Thursday photo prompt: Presence #writephoto

Posted on January 10, 2020 by Michael

stones-old

There was a presence, there always had been a presence.

Whenever you entered the field with the stones, it was there.

Sometimes all around you, sometimes decidedly pressing in on you.

The eeriness was profound, and at times it felt as though it could easily be rubbing against you or gave you the sensation of being tapped on the shoulder as if the presence had something to say to you.

Within the community, there was speculation as to where the stones had come from and what they meant. Most believed they came from druid times and had some significance to the movement of the sun.

None of that really mattered when you felt the presence around you. It was scary stuff.

The field was bordered by a stone fence which we thought of as kids as just the thing to keep them in.

My friend Barny Rudd believed they moved. He was adamant that one day when he was crossing the field, the stones moved. He said it was bad enough trying to put the presence out of your mind but feeling hemmed in was too much to bear, and he made a run for it in the end. When he looked back, the stones were still standing, but he argued in a slightly different configuration.

Either way, they gave us plenty to talk about, to create tales about why they were there and what they meant.

The presence is still there, ancient and mysterious, lurking in the field, hiding within the stones and awaiting the day it might venture forth.

 

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2020/01/09/thursday-photo-prompt-presence-writephoto/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #61 – Crisp and her Father.

Posted on January 9, 2020 by Michael

winter-gardens

“Abandoned,” said Crisp, my aged companion, as we wandered around the old garden site. “Once it was someone’s pride and joy I sure,” she added.

There were lots of these places dotted around the countryside and Crisp became all melancholic whenever we came upon one.

“I was abandoned as a kid,” she said. She had that hangdog look on her face suggesting she was about to go back in time and happily take me with her.

“My father walked out on us when I was seven. Left my mum for the blonde bitch in the pub. At least that’s how mum always referred to her. Mum thought he’d come back but he never did. Moved down the coast and died in a bushfire one Christmas Day. Mum was both heartbroken and strangely satisfied at the time.”

We didn’t linger long instead took ourselves off the plant nursery where Crisp felt more at home.

 

Written for: https://crispinakemp.com/2020/01/08/crimsons-creative-challenge-61/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

Tale Weaver – #257 – Pets – 9th January. The Showda

Posted on January 9, 2020 by Michael

IMG_0366

Image: My grandog Ted. I recently had a week with him. He is a lovely little dog who is happy to eat and sleep, chase a ball and be patted.

Arthur Koit was an animal lover. All his life, he had kept a pet. Mice, rats, guinea pigs, snakes, fish and at one stage he had a miniature rabbit called Carl.

But his one great pride and joy was his Showda. Showda’s were rare and difficult to keep. Arthur’s Showda was named Vince after his dad, who had died some weeks before Arthur acquired his Showda.

He kept it in an old fish tank, and as they grew to a tiny six inches, it wasn’t that difficult to house the tiny exotic creature.

The Showda was from the reptile family and was more like a left over from the age of dinosaurs. It scurried about on two muscly legs, ate meat and had a nasty habit of belching sulphuric gas at you if you came too close.

Vince appeared to have a mind of his own. He certainly wasn’t too fussed about being held captive, and that became clear to Arthur, and so in a cloud of menacing sulphuric gas, a compromise was struck in which Vince was given a special run in the garden every morning at ten o’clock. Arthur had to watch Vince like a hawk as Vince was forever out hunting and preferred a live mouse to a dead one for the tastiest of meals.

Eventually, they got along well, but it became clear that as Vince was a wild animal, he longed for freedom. In the afternoons, Arthur would position his tank so he could look out at the setting sun, which he would do sitting quite still, and looking away into the west.

Then one afternoon Vince was gone. He’d climbed out of his tank and made a run for it. Arthur went into a panic realising what had happened and fearful that Vince would not survive in the wild. He searched high and low but could not find Vince. Showda’s had survived so long because they were good at hiding.

It wasn’t long before Arthur noticed a few dead remains of animals that he realised Vince was still around just preferring a long time habitation in his garden to the daily restricted run.

Arthur grew contented that his Showda was still around. He could live with the fact Vince wanted to hang around, and he was happy his little Showda was happy.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/01/09/tale-weaver-257-pets-9th-january/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Photo Challenge #297 – Talk to Me.

Posted on January 7, 2020 by Michael

wallpaperflare.com_wallpaper

Image: WallpaperFlare.com

 

You could have changed you know

Been a better person

One to be proud of

If only you’d talked to me.

It wasn’t for want of trying, was it?

But you are so pig-headed

Stubborn and arrogant

Thought you didn’t need to listen

But it might have all turned out differently

If only you’d talked to me.

I could have saved you from the humdrum

Showed you your potential

Given you the freedom to explore

Well, within my confines, of course.

But it’s only a pipe dream

‘Cause you never talked to me.

Still today you turn away

When this topic rears its head

You say: “there is no point

When talking is only you

My opinion doesn’t matter

When I stop and talk with you.

You’ve re-written our history

Such that it favours you

Hardly surprising is it

That I refuse to talk with you.”

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/01/07/photo-challenge-297/

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #60 – Crisp and Dirt.

Posted on January 5, 2020 by Michael

drainage-grid

It became clear to me that my aged companion, Crisp, did not like anything to do with dirt.

“Sludge,” she said as we crossed the bridge and looked down on another drainage pipe that was in the process of gathering a unique form of bacteria judging by the colour and consistency of what had once been clean water.

“I have nightmares about falling into a pool like that,” she said, “the stuff sticks to me and try as I might I can’t get rid of it plus there’s always a smell, and that sticks as well. I wake up wanting a shower and at two in the morning, it’s very disturbing.”
“Explains the shower running at that time,” I say thinking of other places like the village café where I’d prefer to be.

“I’d hate it if I thought you thought I stank,” she said.

I knew better than to ever affirm that statement.

 

Written for: https://crispinakemp.com/2020/01/01/crimsons-creative-challenge-60/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments

Tale Weaver – #256 – Trigger – January 2nd. – Starting Dad Off.

Posted on January 5, 2020 by Michael

IMG_0320

“You had to start him off didn’t you,” said mum the exasperation in her voice clear to each of us.

Yes, we were guilty of stirring up dad, not that it took much. We did it because we knew he’d go off. We only had to mention politics, the Prime Minister, religion and the bloke next door to get dad going.

And go at it he did.

He had firm opinions on most things and was never averse at sharing them with us no matter how bizarre and crazy they were. The politicians and particularly the Prime Minister were ruining the country, self-interests and political preservation was what they were all about in his opinion. Their concern for the working man run to mouthing a few platitudes that they thought would earn them the votes necessary to be re-elected next polling day.

As for the bloke next door, he was the reason the country was going to pot. He was simply known as McDonald, and as far as dad was concerned, he was the wrong religion, the wrong side of politics and wrong about everything else. So once dad finished his vitriol concerning the state of the nation and the nation’s leader,s he would start on McDonald.

Dad could list every failing McDonald possessed and then some.

“You shouldn’t talk about McDonald in the way,” mum would say to him, “he’s our neighbour and one day we might need him for something, and he’d be within his rights to refuse us.”

“When hell freezes over,” dad would say. “McDonald is what is wrong with this country. Its all about self, what can I get for myself, you know he once said to me that if he was the boss of any workplace, he’d do away with unions and make people work long hours for less pay. He reckons unions have made people soft and expecting too much when it’s the owners who sacrifice everything to provide the jobs.”

Dad was a union man, and it didn’t take much to trigger his opinions about unions.

Mum would roll her eyes and utter something like, “Heaven help us.” once dad was on his soapbox.

It was best we discovered to sit back and enjoy the spectacle of dad sounding off, ranting and raving about the injustice of life. He’d go on for a while until he realised mum had had enough and she’d signalled to him to ‘give it a rest’ as she put it.

You could see that dad was disappointed he was losing his audience and so resigned to the fact he’d had his share of mum’s and our ears he’d slump back in his chair and give the air sufficient time to clear before getting up and announcing, as he always did, that he was going next door to McDonald’s for a beer before dinner.

“Thank goodness,” mum would say, as he’d disappear out the back door and through the friendship gate he and McDonald had built in our adjoining fence. “I sometimes wish I could be a fly on the wall to hear what those two manage to talk about.”

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/01/02/tale-weaver-256-trigger-january-2nd/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Tale Weaver – #255 – Weekend – December 26. – Camping.

Posted on December 26, 2019 by Michael

IMG_0323

Our weekend away

Full of expectation

Dad put up the tent

The beach was willing us to it

Our camping spot overlooked the rolling waves.

Then it rained.

Poured down,

Dad said to stay inside

The tent was water proof

But then a leak appeared

Dad said to move to the side

We huddled together

Still, the rain came down

Water was coming in under the tent

Dad dug a drain

But it filled

Spilled in over my clothes

I wanna go home I cried

Dad said it all part of the camping experience

Suck it up

Tomorrow will be fine.

What about now? We ask.

Water is getting deeper

The tent might float away.

Dad has had enough

Says let’s pack up.

Hours later, we are home, wet, unhappy, disillusioned.

The tent is up in the backyard

Dad says we’ll try another weekend

We protest,

He may have his work cut out for him.

 

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/12/26/tale-weaver-255-weekend-december-26/

 

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments

Photo Challenge #295 – ‘Dig my roots back in’.

Posted on December 24, 2019 by Michael

15

It was a relief to see you walk back home

Contrasted with the sadness of your leaving

You travelled the globe

You fell

You hurt

You celebrated

Discovery was your thing.

But you were exhausted when I found you

“I want to dig my roots back in,” you said

“Enough is enough

I’ve had a lifetime’s worth.”

It was a journey of discovery

Principally about yourself

Finding out what makes you tick.

It was the best gift of all you know

Coming home to me.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/12/24/photo-challenge-295/

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 11 Comments

Sunday Writing Prompt “Quote” – Eustace.

Posted on December 23, 2019 by Michael

monsters-atticus

My mother had warned us to be on our best behaviour. The Shallows were coming to visit us as they did each Christmas Eve.

The parents were lovely people; it was their son Eustace who was the problem.

Eustace was different. Very different. He suffered throughout his life the taunts and ridicule of every kid he came in contact with. We were no different.

In previous times Eustace would have been in a freak show, carted around the country as a curiosity to be made money from.

It was going to take a real effort on our behalf to make this years visit incident-free.

To top it off Eustace had a strange odour about him. He stank, and I’d heard his mum telling my mum it was a real concern for them as they had used every product available to counter his body odour but to no avail.

But it was his head that drew the most attention. From out of his skull there grew long thin protrusions, some might have called them tentacles. Attached to each one was an eye.

It meant that when you were standing behind him you’d become aware of a tentacle looking at you and I have to admit is was the spookiest feeling knowing he was watching you.

“He’s a normal boy, just like you,” my mum would say, “ only a tad different.” My mother had a way of understating most things though you always sensed she said that about Eustace knowing she was doing just that.

“But mum,” we would say, “ it’s like being watched all the time, you can’t get away from him.”

“Be nice,” mum would say, “ after all, it is Christmas.”

So we would suck it all up, invite Eustace to play and as we got older it did become easier for us as we grew used to him and his oddness.

The last time he came was not long before Christmas the year we’d turned thirteen, and we played our version of cutthroat snakes and ladders. Eustace played along, laughed with us and generally had a good time. At the end of the game, he thanked us for the game, said he enjoyed playing and was grateful we were not the bullies he encountered every day.

My older brother, Peter, said to him,” You are just a kid wanting to play, and we needed you to make up the game. Thanks for playing along.”

It wasn’t long after that mum told us Eustace was ill and wasn’t expected to live. She said we’d done well in playing with him when he visited and that his mum was thankful he found boys who would play with him and not exclude him.

He died soon after, and at his funeral, his mum made the comment he was her child and loved like no other.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/12/22/sunday-writing-prompt-quote/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | 11 Comments

Thursday photo prompt: Angel #writephoto – An Angel at the Door

Posted on December 19, 2019 by Michael

christmas

It came as a great surprise to open the door and find an angel standing there.

The angel in question looked somewhat dishevelled, and the gormless look on his face suggested he was not as confident as one might expect an angel to be.

“Can I help you?” I asked

“I’m looking for Brian. Brian Towner,” said the angel looking at a clipboard he was holding.

“Uncle Brian is sitting down to his Christmas dinner. Can this wait?”

“I’m so sorry,” replied the angel, “ I know this is a most inconvenient time, but you see it’s my first week on the job and I’ve had a heck of a time finding my way round. You, humans, don’t like to make anything easy, do you?”

“Are the angel of death?” I asked.

“Yes. Class one. On probation,” said the angel showing no excitement or enthusiasm.

“Would you like to come and join us? Be a shame to take Uncle Brian before he had his pudding. Our Aunt Mavis makes the pudding each year, and she gets a bit shirty if you know what I mean if any of us decline her pudding or die before the first mouthful can be taken.”

“Well, that would be very nice. I’m learning all the time. Got to keep an open mind so if you like I’ll sit over in the corner until Brian’s finished.”

“No sit at the table. There’s plenty of room.”

“Well, you see, I cannot reveal myself to anyone apart from you because you answered the door. It would create a lot of confusion if they saw me there, and Brian, I’m sure would not be in any position to enjoy his pudding. And anyway Brian will see me well and truly when the time comes, and you’ll have no memory of any of this apart from how wonderful it was spending Brian’s last Christmas with you and your family.”

“You angels and your privacy. The last one to come here to collect Grandad said the same.”

 

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2019/12/19/thursday-photo-prompt-angel-writephoto/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | 19 Comments