Thursday, 31 January 2013

VisDare 5 - Obscure

When Angela posted this picture for this week's Visual Dare I knew exactly what I needed to write.

I had to continue the story I wrote for this week's Monday Mixer about Rosa, the woman hidden behind the curtain. This flash fiction takes us back and explains about the fire...

The cause of the fire was never investigated thoroughly. 

They were entertainers on the fringes of society, outsiders left to determine their own justice.

It was claimed the fire was an accident. A paraffin lamp knocked over into a baby’s crib. How likely was that to be deliberate?

With maternal compassion Rosa inevitably bent over the fire only to find the crib empty. The child had already been rescued and was safe in the arms of his father.

Shrike was hailed a hero.

When a second figure staggered from the flames minutes later, all attention focused on her.

Rosa alone saw her husband’s look of fury or at least imagined it scorched onto her blackened eyes.

From that day on she was kept hidden away, obscured from public gaze behind a curtain, but it was the loss of her beautiful singing voice that really made the world a poorer place.

Will we find out more of Rosa's story? Well that depends on how future writing prompts inspire me.

Monday, 28 January 2013

Monday Mixer - Time to Fly

Well this week's Monday Mixer has been a real challenge. To begin with I wondered if I could even make up any story using the bizarre list of words Jeff had chosen.

In the end I managed to use all NINE - yes you can count them - each prompt word is in blue.

With hands that moved proficiently Rosa counted tonight’s takings. Drachmas stacked neatly in commensurate towers before her, every eleventh coin was surreptitiously slipped into her pocket.

Suddenly she could hear raucous jeering from the amphitheatre. This new girl may be alluring to the eye but her discordant singing was turning the usually satisfied crowd into a mob baying for their money back.

Rosa scooped a few more coins from the table and slid them inside her boot. She was phlegmatic about her circumstances, things changed quickly and she had learned to be prepared for any eventuality.

Before the fire she was the star act in the cabaret. Now her visage was contorted in such a way that Shrike* couldn’t even bear to look at her. Instead he hid her behind a thick curtain in her own private oubliette.

Tonight she would cut the lanyard that held her captive and fly.

*So I slightly cheated with the word Shrike which I made into a name of a person but in my defence I did look up the word and it is a bird which is predatory in nature with a habit of catching insects and impaling their bodies on thorns.

The #MondayMixer - one of the most educational writing prompts in the world! LOL

Saturday, 26 January 2013

if a picture paints a thousand words...

I walked around the garden in the snow and took these photos this morning.
I was going to write about how much I am missing Andrew at the moment. The snow has triggered all those feelings of helplessness again.
I wanted to tell you that yesterday I cried but I can't find the right words and I don't want to plunge once more under the icy depths of grief.
But I need to share, I need you to know that some feelings never go away.
However I suspect you already know that grief NEVER really ends. It lasts a lifetime and not just a season.
There will always be days as cold as ice.
But the sunlight make things sparkle....

...and there is always hope for a brighter future if you look hard enough!

Five Sentence Fiction - Ringing

Bit of a sad story this week for Lillie's Five Sentence Fiction but these were the thoughts that popped into my head...

“You can’t fight back son, walk away and find a teacher.”

The stern tone of his mother’s voice was still ringing in his ears when Billy pushed him over in the playground the next day.

Marty didn’t throw a punch back; instead he quietly got up and looked around for a teacher, someone, any grown up to tell.

Finding none he walked purposefully to the bell and stretched up his hand.

When he realised he was never going to reach the tears started to fall.

 If I wrote a sixth sentence I'd send someone to rescue Marty.

Who do you think I should send?

Friday, 25 January 2013

#VisDare 4 - Steps

Angela Goff's #VisDare picture prompt has gone all mysterious this week. She has been posting very quirky pictures of late which have really stretched the imagination to the limits. I decided to stick with the slightly quirky taking the picture figuratively and here's my tale ...

Saskia was a tall woman of indeterminate shape and size under her flowing gown.  Renowned for her motivational speeches she had amassed a huge army of followers - literally huge, every one of them clinically obese. 

Round faced regulars still clinging to slender hope and newcomers wide eyed with expectation that Saskia’s Five Step Weight Loss Programme would help them achieve a supermodel figure.

“Visualise,” Saskia always spoke in hushed sensual tones, “each step leading you from the cold pit of despair to a bright hopeful new world.”

I’d been attending these classes for so long I knew every word; I mouthed them like a mantra.

Tonight I imagined the light at the end of my tunnel to be the centre of a ring doughnut with each step a custard slice, glistening with icing.

As I looked closely at Saskia, in her billowing tent dress, I suspected she did too!

 Remember to click on this link to Angela's Anonymous Legacy Blog to see what everyone else has written.