Crimson’s Creative Challenge #26 – Battlements

Posted on May 10, 2019 by Michael

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My aged companion Crisp was standing at the kitchen table, map spread out before her, pen in hand and was circling something which I assumed would be our day’s activity.

“Battlements,” she announced, “three ks from here and on the bus route. Get your boots on we can take our lunch in our backpacks and be back for the evening happy hour at the pub.”

We arrived at the beginning of the walking trail and set off.

Before long the way got tough, vines were growing over the trail and Crisp was not happy at being held up.

Being a lady of some refinement she wasn’t one to swear and curse, but the vines did get the better of her, and a few choice expletives seemed to send the message the vines had best behave or else.

Huffing and puffing we arrived, and a satisfied Crisp stood in front so I could take a photo or two of her triumph.

(Please excuse my tardiness in going over 150 words, I originally had 220!!)

Written for: https://crimsonprose.wordpress.com/2019/05/08/crimsons-creative-challenge-26/

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Reena’s Exploration Challenge #85 – A Woman of the Bush.

Posted on May 9, 2019 by Michael

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She was a woman of the bush

Her home was among the tangle of vines

Her wisdom sought after

She could solve most things if you bothered to listen.

She’d tell you to feel the connection

Put an ear to the trees

Take in all you heard.

You could find her most days tending her garden

The herbs she grew had a purpose and a tale

If you asked what or why

She’d fix you with her stare

Then explain in no uncertain terms

The reason why each herb was precious.

This one would cure this and that,

Another for easing pain, settling nerves,

Mix them together, and you created a potion

Put you to sleep or fill you with vigour.

She was ever willing to share,

For she was a woman of the bush

Whose home among the vines

Kept her safe from greedy eyes.

 

Written for: https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2019/05/02/reenas-exploration-challenge-85/

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Tale Weaver # 222 – The Opportunities of Old Age – May 9th

Posted on May 9, 2019 by Michael

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Out the window, I could see the old couple heading off. Hand in hand, the man, holding an umbrella over his lady friend as the rain was beginning to fall.

They made steady progress, as it was clear the man was not as fit as he might have been. But their demeanour suggested they were not in any hurry, rather they were enjoying being together.

As they walked on I couldn’t help but notice the old man begin to slow down, he leaned more on his friend, his step shortened, his body bent over as they made their way down the wet, deserted street.

They stopped beside the park, and I could see them commenting on the vegetation, the trees were out in their autumn splendour, and they like everyone else marvelled at the colours on display, the bright yellows and reds of the introduced deciduous trees along side the hardy native evergreens.

I got to thinking about old age. What would it be like for me when I reached the age where getting around was not as easy as it was now?

I didn’t like the thought of using a walking stick, a walking frame, needing help with the basic things in life.

The old couple I observed didn’t seem to see any of that as a burden; it was how life was for them.

Under a tree in the park, they stopped, and the woman spread out a plastic sheet on a damp seat, and they sat there, umbrella overhead and hold hands, taking in the scene before them.

The old man was smiling, his lady friend giggling before he reached across and gave her a kiss. For a second they took in each other’s eyes, and I saw then what made them tick. She then reached in and returned his kiss, and leant against his shoulder as if still love-struck teenagers.

Old age doesn’t afford a lot of time, that’s the cruel reality, but it does allow us the time to cement and treasure the relationships we do have.

The couple in question had clearly connected with each other, their joy at being together apparent to anyone who looked upon them.

As night was beginning to spread its dark shadow over the park, I watched as they gathered themselves, and joining hands turned towards the RSL Club where the Tuesday night $10.00 chicken schnitzel awaited them.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/05/09/tale-weaver-222-the-opportunities-of-old-age-may-9th/

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100 Word Wednesday: Week 120 – The Flower Show

Posted on May 9, 2019 by Michael

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Ten minutes into the flower show the kids had had enough.

You could tell they had the attitude we’ve seen one and therefore seen them all.

No amount of enthusiasm from mum made the slightest impact on them. They wanted to get to the carnival rides and a sea of flowers was no one’s idea of fun.

It wasn’t unexpected they’d behave in this way. Dad had said as much to mum as they pulled up but mum was determined the flower show was to be enjoyed by one and all.

Needless to say the constant whinging changed all that.

 

Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2019/05/08/100-word-wednesday-week-120/

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What do you See? May 7/2019 – Gran’s Day with Her Grandson.

Posted on May 8, 2019 by Michael

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Play with me Gran

My turn,

No, not that way.
Gran you gotta play right.

 

Chastised, Gran looks up from the floor where she had been holding her head while small grandson hides behind the lounge.

 

He calls out:

Ready Gran, come find me.

She wonders how she’ll get up off the floor

But she’s committed to the game

She heaves herself onto her knees

Knowing where her grandson is

But determined to play

As she loves this time with him.

 

She hears his tell-tale giggle,

Walks around the lounge room

I wonder where he is?

Is he there?

No?

Is he here?

No?

I bet he is here!

There are squeals of delight as he laughs out loud

Pleased he has been found.

Your turn Gran he cries

Go hide,

I’ll count to ten.

 

Gran backs off as the small boy puts his pudgy hands over his eyes and counts in his small boy way:

One, two, four, six, nine, ten.

Coming or not Gran.

 

Her grandson has unlimited energy, and she is feeling hers waning as the day goes on

But she loves her grandson and perseveres.

I’ll sleep tonight she tells herself as the boy’s mother enters to rescue her from a dinosaur attack the boy has now initiated.

 

Later she travels home the memory of the day firmly in her mind.

Her heart warmed by the privilege of being Gran to such a beautiful boy.

 

 

Written for: https://helenevaillant.com/2019/05/07/what-do-you-see-may-7-2019/

 

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Crimson’s Creative Challenge #25 – To Be Young Again

Posted on May 2, 2019 by Michael

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“I wish I was young again,” said my aged companion Crisp as we ate our lunch beside the road to Norfolk.

Crisp had grown old gracefully and when I asked her what prompted that thought she looked over at the young girl sitting at the edge of the pond dangling her feet in the water.

“Some days I wish I could still do what I could when I was her age,” she replied a hint of wishful thinking in her voice. “Look at her, not a care in the world, if I sat there I doubt I could get up.”

We were both aging and ached and whinged from time to time but we tried to limit our complaining to once a week. But seeing the young flitting around always seemed to bring on the morose in Crisp.

She looked away, remembering, and took another sip of her tea.

 

Written for: https://crimsonprose.wordpress.com/2019/05/01/crimsons-creative-challenge-25/

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Tale Weaver – #221 – Ritual – May 2nd

Posted on May 2, 2019 by Michael

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Max peeped out his front door to discover the world outside was still functioning, and he felt reassured by this.

Most days Max resolved to venture out as he had convinced himself that if the world was going around, he should be doing all he could to help it to continue to do so.

But that was as far as he got. With one eye looking through the crack he observed the traffic going by, his neighbours, Betty and Jim, heading off to work, and the postman dropping off mail.

Max had all but eliminated the mail. In his confinement, he had mastered the Internet, and every bit of correspondence was done in that manner.

There was still the junk mail that found its way into his box, but he was glad they had introduced recycling, so he felt he was doing his bit for the planet.

The reason Max had looked out on this day was his nagging thought that living as he did, shut away from the physical world, was not a healthy way to live.

The Internet did open up the world to him. If some part of him was in pain or ached, he was able to look it up and decide on the best treatment, which might involve ordering a drug or two and then awaiting its arrival. He had over the years become friendly, in a Max sort of way, with the post deliveryman, a grey-headed and friendly man called Steve who would always call out when he came to the front door. Max would go out and hurriedly sign for his package and then scurry inside giving Steve the briefest possible exchange.

He had read a lot about living secluded from the world. There were many like him if he believed the stories of people living and dying alone, though none of them helped him in any way.

He looked at his calendar and noted that today was his grocery delivery. He loved the idea of ordering on-line. He had so hated the weekly trip to the supermarket even though he went there early in the morning before it got crowded. Max was conscious of everyone looking at him, and he had long convinced himself that as he was an odd looking man he was constantly under judgemental scrutiny.

This was a conclusion he had come to from the perusal he made each morning of his face in the bathroom mirror. Max liked to shave each morning telling himself he looked less shabby for doing so.

The self-help books had told him it was important he like himself and even though that was a very tall order for him, he told himself the least he could do was keep his face clean. So the morning shave had become part of his starting the day ritual.

He could hear the noise of the world outside his door and concluded it was probably best he stay in today. On reflection this was his default position each day as he always told himself maybe tomorrow will be a better day to try and venture out.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/05/02/tale-weaver-221-ritual-may-2nd/

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Tuesday Photo Challenge – Technology

Posted on April 30, 2019 by Michael

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We play together, Tech and I

Like kids in a sandpit

Sharing, caring, taking our turns

Never a cross word

UNTIL

One decides it has had enough,

Usually, Tech gives up the ghost

Wants a time out

Says to reboot,

Turn me off, then on again.

What a nuisance I say.

Be patient calls, my mum

When she hears us squabbling

Easy for her to say

I have a game to play

A story to write

A film to watch.

Sometimes I’m sure Tech digs in his heels

I sense he is sitting arms folded

Pouting knowing he has me figured

Just letting me stew until he’s ready.

With normal service resumed

We play once again

Best buddies,

Sharing, caring taking our turns.

 

Written for: https://dutchgoesthephoto.net/2019/04/30/tuesday-photo-challenge-technology/

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Photo Challenge #261 – The Knight’s Quest

Posted on April 30, 2019 by Michael

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Image: – Pixlr.com

The cry was heard from across the valley

Soft and a long way off

So when the indifferent heard it

They looked and shrugging and went back to their hoeing.

The curious looked up, whispered to each other

Speculated and started a story,

Always with no substance, the truth a triviality.

The next day the cry became a wail

The indifferent, among many expletives

Muttered, “Bloody neighbours” and looked away.

The curious gathered in bigger groups,

Their story taking shape,

Fed off petty gossip mongering

They were loving every second,

Their lives enriched by the misery of others.

The knight was tired of fencing lessons

Saw a cause he might pursue

A maiden in distress, or a distressing maiden

He didn’t care.

He readied himself with great fanfare,

To ride out and assume the quest

That was his role he had been told.

By now the wail had reached a crescendo,

The town urged the knight to go forth

To cross the valley and sort it out

To return a hero, with a bride, maybe.

They watched as he crossed the valley,

The indifferent thought him a fool,

The curious thought him the source of story,

Juicy titbits they invented daily

They were not ones for truth.

Across the valley, the wailing ceased

There was silence.

The indifferent continued their mundane hoeing

The curious created a fictional legend

For then the knight returned

His armour beaten and battered

His will all but destroyed.

The wailing had been a maiden

But not one in distress

He had wandered in all gusto

To a place, he was not welcomed.

He resolved in future to play it safe

Stick to fencing lessons

At least there he stood a chance.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/04/30/photo-challenge-261/

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Prompts – April 29 – Lunchtime.

Posted on April 30, 2019 by Michael

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Image: Follower of John Singer Sargent (American, 1856 – 1925 ), Resting, c. 1880-1890, watercolor over graphite on wove paper, Joseph F. McCrindle Collection 2010.93.1

It had been another hot day, and I was sick of the heat, and so I snuck away from work during my lunch break with a novel I had started to read and which showed promise. I found a spot under a tree, away from the clatter of the city and settled myself down.

As I did the quiet of the location descended upon me, and I breathed it in, pleased I’d taken the time to find this spot. There was a gentle breeze blowing across me and I guessed it was coming from off the ocean a little way to my right.

How good would it be I thought to sit here every day and take in the world?

I was about to open my book when a blue jay appeared on the grass before me. It landed silently, looked about as if sizing up the threat I might be and pecked once or twice on the ground before fluttering off to a branch above me.

What a life you have I thought of the blue jay. Flitting about the landscape, from one tree to another, satisfying your hunger by picking off the myriad of life that you find delectable then starting all over. No work, no taxes, no pressures other than the need to eat and at some stage find a partner to procreate.

They must have a mating ritual I thought, what does one blue jay find attractive in another blue jay. They are all the same to me, but I suppose they look at us and think the same.

Next thing the blue jay was sitting before me once again. This time he looked at me, and if blue jays had a curious face, then this one had one in that moment. It was as if he was determining what I was all about. I was sitting still, knowing any movement would probably scare him off and I didn’t want to be a party to that.

He came a step closer, and I looked at my book as if trying to appear non-threatening and disinterested but out of the corner of my eye I kept an eye on him.

Then the most extra-ordinary thing happened. He hopped onto my foot, or more my shoe. I felt the surge of excitement go through me. I felt paralysed not wanting to do anything to take away from how I felt. It was as if the blue jay was making contact with me that it didn’t see me as the threat I may have been.

How wonderful I thought. He only sat there a moment or two before flying off. My shoe was cheap leather, and so he probably thought it wasn’t edible in any way.

By now my mind was as far away from my novel as it had ever been. I felt exhilarated; I wanted to get back to work if only to tell my companions of my experience.

Checking my watch, I found my time was up, and I needed to get back. I’m sure my excitement was obvious as I bounced my way back across the bustling street and into the concrete world of business.

 

Written for: https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/04/29/prompts-april-29/

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