Lovely Ron’s prompt this week:
Is a sound uttered,
When the trees are in motion,
With no witnesses?
Ritu 2019
RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #244 Sound&Motion
11 Mar 2019 39 Comments
in #ronovansweeklyhaikuchallenge Tags: Blog, Blog Post, Blogger, Blogging, Haiku, Ronovan's Weekly Haiku Challenge, Sound and Motion
#SoCS March 9/19 – Abash/A Bash/Bash
09 Mar 2019 29 Comments
in #SoCS Tags: #SoCS, #StreamofConsciousnessSaturday, Abash/a bash/bash, Annual Bloggers Bash Awards, Blog, Blog Post, Blogger, Blogging, Linda G Hill
Linda’s #SoCS prompt:
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “abash/a bash/bash.” Use “abash,” or “bash” as a noun or a verb. Bonus points if you manage all three. Have fun!
I’m going to a bash this year.
I’ve been to a bash the last three making this my fourth.
It’s not just any bash, but the Annual Bloggers Bash.
Have you heard of it?
It is a great event, where you can meet many likeminded bloggers, and mingle, share tips and ask questions.
There is an awards fuction too, which comprises of catergories whose nominees have been voted for by bloggers worldwide.
I’ve been lucky all three years, coming home with some sort of recognition, from second place, Best Overall Blogger award 2016, to the winner Best Overall Blogger 2017, to third place Best Overall Blogger 2018. I was even a guest speaker last year!
It appears that I have peaked.
This year I have been nominated for Best Book Blogger ( grateful for the nomination) but there is no way I could be placed in this category, as I know of many more, focussed on book, blogs that are more deserving.
But I shan’t come away from the day abashed. No.
I’ll come away with more beautiful memories of a fantastic day!
March 7: Flash Fiction Challenge – Mouse
08 Mar 2019 46 Comments
in #CarrotRanch Tags: 99-Word Fiction, Blog, Blog Post, Blogger, Blogging, Carrot Ranch, Charli Mills, Flash Fiction, Mouse
Charli’s prompt this week:
March 7, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a mouse. It can be real, imagined, electronic or whiskered. Go where the prompt leads!
Mousetrap
The pain.
It sears through my body.
I know no one will find me.
They were all much more sensible, listening to Mummy. I had to be the one who had to go and look.
Curiosity killed the cat. That’s the saying. Not the mouse, the cat.
But it was just so tempting.
I could smell it.
That whiff of cheesiness.
I knew it was out there somewhere.
And I found it too.
Sat there, right in front of me, was a huge chunk of the best cheddar.
How was I to know it was on a state-of-the-art mousetrap?
 Ritu 2019
#WritePhoto – Tranquil
07 Mar 2019 50 Comments
in #WritePhoto Tags: #WritePhoto, Blog, Blog Post, Blogger, Blogging, Flash Fiction, Photo Prompt, Sequel, Sue Vincent, Tranquil
Sue’s #WritePhoto prompt:
Now many of you asked for a sequel to last week’s prompt… (did you read it? If not, click here!) I shall try, using this picture…
Through the doorway, all I can see are bones.
Or skeletons.
Rooted to the spot, I glance back at the old woman who is standing there, staring at me.
“Grace, oh my dear Grace. I have been waiting for so long… Where did you go?” She creaks over, slowly, each step looks like she’s going to fall at any moment.
I inch back until I am against the closed front door.
“Come, Grace. They are all so excited. You must meet them.”
Finding my voice, I squeak, “Who?”
“Everyone! Your whole family. We knew you’d come back one day.”
Her frail hand circles my wrist and gently pulls me. I’m scared I’ll hurt her, so instead of pulling away, I gingerly follow her. She looks ancient.
We walk towards that room. The room full of skeletons.
There is a stench of decay as we approach the door and I balk at the sight of three skeletons sat around a table set for afternoon tea; except the plates are filled with the remnants of decomposed food, teacups empty.
“Look, everyone! Look who has come back. It’s our Grace.”
Rheumy eyes look back at me, and though a cold slice of fear is pulsing through my veins, I feel a shot of sorrow join it.
“Sit down. Let me pour you tea. Oh, there’s no milk. Let me go and get some.”
She hobbles out of the door and I think this would be the ideal time to scarper, when my eye catches sight of a yellowing newspaper on the sideboard.
“Saving Grace! Can They Save Her?” the headline screamed.
I look closer to read what the article says.
And feel shock, sympathy and fear again.
She lost her daughter, Grace, when she was 14 – my age – under mysterious circumstances. Abducted from her bedroom.
Then I see the photograph.
It’s me.
Or at least it looks like me.
A shuffling sound alerts me to her entering the room again with a small jug in her hand.
It’s empty.
She sits down and indicates to an empty space next to her.
I’m not sure why, but I go and sit beside her.
She puts her withered fingers on top of mine and smiles at me.
“I’m so glad you are home Grace. I can finally sleep now.”
She sinks back into her chair and closes her eyes.
If she’s sleeping, I can sneak out.
I try and lift her hand gently off me and as I move it, it slips, and her arm falls, swinging like a dead weight.
But she doesn’t stir.
Her face is just a picture of serenity.
She’s dead. I’m sure.
Jeez, what am I going to do? I’m sat in a creep old house with a possibly dead woman, and a bunch of skeletons around a table.
My phone. Why didn’t think of that earlier?
I root around in my pocket and quickly dial my Nanna.
*
It’s been a surreal few weeks.
The police came. The ambulance came.
I had to give a statement.
She was dead, yes, and she took a lot of secrets with her, but one thing was for sure. She had been waiting for her missing daughter to come home, and seeing me had given her that release.
Of course, being dead she isn’t going to face any charges, but those skeletons? They were members of her family who had been poisoned, for some unknown reason. I don’t even know who they were.
But yesterday I had to go to the funeral. They laid her to rest at the family burial plot, at the back of the creepy house.
And it was beautiful.
Who’d have thought there was a glade in the middle of our town? Trees surrounding a small body of water. And a cluster of headstones. A pretty tranquil place to rest in peace.
Apparently there’s no other family, so the house is being cleared and sold.
Not sure I’d want to live somewhere with a history.
And that other girl who went missing? She’s still not back.
Some mysteries will never be solved.
The Day The Moon Began To Disappear – Speculative Fiction – March Edition
06 Mar 2019 72 Comments
in Challenges, Fiction, Thoughts Opinions & Memories Tags: Blog, Blog Post, Blogger, Blogging, D Wallace Peach, Flash Fiction, Speculative Fiction
Diana has another intriguing photo for her March prompt…
The Day The Moon Began To Disappear
A fine dust was falling from the sky, coating everything with a light, ethereal film. The dust settled on the ground like a warm snow fall, yet as I stepped upon it, my feet sank, as if in sand. The powder swallowed each foot and released it as it took it’s next step, leaving not a blemish upon its surface. A strange smell filled the atmosphere.
And that moon… it drew me closer and closer. The eerie glow from the eclipse was almost hypnotic.
I reached the point at which it looked like I was standing directly below this usually friendly satellite of the earth, then squinted upwards. The advice was to never look directly at the sun, but the moon was in the way so I felt no fear.
Until I realised that this dust appeared to be falling directly from the moon..
And that the moon was actually nowhere near the sun…
And that there was indeed a little man sat on this sphere…
Grating.
It all began to make sense… and yet it didn’t.
Now we know for sure that the moon really is made of cheese. The parmesan, stinky sort. That is what the smell had been.
And the ethereal feel of the earth?
Those shavings had taken away a side of the moonlight and laid it upon our surface instead.
Leaving the moon with a dark, dull face.
But I Smile Anyway... 