Monday, 26 May 2014

Choices. Parables on the Journey.

A fork in the road. An old man trudging along. Unable to decide, he turns back.
Two doors. Which one do you enter.
Purgatory is no place to dwell, yet many do.
A traveler arrives at an intersection. There is a sign. It says stop. Taking it literally, his journey ends forever.
Your favourite dish is removed from the menu. Starvation now seems a real possibility.
Is the end really the end, or the beginning of a new journey. You choose.
It doesn’t matter what you do. Just make a [insert expletive] decision!
Do something.
Stop sitting on the fence.
__________
100 words, written for Friday Fictioneers, week of May 23.
PHOTO PROMPT Copyright - Erin Leary

Wednesday, 14 May 2014

Perspective - A Journey into the Nonsensical

"Are you really sure that a floor can’t also be a ceiling?”
― M.C. Escher

Depends on perspective
Look from afar at the world and you’ll see
That up can be down and down can be up
Perspective also means
Down is from ducks
But don’t duck and weave.
Duck and cover, and don’t be left
For left is right if you don’t duck and cover
And right is good
And so is greed (some say)
Who is that some
Some say someday
Where day becomes night
And knights defend damsels
Do days defend damsels too
Damsels in distress
Or damsels in white, and damsels in black
But not damsels in black and white
For black and white is monochrome
Which is only part of the spectrum
Like good and evil
Evil is everywhere
Also God is everywhere
God and evil are everywhere
But is God evil
Or just omnipresent
Like the stars
The sun is a star
Your son is your heir
He may be your star
But air, like wind and fire and earth
Are elements
As hydrogen and helium are elements
Of the periodic table
The dining table, the times table
The timetable
Bus timetable, train timetable
Train journey
To the tablelands,
Or to lands unknown
Take the train
Train hard and often
To be fit, but not befit
Or fit for a king
King size, king pin
Hair pin, lynch pin, lynch mob
Mob psychology pop psychology
Pop culture, pop songs
Pop in for a drink, a soda pop
Mom and pop
Look up to your parents
Look up to the sky
Look up the answer
For its just perspective

Where the floor to one is the ceiling to another
___________________________________
A nonsensical journey written for "Write on Edge", using the quote at the start as a prompt.

Tuesday, 18 March 2014

Change

I walked towards the bartender holding two twenties.

“No change,” he snarled.

“Satisfy yourself, you smug git,” I muttered, pocketing the extra forty, having just used a tenner to pay for my drink.

___________________
33 words for Trifecta: Week 114, using the word SATISFY  (transitive verb), with this definition:
 to make happy : please  

Wednesday, 12 March 2014

Love Letter

Dale Polesky was in love with Mia.

He wrote a note to her.

It read:

"Dear Mia. I aim to be yours.
Elope lady be by Dale Polesky forever of this day on."
_____________________________
33 words with Palindromes, Trifecta Writing Challenge, for Trifextra Week 104.

Friday, 28 February 2014

A Trip

"Look what I've got." I waved the envelope in her direction. 

"Plane tickets. A trip. How nice. Where are we going."

A trip - yes, but tickets - no. Just one ticket. And we, well:  That wasn't what I meant....

------------------------------

33 words written for Trifextra: Week 103 at:
http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2014/02/trifextra-week-103.html

Tuesday, 29 October 2013

Junkies

Unlike most junkies, they were lucky. The music and films meant money. A stream of royalty cheques, alleviated any supply problems, and provided all the trimmings of a privileged life. No need to be on the streets. No reason to steal. No cause to worry about the next taste, or the one after that. Suppliers were always on hand. Despite this, they were junkies, and I came in second by a long way.

They loved me, but they loved the junk more. I had everything a child could want. Everything that is, except parents. High fashion, cutting edge, heroin chic, the press said. Never showed the ugly side, the sordid underbelly. The hours wasted, the days lost. Too strung out to do anything. Too high to care. No conversation, hugs, smiles, glances. Even a boo in the face had zero effect. Absent, except in the brief periods between when the drugs wore off and the craving began. That’s my memory. That’s my childhood, and that is why I left.

They called me back. They pleaded. I found it hard not to listen. I would believe their promises, and I would go back. Wishing it would be different, knowing it wouldn’t. The cycle repeated. The word rehab, was just a word. An expensive holiday, nothing more. The pain would become too great to stay.
 After leaving and returning far too many times, I left, and forced myself to ignore their pleas. I was, with much effort, able to shake off the bonds and begin my own life. I cut them off. Now, many years later, the pain has faded into a memory. I have my own family, my own children. We share laughter, hugs kisses, sadness and tears. We love. We live.


I read the headline again. “Rock star couple, victim of tainted drugs”. Panic wells up from deep within. Gulping lungfuls of air, I begin sobbing unstoppably. All the years, believing they were dead to me, and only now do I really know.
_______________

333 words written for Trifecta Challenge: Week 101, incorporating the word boo:


Wednesday, 16 October 2013

Celebration

The whole family is there. My babushka, old, withered and regal, perched next to my baccy chewing grandfather.  Aunts, uncles and cousins, parents and siblings, we are more numerous than I remember. In Sunday best, we know the baccate display is just a teaser. A Bacchanalean feast of Babylonian proportion is about to happen. A pair of Bacchantes, begin singing, over the sound of a Bach Cantata. The new baby is proudly carried in by his Godfather, my bachelor uncle. Resplendant in a pale blue Babygro, our newest addition has absolutely no idea that all this is for him.
_________________
99 words written for Trifecta: Week Ninety-Nine. The bold words are from the top part of the prompt:


Wednesday, 9 October 2013

Sleep Baby Sleep

"Tell me again. Tell me"

The expression "to sleep like a baby," was definitely not for you. That old gem just didn't apply. You would not sleep at all. For six months, you squirmed, you cried, you fidgeted and burbled, but you certainly didn't sleep.

"And then"

I was going mad. I loved you so much. You were beautiful, but the last thing you wanted was sleep. All night and all day, you were awake. Sometimes happy, but mostly not. You'd cry until I held you, and when I did, you wouldn't stay still, or keep quiet. "Sleep like a baby", my foot. I tried everything. Nothing worked. I was losing it. I was going mad. That is until....

"Until what"

So simple looking back. If only I'd known at the time. Those first six months. Oh my god. Those first six months.

"What did you do?"

A spoon of absinthe in the milk.

"You put absinthe in my milk".

Your milk! Huh no. The absinthe went in my milk. After that little zombie, I slept like a baby every night.
___________
Written for Trifecta Challenge week ninety eight at:

http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2013/10/trifecta-week-ninety-eight.html

http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com

The prompt this week is the word zombie I and the context:  


Tuesday, 1 October 2013

Journey

I had a real dilemma.

Copyright - Rich Voza
The journey up to now had been straightforward. As planned, I’d left in the night. First, following the road. Two wide lanes, and a well defined sidewalk narrowed, then became a tarred, and ultimately a gravel strip, I continued. As dawn approached, the road petered out, but I still had a track to follow. Even when it wound down a steep hill and into an open valley, I had a clear path, and I stuck to it. But now, I had a problem. I had no answer. I can't continue.



Which door do I choose?
____________
100 words written for Friday Fictioneers.

Saturday, 21 September 2013

Playground 2013

Grazed knee, torn shirt, bloody nose, he walked away. 

Into his time machine. Destination 2133 and back. Facing them again, now armed and ready.

Grazed knee, torn shirt, bloody nose, he walked away.....
___________________________________

Written for http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com

Trifextra week eighty-six at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2013/09/trifextra-week-eighty-six.html

Thursday, 12 September 2013

Robber

“I know who he is. I know.”

“He had a mask. Covered his face. How’d you know?”

“I do,” the child repeated. “Selfies!”

“Selfies?”

 “Yeah, selfies. In the cloud. He took my phone.”
_______________
Loosely based on a (reputedly) true story.(see here).
The prompt for this piece is the word Mask, using this definition:

Monday, 2 September 2013

Customer Service II

Ensorcelled by her décolletage, he knew he must focus if he was to achieve the outcome he deserved. Her dress and prodigal cleavage; all too obvious in the way they were on display. Exemplary maybe, but only to the unsuspecting. He knew they were deployed as devices, to distract, deceive, debilitate. That would not dispel the slew of unresolved issues he still had to fight. Behaviour, vainglorious and arrogant, was no excuse for the way he had been treated; for what they had done. To add further insult, they use sex as a distraction. So cheap. So obvious. It just typified the depths to which they would stoop. He was fractious and ready to fight. He’d had enough. Now was his time.

“Good afternoon sir. How may I help,” she pouted.



The way she looked at him. Her face, her lips. His eyes drifted downward as his mind went blank..........
_____________________
150 words written for Monday Mixer. The piece incorporates all the words below.

Things:          1) slew             2) exemplar         3) decolletage
Verbs:           1) typify            2) debilitate         3) ensorcell
Adjectives:    1) prodigal       2) fractious          3) vainglorious


Originally written in error in 100 words, it has been expanded to meet the criteria for the prompt. Error pointed out with thanks to . 

Customer Service

Ensorcelled by her décolletage, he knew he must focus. Her dress and prodigal cleavage; all too obvious. Exemplary devices, to distract, debilitate and dispel the slew of unresolved issues. Their behaviour – vainglorious and arrogant - was no excuse for the way he had been treated, or for what they had done. This cheap use of sex as a distraction typified the depths to which they would stoop. He was fractious and ready to fight. He’d had enough. Now was his time.

“Good afternoon sir. How may I help,” she pouted.


The way she looked at him. His eyes drifted downward...........
_____________
100 words written for Monday Mixer. The piece incorporates all the words below.

Things:          1) slew              2) exemplar         3) decolletage

Verbs:           1) typify           2) debilitate           3) ensorcell

Adjectives:   1) prodigal       2) fractious           3) vainglorious

Tuesday, 27 August 2013

Three Strikes

Strike one.
He faced back into the field as the pitcher started his wind up.
The ball whistled past his shoulder before he even began to swing.
Strike two.
This time, he was ready. This time he wouldn't miss.
The pitcher was on the mound. The ball… curved through the air towards him.
He swung.
The sound of….
Nothing.
As he walked back to the bench, head down. Dejected, looking at his shoes.
Three strikes and you’re…. 
The words resonated in his head.
You're...
Slowly, his scowl became a smile.
You’re a…
Turkey.
Maybe baseball just wasn't his sport after all.
____________
Written for Trifecta: Week Ninety-Two, using the word Turkey in the slightly unusual context: three successive strikes in bowling.

Monday, 26 August 2013

The Browser

The bookshop was huge. Rows and rows of books arranged on shelves in a slapdash manner.

“You’ll need this,” a man said, slipping a thick volume into my hands.

Before I could react, he disappeared, and I was alone among the bookshelves.

I started opening it.

My movement actuated something. Darkness. A strong wind. I was moving; fast. Everything was in a state of flux. Then the wind died. The darkness lifted. I made out a small figure.

“Approach” it chirruped.

 “I was just...”

“Opening the book”, it responded.

“Yes, and...”

“You’re going to cook for us”, it continued.

“But...”

“No buts. You know the rules. Your continued journey is predicated by the quality of the meal you cook.”


I looked down. I was still clutching the book. “Compendium of Gustatory Delights”, read the title. Opening it, the words jumped out at me: “Chapter one - Recipes for Time Travellers.”
____________________
Exactly 150 words written for Monday Mixer, using as many of the words (at least three) below as possible. Feedback welcomed.

Things:          1) flux              2) luminary         3) compendium

Verbs:           1) predicate     2) actuate           3) chirrup

Adjectives:   1) slapdash      2) gustatory       3) ethereal


Monday, 12 August 2013

Choosing Your Tooth

Menu
1: Select a type
2: Choose attributes (up to 2)
3: Add accessories
Types Attributes Accessories
Eye Holy Brush
Sabre Decayed Floss
Gear Capped  Braces
Permanent Crowned Polish
Milk Straight
Wisdom
Incisors 
Molars

Thursday, 11 July 2013

Flight 33 is Departing........

(:33 words of advice for travelers:)


     Fly carefully
     Not off the handle, on the wall, or in the ointment
     Pigs might, but not you
     Half or weight, never Spanish
     Go fishing, not into a rage
     And of course time

_________________
The prompt is the word fly, the context:

Sunday, 9 June 2013

The Optimist

An optimist knocks over a glass of milk. Realising it was only half full, he doesn't cry. He lives happily ever after.
____________
3 sentences written for Trifextra week seventy one at http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/

Thursday, 30 May 2013

The Ball


Copyright - Janet Webb

Standing in her underwear, she stepped into the glass shoes. Not pretty. Not pretty, and soooo uncomfortable. Price to pay, to bag a prince. This time, the room is tidy. Immaculate. She’d stuffed all the junk away. Hidden it. Bit of doing, it took. But, if he’s going to stay the whole night, everything must be purrfect. Last time, it was so messy, the jerk just left. Didn’t even stay for one drink. The mice. They’ll be here any minute. Any minute. Quick, no time. The dress. The dress. Where’s the dammed dress. Tablets. No tablets tonight. Nooo tablets. Tonight.......



___________________
Written for Friday Fictioneers.


Monday, 27 May 2013

I Confess

I confess
It was me
Avalanches, earthquakes, floods
I’m sorry, but
It seemed like fun
And so
I didn’t care
I couldn’t stop
Oh, one last thing
The GFC

That was me too
_____________
A 33 word confession, written for Trifextra Week Sixty Nine