Very Much Alive – Friday Fictioneers

A bit late today.  Had trouble getting this story going in the way I wanted it to!  Plus it was a day for Skyping and dining with friends!  Priorities, eh?

Thanks to Rochelle for being there week after week and making us squeeze our creative juices into a 100-word story.  This challenge is the highlight of my week.  Thank you to Liz Young for this great photo.  I am sure there will be death and mayhem galore this week.  Just not from me!  Do click on Rochelle’s name for the how-to of this challenge or, if you are not ready to take the plunge but would like to see how 80 (give or take) other writers are inspired, click on the blue frog!

Genre:  Fiction

Word count:  Always 100

Very Much Alive

Sitting on the bench, eyes closed, she could still feel his touch, his kisses, hear his whispered sweet nothings. It had been so long since she had felt a man’s touch beyond a handshake and a chaste kiss on each cheek.  She had felt so alive and sexy.

She flushed thinking just how far those touches and kisses had gotten…

“Mom!” Her son’s yell jarred her back to the present.  “What the hell?  Arrested for indecent exposure at your age? Seriously, in a graveyard of all places?  Moms do NOT do things like that. Ever!”

She smiled.  “Maybe they do.”

#Weekend Coffee Share – Sunshine, Water Woes, Birthdays and Easter

Hello my friends!  Welcome to this weekend’s Coffee Share!  I did mention two weeks ago that I could not play with you last weekend as I was… sigh… “stuck” in Punta Cana! 😉

There was access to WiFi but, let’s face it, other than sharing my Instagram photos, there was no gathering of thoughts and such!

First, let me thank the lovely Emily for hosting this shindig!  Just click on the box above if you want to join along and add your link!

Without further ado…

If we were having coffee, I’d share that I had a most relaxing and wonderful time in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic (I specify, because so many think this is in Mexico!)  The weather was perfect, the beaches wonderful, the food excellent.  Check-in was a nightmare and totally disorganised.  We got there for noon but didn’t get checked in until 12:50 where we were told our room would not be ready until 3:00 pm but to go ahead and eat and drink (now that we had our bracelets).  Check-in was so long the guy at the counter ordered us two beers while waiting!  Once checked in, we went to the dining room.  Which wasn’t open until 1:00.  10 minutes to wait.  Let’s just say not a grand debut to our week…  Things looked up immediately after, though!

Only thing I would complain about, and this pains me greatly to say, were the Russian guests.  Oh my gosh.  The rudest, most pushy and disagreeable sort they were in general.  I don’t like to generalise but here, I must.  There were constant looks of shock and disgust by all other guests every time one of them pushed their way into the food line.  If all were going in one direction, they inserted themselves and pushed in the opposite!  Every. Single. Time.  At one point, there was no one in front of me, I was making my way and two botox, bubble-lipped, boob-implanted-barbie dolls planted themselves in front of me, facing me.  Wrong direction.  I waited for them to move out of the way and nope.  They practically ploughed me over.  Ridiculous.  It does not give one the urge to go visit their country; as ambassadors, they suck!  On a positive note, here are a few pics!

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you the morning after I arrived home, I walked into my dining room and saw this:

I poked the hole and let out the water.  Then let out a wail.  This is my favourite room that Mick and I had redone the year he died.   Where was the water coming from?  I called my cousin Marc, who just happens to work in construction, to ask him if he was free in the next few days to come and assess the damage.  He said he would come the next day (Good Friday).

My son also advised me that he didn’t know what happened, but that he did not have an accident with my car while I was away…

He did use it to get to and from work as he was working two jobs.  In good faith, I am willing to admit that it does look like someone backed into the door.  Dammit.  Another thing to fix.

Good Friday came along.  Just so happens to be my birthday.  Oh no, no fuss, please!  I can’t handle more right now!  Marc came by before lunch and cut away at the ceiling, trying to find the source of the wet.  He determined it came from the boys’ bathroom shower.  Seems there is a joint that has been dripping for a good while.

I had also noticed that the carpet in the basement was wet.  It had been a bit before I left and I figured someone had spilled something.  However, now it was wet halfway across the room and on the other side!  Oh for Pete’s sake!  Stop already!

Trying to find the source

Marc determined that there must be a crack in my foundation.  Bloody hell.  On Monday I shall be calling my insurance company.  It appears there is work to be done before I can put this Mothaf*** for sale.

As I refuse to end this post on a negative note.  Just not my style, I tell you, I shall finish with this:

My sister, Lisa, made supper and my most favouritestiest spice cake for my birthday.  So nice!

Never too old

While having the last of our coffee (or really, should I not deserve something stronger by now?  I would tell you that Zeke and I took a nice walk yesterday and I was thrilled to see that I finally had a crocus!

Crocus!

And today, is Easter.  And I had to work.  It was the first official event of the new golf season for our members.  A lovely Easter brunch.  Everyone was in a grand mood.  It was nice to work with more of the regulars who didn’t work with me during the winter events.  After the event and the cleanup, we all sat down and ate a nice meal together and I got to take home a bouquet of tulips.

On that note, my friends, thank you for sharing some of your time with me (I promise I will be catching up on your Weekend Coffee Shares as well!)

Happy Easter!  Happy Passover!

Lotsa love,

Dale

xo

 

It Is Time – Friday Fictioneers

Wednesday is here and I have to rush out to go to work.  Ugh.  There is a mountain of snow in front of my door and the white stuff is still falling!

Thank you, always, to Rochelle for hosting this weekly shindig and this week, thanks go to Jennifer Pendergast for her photo.  If you want to participate, click on Rochelle’s name for the rules and regs.  If you want to see what about 70 or so others have to say about this, click on the blue frog!

Genre:  True Story

It Is Time

As Nicole approached her father’s hospital room, she overheard him speaking.

“How long will I live once you turn off the oxygen?”

“About ten minutes,” she replied.

“Okay then, we are doing it today.”

“Hang on there, sir, that is a horrid way to go.  We can’t just turn it off without preparation!”

“Well, I’m done.  I want it done today.  It’s been long enough.  It is time.”

“If you are absolutely sure, we will prepare you so that you go gently.”

Nicole walked away from the door and called her sisters, sobbing, “You have to come to the hospital…”

Story Time – Friday Fictioneers

Wednesday, Wednesday… what to do on this oh-so dreary (on the south shore of Montreal, anyway) day?  Oh look!  Rochelle has sent  us a picture (her very own) of nice fluffy clouds!  At least the sun’s rays are showing in this one.  At home?  Not so much.  Totally grey and dreary…

Should you want to play Friday Fictioneers with us, click here to see the hows…

T0 simply enjoy reading other interpretations, click on zee bleu froggy…

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Genre:  Fiction

Word count:  100

Story Time

It was a dark and stormy night….

It’s daytime, Daddy!

The menacing clouds slowly taking over the sky…

Those are cumulus clouds, Daddy!

The cauliflower top of the cumulus clouds announcing some rain showers…

Really?  But the sun is right behind the clouds!  Doesn’t that mean a sunny day is coming, Daddy?

The showers would be brief…

They could last all day, Daddy!

Except more clouds rolled in, assuring the day was lost for little girls who talk too much…

Oh Daddy!

Keeping them from escaping the confines of the room, where…

They could play with their Daddy all day!

Paths – Friday Fictioneers

Wednesday is here!  And golly gee whitkicker… ’tis my photo this week!  Thanks for choosing mine, Rochelle!  Woot! (It’s the small things that bring us joy…)  Thanks always for hosting, Rochelle Wisoff (no ‘e’)-Fields!

Should you want to join in on the fun, click on Rochelle’s name to get the how-to.  Should you wish to simply read other stories, click on Monsieur Frog Bleu !

Get the inLinkz code

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©Dale Rogerson

Paths

Some paths seem longer than others.  Some last for 92 years and others only seven months, 23 days.

Some are filled with a lifetime of memories, both wonderful and sad.  Some are filled with so few, yet mean so much.

Some are so barely remembered, you wonder if they were ever even taken. Some leave an unforgettable mark on all who set foot on it.

Some lead off into many directions, filled with adventures.  Some are straight and narrow, leading to what seems only a dead end.

When I’ve reached the end of my path, I want to look back and smile.

 

******

 

I was sort of hoping this week’s picture (whomsoever it came from) would allow me to somehow bring up the twentieth anniversary of my first-born’s death (January 17).  Not because I want to focus on the loss but because I wanted to honour him.  Austin was with us for seven months and 23 days so, there is the reference above and led me down that “path”.  Like his parents, he was a “Smiley-Joe” when he was home with us.

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Fascination – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Wednesday already!  You know it.  Friday Fictioneers is here.  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple has chosen a photo from a fellow participant and wonderful writer himself, c.e. ayr of Sound Bite Fiction fame.  Thank you to you both for your part in this week’s fun.  I admit to feeling stumped at first.  Then a most wonderful memory came forth and I couldn’t go anywhere else.  So, sorry (not really 😉 ).  No fiction from me again this week.  I can’t help myself.

Click on the blue frog to read more stories or to add your own.  Want to know the how-to of Friday Fictioneers, click on Rochelle’s name!

Fascination

The boy was fascinated by trains.  Less than a hundred yards away, the train rumbled by several times per day, shaking the house, thrilling him.

Daddy would set up his old set from when he was a boy and they would lie on their tummies, watching it go round and round.

One day, Daddy said, “Let’s go on an adventure!”  The next thing the boy knew, he and his family were part of the rumble, watching the world whizz by.

How a one-hour ride each way could bring so much joy…

…what he wouldn’t give to go on one more trip.

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A little show and tell, if you will… Aidan with Mick and the old train set; Iain, Mick and Aidan waiting to board the train and Aidan transfixed.

So many moons ago.  This was in 2003.  Sweet memories indeed!

Thoughts Become Things – Friday Fictioneers

First Friday Fictioneers of the Year!  Yes, folks, it is Wednesday so, confusing for our Newbies, it means we get our photo for our story, which most of us try to post before Friday.  Just to confuse.  This wonderful photo that made me scratch my head was provided by Sandra Crook, wonderful author and photographer.  Rochelle, from Addicted to Purple, our ever-diligent facilitator, writer, author, wonderful person, sure knows how to pick ’em!  I’m no longer indicating my word count because, frankly, I always make sure it stands at exactly 100! 😉  As for the genre… well… let us not give too many hints, eh?

Click on the frog if you wish to add your own interpretation or just to read others’ stories.

  • Did a little tweaking to clarify this was an exchange between father and daugter…

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Thoughts Become Things

What is that incessant grinding sound?

It’s me, thinking!  Got such great thoughts you can hear me think!

You are so ridiculous!

No, seriously, my brain is going non-stop:  things to do, people to see, places to visit… anything but stay here on this dead-end farm.

There is nothing dead-end here, my dear.  We provide necessary food to our neighbours.  We are worthy.

Maybe, but it is so boring to me.  I’m dying here.  Same thing, every day.  Same people, every day. All old, nothing new.

He looked at her, eyes filled with sadness.  He’d have to let his daughter go.