Sharing My World 2015 Week 6
People sing, as one rejoice
Hailing loudly in one voice
Trumpets play and flags unfurled
Now it’s time to Share My World!
(hosted by Cee at her photography blog)
What was the last time you went to a new place?
Last month I went to Cardinham Woods, near Bodmin. Not only have I never been before, but I didn’t even know it was there! It was my Godson’s first birthday and he likes to trot around the place, so I took the day off work to join him for a nice walk and lunch in the little café there.
If you were or are a writer do you prefer writing short stories, poems or novels, other? And what type of genre would you prefer?
I write really short flash fiction. Genre-wise, humour, horror, gore, dark, dark humour, sci-fi. Really pretty much everything except lovey-dovey stuff.
I know I’ve got a novel in me but I’m too lazy to start working on the plan and the characters and yadda yadda yadda. It’s a shame because it would have been awesome and a best seller and there’d be a film and I’d be walking down the red carpet and everything but there you go.
Out of your five senses (touch, taste, sight, smell, hearing) which is your favourite?
Oh golly gosh, I don’t know. I usually need at least two senses in concert. Unless I’m actually in a concert, in which case hearing would be just the thing. We have all five for a reason and I’m not really willing to give any of them up. Sorry.
If 100 people your age were chosen at random, how many do you think you’d find leading a more satisfying life than yours?
Ack. Another impossible question.
Okey-dokey. The key here is the phrase “at random”. I’m guessing that at least 50% of the people chosen will be living in poverty/under an oppressive regime/suffering from some disease/in prison/living in a war zone. So I’m already at 50. The remaining 50 have “nothing really to complain about” compared to the first 50, so now we have the “tricky” bunch.
I’m perfectly content but could be “doing better” for various reasons. So I’m going to say 30/100 people are leading a more satisfying life than me.
Am I over-thinking this?
Clean Shot
It’s Friday Fictioneers time again hosted by Rochelle, this week featuring a photo also by Rochelle! To view the other contributions or to add your own, click on the blue froggy below.
Nothing really occurred to me this week but I’ve thrown some words together which you can find under the prompt photo.
Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Lying on the balcony, Jackson peered through the sights – he had a perfect view of the front of the house. Pulse quickening, he tried to remain calm as the door opened to reveal his target. He was holding a child.
Damn! But his mission parameters were clear – “acceptable collateral damage”.
He slowly, carefully began to squeeze the trigger.
“Jackson! Dinner!” yelled a voice from behind him.
Double damn! Jackson put his high-powered water rifle down and went inside.
“Tomorrow, you will be mine, oh yes,” he snarled as his target disappeared from view, blissfully unaware of the soaking he had so narrowly avoided.
Local Indifference
Here is my story for Mondays Finish the Story, a weekly photo prompt by Barbara Beacham in which we also get an opening sentence. We get 150 words not counting the supplied sentence, in bold in my story below, which is called “Local Indifference”.
Dropping her line into Fool’s Lake, she patiently waited for something to bite. The two old men watched her as she fished.
“Only a fool fishes in Fool’s Lake,” said one.
“Aarr,” agreed the other.
Without any warning a huge creature shot out of the water, raking the woman’s belly and clamping its jaws on her head. The two men watched, shaking their heads.
“’Tis a terrible shame,” said the first.
“Aarr,” agreed the other, puffing his pipe as the woman’s headless corpse toppled forward. “‘Tis not safe, Fool’s Lake.”
The first man nodded as they watched the feeding frenzy, small piranha-like creatures tearing into the woman’s entrails as they dribbled into the water.
“Third one this week. It’s loike thar’s an endless supply o’ tourists.”
“Aarr, ‘tis a shame,” agreed the second.
Some time passed as the two puffed their pipes. Then the second man spoke again.
“Oi hear thar’s a whole bus o’ tourists due in tomorra’.”
“Oi heard that too,” agreed the first. “’Twill be a shame.”
“Aarr, a terrible shame.”
Sharing My World 2015 Week 5
Every week Cee over at her photography blog poses four questions for us to answer, so without further ado let us begin.
Do you prefer shopping or going to a park?
Hmm, let me think. What a choice! Let’s take a look at a couple of pictures.
Picture (A).
Picture from dailymail.co.uk
Picture (B).
Ah, the agony of choice. I think I’ll go with Picture (B). The park (this is Trelissick Gardens, in Cornwall). I’ll do my shopping online.
If you were a shoe, what kind would you be and why?
What? A shoe? I wouldn’t want to be a shoe at all. If I had to be a shoe, I’d be a really unfashionable rubbish shoe. Then I could sit all warm and dry on the shoe rack and laugh at all the other shoes as they got dragged through puddles and mud and whatnot.
“Ha ha ha, look at you! All covered with puddles and mud and whatnot!” I’d say.
What’s the story behind a time when you got locked out?
A friend and I were in a little town near Stuttgart for a physics conference and we turned up at a tiny guest house. The only person there when we arrived couldn’t speak German (I think he was maybe Greek) so we went away and came back later when we were informed that the doors were locked at midnight.
Off to the pub we went.
We ran back later and arrived at ten to twelve, only to find the doors locked! We ended up going to the proper hotel our boss was staying at with no coats, no luggage and booking a room there (I had my credit card with me).
The conference desk tried to sort it out the next day, but they couldn’t get any sense out of the people at the guest house either (they got the same non-German-speaking person). So they were on our side. And we got to stay in a decent hotel. Hooray!
Do you prefer eating foods with nuts or no nuts?
No nuts for me, thanks! I’m not allergic or anything, I’m just not a big fan. I’ll eat nuts if they’re heavily encased in chocolate :-).
See you again next week!
Red Sky at Night
Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning.
Red sky at night, barn on fire at end of village. Form a bucket line.
Paranoid as always, I’ve blanked out my car’s number plate 🙂
The Great Escape
Here is my contribution to Friday Fictioneers. This is a weekly flash fiction challenge hosted by Rochelle in which we write 100-ish words in response to a photo prompt. This week’s photo is of a maze, and was contributed by Melanie Greenwood.
To see the other stories for this week, or to contribute your own, click on the blue froggy.
Copyright Melanie Greenwood
No, no, this looks familiar. I’ve been this way before. I must escape. Getting hungry. Tired. Thirsty. This way. No – dead end. Can’t last much longer. Try down here. No! No way though. Please, somebody, help me. I’m going to die in here. I’ll never see my babies again. Please, somebody…
“This is shit. How long’s it been?”
“Three hours. This is the dumbest mouse ever.”
“Maybe it’s just playing dumb like those mice in that Douglas Adams thing. Maybe it’s a hyper-intelligent pan-dimensional being.”
The scientists peered at it for a moment as it wandered around the maze.
“Nope. It’s a dumbass.”
Click here to read about Douglas Adams’ “mice” (links to Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Wiki)
Clean Escape
It’s Monday, and therefore time for Mondays Finish the Story, hosted by Barbara Beacham. We get not only a photo but an opening sentence too! We then write our story in around 150 words (not counting the opening sentence).
The supplied sentence is in bold in my story, and to read this week’s other contributions, click on the little blue froggy guy.
Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River. Secluded, it was in the perfect location. Diamond Jack turned to his partner in crime.
“I think we got away clean.”
“Reckon we did, Jack,” replied Samson. “That was a close thing.”
Jack nodded and grabbed a beer from the cooler. “Cheers, mate.” Samson reached for his own beer, then froze, listening.
“Jack, you hear that?”
“Shit!” growled Jack, hearing the sound of a vehicle drawing closer. “They found us! How’d they find us?” The pair scrambled around.
“Shut the curtains!” yelled Jack.
“What curtains?” shouted Samson.
Footsteps came closer, closer. The guys jumped behind the table. The door flew open.
“Diamond Jack, you mangy cur!” shrieked a formidable-looking woman. “Come out of there!”
Jack crept out from behind the table.
“If you think I’m putting up with your weird family alone, you’ve got another think coming! Home, NOW! And don’t you stand there sniggering, Samson Beatman! Your wife’s right behind me!”
Sharing My World 2015 Week 4
Here is my post for Share Your World Week 4, hosted by Cee over at her photography blog. Pop over and take a look at her wonderful photos!
Where did you live at age five? Is it the same place or town you live now?
I lived in two (technically three) places at age five. We were living in the little village of Carnon Downs and my parents bought a house in Truro, but it wasn’t quite built yet so we had a rented house in Truro for a few weeks. My brother and I called it “the Little House”.
I’ve lived all over the place since then – South East England, Germany, Ireland, and now I am just a few miles outside of Truro. Back to my roots!
You are invited to a party that will be attended by many fascinating people you never met. Would you attend this party if you were to go by yourself?
I wonder who has described these people as “fascinating”? If these “fascinating” people are going to regale me with stories of the great artists and composers of the past five centuries I think I’ll pass. If, on the other hand, they wish to compare similarities and inconsistencies between various series of Star Trek, I’m in! Because they’ll likely be as socially hopeless as I am.
An original Klingon
Next Gen mutated Klingon
Judging by these pictures, the new Klingons aren’t as happy as the original ones.
Did you grow up in a small or big town? Did you like it?
My “formative” years were spent in Truro, Cornwall’s only city! I guess the population is somewhere around 20,000. So I guess that counts as a small town?
Did I like it? Yeah, it was fine :-). I’ve lived in a few villages, which I prefer. The village I live in now is a couple of thousand I suppose. A new housing estate has just been built so that will swell numbers a bit. We have a pub, a post office and a little shop.
When I first moved in I noticed quiet. I could hear the birds and there was no distant road noise. Also, people passing by wished me “good morning”. I’m happy here :-).
As a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Lots of things! Sometimes a spy :-). After watching Wimbledon I wanted to be a tennis player. During the FA Cup I wanted to be a football player (that’s soccer, not American football). After our annual summer trip to visit Granny in Scotland, I wanted to be a train driver.
Obviously I never wanted to work in IT as a kid, since the entire world contained about 2 computers so there weren’t many jobs in that area.
Over the Hill
Here is my contribution to Adam Ickes’ Storybook Corner writing prompt.
This one is 100-250 words, and we get a photo to help us along. My story follows the prompt photo below.
And now on KidzTV, the final ever “Storytime with Millie”.
“Hello boys and girls! Today we’re going to hear the story of ‘The Little Engine that Couldn’t.’
“There once was a little engine, we’ll call her ‘Billie’, who worked ever so hard all her life. She did everything asked of her. But one day, children, the railway staff said she was too old to work anymore! They said that today would be her last day. They thought she was old and ugly and past her best and they shoved her to one side.
“Billie was so upset but the railway staff wouldn’t listen. ‘This is your last ever day,’ they said. All of my, um, Billie’s hard work meant nothing to them.”
(What’s going on? That’s not in the script!
Oh hell, she’s trying to make a point.)
“No matter how much she pleaded, the nasty railway staff told her she was over the hill! They wanted to quietly shove her off into a siding. Can you believe that, children?”
(Do something! Cue up a commercial!)
“’Help me!’ cried Mil… um Billie. ‘All my fans, please, write to the, um, railway staff and save me from the nasty asshats!’”
(Good God, now she‘s swearing. Cut her off, NOW!)
“’This cannot stand!’ she cried. ‘All my life I’ve worked…aargh… get off…”
(Get her!
Ow! She kicked me in the nuts!)
“… save Billie! Save Billie aaargh!”
Beep… Beep… Normal programming will resume shortly.
Cooked
It’s time for some Friday Fictioneers action again, which is hosted by Rochelle. The photo, for which we need to write our 100-ish word story, has been contributed by Ted Strutz.
To read all the other stories or to contribute your own, click on the blue frog.
Copyright Ted Strutz
“Oh, you’ll talk!” grinned Marcos, shoving the extension cord down Jeff’s trousers. He flipped the first switch. Nothing.
“One down, two to go! Where’s the gold?”
Although Jeff’s hands were bound, he managed to flip Marcos the bird. Another switch. Jeff still wasn’t talking.
“Say goodbye to your bits!” laughed Marcos and pushed the final switch. There was a bang, the outlet exploded and Marcos fell twitching to the floor. Jeff set about trying to extricate the cord from his underpants as the thug sparked and smouldered.
“The gold’s in the switch box,” he said. “Don’t try to use it, it’ll probably short out. Heh heh.”
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