A Way Out – Friday Fictioneers

Good Wednesday morning, my Readers!  Yep, it is snowing again.  The upside is, it is only -9°C (16°F), with barely a windchill of -11°C (12°F) – positively balmy compared to the past few days!  AmIright?  To keep us warm – those of us “enjoying” winter, how’s about a little story?  A thank you must go out to Rochelle for keeping this show going for nigh on seven years now, and to Ted Strutz, for sharing this wonderful photo.

Do join in on the fun why don’t ya!  Click on the blue frog below to add your link to your 100-word story.  G’head.  It’s fun!

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A Way Out

After days of walking in the woods, creating shelters out of twigs and leaves, Georgie was thrilled to see the old car.

“Hey, Fred! Looks like we found tonight’s shelter!”

“Yeah, well, I dunno.  If the windows are intact, it will be great, if not, we’ll be no better off than we’ve been so far.”

“Spoilsport.  Cushions for our poor hips!”

“Gotta hand it to you, Georgie; you are the most positive person I know.”

“You want positive?  How ’bout this?  Tomorrow, you MacGyver it and we get the hell outta here!”

“There’s positive, and there’s dreaming in Technicolor, Babe.”

Making the Best of It

There are those days when you want to throw your hands in the air and just say Fuck it!  Yesterday was one of those days.

As I prepared for my “date”, the skies were beautiful and so full of promise…

Why I don’t listen to my gut, is beyond me.  Must be that little naive bit of me that I refuse to let die.  Or maybe it’s the optimist that once and again shoves the realist out of the way because maybe, just maybe, you’ve got to give it a shot.

Well phooey! Gave it a shot.  Wasted my time.  Most of that time was spent idling in the insufferable traffic jam that is the island of Montreal.  For what?  To clean off my car in this sub-zero, digit-stealing, toe-numbing, nostril-freezing friggen blast of arctic cold we are going through this past week.  To thaw out in said car, heaters blasting, nose now running, fingers and toes now tingling, to sit through one log-jam to get onto the highway, to pass those who cannot seem to follow the speed-limit, to cross the bridge, then slow to a crawl to get to another highway, only to be redirected, to finally realise this has all been for naught.  To decide then and there to say Fuck It and to get off at my first chance.  (All this “Fuck It Attitude I am blaming on Grace and Frankie – gotta love this trailer, totally uncensored, by the way.)

To decide that this will not be a total waste of my time as I turn around and make my way to the Montreal Forum Cineplex and park inside where is is snow-free and warm. (Because really?  I am NOT gonna putz around looking for parking on the still-uncleaned streets from our latest dump of snow, only to actually find one and then have a snowplow (miraculously) completely box me in so that I now need to shovel to get out, after I have frozen my ass walking from the cinema).

Notre-Dame Street (Shhh… there was no one behind me and I stopped and snapped but still managed to have a blurry pic)

Driving up St. Marc Street, on my way to the Forum, I am struck by a beautiful mural (this is your fault, Resa McConaghy!) and wish I can pull over so I can take a proper picture but this street looks pretty much like the one above, plus I have someone right behind me.  Thankfully, I am stopped at a light and can open my window, brave the cold, and snap a quick pic.  I will definitely have to return to take some better shots without the bloody parking signs and do Resa proud 😉  I have to admit I’m surprised at just how nice and bright this did turn out.

I walk up to the main level of the forum, re-bundle up so I can then cross the street outside because, why is this the one non-underground connecting section of Montreal?  Fucks sake.  Or is there one and now I am even more of an eejit for not knowing it?  Goddamn! It’s cold.  The wind rendering my face instantly numb, I wait inside for the light to turn green, then hurriedly make my way to Roasters, a little BBQ Grill & Bar, because at this point, I’m gonna have me a Rickard’s Red with something decent to eat.  I have over half an hour before my movie starts and I am NOT having an A&W or McDonald’s burger after having wasted an hour and half to get here.

I am more than pleasantly surprised by my chicken wrap.

With almost ten minutes to spare, I re-bundled up just to cross the street.  I swear, this is not a day to leave your coat open and dash…  Upon Merril‘s recommendation, I purchased my ticket for “Cold War”, a beautiful 89-minute black and white escape into another world.

The movie is sent during the cold war in Poland, Wiktor and Irena are driving through Poland, recording various people singing old folk tunes.  They then want to create a choral ensemble to tour.  During these auditions, Zula appears.  Wiktor sees something in her and decides to accept her into the troupe.  They fall in love and so begins a most difficult relationship.  Can people be too in love with each other?  They go from bliss to separation, back together and apart.  Between all of these comings and goings is beautiful music and gorgeous cinematography.

I probably shouldn’t share this particular video with you but I really, REALLY wanted to share the whole choir singing “Two Hearts” because it is heart-breakingly beautiful.

Feeling warm and happy that my evening turned around, I got into my car and made my way home.  Of course the tunnel leading to the Jacques-Cartier bridge was closed.  Sigh.  Slowly forced to take an exit which is, of course, very slow going, and once I get up the hill, the bridge is not lit up in green or purple or whatever, as per usual.  I fear it might be closed I might be taking the long drive along Notre-Dame to the tunnel to get home but no.  Miracles of miracles, it was just a section of the tunnel being worked on which caused the redirect.  Through the thick snow I drive, across the bridge, onto properly moving traffic on the highway and back home before 10 pm.

I wash off my face, change into jammies, pour myself a glass of wine and I catch up on my blog readings.

That’s definitely what I call making the best of it.

Travel Tube – Tell Me a Story Challenge

Di, over at Pensitivity101 decided to tag me in this chain of sorts… Seeing the photo and feeling it was way out of my comfort level, I, of course, could not refuse.  It’s a glutton-for-punishment thing…

Travel Tube

Jules felt the dizzying twist, spin and pull that always accompanied portal tube travel.  She didn’t think she’d ever get completely used to it even though she did notice that with each successive trip the nausea eased somewhat giving her the hope that one day she would actually fly through that ring and come out the other side with her peachy complexion intact rather than this greyish-green tint. She could also do without the burn of bile at the back of her throat just waiting for a moment of weakness.

How she managed to remain upright when she emerged was beyond her!

She could feel her senses return to normal and gingerly patted herself down to make sure all was intact.  Which was utterly ridiculous as she had been told to stop worrying about it.  Still, once satisfied, she surveyed her surroundings.

Dammit!  All that and I’m not even at 5th Avenue and 57th Street?  Gawd, she missed the olden days when you could use the subway…

167 words

So, here’s how it works… I had to

  1. Write a story based on the photo above,
  2. Pick a picture of my own, see below
  3. Tag three bloggers to play along (not easy, because not all like to play these sorts of games…)

So, without further ado, I nominate the following three bloggers, who, I want you to know, are under no obligation to play along at all…

  1. Crispina at Crimsonprose
  2. Lynn at Word Shamble
  3. Merril at Yesterday and Today

And here is my photo:

As mentioned, this is a totally voluntary thing!

Weekend Writing Prompt #89 – Silhouette

I just finished watching a biopic of Jane Fonda and was inspired by something she said.  Suddenly I knew what I wanted to write for this challenge.

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, for hosting this party.

Word Prompt

Silhouette

Challenge

It took me years

To reside comfortably within my own skin

No longer a silhouette of myself

I can feel my anger

I can feel my judgments

I can feel my kindness

Everything that makes up who I am

Including the fact that I just may be

Stonger and braver than the man I am with

Which is difficult for him

But necessary for me

Under the Calabash Tree

Good Boxing Day (for those who “celebrate the crush of bodies in stores the day after Christmas) my peeps.  Hope you are not suffering from a hangover, food or booze-related!  Took me a good while to get myself going today (giving you the idea that I actually have got myself going at all).  The crash after the excitement, I guess!

Thank you to Rochelle for keeping this here party going even during the holidays.  And thank you to Randy Mazie for allowing us to use this photo – for the second time, it would seem.  Before my time 😉  Wanna play with us?  Click on Rochelle’s name for the how-to’s and then click on the Blue Frog to add your link to your own 100-word creation!

©Randy Mazie

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Under the Calabash Tree

The heat is stifling, made more so by the number of people crammed into our little house.  Family gatherings are wonderful and I love them until the press of bodies causes me to seek relief.

I sneak out the back door, unnoticed.  I want no company.  No one alive, anyway.  Except for the goat.  She is always welcome.

I whistle as I make my way to the shade of the calabash tree. One day I’ll remember to bring a damn chair.

I take out my notebook and pencil and begin to write.  I dream of being the next George Lamming.

Feel the Rumble – Friday Fictioneers

Good Wednesday evening, my peeps!  It’s Friday Fictioneers time and I have finally come up with something.  Having already written a post about my son’s love for trains as a boy and another on wanting to run away via train, I was a tad stumped.  What to write about?  My creative muse having abandoned me completely, I had to rely on a fond memory.

Thanks always to Rochelle for being the hostess with the mostest and this week, a thank you to Dawn M. Miller for the use of this beautiful picture.

Do try your hand at a 100-word story based on this photo by adding your link to the blue frog below!

 

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Feel the Rumble

Sitting around the dinner table the sounds of her guests enjoying themselves pleased her.

Suddenly, everyone stilled, silence reigned and they turned to her wide-eyed.

“What the hell was that?” one queried.

“What do you mean?”

“That rumble.  Earthquake?  Didn’t you feel it?  And it sounds like glasses are crashing inside your china cabinet.”

“What rumble?”  She frowned.  “Oh that!  Ha ha!  That was the train!  I don’t even notice it anymore and I didn’t hear the glasses because of the party.  Every few months or so, I have to push them back because they jiggle with each train passing.

In Their Care – Friday Fictioneers

Good Wednesday evening, my Readers!  It is that time of the week where Rochelle, our feisty leader, sends us a photo (thank you, Nick Allen, for graciously allowing us to borrow it)  and we must use our grey matter and imagination to come up with a story that inspires, excites, entices, horrifies, or just plain amuses you.  From around the world comes all sorts of wonderful stories.  I kid you not!  Just click on the blue frog below and you’ll have access to anywhere from 70 to 100 stories!  Including this one.  Hey… how about you add yours?  Click on Rochelle‘s name and find out the how-tos and then add your story to the list!

 

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In Their Care

As a self-sufficient and capable man, he was no stranger to the myriad tools stored neatly in his huge shed.  From saws to planers to drills; name it, he had it ~ all bearing a well-worn patina.  Also parked neatly were a lawnmower/snowblower, a four-wheeler and a big log-splitter.  The man could take care of himself.

Until he couldn’t.

His grandsons minded the place for him. They drained the gas from the vehicles, sold off his tools for peanuts, turned the house into a pigstye.  The lawn had become one giant junkyard.

All that was left undisturbed were his oil cans.