged companion, stopped to observe the sculpture.

“This reminds me of a joke my dad used to play with me. He’d hold his hand palm up with his fingers sticking up and say: ‘What do you call one of these?’ And I’d not know so I’d say: ‘I don’t know.’ He’d then reverse his hand and say: ‘A dead one of these.’”

Crisp chuckled at the memory it stirred in her mind; I don’t think she had to clear away many cobwebs to remember that one.

“Your dad was quite a character,” I said as we both took in the sculpture.

“Made me laugh, still does,” she said and she had one of those wistful looks on her face as we made our way further along the street, where to our amazement…

 

Written for: https://crispinakemp.com/2020/01/29/crimsons-creative-challenge-64/

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Photo Challenge #300 – ‘Right’ Places.

Posted on January 28, 2020 by Michael

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Photo Credit – https://www.deviantart.com/aa-xxx/art/his-legacy-23483872

Cool

That was the image she portrayed.

A living cliché.

She sought out every behaviour

To enhance the image, she had of herself.

Watched porn to learn to be a lover,

Was devoted to fashion

Copied all and everyone she thought to her advantage.

Made sure she was seen at all the ‘right’ places

Even with the ‘right’ people,

Practised saying the ‘right’ things.

It was all about pretence

For under it lay the scared little girl

With so many secrets

Best hidden for then she felt safe.

With so much time spent on being ‘right.’

It puzzled her how so often

She went home alone,

Her ‘friends’ turning their backs,

Leaving her in her ‘coolness’.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/01/28/photo-challenge-300/

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Sunday Writing Prompt “Death” – A Conversation.

Posted on January 26, 2020 by Michael

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Image: saurabhbot09bot

Sad to hear about your Ron.

Yes, it was all so sudden.

Must have been a great shock.

Oh, it was…….and then again it wasn’t.

How so?

Well just between you and me I was glad to see him go.

That’s a terrible thing to say.

I know, but it’s the truth.

I could never say that about my Carl.

Well no, he was such a good man.

Still is, I expect him to come walking through the door any day now.

Do you really think he will?

Yes, it’s not like Carl to be away so long.

But it’s been a year; don’t you think he’s a lost cause by now?

Never and don’t you even think such a thing.

But they found his backpack and his wallet in the jungle.

People drop such things in places far odder than jungles.

So you think he’s still alive?

Of course, I do, he’s just a bit lost is all. People get lost all the time.

I prayed Ron would get lost all the time.

Well, I can understand that, after all, Ron was a bit of a bastard, if you don’t mind me saying.

Oh, of course not, I called him far worse.

Still, it must have been a shock.

Yes, it was, one minute he was watching the races, cheering on his bet in the 3.15 and then plop, he was done and out. I came in from getting the washing off the line, and I thought he was having a nap. Took me twenty minutes before I realised he wasn’t breathing and by then I decided mouth to mouth was not an option, you know, let sleeping dogs lie and all that.

All the same, it was a terrible business. Carl went off with a few mates for a boy’s weekend. The boys came back, but Carl didn’t. The search went on for weeks, but they found nothing. The boys said they got up the morning he went missing and found his tent empty, his backpack and wallet laying on the track a few hundred metres away. Just vanished, but then he never had any great sense of direction. Some nights he’d get lost going the to bathroom. It’s why I think he’ll come home any day now.

I admire your positive thinking. But by now there can’t be a lot of hope.

I know what you mean, but I have to hold onto something, I can’t give up, if he is dead I’d like to lay him to rest. We had a plot picked out in the cemetery, lovely view and all that, and I know he’d like it to know he was buried there to keep me company when my turn comes.

Carl’s ashes are still sitting on my mantle piece. I look at them from time to time and tell him he was a miserable old bugger.

Are you going to leave them there?

No, I plan to flush him down the toilet in the same way he flushed away all my dreams and aspirations. Just haven’t got around to it because I know that act will be a sort of closure.

Cleanse him from your life.

Yes exactly.

Anyway, fancy a cup of tea?

That would be lovely.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/01/26/sunday-writing-prompt-death/

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Tale Weaver #259 – Temple – 23rd January – A Durry* or Two.

Posted on January 25, 2020 by Michael

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Temple felt the nudge to his ribs. It stirred him from a beautiful dream he was having involving Clare Campbell, the love of his imaginary life.

He opened his eyes enough to see the hairy shins of Catchpole standing over him.

“Give us a durry* Temple,” his gruff voice asked.

“I’ve given them up,” mumbled Temple wanting to return to his dream.

“Yeah and pigs can fly,” said Catchpole.

Reaching under his well-worn ‘mattress’ Temple found two he’d stashed the day before. He was happy to sacrifice the durries if it meant he could return to the charms of Clare Campbell.

Catchpole grabbed the durries and headed off triumphantly, holding up his prize for all to see.

Temple didn’t care, he wanted more of his dream, but his mind wasn’t co-operating, and where she had been previously she wasn’t any longer.

Discouraged, he silently cursed Catchpole and drew his one ragged blanket over himself. Sleep he enjoyed even if his body objected to the hard surface he lay on.

Away from him he could hear the toothless joy of Catchpole and his mates enjoying the durries, and he felt a sense of inner satisfaction that he had in fact given up smoking, but his habit of collecting any discarded cigarette had stayed with him, and the others knew it.

From his position under the bridge, he could see that it was going to be a fine day. The sun was shining, and it meant he could wander the city savaging whatever he could lay his hands on.

He had once worked, a proper job, a postman, a good job but the constant threat of dog attacks and unhappy customers was enough to eventually bring about his ‘retirement’.

He lost faith in society, he started drinking, gambling and avoiding home where his wife lay in wait with another tirade about how worthless and irresponsible he had become.

When she and the kids left him, he began his nomadic lifestyle wandering the city, sleeping rough but doing so knowing he had not a care in the world.

It suited him, after all, he reasoned to himself, responsibility, was a blown up concept, and he was happy to take on a life with none of that implied responsibility.

Glancing up, he saw Catchpole coming his way.

“Bring us back a durry or two today Temple, you’re a good source, and the mates and I are appreciative.”

Temple looked at the old man and concluded that despite the obscenity that Catchpole was, there was an air of civility about him. It was just that Catchpole hid it well behind his exterior grossness.

“See what I can find,” said Temple as he headed off towards the fish market knowing it was often a source of discovery, and breakfast if the truth be known.

 

* durry – a colloquialism for a cigarette.

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/01/23/tale-weaver-259-temple-23rd-january/

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Crimson’s Creative Challenge #63 – Crisp and the Alpaca.

Posted on January 22, 2020 by Michael

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My aged companion, Crisp, had suggested a farm visit to the Kemperton Family Fun Farm as something different for us to do.

It was a lovely day, and the farm was set up for visitors. Crisp had a good time until she ventured too near the alpacas. Crisp had claimed to come from a farming background and was particularly interested in the alpacas.

However, once she went into their enclosure, she was confronted by one young alpaca not at all happy with her invading his territory.

He charged, knocking her over. Crisp went down in a cloud of dust and alpaca manure. She sat on the ground looking straight at her attacker who snorted at her and then spat something best described as unsavoury into her face.

Seconds later she was rescued by a farm attendant, but to her disgust, the taste of alpaca spit stayed with her all day.

 

Written for: https://crispinakemp.com/2020/01/22/crimsons-creative-challenge-63/

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Photo Challenge #299 – A Love You Deserve.

Posted on January 22, 2020 by Michael

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Image: – Araki Photograph Studio

I know you are there

The door, solid iron,

Impenetrable, firmly shut, locked

To keep out the undesirables

Including me, I have come to realise.

It’s all about protection, isn’t it?

For I know that beyond your self imposed security

There lies a world yet to be discovered and explored.

I understand the pain that has led you to this place

Blocking everything out

Even your loved ones.

For just a few fleeting seconds I glimpsed

Your world, the colour, the excitement,

The beauty and the freedom.

As precious as it is, you guard it diligently

And who could blame you

Apart from the reality of shielding you

From the prying eyes of those struggling

To know you

In offering you a love you deserve.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/01/21/photo-challenge-299/

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Reena’s Exploration Challenge #118 – Down But Not Out.

Posted on January 19, 2020 by Michael

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It was a situation that could have gone in any direction. But it didn’t.

It was all downhill, and it was no one’s fault other than his own.

He could have argued it was because of the rain and he was unprepared. After all, it hadn’t rained for six months, everything was dead, and the rain when it came was something of a novelty and as such, his guard was down.

Also, he wore his new sandals which were not accustomed to the wet. The driveway was steep, exposed pebbles, running with the rain that had been falling all morning. New shoes, his mind on the drive he was about to take, the airport to collect his brother, he didn’t think of danger.

When it happened, it was all over in a second or two.

Down he went, his feet slipping out from beneath him, his hips hit the driveway, his elbow landed in such a position he was hoping would prevent his head from hitting the pavement.

He prayed his head would be safe as he knew head injuries can be problematic, and so he felt his neck snap back, lifting his head away from danger.

Instantaneously he heard his companion come rushing to his side. Urging him not to move, for fear he had done himself something serious.

A quick observation and he claimed to be ok. She helped him to his feet and sat him in the front of the car while she went to get bandages and antiseptic ointment.

When asked where it hurt he made the claim, his ego had suffered the worst injury. A few band-aids later, he was patched up.

There was the usual shaking following the fall, but he felt ok, and she was happy to go with him to the airport.

Later, when he was home, he discovered his hip/glute area was particularly sore, and his movements were very ginger. It was then he realized he had done damage to his hand. Painful as it was, he concluded it only hurt when he moved.

The next morning, he found some residual shock which prevented him from starting his day as normal, so it was back to bed to sleep it off.

As I stated at the start, it could have gone in any direction, but the one it did go in was painful enough, but there was always the thought it could have been worse.

 

Written for: https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2020/01/16/reenas-exploration-challenge-118/

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Crimson’s Creative Challenge #62 – Crisp and the Zipper.

Posted on January 17, 2020 by Michael

zips

Crisp, my aged companion, was at times a tad clumsy. When we had dinner at Mario’s All Italian Restaurant and she managed, quite expertly, to slop the spaghetti sauce down her front.

The stain was permanent and so Crisp spied the local op shop to buy a replacement garment.

This was the day of the great zipper sale and Crisp was taken in by the vast array of zips on display. She forgot the purpose of her visit and so before she knew it she’d purchased several zips.

Her search for a new blouse had taken a back seat and she encountered a somewhat disagreeable shop assistant who looked down her nose at Crisp’s selection of a royal blue blouse. “Would look good on a younger frame,” she said looking Crisp up and down.

Crisp not to be daunted paid for her new blouse and handed the assistant one of her zips suggesting it might be useful if sown onto the assistant’s face.

 

Written for: https://crispinakemp.com/2020/01/15/crimsons-creative-challenge-62/

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Tale Weaver – #258 – Partners – 16th January – Divine Partners

Posted on January 16, 2020 by Michael

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They were the most unlikely of partners, and in the strictest sense, they were not.

They represented their respective ends of the divine spectrum, and for a long time, they didn’t communicate nor acknowledge one another.

They did have one thing in common, souls.

It was after a particularly long day when the two entities stopped to draw breath that they became aware of each other. Both looked exhausted, well as exhausted as an angel can look.

Greg was from the upstairs department of eternity and Wayne was from the downstairs department.

They acknowledged it had been a long day and Wayne invited Greg to have a drink with him in Hell’s kitchen as it was the best restaurant in all eternity and widely known to sell the best sushi and if there was one thing Greg liked it was sushi. Wayne, on the other hand, had enjoyed sushi since the beginning of time, which you can rightly imagine was a long time and so, was looking for something different. In particular, he had for a long time craved a ham sandwich, which, oddly enough, he discovered the best ham sandwich could only be found in the upstairs café, Angelic Delights.

And so the friendship began. They found it a pleasant experience to unwind after a big day, especially those days when natural disasters had taken a huge toll on the lives of so many.

It had never occurred to them that having someone to sound off to could be so cathartic.

It wasn’t long before they realised they could work together, discuss the day, argue the merits of one soul over another and send them to their respective eternities.

Even more remarkable for both entities was knowing they enjoyed each other’s company.

At the end of a day’s work they would turn up in Hell’s Kitchen, Greg with his ham sandwich for Wayne, discretely packaged in a brown paper bag and Wayne having ordered the chef’s special sushi for Greg, the two would ‘chew the soul’ as they referred to it and wind down in each other’s company.

They learned it was always so much easier to agree than to disagree. Some souls they acknowledged were problematical, they could go either way. They devised an interview system whereby they could ascertain the souls true worth. Often the soul would be so disturbed by the interview they would give themselves away and after a long time on the job both Wayne and Greg felt they had developed a good method of judging a soul’s worthiness.

Thankfully for all concerned, their partnership worked very effectively, and each soul received what it deserved. The pious were happy to spend an eternity hymn singing and the not so pious spending their eternity plotting terror and mayhem which never sadly came to anything as hell had a way of making you forget things and start all over. Repetition said Wayne, was hell in itself.

So as they finished their dinners the alarms were sounding, and it was back to work, a plane had gone down, and neither looked forward to dealing with it, but as they often said to one another, “One of us has to do it.”

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/01/16/tale-weaver-258-partners-16th-january/

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Sunday Writing Prompt “Magical Garden”

Posted on January 15, 2020 by Michael

magical-garden

Miss Marble at 46 Grimace Street had a secret and magical garden. Not many knew of it as it was largely so small it went unnoticed.

But to Miss Marble, a witch and a good one at that, the garden was important.

It was looked after by an equally small group of beings called Nuets, who took great care to manage the garden. The garden was home to an array of exotic and not so exotic plants and one, in particular, a nettle Miss Marble used to concoct her courage potions.

The garden was also inhabited by a unique beast known as a Tranx. The Tranx was a herbivore and feasted on the nettle. They were not the most attractive beasts but were essential to the smooth running of the garden. After all, Tranx manure was invaluable to the garden.

Most of the inhabitants of Grimace Street were unaware of the garden, and Miss Marble liked it that way. Though she did have to contend with Paul from 15 Grimace Street standing cap in hand at her front door to tell Miss Marble that his wife Mary had gone missing again. Poor Mary was having trouble with her memory, and even though Miss Marble had given Paul a potion to help her with her memory more often than not, Mary forgot to take it.

Miss Marble knew where Mary was as she’d taken a liking to the garden and the Nuet’s understanding of Mary’s situation would take her in and watch over her until she could be rescued. Miss Marble would find her sitting around a Nuet campfire listening to them sing, the Nuet were fabulous singers by the way. Though the Nuet were always glad to see the back of Mary as she had in their words, the worst singing voice they’d ever encountered. Miss Marble would bring her back to the worrying Paul with a new vial of potion and strict instructions on how to administer it by putting it in Mary’s tea.

The garden flourished and at night when there was a full moon, the garden had a glitter about it as if you were staring into the skies and observing the myriad of stars.

Miss Marble never grew tired of her garden.

 

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/01/12/sunday-writing-prompt-magical-garden/

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