L’amour toujours

photo-20170327143644962

Madame Sophie collected the finest things in life first. Waterford crystal. Flora Danica. And then she set her sights on people, for people were attracted to things, mais oui!

She was known for her exquisite soirees. The lustrous rope of pearls felt cool against her fevered skin. She took her place by the piano, accompanied by her dear doting husband.

Alas! La Belle Madame could not sustain the high note. She would reach it but didn’t have the confidence or the passion to stay there. She would break off…Such a pity. Oh, Mon Dieu!

She never gave up though.

Madame began trilling. She scaled higher and higher.

‘Wait for it, here it comes!’

‘Now.’

As if on cue, little Gregory, Madame Sophie’s youngest, held up the bowl of Waterford crystal and put it on his head.

Madame was well into her range when she espied little Gregory and her precious bowl. The notes escaped her glorious throat, soaring higher and higher, as she let herself go completely.

Resounding applause brought her back.

A beaming Monsieur slipped an extra pastry to Gregory.

You see, Monsieur had decided that Madame had had enough disappointment.

[193 words]

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is a weekly challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. Thank you PJ, for the awesome opportunity! Thank you Louise with The Storyteller’s Abode for the photograph!

 

 

A Game of Hornes

cow

Presenting-“The Cowntess Moasty-Toasty of the House Cocoamuff, First of Her Name, the Unburnt Toast Almost, Queen of all Ambling Bovines and the First Moos, Cowleesi of the Great Grassland Stretch, Breaker of Great Wind and prospective mother of Prize Heifers…”

A secret tryst in the barn, induced by unlimited Cocoa and muffins, Pat-a-cake being the predominant theme, Moasty-Toasty was christened after her gleaming brown coat reminded the others the toast was almost burnt before her first Moo.

The First of Her Name, and probably the Last. It won’t catch on, really now, would it?

The Queen of all Ambling Bovines, for Moasty Toasty has been known to emulate her mother, the Cowager, who was known errr, for  mooching. The Cowager has long since been forgotten, the public having such short moomory.

Thus, the addition First Moos.

Cowleesi,  note the eyes, the tuft of hair, the distinct resemblance. The sun never sets on the Prairies, Pampas,  Veld,  Rangelands, Steppes, and Savannah, Great Grassland stretches all.

The ABC diet, rich in asparagus, beans, broccoli, brussels sprouts, and cabbage contribute to the penultimate title.

Throw in handsome Angus, and you’ll have little Bullah, and Cownnie gamboling in no time at all.

Charmed.

[200 words] Sorry, went overboard!  😀

Thank you majesticgoldenrose for the photograph. A million thanks, PJ, for hosting Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge! I had loads of fun with this!  ❤

 

Vantage Position

airport

It’s all about waiting.

So that’s where I come in.

A need to break the monotony.  And a quick bite.

They come to me; the aspiring, the ambitious, the smart and the successful. For, invariably, there is a delay and their best laid plans are thwarted.

I take their orders and execute them in silent efficiency.

Newspapers are whipped out. Screens light up and they are lost to the world.

From the corner of my eye, I make note. The regulars. The daily travelers. The once-a-weekers. More than that, I can’t be bothered.

The married, on clandestine escapades, betrayed by hands rendered bare, base of fingers decorated by rings of pale skin, in place of metal twisted off, in furtive haste.

The eyes give them away first.

Nothing much escapes me.

I pick up a card and read the name.

I’ve always kept my eyes and ears open and my mouth shut.

Wait and watch, I’ve been told, and things will come to you.

Jackpot!

[165 Words]

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is a challenge hosted by PJ. Thank you!

Thank you Dawn Miller for the photo prompt.

Immutable

temple

The streets unfold

I’m lost

In a maze

Of my making

 

In the unfamiliar

 

Tongues make no sense

Raucous static

 

I strive

To hear myself

 

A turn

Pockets of Faith

Concentrated prayer

The aura

Unmistakable

 

This is it

I’m home

In a strange land

 

Guided by You

I do not even question

 

The world is my shrine

I close my eyes

In total surrender

 

My Faith transcends

Everything

 

I learned long ago

No question

You know best

 

l am but a flame

Burning with the intensity of your fire

 

I know You

Have always known You

Myriad lifetimes

 

An ancient shrine

Of a long forgotten mystic

 

At the little chapel

You gazed at me

With so much compassion

My heart almost burst

 

I find You in every idol I see

 

Every stone

chant

song

flower

that blooms

 

In the people I meet

 

I now stand here

Before this shrine

And look up

To You

Yet again

 

You wait for me

All I need to do

Is close my eyes

 

Tuning in

I connect

 

Once again

 

[175 words]

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Singledust. Thank you Gina! Such a beautiful photograph! ❤

Thank you Priceless Joy for the lovely opportunity provided for this week’s writing prompt at  Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers !

Lead, Kindly Light.

dark-night

The winter evening drew on, enveloping all, in a shroud of mist and darkness. The clay stove where wood fires burned with the occasional crackle and pop, was where they all huddled together, the dying embers burning orange, reflecting on their faces as they tried to get closer to the heat, tempted to touch the ash laden coal, still molten hot at the core.

Tearing at unleavened bread, dipping it into bowls of hot piping stew, the warmth of the food seeped into their bellies and there rose a silence more blessed than joyous laughter.

The orphan waited patiently for his share. Every other benevolent family in the village took turns through the week to feed him.

Wolfing down his bread, he wiped his bowl clean, sponging up every drop of stew. Muttering thanks, he walked away into the cold winter night.

While the village slumbered on under layers of quilts that barely warded off the cold, he sat hunched over his books.

The lone street lamp, his only companion, blazed on, in the darkness of the night.

[178 words]

Thank you, Maria, for the beautiful photograph!

Bless you Priceless Joy at Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers for hosting such a wonderful challenge!

 

 

Doomspell

footy-and-foody

My waters beguile you. I stretch as far as the eye can see, not a drop fit for life. I’m the ocean. You don’t know my depth. I hold sway by my shores, my waves rendering rocks to fine sand, washed onto another shore. I hold in my ample bosom, many a wrecked ship I helped reach the abyss; their treasure now declared void and soon forgotten.

I take all the venom you cast into my waters, churning below the surface.

The poisons around me choke the unsuspecting. Vast skies as far as the eye can behold. Not a single gasp purer than what is expelled. I’m the vast expanse around you. I don’t know any boundaries. I just sweep by the horizon, my gusts gathering clouds, scattering their virulence over the thirsty earth. I hold in my outspread arms the souls I gather, their lives now oblivion.

I spew all the toxins I can in the air above me, spiraling into the firmament.

Don’t pay any heed.

Go about your business, while I wait.

[175 words]

 

PJ, thank you for hosting this challenge. Such a wonderful platform to share our work!

Thank you Footy and Foodie for the beautiful photograph.

Checkmate

 

cheees

So we sit across the table. This board between us. Time and some random moves separating us.

I check all the pieces. Left with a few. Your foolish haste never ceases to amaze.

I check the pieces. I win again. Yes! I’m invincible!

I shall re-arrange the board again. See how things turn out this time.

It is ready for me again. I make the first move, as usual.

No, not that. Hold on to a few pieces. Don’t sacrifice all your pawns. Allow the…

It’s my board. My life. My moves.

Hold on. Think before you make a move. I’m you, eventually. There’s consequences. I know.

You? Me? No way! I’m young. It’s my life.

How many times shall I try to piece it all together? How…?

Leave me alone! I’m free to make my moves.

I shudder. What’s your next move?

Check.

No. It doesn’t end like this. Let’s begin again.

[153 words]

Thank you, Iain Kelly, for this week’s photograph. I hope this piece is worthy of your wonderful photograph.

PJ , thanks for hosting this incredible challenge! ❤

Still Waters

the-bridge

Joy Pixley provided this beautiful picture for the challenge. Thank you Joy!

Invisible whirlpools are reined in by resilient currents.

Tranquil, these waters flow, assured of their serene strength, despite the drift that sometimes encounters eddies.

On the surface, calm and still, I stand on the bridge and look at my reflection in the rippling waters; my mind, a roar.

The colours pour with a splash and quickly melt into the waters, carrying away bits of myself.

Here now, then gone forever.

I have tried to make sense of it all. To understand the connections. The mind failing to harness all the conflicting energies.

I am drawn to this bridge, where I survey the expanse around me.

So much, and yet…

The horizon shifts. I knife through and surface a little ahead.

I meet my dissolving reflection.

Now, on the bank, I squint at the bridge, formidable and rather imposing.

Can I give it a try?

Next time, not look into the waters.

Meet myself wherever I go?

Hush!

Let this bridge lead me away.

Let welcome change overwhelm me as I embrace it.

 

This piece is in response to the FFfAW challenge hosted by Priceless Joy.

The Fence

I lounge on the bench in the park. The trees shelter me from the sun. A gentle breeze ruffles my hair. I breathe deep.

I sit on the couch. The sunlight streams in through the window. The walls close in on me. I clutch at the cold pearls around my neck. I yearn to see them scatter over the marbled floor. A yank is all it takes.

I gaze at the perfect little house beyond the fence. The SUV. Picture perfect. I wonder at their perfect home. Their perfect lives.

A bee buzzes at the window, flinging itself at the glass. I am a moth fluttering at blazing light, within reach. Futile movements.

What must it be like, to have it all? A home. A family. To belong.

How does it feel, to walk away? Open spaces. Freedom. To be yourself.

What a life! I shut my eyes and continue to dream.

What is this life? I open my eyes to my reality.

car

This evocative snapshot has been provided by Yinglan Z. Thank you, Yinglan!

Dat’s mah man!

man-and-dog

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Louise with The Storyteller’s Abode. Thank you Louise for providing this beautiful photograph!

Woof!

My name is Valentino. I am fabulous. And I know it. I got my shiz together.

Look at my gleaming silky coat. I’m top dawg, man. I believe in taking care of myself. All I need to be happy is good food. Throw in a bone or two, refill my bowl with clean water and I’m all set. Oh, plenty of exercise. I recommend you take your man for a walk too. I never let him miss his walk. When I see the signs, the bottle of beer, the newspaper, the flickering lights from this strange box and I know it’s time for my act.

A couple of whines and bounding onto his tummy with vigour usually does the trick. Sometimes he has this glazed look in his eyes and I know it calls for desperate measures. Fervent, nervous scratching at the door. Ha! Watch him go!

So here we are, my man and I. I need the leash to pull him along. Will someone tell him to dress smarter? He needs to keep up with my style.

Bow wow to you.