Thursday photo prompt: Caught #writephoto

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My girlfriend loves me I know she does.

You know the type, five foot two, eyes of blue.

What more could I want?

I’ve been caught in her web of loveliness, smitten by her love and affection, I float about each day, enraptured by her and all she means to me.

My life was a meaningless meandering, I shuffled as I walked, I had a turned down mouth, nothing stimulated me, I could feel life slipping away from me.

Then a chance encounter, it was as if a light was switched on and like a moth on a hot night, I was attracted to it.

Everything about me let go, I drifted towards her, and her smile radiated into my heart, she embraced me, searched my soul for the spark she was igniting at that very moment.

I wondered if it was real, I felt as though I had ascended above the earth, for a moment I thought it was a near death experience but I felt her hand slip into mine, and I could feel myself returning to reality.

Each day her light shines into me, I enjoy being hers, as I was a feckless soul who now has meaning and purpose.

Her light glows within me, I am fast becoming a more complete man. With her, beside me, nothing seems impossible.

 

Written for: https://scvincent.com/2018/08/23/thursday-photo-prompt-caught-writephoto/

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August 23: Flash Fiction Challenge – The Tiny Man

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August 23, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes magic. It can be a supernatural force, a moment or idea, or use it as a verb. Go where the prompt leads.

 

There was movement in the grass and I looked down to see the tiny man shaking his fist at me.

Apparently, I almost stepped on him so I understood his anger.

I mouthed an apology just as he took his wand from his pocket, tapped it on his head and promptly disappeared in a puff of smoke.

A week later I observed him carrying a bag of gold. When he saw me, the same magical process happened again. But he left behind his small bag of gold. Trouble was I couldn’t lift it, no matter how hard I tried.

 

Written for: https://carrotranch.com/2018/08/24/august-23-flash-fiction-challenge/

 

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FOWC with Fandango — Inspire

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“I’m inspired,” I heard Mr Fango say through the fence.

I looked through the hole in the fence to see Mr Fango standing in the middle of his backyard holding a shovel and a page from Home Magnificent. I could see it was a page illustrating a garden of some considerable beauty.

He placed the page down and immediately sank the shovel into the ground and continued in a furious manner until he had dug a sizeable patch.

All the while he kept referring to the picture on the ground, I watched as he licked his lips and dug a few resistant weeds from his inspired garden patch.

Then he went to his shed and returned with a large pot containing a bamboo plant. Oh no I thought, dad had mentioned the invasive nature of bamboo but I could see Mr Fango was all go and was probably not in any mood to have his inspiration dampened.

A year later Mr Fango’s yard was half covered by the spreading bamboo a sign that his inspired act was becoming an uninspiring creation.

 

Written for: https://fivedotoh.com/2018/08/23/fowc-with-fandango-inspire/

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In Other Words, sow…

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You reap what you sow, so we were told.

I don’t think you were listening that day.

You had trouble thinking you were sowing an evil you must now regret.

It wasn’t in your makeup to realise you could at any time apologise.

So your loneliness is your reward for what you sowed.

 

Written for: https://patriciasplace.me/2018/08/22/in-other-words-sow/

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Reena’s Exploration Challenge #Week 51 – Vanishing Impossibility

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Man is so made that when anything fires his soul, impossibilities vanish.

During my working career, I was confronted as many teachers were, with finding ways to engage our students.

During a ten-year period in a very working-class part of town, my fellow teachers and I staged a number of musical programs to stimulate and engage our students.

I was fortunate to have an excellent drama teacher to work with in the late 1980s.

In 1987 we performed a musical I had written when teaching at a bush school and it went well. In 1989 we decided to get ambitious and write a new show that would explore a range of emotions and scenarios. Doing a show each year had become the expectation within the school and writing a show from scratch was considered ambitious, to say the least, considering our musical ability was somewhat limited.

But we were never going to write a Gilbert and Sullivan, or a traditional musical, rather as our students were not into that we set out to write a piece that fell more into the rock musical range.

Over the space of a year, I composed a show that was to leave its mark on the school and community.

My Drama teacher companion would hate coming into school to hear me say: “What do you think of this?” It usually meant an idea I had the previous day I had worked on further and a re-write was in progress.

I also had a group of students I tried things out on, to see if they liked the idea and if it worked as performance. The involvement of students has always left me amazed as how involved they became. One girl came to me one day and although not in the cast asked if she could manuscript the songs for the show. I was grateful for her help, and she did a fabulous job.

The end result was a performance over a number of days in the performance week that left its mark on the many students involved.

We dared to do things we thought would evoke emotion, that would take the audience by surprise leaving them challenged at times and joining in the energy of the performance.

We used a combination of country and rock music, we explored bullying, we dealt with relationships, we challenged our performers and audience to accept the death of the leading man.

I gave my performers the license to explore their characters and take ownership of them.

The result was a performance that had so many benefits for the students and the school as a whole.

We were faced at times with plenty of naysayers, we were challenged with the fate of the show when two students at the school were killed in a tragic fire but we argued the work that had been done to that point meant we had to put it on even when it included the sister of one of the boys who died. (In more recent times the student, now a grown woman, admitted to me she was glad she was part of the show as it helped her deal with her grief at the time.)

It was a tough school to work in, but as our Principal said at the time, the school musical was the only time in the year when the school came together.

 

Written for: https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2018/08/23/reenas-exploration-challenge-week-51/

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50 Word Thursday #15 – Songwitch

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“I’m not a songwitch,” Kassa protested.

But she sure looked like one.

Long elongated face, a voice that sent shivers down your spine.

She sat by the fire as we awaited her song. Today there was family.

Not hers but mine. I was hesitant, wondering what we were in for.

 

Silence descended upon us, the fire crackled in keeping I knew with the sound we were about to experience.

Then she started, the mournful nasal tone, a voice coming from deep inside of her. My kids shuffled nervously as the music enveloped them. I watched them move, rhymically with her.

 

Suddenly from the flames, an explosion occurred, and sparks blew from the embers, a cloud of blue smoke blinded us. Her voice droned on, my children sat near her, enthralled. She had them in a trance, it was just a matter of time. Kassa looked up, grinned a toothless evil.

 

Written for: https://debbiewhittam.wordpress.com/2018/08/23/50-word-thursday-15/

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Tale Weaver – #185 – Phobias – 23rd August – William Brethless

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Image: Agoraphobia by NanaYuuna on DeviantArt

William Brethless hated living. His entire life had been taken up with the burden of breathing one more day and enduring the torment he perceived living to be.

His mother had worried about him as a small boy as he preferred to stay indoors and not go outside and play with the other children in the neighbourhood.

She took him to the doctor who diagnosed William with agoraphobia, a fear of the outside world and a feeling you had no escape. To his parents, it was all nonsense, and his dad thought a good clip under the ear would solve the problem, but it didn’t.

William went through life feeling this way. He struggled at school as he was constantly worried about going out into the playground and other kids scared the life out of him.

After school, he withdrew further into his world, and when his parents passed away, he was well and truly on his own. This, of course, was fine with him as he no longer had anyone to bother him and he was content to stay indoors.

Eventually after several failed relationships, somehow, he did attract women who thought it their life’s work to save him from himself, but it was all to no avail.

As an old man, he looked forward to death. Life had nothing going for it as he aged. He had carers who did for him what he couldn’t for himself. Finally, he welcomed his last breath, and his soul left him.

Death it was a new experience. He felt the warmth of freedom from a tortuous earthly life and looking around and realizing he was alone he thought for the first time that cartwheels might be in order to celebrate just how liberated he felt.

And so, he did so, over and over until he felt he had treated himself. Then his soul did a few star jumps, he found his eternal voice and screamed and yelled with delight, he punched the air, and he laughed for the first time in years.

His soul experienced no pain and floated in a space that was his. He saw no other souls and came to understand his eternity would be one of place safety where he had only to enjoy and not be bothered by anyone or anything.

William Brethless liked eternity, here there were no phobias, and he liked that notion.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/08/23/tale-weaver-185-phobias-23rd-august/

 

 

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FOWC with Fandango — Being

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Mr Fango woke up one morning and decided it was about time he tried to become one with his community.

Being a resident of a street with such a diverse cultural background, he thought he owed something to his community and being with them in the things they embraced might give him a greater sense of belonging.

He was aware his community was very much conservative in their politics and in fact had observed some of them appearing to adopt the orange glow of the present leader of the country.  Apart from the disturbing nature of that observation, he recognized that being one of them was always going to be a challenge. He thought one way into their hearts might be to begin wearing a toupee as his bald head was a shining light of his aging self. So, he went to the local toupee shop and from that day onward could be seen in his blonde hairpiece chatting casually to the orange ones in the street.

Being part of the community gave him a sense of being and a sense of being, no matter how galling to a section of his brain who called him out for what he was, was better than no being at all.

 

Written for: https://fivedotoh.com/2018/08/21/fowc-with-fandango-being/

 

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Twittering Tale #98 – The Dot

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The dot had been there a long time.
One time the council had redone the path which meant under protest from the locals the dot had been ripped up.
Strangely the next day the dot was back.
Was it alien?
Was it a sign from on high.
Either way, you got a right jolt if you stood on it. (280 characters)

Written for: https://katmyrman.com/2018/08/21/twittering-tale-98-21-august-2018/

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Photo Challenge #227 – The Faceless Girl

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Image: – CityVarsity

The faceless girl appears so often in my dreams.

Sometimes she leads me in pastures adorned with sunflowers

Sometimes it’s her at the bottom of a chasm

Protecting me from the destruction of my own making.

So much about her, I find appealing

Her touch is always warm and caring

When she takes my hand, I hear her whisper

“Everything is alright, trust in me, you are safe.”

For not always am I safe, there are demons out there

Dressed in the clothes of comfort and care

Ready to lure me into fires they only reveal

When I’m totally distracted and all alone

Then laugh with hideous abandon at my folly.

The faceless girl is my hope, I long for her to be real

To take me as I am, love me for who I am

Accept me as only I know she can.

 

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/08/21/photo-challenge-227/

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