Vis dare 31 – Focused

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Look!

It’s Adam.

The widower.

Yes.

Same time, every night.

Still looking.

His Charlotte was his life.

Sad.

Yes.

Why does he persist?

Rumour says he hasn’t yet let go.

Their love was infinite.

Everlasting.

Perfect.

Then the accident.

The drunk.

The collision.

He held her as she died.

The saddest of days.

Tears ran through the town.

His grief, our grief.

Now he walks the streets.

Looking.

Searching.

Same time, every night.

So focused.

Adam woke in the morning, the sun beaming through his bedroom window.

He felt momentarily rested until the pain returned and as was his morning practice he buried his face in his pillow and wept unshameably.

With the grief flooding over him he could feel her with him again.

His morning ritual.

He would then rise and shower.

He could never understand why his feet always smelt of his boots.

Posted in Uncategorized | 5 Comments

Five Sentence Story – Bliss

Bliss

I love you.

I love you too.

I love you the most.

I love you more.

Hmmmmmmm oh yeah, this is bliss.

Posted in Uncategorized | 8 Comments

Friday Fictioneers – The Bump

In the middle of the night I heard a bump on the roof.

Bumps don’t usually wake me but this one did.

It was a bump that moved after it bumped.

Bumps that move and scratch can be intriguing.

I looked out the window.

The scratching was loudest above my window and on looking up a large eye was staring into mine.

Both eyes were transfixed.

The eye looked like it was seeing the most curious of things.

It blinked.

There was a buzz.

As it moved away, I thought it blinked, but maybe it was a wink!

Posted in Friday Fiction | 32 Comments

Trifecta: Week Eighty-Eight – Three Sisters

This is my effort in this weeks trifecta.

BAND (verb)

1: to affix a band to or tie up with a band
2: to finish or decorate with a band
3: to gather together : unite <banded themselves together for protection>

Three Sisters

My mother and her two sisters had the reputation within their community of being witches.

My mother grew herbs and made a variety of concoctions to cure a multitude of ailments, from ingrown toenails to odd rashes from lying in the meadows.

Her sisters ran their own apothecary’s business. It was actually a front for their own black market business in underground covens.

One day when the three were discussing a new business venture, they were approached by two men, one of whom was obviously important and influential because of the glittery ornaments he wore.

Mother said she was overcome by a premonition of this man and his companion. Out of their mouths came strange promises, dangerous promises, that should never have been uttered.

Afterwards the three realised the terrifying nature of their words and promised to say nothing to another person.

The young man realised his premonition and went on to be a dreadful and feared ruler.

Bloodshed followed him everywhere.

But as blood begets blood the young man found himself back at my mothers ordering her to reveal more of his future.

Consulting her sisters my mother found they had a message, a message of hope and of dread.

The sisters under my mother’s direction decided to band together against this ambitious young man and forbid him to return to them as they feared more bloodshed and eventually their own reputations would be in tatters.

They told him that no man born of woman would harm him. This prediction they hoped would send him away in the knowledge that he was safe now from all harm.

Thus leaving them to get on with their busy lives.

Some time later mother heard from a travelling salesman that the young man had met an untimely death at the hands of his rival, a man born by caesarean section.

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Alastair’s Photo Fiction: July 28th 2013

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The Dangly Thing.

 I ‘m not happy.

No?

No.

Problem?

Yes, there’s nowhere to go.

There isn’t?

Can’t go forward, can’t go back

That’s the problem with moments in time.

I know.

You can’t talk about before or after.

Cause there isn’t any?

Exactly.

Them out there, they’ll want to know.

I know.

What will we say?

What could we say?

Well we could say it’s phallic.

That’s a bit risqué.

Well god knows these things need something.

Most definitely.

But we can’t say that.

Why not?

Already been done.

It has?

Who?

Zebra.

Zebra?

Yes.

She’s like that.

All high heels and dancing.

Lovely girl though.

Magical.

What about the thing?

The thing.

The dangly thing?

No idea.

Me neither.

A lounge?

No.

A musical instrument?

Doesn’t strike a chord with me.

We don’t need to say anything really.

No?

We are, it is.

What’s left to say?

Posted in Photo Fiction | 15 Comments

Ligo Haibun Challenge Nature and Flowers

“Come forth into the light of things,

let nature be your teacher”  ~ William Wordsworth

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My first time out of the city was to visit my uncle and aunt at Ransom Manor.

My eyes feasted on the greenery of the fields, the endless rows of hedge and the occasional glimpse of small animals that scurried into the bush as I approached.

Ransom Manor provided me with days of discovery, walking knee deep in fields of daisies, feeding poddy calves and helping with the milking.

My perception of the country as a harsh and unforgiving place changed with this visit.

It is indeed a beautiful place where nature thrives in all its glory.

 

perceptions change

lying in fields of splendor

thriving beautifully

Posted in Haibon haiku | 28 Comments

Trifextra -Week 78

This weekend, the Trifextra challenge is to write a thirty-three word piece that has a color in it. Use the color to describe anything you like, or use anything you like to describe your color.

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My chosen colour is Orange.

 

Am I unique?

Yes you are.

How?

You have a distinctive shape, you taste exquisite and your scent lingers after you have gone.

Don’t forget I am orange.

Oh silly, you’re a mandarin.

Posted in Uncategorized | 21 Comments

VisDare 30: Basking

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When Johnno awoke, a prize winning novelist he couldn’t help but think how good life was.

It had been a glittering night. The many and varied had done all they could to be photographed with him.

Considering that he left school at fourteen and worked down the coal mine until he was thirty, his rise to stardom was monumental to say the least.

Now seated on the Lion’s Head he was lost among thoughts of how to spend the money.

Everyone had asked if he had another novel.

‘Not sure I’m all that interested,’ he thought to himself.

Those decisions could wait.

He had fame and glory to soak up.

A month or two of free lunches and TV appearances.

Soon he thought he would make the trek to his mothers bedside in the hope she had enough marbles left to dictate him another winner.

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Sky Prawns

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This is my effort for Friday Fictioneers. For all you American bloggers who have a problem with ‘prawns’ substitute ‘shrimp’. Not my fault you have it wrong!!

You reckon we could make it?

No worries.

How far do you think?

Hard to say.

You think that’s where they’re hiding?

Have to be. It’s big enough.

That’s what I think too.

They like a big cave.

They do.

So what’s the plan?

Plan?

Yeah we should have a plan.

Probably a good idea.

Got the net?

Yeah.

The boiler on?

Yes, I’m organized.

Lets go on three.

Three.

Go, go, go.

There, there, there.

Wow look at that.

That’s what I call a catch of sky prawns.

Lets get out of here before….

Jet!

Idiot! The prawns!!

Posted in Friday Fiction | 63 Comments

100 Words – Wild Horse

100 Words is another weekly writing challenge over at Velvet Verbosity. The lovely lady behind the blog and challenge launches a word or phrase at us on a Monday and gives us a week to play with it any way we like, as long as it is exactly 100 words long. We can then link up our post using the nifty linking tool, have other challenges read our posts, and best of all, read theirs!  

 

 

WILD HORSE

 

After four days on the mountain I decided to give capturing the wild horse one last try.

Many had tried before.

None had succeeded.

Then I saw it.

Standing behind a gum tree.

I knew it could be easily spooked.

As I moved towards it I could see it knew I was there.

The magnificent stallion looked at me.

Stared into my eyes.

I stood frozen.

It snorted, shook its mane, stamped its foot as if daring me to make a move.

Then as if laughing at my feeble attempts turned and plunged down the hill to safety.

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