Fifty-two words …

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Intrepid and the limit just 52 words.

 

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Intrepid, me.  Oh yes.  Fearless, brave. 

My mission?  Rescuing those in peril.  Making the world safer.

I don’t fly or wear gaudy lycra.  There are no movies about me nor superhero dolls.  An unsung hero, that’s me. 

Yesterday I helped an old lady cross the road.  What death-defying challenges confront me next?

 

mmmmm

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A tiny tale …

for Friday Fictioneers

 

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The security guy eyed Dave up and down then let him enter the jewellery store. Everything went exactly to plan. Minutes later he slipped out and disappeared into the crowd.  Just the handover left to do.

He waited by the fountain.  She arrived on time. They stood face-to-face.  His eyes flicked left then right.  From his pocket, he discretely produced a box. 

“Suzie darlin, will ya marry me?”

“Fought you’d never bloody ask!”  she yelled.

“Thank Gawd, cost me a month’s dosh!  Just enough left for a burger.  Comin’?”

The MacD’s girl eyed Dave up and down. 

“Oy,  e’s taken”  bellowed Suzie. 

 

from-david-stewartThanks to Rochelle for hosting and  David Stewart for the photo

 

 

 

 

Click on the happy couple to see what others have made of the prompt!

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A short story …

for the Ragtag Daily Prompt where Christine has given us the word Journalist to play with!

 

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Freddie walked into the room wearing granddad’s hat, holding a note pad and licking a pencil. 

“Don’t do that”, said Mummy.

“It’s what reporters do, I saw it on the telly.  I’m going to write stories in newspapers when I grow up”.

“A journalist”, said Daddy.

“No,”  said Freddie, “not lists of journeys, stories”.

Millie starting giggling.  Big sisters can be so annoying.

“One, go to school, boring.” she chuckled, “Two, go to the park, fun.  Three, go to McDonald’s ….”

“Can we go to McDonald’s Mummy?”  interrupted Freddie.

“If you write a story about it, we’ll go,”  said Daddy.

“Okay!”  said Freddie hoping up and down.


mmmn
That was twenty years ago. Freddie now works for a transport company and compiles lists of journeys for the drivers!

 

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All the eights …

Eighty-eight words for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Downpour.

 

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Saturday morning it was.  He poured a coffee and settled down with the newspaper.  Not much of interest.

In the sports section, he noticed the result of a football match.  He didn’t realise it had been played yet. The weather forecast was odd too.  Sunshine it promised, not the downpour battering his windowpane.

But it was a picture on the obituary page that startled him, a photograph of himself.  A mistake, surely.

Then he noticed the date at the top of the page.  It was next month’s paper.

 

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~Magickal Graphics~

A few words …

for Sue Vincent’s #writephotopromt

 

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As the sun starts its upward journey painting the sky with its golden glow, most still slumber.  But not me.

On this misty moisty morning, the air I breathe is damp, the breeze that strokes my skin chilled yet invigorating.

The only sound I hear is the swishing of my feet as I stroll  ‘cross the dew-laden pasture. 

I stop to watch a crimson ladybird wandering down a slippery stem, as a bee settles on its pale blue bloom. 

The sudden flapping of wings echoes all ’round as a bird bursts from the lush green leaves of a nearby tree.  To my right an inquisitive fox hesitates, one paw raised and stares. 

I stand for a moment upon a rickety wooden bridge.  With a splash and a flash a silver fish frolics in the glassy water of a reed-edged stream.  Shimmering ripples float in ever-increasing circles upon its surface.  

The heady scent of a new dawn is as yet untainted by the flurry of human activity.  Most still slumber.  But not me.

ggggggggggggg

 

What follows is a version of a nursery rhyme dating back to 1630 sung by the English folk rock band Steeleye Span.  Apart from its title, it bears little relation to my story but I thought I’d share anyway it as it’s one of my all-time favourite recordings!

One Misty Moisty Morning

One hundred words ..

for Wordless Wednesday

 

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I crawl from my tiny tent.  There are thousands here. Laughter fills the air.  Some wander aimlessly about, others sit hunched, holding their heads, vowing never to get drunk again.  But they will, and not just drunk!

It’s raining.  Who cares?  What’s a festival without mud?  The crowd’s moving.  There’s the arena, come on! 

Nearly there.  Listen.  Guitars being tuned, drums bashed and mikes checked. One two testing, one two!  

Almost time.  Ready?  Here we go!

The sheer volume is driving everything from my mind.  I’m swaying, swinging, spinning, singing.  I look stupid!   I don’t care.  Nobody does!

Festival … enjoy!

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bandThanks to Rochelle for hosting and to CEAyr for the picture.

Pluck Froggie’s strings to see what’s going on!

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Let’s lighten the mood!

for the Ragtag Daily Prompt where Christine has given us the word Overcome to play with!

 

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A brilliant movie, the posters said.  Five stars said the critics.  Then it must be good said I.

Once it got going, and it took a while, it was okay. 

A sinister-looking chap enters left carrying a gun.  A terrified girl turns to face him.  He aims his weapon. 

Everyone was gripped.  I was gripped.  Unfortunately, I gripped my unopened bag of M&M’s too hard and it burst with a loud pop!  You should have seen the audience jump!  I got some awful looks.

I was still awake half an hour later which is unusual.

She lays bleeding on the bedroom floor. She whimpers into her phone. ‘Help me, help me, please…’

The audience was overcome with emotion.  The cinema was in imminent danger of becoming flooded with tears.  She can’t die, surely not!  To be honest I was undercome. 

Her head falls to one side.

Multiple  gasps….!

The doorknob turns.

Sharp intakes of breath…!

The door creaks.

I inadvertantly fart.  It was like the creaking door echoed!  Heads spun in my direction, only to spin again thirty seconds later with pinched noses.

An hour passed.

In the back seat of a car, our heroin is attempting very noisily to give birth.  It’s touch and go.  Will the babe survive?  Then out it springs and screeches!

Yipee! We are all so relieved! Some of us smile, some shed tears of joy.  A girl behind me starts sobbing, which somehow amused me.

‘Boohoo’ she went.

‘Haha’ went I.

‘Boohoo’.

‘Haha’. 

I was suddenly aware of a flickering torch.  I glanced left to see a cinematically uniformed person beckoning me.  I was being evicted.  I stood and stumbled along the row, treading on toes as I went.  ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry…’

I’m going to the opera next week.

 

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