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Love Notes – Full Circle
Sometimes called a billet-doux, or a love letter, a love note is a personal letter to a loved one expressing affection. The loved one does not necessarily have to be animate, human, alive, or known.
The theme for this week’s Prompt for the Promptless, hosted as ever by the talented Queen Creative, is love letters!
I thought we’d take a look at love letters through the ages. Let’s start with a love letter recently discovered carved into a stone tablet, which was buried in the middle of a desert somewhere probably.
Ug,
Me kill mammoth. Me get meat. Me big. Me strong. Me want you. Me make you happy.
Me pick you up at eight.
Ug
As you can see, the cavemen didn’t waste words – in fact they didn’t have many words to waste! There is a directness to this letter which I find refreshing.
Next up, let’s zoom all the way forward to medieval England. A period of chivalrous knights and beautiful damsels, you say? Not a bit of it! Take a look at this recently discovered example.
My Lady Emily,
You hath spurned me for the attentions of Sir Bravealot and humiliated me in front of ye entire court. Therefore I hath struck down Sir Bravealot with mine sword. I hath also seen ye glancing in ye direction of Sir Slashalot. Thusly hath I sliced him open also.
Thus hath you but one suitor remaining in life – me.
I shalt pick ye up at eight.
Sir Killalot
Wow – serious stuff. I imagine that “Lady Emily” feels pretty special as Sir Killalot slaughters his way into her heart.
Let’s zip forward to the roaring Twenties next. Now we really get to hear some flowery stuff, as evidenced by this next example.
Your alabaster skin, soft and pure as the most perfect of rose petals. Your eyes, sparkling as the stars in the night sky. The smile that comes so easily to your lips, lighting the room like the brightest of suns. Your laugh, the tinkling of the most perfectly crafted of wind chimes.
Crispin Bonneville, Esq
Surely we have reached the very pinnacle of love letters! Let’s try the Fifties next.
Dear Emmy-Sue,
Gosh, I enjoyed our lunch date today! You’re so smart and so pretty, Emmy-Sue! Top in your class, a cheerleader and one of the most popular girls in the school! Gosh, Emmy-Sue, I can’t wait to take you to the sock hop tonight! And please assure your Ma and Pa I’ll have you home safe and sound by ten!
Gosh, I’ll pick you up at eight!
Chad
Although not as flowery as our Twenties example, I love the sweet innocence of this letter. Any girl would surely feel special to receive this! Finally, we’ll take a look at a typical love letter of our time. Well, love text.
And there you have it. I’m not even sure it’s written in English. I mean, what the hell? Such a shame.
We have seen that love letters have pretty much gone full circle. We began, and ended, with the caveman.
No Way In
It’s time for Friday Fictioneers again! It’s hard to believe a whole week has passed already. Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle, and we all try to write a 100 word post in response to a photo prompt, which this week is supplied by Rich Voza.
This week’s prompt is rife with possibilities – and I got nuffin’! Therefore I’m going to try a spot of dialogue with a truly silly ending. I’m even popping it in my “Just Silly” category :-). A bit of mid-week madness, if you will.
To view others’ entries, click here!
Copyright Rich Voza
“What the… what’re those doors doing sat there like that?”
“Dunno, man. Weird. What’re you doing?”
“Looking for the hidden cameras.”
“I don’t see any.”
“Me neither. Hey, what’s this chap up to?”
“Aaargh! No!” yelled the new arrival, skidding to a stop.
“What’s wrong, man?”
“Don’t you see? Look!”
“What, the weird doors?”
“Yeah! Someone’s stolen my house!”
“Your house?”
“Yeah! They’ve just left the doors!”
The new arrival looked thoughtful and then began to laugh.
“What’s so funny? Someone’s just stolen your house!”
“The joke’s on them!” he giggled. “How are they gonna get in without the doors?”
A Choice of Dark or Light
Approach-approach conflict is the psychological conflict that results when a choice must be made between two desirable alternatives.
I thought I’d do a DraliDoodle for this week’s PftP, brought to us by the marvellous Queen Creative!
The Light Side allows you to help out and makes you feel good! The Dark Side gives you the power to help yourself which sounds great in theory, but let’s be honest, it’s a bit “evil”.
Why is there not a Grey Side?
Unfortunately, by the end of the doodle I’m none the wiser. That’s me in a nutshell. I can’t make decisions.
Thanks to Lucasfilm.
A Quick Bite
Weekly Writing Challenge: Dialogue – Begin a post with a scene that includes dialogue.
“No way, I get first bite!” snapped the blond-haired vampire, his fangs glistening in the glow of the alley’s single working street light. He crossed his arms and glared at his brown-haired accomplice, a girl who looked no older than twenty but in reality had grown up dancing the Charleston.
“Like, OMG, no way! Greedy much?” she replied. Regardless of her upbringing before she had been “turned”, she had become the eternal student . A college campus was an ideal hunting ground and she had an unfortunate tendency to use the vernacular of her class mates.
“Must you talk like that, Charlotte-Ann?” asked the other vampire, resignation in his voice.
“Like yeah, Samson. And it’s Charlie.”
All the while the girl sat huddled against a dumpster. She was in her mid-twenties, had deep red hair from a bottle and was dressed for the clubs. She clutched her purse to her chest and trembled as she watched the pair arguing. Mascara stained her face as the tears fell.
“Charlotte-Ann, Charlie, whatever, I saw her first!”
“Come on Samson! Man, you got first bite last time. OMG, how unfair is this? You totally suck!”
“Yes,” replied Samson, showing his fangs. “Yes I do.”
“Not suck, suck. Like totally. OMG man, like totally.”
“Sometimes,” said Samson, “you make no sense whatsoever. I so preferred you in the sixties.”
Meanwhile back at the dumpster, the girl’s eyes had opened wide as she watched the strange argument. She had no idea what was happening but this strange pair no longer seemed to be paying any attention to her. Slowly, carefully, she began to edge towards the end of the alley where she could see cars passing by.
“Oh yeah, the sixties!” said Charlie, her eyes unfocusing as she cast her mind back. “Sex, drugs, rock and roll, more sex…”
“So easy to get blood in those days. With all the LSD nobody knew what they were seeing,” remembered Samson. “But, back to the issue at hand. It’s my turn to go first.”
“It so isn’t! You so said it would be my turn this time!”
“Fine,” said Samson, sighing. “We’ll go together. Let’s eat!”
They turned to the dumpster.
“Um,” said Charlie, “like, where’d she go?”
“Idiot!” snarled Samson.
“Moron!” snapped Charlie.
An Unexpected Day Off!
I had a wonderful surprise this week. On Tuesday myself and a colleague reached ten years at our job. I was thinking maybe there might be cake, but no, way better than that!
First off, we get a day off to celebrate! Here’s the proof, copied from the holiday calendar.
Yay! (I’m “Ali” by the way).
At this point I’d just like to mention that in those ten years, I haven’t had a single day off sick. Not one! How healthy am I?
This is the best bit. After the speech we were each handed a little package. I was thinking box of chocolates but no, way better than that. Turns out the managers had been in contact with our contract illustrator and had sent a full specification for a great drawing, including all our favourite stuff. I’m even shown wearing my fluffy blue jacket (first worn by me as a PhD student in the early 90s – they don’t make ’em like that any more!).
Here it is. The ladies on the couch are the girls from the band Alisha’s Attic, one of my favourites, as they might appear today! Nice of them to come visit.
Look, there’s even a DraliDoodle on the wall!
My box sets are there, my X-Files mug, my Sophie Ellis Bextor CD! It’s a high quality print in a lovely frame.
How great is that!
One Last Job
It’s Friday Fictioneers time again, hosted by Rochelle! Today’s photo prompt, to which we attempt to write a 100 word story or poem or such, is provided by John Nixon. To view all the entries for this week click here – check back often as more are added through the week!
Copyright John Nixon
The old man tottered into the shop and pointed his walking stick at the sales girl.
“This is a hold up. Hand over the wedding dress in the window!”
“That’s a walking stick, Sir,” said the girl, unimpressed.
“Is it? Wanna bet your life on that?”
A security guard joined the debate.
“Please lower your walking stick and leave the store, Sir.”
A moment later the old man left the shop, dress over one shoulder. Former master armourer to the notorious Gianni family, he blew a little smoke from the end of his stick and walked off down the street.
The Curse
The late autumn wind howled around the old cottage, shaking the chimney stack and blowing the branches of the old oak tree against the window. Esme sank deeper into her favourite armchair and pulled the blanket up around her chin, her mind in turmoil. Tonight. After all these years, it would be tonight.
Esme had inherited the cottage after her mother had passed on, some sixty years ago. Her mother had been – to put it tactfully – “odd”. She had “seen” things, things that hadn’t happened yet. Esme hadn’t understood until she’d moved into the cottage. Now the Gift was hers.
People had come to her in the early years. Will this be a good harvest? Will the village fête be rained off? Will it be a boy or a girl? Now only the kids came – the world had moved on and nobody believed any more. Of course, she never told the kids what she really saw. How could she tell little Nathan from the village post office that the pain in his tummy wasn’t just stomach ache? Or bubbly blond-haired eight-year-old Stacy that she would outlive her kids?
No, she told them that they would find their prince or princess, live in a big house with two point four children and live a long and happy life. She wasn’t a monster.
Colliford Lake
I thought I’d pop up some photos of my recent trip to Colliford Lake while I’m waiting for my muse to come back.
Colliford Lake is in Cornwall, UK. There are a couple of other pictures here.
Boat Trip
It’s time for Friday Fictioneers again – the weekly 100 word photo prompt hosted by Rochelle! This week’s photo comes to us courtesy of Jan Wayne Fields. You can view other entries here. Why not have a go, it’s fun!
Photo copyright Jan Wayne Fields
The little boat tossed on the choppy waters of the bay as the old man demonstrated a simple reef knot to his grandson. The young lad watched entranced as the old man’s gnarled fingers once again worked their magic.
Scant yards away the shark, lost and hungry after a long journey through unknown waters, tracked the large beast. It had broken such beasts before. Hard and tasteless on the outside, it knew that these beasts always contained tasty morsels of flesh within. It had only to break the shell.
The shark altered its course towards the boat and increased speed.
Michelle’s Weekly Pet Challenge
The lovely Hope* The Happy Hugger has started a new challenge – Michelle’s Weekly Pet Challenge!
This is quite the challenge for me as I don’t have any pets. However, not wishing to exclude the sadly petless, she has indicated that any pictures of animals will be okay, so here are a couple of pictures of some horsies. I’m sorry that the horsies are so far away, but I was worried that they might come a-chargin’ at me. I don’t know if horsies are the type of animal that go a-chargin’ at people but I didn’t want to take any chances.
Horsies
Click for a random post!
Woohoo!
I totally didn't win!
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