What do you See? June 4/2019 – I Love him Dad!

Posted on June 4, 2019 by Michael

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“I didn’t dad, I didn’t,

I was just sitting in the moonlight

There’s no harm in sitting here is there?

I placed this rug down so I wouldn’t get a chill

And it’s such a beautiful night dad

I even brought out my hat to keep off those pesky moonbeams

You know how harmful they can be.”

“You aren’t fooling anyone young lady

There’s guilt written all over your face

And If I’ve told you once I’ve said it a hundred times

Prowling around on the rooftops is no way

For a lady to secure a mate.

People talk, we have a reputation to uphold

What might the neighbours say to seeing you

In an assignation with Tommy, the Tom Cat,

They’d be disgusted as would your mother.”

“I’m sorry dad, but he’s such a nice Tom

I think I’ve fallen for him,

When he’s around, I’m lured in by his smell

I just want him so bad.”

“Don’t be so rude, it can’t happen

That Tom is not one of us

You have to stop this juvenile behaviour.”

“Oh, daddy you are breaking my heart

I may as well throw myself off this roof now.”

“Don’t be silly my girl, there are plenty more Toms in this world.

I’m going inside now, gather yourself together

And come in too.

Oh, and tell young Tom there to cut his claws

They look positively dangerous.”

 

Written for: https://helenevaillant.com/2019/06/04/what-do-you-see-june-4-2019/

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Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #16 – The Goose, the Girl and an Egg.

Posted on June 4, 2019 by Michael

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Image: Stine86Engel@pixabay.com.

A bird with a woman on board

Came flying by

We saw, we marvelled

Then dismissed it all

An illusion said some

Figment of your imagination said the learned ones.

The next day they flew by again

Heads were raised, tongues wagged

Such silly times they all agreed

A bird being flown by a girl

Ludicrous,

Ridiculous

Unheard of,

A girl, could you imagine?

The girl in question was unmoved,

When later in the supermarket

She was asked: Why? How?

She shrugged and said, why not?

The man who asked scoffed

Said it couldn’t be true

Called her a liar, a whore,

Said she was obviously a scarlet woman

But the girl produced an egg,

A golden egg

Which made them all stop and take notice

Where do you think this came from?

She left them dumbfounded

Skipped off humming

Something about the goose

Who laid the golden egg.

 

Written for: https://fivedotoh.com/2019/06/03/fandangos-flash-fiction-challenge-16/

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Sunday Writing Prompt “5 by 5” – The Old School.

Posted on June 2, 2019 by Michael

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An old school

Weather – foggy

An empty desk

Gesture – wait

Tool – scissors

The ghostly image of the school loomed through the foggy morning as if suggesting what I was seeing was something imaginary even though the memories of being there so long ago were still clear within my mind.

It sat on the side of the hill, innocuous in itself but not so for the children who attended.

Inside the broken windows, long desecrated by vengeful students whose time at the school must have been far worse than mine, the empty desks, dusty and in disrepair sat in solitude, sentenced to an eternity of detention.

The fog had settled around the buildings, creating a shadowy presence, as if protecting the place from the indignity of abandonment. I thought it must have plenty to hide, school was never a pleasant place, we attracted teachers who I’m sure saw our school as being at the arse end of the world and us kids as the worse kind you could encounter. In some ways that was true but not everyone was nasty and unpleasant, some of us did want to learn as we saw school as a means to get out of the town and make something of ourselves. But we were in the minority and any attempt to appeal to the better nature of our teachers was always greeted with a hand held in our faces, telling us to wait as they dealt with some kid in the class who didn’t want to be there and made creating disruption an art form.

I walked into my Year 6 classroom and in the corner found a rusty and corroded pair of scissors, long neglected and thrown in the corner to rot like so much of the place. I wondered whose hands had once held them, had cut and pasted some collage or in our case more likely to have injured someone.

With the fog settled around the buildings, the view obscured, veiled in the grey of the morning I thought it appropriate that a school that offered little hope to its students should be shrouded in such a way.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/06/02/sunday-writing-prompt-5-by-5-4/

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May 30: Flash Fiction Challenge – Strawberries and Mint.

Posted on May 31, 2019 by Michael

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“You can’t kill it,” my neighbour said to me when he gave me a mint plant. “Just keep the water up to it and it will thrive.”

That much was true as the mint in his place had been growing in the same spot for well on fifty years. He had a green thumb, his strawberries grew strongly and produced huge fruit that melted your taste buds. My plants struggled no matter how well I thought I cared for them.

But they survived despite my neglect, and the strawberries look healthy though producing not much fruit to brag about.

 

Written for: https://carrotranch.com/2019/05/30/may-30-flash-fiction-challenge/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , | 13 Comments

100 Word Wednesday: Week 123 – The Old School Bus

Posted on May 31, 2019 by Michael

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The sight of our old school bus took me back to the days when Rusty Collins would pull up at the end of our driveway and wait patiently while mum dragged me down the drive and then push me aboard, telling me I’d be ok once I got going.

When Rusty retired, the bus was used by the Corrigan’s who travelled the length and breathe of the country.

I wondered if the ghosts of students past lingered on. The assignations, food fights and rushed attempts at homework before fronting up to Sister Mary with her cane always at the ready.

 

Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2019/05/29/100-word-wednesday-week-123/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Tale Weaver – # 225 – Reflection – 30th May.

Posted on May 30, 2019 by Michael

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Miss Marble of 46 Grimace Street was sitting on her veranda watching the goings and comings of the street and reflecting on the long life she had had.

She had been alive a long time and looking back realised how lucky she was. From a simple woman playing with herbs and potions to a witch of considerable power and longevity.

Her longevity was the result of a chance encounter with the Klator, an alien but pleasant race from a distance universe who discovered Miss Marble’s Ju Ju juice potion, essential in keeping them alive. In return for the Juice, they gave Miss Marble a small vial of an elixir which had sustained her throughout the generations.

The Klator arrived on an annual basis, how they got here Miss Marble never quite understood, but each year they’d show up, a vial of the elixir in one hand and an outstretched hand for the potion they so needed.

She was aging, she could see that. She was by now some five hundred years old, she’d seen a lot, she’d met a lot of people, not all good, but on the whole, people were honest folk trying their best to get along in life. In the mirror she saw a middle-aged woman, there were lines on her face now, age lines especially around her eyes, but she refused to slow down as in these present times there were many reliant upon her potions and help.

She’d watched Grimace Street grow up around her, she’d become the arbiter of who moved into the street, and she’d made great friends with most of the residents.

But time had marched on, and she’d buried more friends than she wanted to and her only constant was her faithful hound Sal, who with a drop of the elixir each week had lived on with her. But he too was aging, and in her reflective moments, she wondered how much longer they might survive.

When the time came she knew she would welcome it, despite the pull of living, she understood she had had her time, and it was time to rest.  What would happen to Grimace Street she often wondered, there was no one to take over from her, it would be expecting far too much for anyone to take on her life.

She had all these things to reflect on and in the late afternoon sun, watching the kids from Number 57 playing their games in the street, she knew her legacy was something to be proud of.

 

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/05/30/tale-weaver-225-reflection-may-30th/

 

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Crimson’s Creative Challenge #29 – The Church of St. Beryl.

Posted on May 30, 2019 by Michael

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Crisp, my aged companion, made mention that today was the 29th day of our holiday.

With the appropriate brochure in hand, she decided we needed to see the medieval church of Saint Beryl, patron of all things cloven-footed.

Crisp had an affiliation for things cloven-footed, and so we set off on the bus from the Post Office.

The church was tucked into a small hill surrounded by gravestones of long deceased parishioners. Inside the sun shone through a window below which burnt candles.

Crisp asked me for a few Euros to buy a candle and then needed a leg up to place it on the sill below the window.

She stood with head bowed before saying we should go out and explore the graves.

“I said one for you too,” she said, with me wondering how I came to mind when she thought of cloven-footed things.

 

Written for: https://crimsonprose.wordpress.com/2019/05/29/crimsons-creative-challenge-29/

 

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What do you See? May 28/2019 – The Unusual Gift

Posted on May 29, 2019 by Michael

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It was sitting outside the front door,

Just there, minding its own business

But alluring at the same time.

What made it even more mysterious was it wasn’t Christmas

It wasn’t my birthday

In fact, a gift of any kind was unusual.

My family had long given up on buying gifts for each other

We each had our own families, and they were hard work enough.

There was a card attached:

“Thinking of you at this time”.

Underneath was scribbled, “Sorry to be so tardy.”

The indecipherable signature did little

In shedding light on who it was from.

Inside was a small coffee mug on which was inscribed:

“Best Teacher Ever”.

I’d been retired for more than five years

The only clue was the small initial at the bottom

MB.

I smiled when I saw it, as I then knew

It was a student I’d been thinking of recently,

Who had been in the papers for all the wrong reasons.

Even so, she had thought of me.

 

 

Written for: https://helenevaillant.com/2019/05/28/what-do-you-see-may-28-2019/

 

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 17 Comments

Photo Challenge #265 – Bodgy John

Posted on May 29, 2019 by Michael

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Bodgy John is the coolest guy around,

He is the hallmark of fashion,

Always the latest and the best.

He enjoys flaunting his body,

Hours spent in the gym pay off

When girls check him out,

And the portly middle-aged gentlemen

Give themselves a safe distance

For fear of comparison.

Bodgy John goes to the beach spreads out

His favourite towel, his fashion sandals,

His shorts and top the best around.

With beer in hand and cigarette between his lips

He sets a standard, one most can only dream of.

He’ll only stay long enough to mark his point:

‘Look at me and weep.’

Gathering his paraphernalia, he exits,

Satisfied he has garnered the necessary attention,

He ponces off into the distance.

Bodgy John, the coolest guy around.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/05/28/photo-challenge-265/

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Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #15 – The Last Stop

Posted on May 28, 2019 by Michael

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There was a sense of finality about the sign ahead of them.

Beyond this point were they stepping off the edge of the world, entering an abyss or just some never-never from which survival was only an option.

They contemplated these possibilities as they sat after taking advantage of the last fuel sign. They’d also purchased the Last Stop lunch special, a pie and chips combo of suspect quality, but as they were hungry, they devoured what they had and hoped it wouldn’t come back later to haunt them.

As they sat there, they thought about the lotto sign. What if they bought a ticket and it won, and they were way off in the future from which there might be no return. How disappointing might that be especially as they’d probably never know they’d won?

It was all quite depressing as they sat there looking ahead into the endless flat plain.

They studied the only map they had and determined that beyond the horizon there was more of the same, five hundred miles of flat road, a rest house at the two-fifty mark and nothing else to look at apart from the bugs and the strange crawling insects which had already begun to attach themselves to their car.

To break the monotony, they did buy a ticket in the lotto. On the way back, they could check to see if they had won, and there was always the thought of possible success.

Having finished their lunch and guzzled the last of their coke, they started the car and turned out of the last fuel stop.

Fifty feet past the service station was another sign, “Next fuel two-fifty miles, be prepared, be aware, stay alert”.

They smiled at each other, and the driver pressed his foot to the accelerator, the car charged ahead and vanished into the distance.

Back at the Last Stop, the owner picked up his phone and dialled the number he did so often when travellers departed.

“Another two coming your way,” he said. He nodded in reply to whatever was said to him and replacing the phone he grabbed his etching pen and put a fresh tally point on the wall.

“Not bad this month,” he said, thinking of the evening’s entertainment in store for him.

 

Written for: https://fivedotoh.com/2019/05/27/fandangos-flash-fiction-challenge-15/

Posted in Uncategorized, Writing prompt | Tagged , , , | 9 Comments