A little dVerse quadrille, using the required “Go” word. Funny how you can have a set idea and then one little word sets you in the wrong direction. Nothing a little sleep can’t cure, right?
Oh my goodness! I don’t know the last time this has happened to me. I got inspired to write a second Friday Fictioneer story, based on Trish Nankivell’s photo! Had to. Click on the frogs below to join in or to add your own 100 (I clocked in at 95 on this one!) story.
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Stopping Time
Grandma! Why do you have a lock on your toilet paper roll? Afraid someone is going to steal it?
I’m trying to stop time!
What? You have got to be kidding! I think you are losing it.
Oh, I’m losing it, all right.
I know you’re just kidding. You’re the most alert eighty-something I know!
Alert, I may be. But time is going way too fast.
Not that fast, Grandma.
Trust me. You’ll see as you get older. Life is like a toilet paper roll. The closer you come to the end of it, the faster it spins!
How could I resist Rochelle’s “DOUBLE-DOG DARE YOU TO NOT write a story that has to do with lockdown, quarantine or the big C-19″ using this photo by Trish Nankivell? I could not. Not that I have in the last almost eleven months, but still. It’s time for Friday Fictioneers. Click on the frogs below to read more stories or to add your very own!.
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Price of Peace and Quiet
Lianne sighed in pleasure, relishing the quiet. She took a sip of her coffee, picked up her book and started reading. Less than a paragraph in she stopped, realising it was too quiet.
“Daisy? Whatchu doing, honey?” No answer. No bueno. Peace and quiet always comes at a price.
As she entered the playroom, Daisy jumped on her.
“Hi Mommy! Come and play with me!”
Lianne looked at the long strips of toilet paper that went the length of the room. and the stack of empty rolls at the end.
A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.
“We feel cold, but we don’t mind it, because we will not come to harm. And if we wrapped up against the cold, we wouldn’t feel other things, like the bright tingle of the stars, or the music of the aurora, or best of all the silky feeling of moonlight on our skin. It’s worth being cold for that.”
― Philip Pullman, The Golden Compass
Winter Solstice. The shortest day of the year, which sometimes, can feel like the longest.
I’m driving home from a much-needed oil change for my car. I know what day it is and yet I don’t want to focus on the sad but on the date, the season. Claude Debussy’s beautifully romantic, and to me, sad, Clair de Lune starts to play on the radio.
I feel nostalgic and though my heart pinches a little, I smile as I drive. I can’t help but think of Mick and Mémère (my grandmother) dying on the same day, five years apart. Winter Solstice. I don’t know why there is something right about it.
We had gone up north to visit my mother and, of course, did a side trip two villages over to visit my grandmother – we always made sure we did. She must have been about 85-87-89?, give or take, when she told us of a dream she had had.
I dreamt that you were my boyfriend, Mick. Môman was not happy about it at all. She said to me ‘What are you doing with an English boy? You don’t even speak it properly!’ I answered to my mother: ‘But I love him!’
Well, needless to say, she was giggling as she told us the story. And Mick being Mick was not one to let such a thing go. Every single time we went up north, he’d sidle up to Mémère, wrap his arm around her shoulder, give her a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek and say “Allô, Bébé! Comment ça va ma chérie?”*
She’d blush furiously, playfully slap him on the arm while hugging him back then give a big smile followed by an “Oh you!” Their love was real.
Time for Friday Fictioneers! A thanks always goes to Rochelle for hosting this weekly party. This week’s photo is by Roger Bultot. Click on the frog below to join in on the fun!
A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.
Another trip down memory lane. It took me almost a year-and-a-half to have my family over so I could share with them what I had learned with Cook in Tuscany in September 2016 – the full account of the soirée can be found here but these 33 words somehow triggered, though have nothing to do with at all! Funny how the muse works.
You ever have an idea, clear as the light of day, in your mind, but come time to put it down, nothing works? Take three, four, whatever, I have decided to just put it out as is. Thank you, Ms Crispina, for your wonderful challenge. It always is, for me, to come up with something and I couldn’t NOT participate in number one hundred, right?
Like father, like son. You have the lean perfectly, my boy. But why, for goodness sakes, did you plant yourself in the middle of the path?
You told me I needed to forge my own way so…
You might have tried a little further up, just saying.
Haha! You did the same, my son. Only befitting your son do the same. Of course, you can’t see it now with all the new arrivals. But once, you, too were right in the middle. Maybe you’ll end up like me one day, alone on the edge.
Or like us. No longer feeling part of nature as asphalt has been spread on what was once beautiful earth. ‘Tis the way of it, I suppose.
One day, though, I like to think we will take it all back.
A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments. Thank you, Sammi.
I really wasn’t going to touch this one. And then I couldn’t help but go back 23 years. This week’s photo is supplied by Roger Bultot. Thanks, always to Rochelle for hosting this weekly gathering. If you want to play along, just click on the frog below and add your link to your 100 words.
I didn’t throw it out, I left it on the curb for anyone to pick it up. It’s not like we need it anymore.
What if we have another baby?
What if we don’t? What if he was our one and only? I can’t walk past that thing just like I can’t leave his room the way it is. I’m turning it into a reading room.
I get it and I’ll help you. … Do you think one day we can try for a family again?