Thursday, 16 February 2017

I'll Be Back

I have been absent for a while since I am having issues with tendonitis in my elbow / arm, but as soon as it feels manageable to be back on a keyboard - I will pick up on the challenge.

Image result for back soon sign

Tuesday, 17 January 2017

The Caller

Prompt 17 Jan: Grab-bag of Props
A creepy, haunted mansion, an old book filled with mysterious writing, and an annoying TV celebrity. Write a story of at least 500 words that includes some, or all, of the props. The props don’t even necessarily need to exist as physical objects in your story.

Judd Wells, a daytime soap star, had been invited to guest host the Breakfast Show for their annual telethon.

Good morning USA!his voice boomed out, “Welcome to The Annual Breakfast Show Telethon, where we want to do well for the Make A Wish Foundation. We will be waiting with wifi, wanting to whisk your wealth for this wonderfully worthy work….”

His voice trailed off as Jean, the regular show anchor, sat down next to him… “Enough with the alliterations!” she hissed under her breath.

He shot her an angry look.

Turning to look directly into the camera, he continued without wavering.

Allow me to introduce you to our totally terrific telephonists today,” he went on, gesturing towards a small group of well-groomed people sitting at modestly laid table: a bottle of water, a glass and two telephones each, the only items on show.

Betty Crocker, our capable cook from California! James Todd, a tough, tenacious traffic officer from Tennessee and finally, Lucy Mathews, a magical mathematician from Maryland.” He looked into the camera as though he were the cat that got the cream.

His co-host rolled her eyes.

Thank you volunteers” Jean began, “we are really grateful that you have given up your time so early in the morning to be part of this special event...”

Judd's voice cut in … “Definitely! Driving before dawn in dimly lit districts is without doubt, difficult.”

There was an awkward shifting of position in the studio audience.

Viewers at home,” the co-host continued in an upbeat fashiongrab your phones and dial that magic number, 555-DONATE and pledge your amount, challenge a friend or company, to equal or better your pledge. We want to beat last years raised amount of $200 000.”

The audience applauded.

I am excited and encouraged by your enthusiasm!” Judd exclaimed, as he jumped out of his chair and, with a confident stride, made his way toward the studio audience.

The first telephone rang. It reverberated loudly through the studio speakers, frightening an elderly gent in the audience who must have had his hearing aid turned right up.

A hush fell over the room. Betty leaned over and pressed the green button.

Make A Wish Telethon. Spetty beaking. I mean, Betty speaking!” She stammered and blushed, obviously not used to all the camera's focussed on her.

Hi Betty!” the first callers voice was crystal clear over the sound system.
Hi, who am I speaking to please?” Betty asked, having pulled herself together and feeling calmer.
This is Stuart Richards, CEO of Richards Technologies.” he replied.

Richards Technologies was only the leading tech brand in the country.

Mr. Richards. What a pleasure. What would you like to donate?” Betty asked.
Well Betty, I will donate $200 000 provided your guest host does not use another alliteration, and I challenge anyone else who agrees with me to pledge $10 or more.”

The studio audience burst into spontaneous applause and the phones began to ring like the noonday bells.

505 Words

Thursday, 12 January 2017

The Sorrow of Separation

Jan 12 prompt: 
In Title: A Walk at Dusk (1832) By: Caspar David Friedrich (German, 1774 - 1840)
Write at least 500 words: about the creation of this art, the subject/topic it brings to mind, the period in which the art is done, or how it makes you feel. Maybe tell a story from the artwork's perspective.

The Sorrow of Separation

He pulls on his coat
tucking it tightly under his chin, 
his hat
pulled down, 
to keep the heat in.

Feet shod with sturdy shoes, 
he takes a step out
into velvety hues. 

Across the moors and
a stream,
he trudges toward the vision he'd seen.

Branches, made naked by winters cold air,
directing him on 
to that final lair.

The shimmering moon
has turned her face
there is nothing to see in this barren place.
Her job is just to light his way
allowing nature to make her play. 

Heartache and tears
have become his friend
his memory replaying a bitter end.
He closes his eyes and thinks of a time
when laughter rung out
and life was sublime.

No longer a sound to be heard at his home
No laughter,
no noise,
no excited chatter
Just him, all alone, but does his life matter?

Oh, wretched disease,
What have you done?
Why have you taken my wife and my son?
His heart in bondage with the pain, 
finding no peace to keep him sane

Questioning You with each passing day
until there was nothing left to say.

Closer he moves to those imposing stones 
the place that houses his family's bones.

A final tear escapes his eye,
He speaks out his last goodbye.

I don't understand -

and will ask You no more,
What I know to be true - Is that my life is in You.

This thought will keep me,

Will shelter and save me,
in this is the knowledge that I can be free.

The moon looked down and whispered to him,

"One day you will all be together again."


235 words