Thursday photo prompt: Blade #writephoto – The Wall Creatures

Posted on February 7, 2019 by Michael

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Within the walls of the long forgotten old castle, they found the sword buried in the wall as if put there by some ancient person to protect it from falling into the wrong hands.

It had been a wise move, as the sword had lain hidden for a long time. During that passage of time moss had grown over the abandoned walls and the sword also had been overgrown. Upon discovery, the blade had a green hue, which made all the more intriguing.

Understandably there was considerable consternation among the tiny creatures that inhabited the crevasses in the wall. The blade had long been part of their environment. In their eyes, it was part of them, and its removal was not welcomed in any way.

To put it mildly, the removal of the blade left a huge hole in their lives. For them the blade and its hilt had always been a great source of conversation, myths had been created about it and stories of past victories repeated over the years. What were they to do?

Meetings were called, resolutions made, votes taken and at one point revolution was spoken of. The downfall of the wall creatures was that they were good at resolutions but not so on action.

So as the hole in which the blade had once sat began to fill with the dust of the air, more resolutions were made, threats of retribution were called for, and so life went on with new legends and myths being created along the lines of what was once part of their history but now was not.

Each story was embellished with more and more embellishment until as new generations arrived the facts could no longer be discerned from the fantasy, but that didn’t really bother the wall folk all that much so long as there was a good story to tell.

 

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2019/02/07/thursday-photo-prompt-blade-writephoto/

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Reena’s Exploration Challenge #73 – One Minute

Posted on February 7, 2019 by Michael

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It wasn’t until after the incident, which was all of one minute, that I realised how significant it was, and could have been.

It was a day like any other, I had finished work and there was a parent/teacher afternoon on, but before that, I went to collect the ironing from our ironing lady. My wife and I both worked, and we had six growing children, and there wasn’t a lot of time to indulge in such things as ironing.

What was to be a short trip turned into an event, which woke me up to my own mortality.

I stopped at the corner to turn left when I noticed a car coming towards me at high speed. Normally the distance the car was away was enough for me to turn and carry on my way. Whether it was instinct or my guardian angel, I don’t know, but something told me to wait for this car. It roared past me and by the time I drove out behind it the car had collected another car turning right a little further down the street.

It was all over so quickly. The speeding vehicle smashed into the car, rolled it like a piece of garbage into the gutter killing the driver. All I could do through the shock of the incident was to call for help.

That minute in my life was like a flash in time. What I saw I had to talk about for some time after, that was my mechanism for dealing with the shock of it.

It has stayed with me all these years but made me realise how things can often change in less than a minute.

 

Written for:  https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2019/02/07/reenas-exploration-challenge-73/

 

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Tale Weaver #209 – Rebuild – 7th February

Posted on February 7, 2019 by Michael

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It was just on dawn when she awoke. Beside her, the two boys slept stirring occasionally to grab the blanket that covered them against the night air.

Her circumstances had cried her to sleep last night after settling the boys and reassuring them she would be there when they awoke in the morning.

Her life had been torn apart. Her husband had left, gave her no warning, just up and left, said he didn’t love her and was moving in with a woman five years her junior.

Yesterday she had returned after collecting the boys from school to find the house stripped of everything bar two beds, one for each of the boys. There had been a note to say she had to be out of the house in a week as he had put it up for sale and he would be taking her to court to secure full custody of the boys.

She wondered about the ownership of the house. It had been her money from a lottery win that had paid off the mortgage, and she had left the house in both their names, as she never envisioned a time like this.

Now she had nothing. Her job was barely enough to pay the running costs of a household, and now he had taken everything material from her, even the fridge and stove were gone.

She felt in tatters as she lay there wondering what she could do. But she knew she couldn’t stay there in a house with nothing, she needed some security for herself and the boys.

Her brother had been outraged when she called him the previous night and through the anger and tears she heard him say he would do all he could to help her through the tough times ahead. So she knew she had one ally.

He told her she would rebuild her life that it would be hard but she wouldn’t be alone offering to help out and sit with the boys when she needed time out.

The older boy lay close to her and asked if there was any breakfast. There was a box of cereal in the cupboard but no milk; he’d taken that as well.

“Come on,” she said, “let’s get dressed and go to Maccas for breakfast, my treat.”

Like all kids they didn’t need much encouragement to have breakfast out and were ready quickly, discussing what they might have.

With that out of the way and the boys safely delivered to school, she set in motion her rebuilding program. The first stop was to her solicitor to find out where she stood and what she could do. Her boys were precious, and they deserved far more than their father had left them with.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/02/07/tale-weaver-209-rebuild-7th-february/

 

 

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Tell the Story: 7th Heaven – The Zoo of Eternity

Posted on February 7, 2019 by Michael

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Image: pixabay.com

Di at pensitivity101 asked me to try and write something to the above image. So here’s what I came up with. 

When the child after a long illness, during which her tiny body had been ravaged by disease, opened her eyes she was taken aback by seeing Death standing there.

Death was aware of how confronting this was to any child and tried its best to look as non-threatening a possible.

Not easy when it considered it didn’t have the charisma, love and compassion of the angels who oozed such things from every feather of their metaphorical wings.

But over the millennia it had developed a certain way of greeting deceased children. Standing as nonchalantly as possible it even tried the occasional smile, which it concluded, was more frightening than his normal straight-faced approach.

So taking the child’s hand Death led it through the gates of the living and into the eternity of the non-living.

Death had a short window of opportunity in which to show the child some of the delights of the next world.

One such place was the Zoo of Eternity in which existed every animal ever to have lived upon the earth. They were all there, from the dinosaurs to the present. Death took the child to a viewing platform where she could watch the animals in their respective natural states and stood in awe as a giraffe came close to look at her as much as she at it.

Taking her hand he led her to the gates of the Angels where there awaited an angel to take her into its care.

As he bid farewell to the child his soul sensor indicated another soul was about ready for collecting. It was an old man, and he knew he could be himself.

 

Written for: https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2019/02/06/tell-the-story-7th-heaven/

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Crimson’s Creative Challenge #13 – The Gate

Posted on February 6, 2019 by Michael

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He loved a good gate. A good gate led to an adventure, and he never knew what lay beyond the gateway, so he tackled the notion of exploring with great enthusiasm.

It was a simple lock to open the gate, and he ventured through with expectations high.

The grass was knee deep which suggested the gate led to a paddock which was uninhabited by cattle in particular.

“Careful,” he heard a voice at his feet say.

“Watch it!” exclaimed another more irritated than the first.

“Bloody humans think they can come in here and pay no attention to us the rightful owners,” said the first voice.

“Bloody hide,” cried the other.

He looked around and down but saw nothing. He looked back over where he had stepped and saw nothing apart from the indentations of his boots in the grass.

“I thought you changed the lock,” said the first voice accusingly.

“I did, only yesterday, he must have sorted it out. I thought you said to put on the fool proof lock,” said the other sounding defensive.

“Mustn’t be a fool,” said the first with an air of resignation, “you can’t be too sure sometimes, they are a funny lot, not all as stupid as the other.”

“Excuse me,” said he who loved a good gate, “I came through the gate because I saw a chance to explore and I saw no sign saying do not enter.”

“What did he say?” asked the first

“Something about exploring,” said the other.

“They all say that,” replied the first.

“Who are you?” asked he who loved a good gate.

“We’re us,” announced the first.

“Yes, us,” seconded the other.

“I can’t see you,” said he who loved a good gate.

“You can’t,” stated the first.

“It’s against the rules to see us,” retorted the other.

“There are rules in a paddock of long grass?” queried he who loved a good gate.

“Of course,” said the first.

“Everybody knows there are rules,” added the other.

“Where would we be without rules?” asked the first sounding very smug.

“ Shouldn’t the rules be published and posted on the gate so anyone coming in might be aware?” asked he who loved a good gate.

“What nonsense,” scoffed the first.

“You should know them,” explained the other.

“As you don’t know the rules you must leave, or things might not end well for you,” said the first now with an air of authority.

“But I don’t mean any harm, I just want to have a look around, see what is here that sort of thing,” pleaded he who loved a good gate.

“No sorry,” said the first.

“Our hands are tied I’m afraid,” added the other.

“Best be on your way, or as you humans might say, on your bike,” chuckled the first.

When he tried to proceed, he found his boots glued to the spot. He could retreat but not advance.

“This is just preposterous,” announced he who loved a gate, “I’m going to report you, see what the authorities have to say about this.”

“Be our guest,” called the first as he who loved a gate made his way back to the gate.

When he reached the gate, he slammed it behind him and heard a click, which he assumed, was the lock going into place.

“Ahhh,” he heard the other say, “Forgot to slam it when I changed the lock.”

“Works every time if you slam it,” the first announced.

 

Written for: https://crimsonprose.wordpress.com/2019/02/06/crimsons-creative-challenge-13/

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100 Word Wednesday: Week 107 – Bushwalking

Posted on February 6, 2019 by Michael

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When out bushwalking one should always be vigilant as to where one plants one’s feet. There is no end of obstacles to catch you up. Like, eight legged creatures.

To that end, one should proceed with one’s eyes cast down for such hazards.

If you look around you may take in the scenery as depicted in the above photo of a break in the foliage to reveal a quaint bridge over a river. Of course, this could be an illusion, which might lead you astray and into dangerous times, which is why one should always have one’s wits about them.

 

Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2019/02/06/100-word-wednesday-week-107/

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In Other Words, handmade…

Posted on February 6, 2019 by Michael

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Handmade

It was an old handmade postcard from World War One.

The army insignia stitched onto the cardboard.

Someone had painstakingly sewn it all those years ago.

Still, in good condition, it contained a message never forgotten.

Best wishes from a new husband, killed a few days later, to his young wife and newly born son.

 

Written for: https://patriciasplace.me/2019/02/06/in-other-words-handmade/

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Photo Challenge #250 – A Subject of Merit

Posted on February 5, 2019 by Michael

Creative

He had a way with sauces, with embellishment

Today was no different,

The dessert arrived with an uncanny likeness.

He had obviously been watching

Taking in her features for he had them exact.

She blushed when she saw it

Looked momentarily embarrassed

Becoming the centre of attention.

It was a fine chocolate sauce,

Spooned and streaked on the edge of the plate

An art installation, showing off his eye

His talent already well known.

She took a photo, sat and looked

Never considering her profile

A subject of any merit.

 

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/02/05/photo-challenge-250/

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Twittering Tales #122 – 5 February 2019 – It starts with one word…

Posted on February 5, 2019 by Michael

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It all started with one word.
Hello.
He took her to the river, wined and dined her in the finest pubs around.
She took him to the swankiest restaurants, then took him home.
They found solace in each others company.
He enjoyed the beautiful girl.
She, her delightfully playful gentleman. (280 characters)

 

Written for: https://katmyrman.com/2019/02/05/twittering-tales-122-5-february-2019-it-starts-with-one-word/

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Wordle #219 – The Fantods

Posted on February 4, 2019 by Michael

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This week’s words: Crash Fraught Glance Fantods ((n.) a state of extreme nervousness or restlessness; the willies; the fidgets) Newsfeed Breastbone Humanity Hurl Occam’s Razor ((n.) the maxim that assumptions introduced to explain a thing must not be multiplied 
beyond necessity.) Passivity Dead Downgrade

 

When consciousness arrived for Beryl and Frank Fantod, the thought they were dead never struck them until they saw Death standing nonchalantly to the side leaning against the gate their car had crashed into thus ending their lives. Death had long discovered there was something about him/her/it that created a sense of extreme nervousness in every soul he encountered. Beryl and Frank were no different once reality dawned on them.

They were fraught, to say the least despite Death’s appearance and doing his best to appear passive a mere glance in their direction set them into a fit of restlessness.

Death dealt with this all the time. There was no way he could downgrade their circumstances, it was plain and simple, death had arrived into their now non-lives and as he often explained to other entities when he had a rare moment of downtime it was a matter of accepting Occam’s Razor. The other entities would nod as if understanding this simple premise but wondering whom this Occam was and what did his razor have to do with it all. But like all entities they accepted everything Death said after all Death wasn’t the sort of entity one hurled any sort of insult at.

Meanwhile, the Fantods were standing there in their deceased state. With their humanity now a thing of the past Death always thought it prudent not to allow the deceased to see what happened to them in death, as it was Beryl’s breastbone had sustained considerable damage and Death didn’t think it would do anything for her present state to show her the damage she incurred.

So instead he tuned her mind to the newsfeed currently being broadcast through eternity about free-flowing streams and the song of birds, which served as a relaxing mechanism for all new arrivals.

It worked every time, the Fantods were able to put aside their natural instinct to fidget and worry and were happy to follow Death along a winding path littered with signs advertising all sorts of attractions in the garden of eternity.

“This might not be too bad after all,” said one to the other as they passed a sign saying ‘Day One Free Special Lecture’, “Making the Best of your Eternity”.

 

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/02/04/wordle-219/

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