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Something I like is a little challenge, like writing a short piece that has to contain certain words. Anybody else?
See what you can do with
Dance
Wavelets
Regret
Boxes
.
Twiggy
Wavelets-dance-regret-boxes!
“I’m not going back!” He spoke with such energy that his conviction passed instantly into the mind of the seal, gazing at him from the water’s edge. What returned to him was the adamant power of yes, you must. And he knew it was true. He had to go back.
He turned and walked back into the empty ball room, that place that had been a paradise of dance for male and female alike. All of his few belongings were here - Annie’s had been collected by her family and the flat relinquished.. Gazing out the window of the Phoenix at the beach, he remembered the night they had come, he and his brothers.
It was just such a scene as this – the moon was silver, the night warm and still, truly a night made for passion – as they came up on to the beach.
He remembered hearing the music from the Phoenix, and that he had been entranced, going closer in spite of his brothers’ warnings. He remembered Annie coming out alone from her father’s ballroom, to walk on the beach, and his brothers fleeing.
He had adjusted to life here, and now it was time to adjust his attitudes again. With a sigh he turned back to the cardboard boxes. Opening one, he pulled out a black fur coat, and quickly changed into it, his discarded clothes going into the carton. With a black marker he wrote SALVATION ARMY clearly on each box, and sealed them with tape.
Leaving the door unlatched as he left, he had a moment of regret that this was the end of the Phoenix. But only a moment - it didn’t really matter. He stepped into the wavelets, then flung himself down and rolled into the water. There was a joyous bark from the seal on the beach, and he came to her on his flippers. The moon was silver, the night warm and still, truly a night made for passion
Merri
(I thought there was an 'applauding' emoticon!) You've worked all the prompts in, and well.
If these prompts stay for this week, would you leave some for week starting 28th?
admin
Well done! My heart's pounding; I couldn't read the words fast enough.
Twiggy
Thank you, Merri and Min, for your kind words! More prompts?
Deluge
Telephone
Socks
Pie
Merri
PROMPTS
Deluge
Telephone
Socks
Pie
. . . .
Monday
"I'd give anything for a meat pie", Man Boss said, gazing out across the flooded paddocks. "It's been over a month we've been marooned here."
"There are still some tins of spaghetti left in the cupboard," Woman Boss replied. "We're lucky we were so well stocked up on food before this deluge set in."
"Spaghetti! I'm sick to death of it! Just serve me up some of the dog biscuits, why don't you."
Oh, no! I need all the nourishment I can get. Apparently Woman Boss felt the same.
"You leave Socks' food alone. She's eating for two. Or six perhaps."
I don't know what she's talking about, I just know I'm very uncomfortable, and I want to settle somewhere safe and quiet. But I'm glad of her support. She's the kind one, she'd never do anything to hurt me.
. . .
Tuesday.
Well I'm glad that's over. What a wonderful thing to happen! Eight little creatures came out of me, my very own children. Man Boss and Woman Boss are looking after me so well, he's getting to be as kind as she is.
. . .
Thursday.
"Whenever are we going to be able to get out of here?" Boss Woman said. "Even the telephone isn't working yet, and the batteries on the radio are flat now."
It doesn't worry me. I have my dog biscuits and my children.
. . .
Saturday.
Something's terribly wrong. I know I can't count very well, but I do know my own children. Some are missing! I feel terrible. There's nowhere to look that I haven't already, and if they can be found Boss Man and Boss Woman will rescue them.
. . .
Sunday.
They're sitting at the table after dinner. I think they had plain boiled rice. I know the last tins were used up.
"Well" says Man Boss, "thanks Mum, you are a really good cook. Best meat pie I've had in ages."
Now perhaps he'll go and rescue my children.
Twiggy
ooh, that's dark! And I hope we're not going to get that much rain! But all the prompts fitted in seamlessly. I was wondering how they could be linked. Will you post some more prompts?
Merri
Moonlight
children
chocolate
terrible
Twiggy
Moonlight drains
all colour from clothes
and faces.
Images ebb
from children's minds.
Calling to them,
come in now,
come inside,
for warm cocoa and bed.
Rich milk-brown images
drain
from children's minds,
leaving the cold,
the bitter, the dark.
Call to them,
call them away
from the terrible moon.
.
Merri
Great! Not what I would have expected from those prompts. And was it chance, or did you mean to have all those C sounds? Colour, clothes, calling, come, cocoa, cold, call? I liked the contrast of the rich warm brown cocoa with all the connotations of comfort, and the cold discomfiture of the rest of the poem.
Oops! Now I'm doing the C bit!
Twiggy
Nobody going to post some more prompts?
Okay, here are some.
tiptoe
golden
dream
dance
Come on everyone, let's see how many responses we can get.
Merri
DANCE DREAMING
Tiptoe into the dawn of time, and dance with the rhythm of stars. Take delight in each new birth, and dream of the coming day. Dance into the golden haze where the drum is beating strong. Whirl to the wild beat of the heart, dance in a dream of life.
Slowly dance in the mellow light, delight in the russet tones. Gather the memories close to your heart, and dream of the coming night. Content at last to pause in the dance, delight in the chance to rest. Gather the darkness close to you and dream of the coming dawn.
I won't post more prompts just yet, someone else might still be working on these. Be good to get a few more responses.
admin
Keep up the good work
Okay, let's see if we can stump you with these:
shed
twilight
clutter
buns
Twiggy
shed
twilight
clutter
buns
Spinsters
They bought balloons and made signs, these women with greying hair pulled tightly into buns. In the autumn of life, they want to rid themselves of all the accumulated knick knacks that only catch the dust, mementos not needed to inspire memories of the past. The past is alive and well in their minds, and these women crave now for comfortable simplicity. In their twilight years they want to shed the clutter of a life time.
Today, the once treasured miscellany is outside on tables, and balloons and signs are drawing curious people in.
Merri
He went to his shed this morning
after we'd had a row.
All day he's been shut up in there,
all day, and it's twilight now.
I'm not allowed in his shed,
he says it's his private domain.
If I disturbed his clutter of man things
I'd be in trouble again.
He's collected it all so quickly,
we've been married for only a year.
We've never before had a row,
and our marriage is over, I fear.
I've made him some buns and some coffee.
He'll be hungry and all will be well.
Will I go to the door and call softly?
Or let him stew all the way to hell?
admin
Try these ...
Outstanding Twiggy and Merri!
Here are some more:
telephone
exercise
printer
globe
Twiggy
He was late. She gazed out the window, barely exercising restraint. The last chapters of her book were ready to print, and she wanted it done and the manuscript packed ready to post. He should have collected her printer from the repair shop at 4 o’clock, and now night had fallen.
When the telephone rang she grabbed it immediately.
He was sorry, the car was a bit of a mess, but the printer was okay.
“What? Where are you? Are you okay?” But the line was dead.
She replaced the receiver, glad that at least he had phoned. Almost immediately there was a knock at the door. The police were sorry to inform her that there had been an accident. Her husband was dead.
“No, he just phoned me, it would be someone else that died. I know there was an accident. We were cut off before he had time to mention other people.”
They handed her his wallet and keys, and put the printer on the table. There had been no one else involved.
After the police left, she gazed again out the window. The garden was lit by the globe of the full moon - a ghostly light, but comforting too.
Merri
Ooh! The ghost on the telephone! Didn't she phone him back?
Now what can I dream up?
Merri
Re: Try these ...
You are a real pain,
a spoil-sport.
You won't let me do anything without nag, nag, nagging.
Don't put off to tomorrow what you can do today.
Don't do this, you should be doing that.
Everywhere I go
you have to track along,
nagging all the time
Don't spend so much time on the phone.
Get out and exercise.
Change the burned out globe in the hallway.
Put the new ink cartridge in the printer.
Why do I have to put up with you?
Where did you come from anyway?
I never asked for you.
I never wanted to have
a conscience.
Twiggy
That sounds like Pinnocchio talking to Jiminy Cricket! Ah well, I curse my conscience sometimes too.
admin
Try these ...
Okay, I've managed to stop laughing at Twiggy's comment.
Well done, Merri.
Think I'll have to come up with something really tricky this time:
lamb
north
noodle
protest
And for those brilliant people, here's an extra word:
eloquence
Merri
A Restaurant
A Restaurant
One night at dinner the guests,
who were fed up with dining on lamb,
delivered a volley of protests.
The chef left fast on a tram.
The owner, speaking with eloquence,
promised that he would bring forth
a succulent dish for this audience,
a specialty brought from the north.
He promised some specialty meat
to be eaten with Chinese noodles.
A consignment had arrived, a treat,
a load of tender French poodles.
Of course there's more to this tale,
but next when you're dining out
if this restaurant you wish to avail,
alas, you'll never find out.
Twiggy
How cruel, Merri, not to let us know the name of that restaurant!
My brain isn't working well at the moment, but I'll come up with something.
Twiggy
Re: Try these ...
'Get out of the kitchen if you can't stand the heat!'
I could hear my grandmother's voice as she worked over a blazing stove on a hot summer's day. It was bush-fire weather, with a gusty hot north wind blowing, and here she was, cooking roast lamb. A farmer's wife, she believed in producing a three-course hot meal every day, and a chicken carcase was bubbling in a pot of water in preparation for making chicken noodle soup. A bread-and-butter custard was ready to pop into the oven when the roast came out; it would cool then for tomorrow's dessert. Today's, lemon sago and cream, had been prepared yesterday.
My grandmother was no lady when it came to blistering language, and my protest about all this cooking in the heat was met with an eloquent flow of words. What sticks in my mind is that particular phrase, "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen"!
Sue
Giving it a shot
These are really clever, don't know if I could do as well, but to start things off I'll give a few words:
shed
basic
owl
Santa
Can't wait to see what you come up with.
Twiggy
Evening
He was old now, as his white beard told the world. Just today at the bus-stop a little girl had clutched her mother's hand and said "Look Mummy! There's Santa!" He smiled now at the memory, as he had smiled at mother and child then.
He hadn't been trying to impress them. He had long since dropped pretention, just as the trees had drpped their leaves, he thought, looking out from his garden shed. He was happy here, pottering with seedlings, cuttings and dirt, watching the basics of life develop. He was like the bare limbs of the trees now, he thought, plain and basic, down to earth, and perhaps wiser for it.
As dusk gathered, an owl silently landed on a branch, waiting and watching for an evening mouse. "Yes, old man," he said to it as he closed the shed door, "we're two of a kind. Enjoy your evening," and he walked to the lighted door of his home.
admin
A lovely piece, Twiggy. There's a sense of sadness in it, perhaps loneliness. Was that intentional?
Sue
Here's my go at it ...
Jill had listened to her children as they made their wish lists to Santa, their excitement and innocence was too much to bare. She turned her back on them and busied herself preparing dinner. Dinner – peannut buttered sandwiches. How could she possibly get any of the toys they wanted when she couldn’t even afford a decent meal for her children? She wiped away the tear. Still, it could’ve been worst; at least they had the basics: shelter from the cold and a roof over their heads, even if their house was little more than a shed and the warmed was due to a heater someone had tossed out. Everything in their home had been someone else’s rubblish right down to the owl clock whose eyes no longer moved with each tick. Christmas Eve and she had nothing to put under their twig-like Christmas tree.
The knock at the door was a welcome distraction, at least she could forget about what a failure she felt for a moment. Little Janie was out of her wobbly chair in an instance and had beat her mother and brother to the door; she flung it open and squealed with delight. A large picnic basket and two large bags – one with Janie name on it while the other displayed Jack’s name. The children grabbed the bags and hurried indoors. Jill picked up the picnic basket, her knees buckled under the weight, but she managed to get it to the table and peered in. A hot roast turkey took pride amongst lots of other goodies – there’ll be no boring sandwiches for Christmas this year, she thought, as tears screamed down her cheek. She pulled out the envelope thinking it would obtain the sender’s name, but instead it was bulging with one hundred dollar notes.
Jill turned towards the window in enough time to see something red fly through the air, and had she really heard the sound of bells jingling?
Merri
I loved those, particularly Sue's last sentence. It really was Santa!
What was poor Santa to do
when all of his reindeer went missing,
right on Christmas Eve?
In desperation
he turned to Mr Owl
to shed some light on this.
Mr. Owl, supposed
to be the wisest
of all creatures,
said "Don't you know?"
in a quite know-all
fashion.
"What's
the basic instinct
of life?
Climate change
has mucked up
the seasons,
and they're all out
hunting
romance."
admin
Offering next words
Well done.
See what you can do with these words:
jumper
ghost
medal
curtain
Sue
Santa lives! Here's the next one:
The corner of the curtain moved as if a strong wind forced the stiff fabric aside.
‘Was that a breeze?’ Lisa said, her voice trembling.
‘Breeze? What breeze? The doors are all shut,’ whispered Taylor.
‘Perhaps it came from under a door then?’
‘Shh … what was that?’
The gruesome groan rang out through the corridor; its perpetrator obscured by the darkness.
‘It’s nothing,’ said Lisa, ‘Just the …’
‘Don’t tell me it the wind again, Liz, I’m not buying it.’
‘Well what else? You can’t make me believe it’s a ghost.’
‘Yeah? Why not?’
‘Well, for starters I would have to believe in them.’
‘Isn’t that why we’re here? So I can prove to you that they do exist?’
‘Oh please.’
‘You don’t have to act so tough with me, it’s not like you’re going to win a medal or something.’
The white mist at the end of the hall moved closer to them, its shape becoming more distinct with every step. Liza trembled despite the layers of clothes and the thick jumper she wore; she absentmindedly grabbed Taylor’s hand. He reached over with his free hand and knocked over the china vase from the side table, it crashed to the ground with a bang, shattered pieces spread across the floor.
Lisa screeched, released Taylor’s hand, and took off as fast as she could for the front door. Taylor burst into fits of laughter as the ghostly vision stopped in front of him; its hand reached to its head and ripped off the bed sheet to reveal Pete.
‘Think you can forget about getting her to go out with you again, mate.’ Pete said before laughing as hard as his friend.
Twiggy
admin wrote:
A lovely piece, Twiggy. There's a sense of sadness in it, perhaps loneliness. Was that intentional?
No, Ad Min, what was intended was to show evening, autumn, the wisdom harvested over a life time, and that the future holds more mice to eat and lighted doors to enter to find warmth and security.
Sorry it didn't come over!
Twiggy
I enjoyed your ghost story, Sue! Was a bit confused at the name Taylor, as the only one I know is a girl. I like the way it's not full of 'he said' and 'she said', the dialogue just flows. I can just hear Lisa when she says "Oh please."
Twiggy
jumper
ghost
medal
curtain
The warmth of the sun lulled her into closing her eyes. It took her back to the heat at the gymkhana where she and Ghost had won a medal over hurdles. There wasn't another jumper there that could equal him.
The grey horse had long gone, but still living up to his name, a ghost in her memory.
A pleasant voice roused her, offering a cup of tea, drawing a curtain across the past.
Merri
Sue and Twiggy, what different interpretations of the prompts! One's a ghost that's a memory of a Ghost, one's a ghost that's fake. What's mine? You decide!
Chilly
The room had a distinct chill, although the rest of the house was warm enough. They had mentioned a ghostly presence here, but she would not believe it. Would not. She pulled the curtains shut, snuggled into her warmest jumper, and sat down to read her novel.
The floor creaked. It was not, of course, a ghost. She knew that.
Around her neck hung a St.Christopher medallion, protection for travellers. She fingered it, idly wondering if it protected readers in chairs. If it protected from ghosts. Not that there was a ghost here, of course.
Goose flesh rose along her spine. She put the book aside and rose, going to the door leading to the passageway. She opened it . . . and screamed!
admin
A delight reading your stories
Merri, I got chills down my spine!
Loved the different images that were created from the same four words. That's one of the things I love about writing and creating stories. One word - the same word - can have so many interpretations. What a wonderful way of spending a morning - reading your stories, thank you.
Twiggy, don't apologise. You did get that across, but your story left me thinking about it before I commented. And isn't that the ultimate goal of a writer? To not only reach an audience, but to make them think.
It was moving and meaningful to me. I saw human beings shown at both ends of the scale: first as an innocent child and then at a time when wisdom is our friend. Perhaps I saw sadness, but I also saw peace, and I found myself almost wishing I could be like that old man. Content and peaceful, perhaps a little sad to gain these precious gifts so late in life.
Good on you, Sue.
I believe in Santa too.
Funny story, don't boys do cruel things to girls in the pursuit of friendship? And probably vice versa.
It is hard with using names these days, everyone changes them and do all sorts of things in the pursuit of being different, or perhaps to name a child after a relative or friend. Taylor was originally for males, adapted from the surname, but over time it's been used for both girls and boys.
Which brings us to another question: should we, as writers, use names that cannot be confused - unless there's a reason for it? Or does it not matter?
admin
Want some more words?
Here they are:
domestic
net
flea
chorus
Twiggy
Joys of domstic bliss,
like voices of sirens,
sang to her,
a chorus of promises,
of polished silver and brass,
of fireside and slippers,
of children's soft voices.
Drawn into the net,
unaware
that the many flea bites
of disillisionment
carried
emotional plague.
Merri
Re: Want some more words?
Her Next Door
I can hear her next door; screeching, she is. And I know why, too. Him, he's come home and given her a flea in the ear about wasting time on the net when she should have been getting his dinner ready, I reckon.
Men, they don't understand a woman needs a bit of down-time from domestic drudgery. So what if it takes hours of her day? He has his time to relax, out mowing the lawn, digging the garden, even taking an outing to the shops to get groceries. And taking the kids to their activities. I often hear a chorus of kids' voices, singing out "Come on Dad, we'll be late."
I'd be screeching at him too, if I was her. And I tell you I can screech. Just ask my ex.
admin
I thought those last words might've stumped you, but I can't beat you. Try these ones: