Photos!

For Wordless Wednesday and others!

national-trust-logoIt’s a horrid cold grey damp day today so I thought I post some pictures I took just five months ago at Sheffield Park in West Sussex!

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Click on pic to enlarge and improve.

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By the way, this was taken close to the same spot as the previous picture 3 months ago!

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It’s Monday!

A short story for Sadje’s What Do You See? picture prompt.

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img_5591Little Kate was in the garden. The sky was clear and the moon was huge.

She leaned her head on one side, then the other.  She squinted and wrinkled her nose.

Her cheeky brother Tyler crept up behind her.

“Boo” he shouted and Kate almost jumped out of her skin!

“What are you looking at?”  he asked.

“The moon,”  she said,  “I’m trying to see the man in the moon”.

Tyler giggled.  “Don’t be silly Kate, there’s no man in the moon. There can’t be because the moon’s made of cheese”

Mum opened a window. “Hey, you two, what are you looking at?”

‘We are looking at the moon,” said Kate.

“The moon’s a balloon,” said Mum with a silly grin on her face “A big round yellow balloon”

They all looked at each other and laughed.

“Kate thinks there’s a man in the moon” chuckled Tyler.

“Tyler believes the moon’s made of cheese!” laughed Kate.

 “It’s not a balloon Mum!” they shouted together.

I’ll tell you what I believe,” said Mum “I believe it’s way past your bedtime!”

Tyler went to his room and opened the curtains, just a little, so he could just see the moon from his bed. He felt sure she saw a little mouse nibbling away at the surface.

Kate took one last look before jumping into bed and waved to the man in the moon.  

And guess what. The man in the moon winked back!

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Sixty nine words

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt where the given word is Temerity and the limit, 69 words.

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“Mirror mirror on the wall who’s … ”

It suddenly had the temerity to steam up and crash to the floor!

“How dare you! Right, I’m dieting. Soon I will be the fairest of them all.”

It didn’t last, so she sought out a mirror like those you find in the Hall of Mirrors that change your shape.

It behaved itself, stayed put and made her look … well, quite good actually! 

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Two short stories…

for Friday Fictioneers

I came up with two stories in resonse to this weeks prompt and couldn’t make up my mind which to use.  I hope you don’t mind but I’m using them both!

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“I’m an impressionist,” I said. 

“Me too,” he said, “I do a great Boris – ‘erm-aah-err-forgive me…” 

“Not that kind,” I said, “I’m an artiste moderne”.  I invited him to my shed studio. 

He watched as I brandished my brush. 

“Great self-portrait,” he said. 

“Hey,” I said, “it’s an elephant”.

“There’s more paint on your tee shirt than the canvas,” he said, “you should frame it!”

He had a point. I snipped, stretched and stapled it to a canvas.  It looked good.   I went through my rubbish and found some more. Snipped stretched and stapled them too. 

Guess what, I sold one – almost!

 

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He stared at a blank canvas, his mind a vapid empty space.

He flung his easel across the room, stamped upon discarded paintings then crouched in a corner.

Through a broken window, a sunray permeated the gloom. He watched as shadows flickered upon the peeling wall, dancing, spinning. 

He unfurled his aching body, righted his easel, grabbed some paper and paints, then one by one pictures formed, two, three, more.

Many years later the abandoned studio was discovered. A glimpse of heaven one reporter wrote.  Inspirational artefacts said a critic.  Who was the creator?  Not a name, nor a signature.  Not a single clue. 

 

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brenda-cox-painterThanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Brenda Cox for the photo. 

 

Click the Froggies to find out what others have written!

 

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A sixty-second story

for Sadje’s What Do You See? photo prompt.

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She was accident prone, but somehow always escaped unscathed.  Catherine was known as Cat to her friends. ‘You’ve got nine lives’ they’d say as she recovered from yet another accident.

This time, however, it was somewhat more serious.  A simple slip in her kitchen left her with a dreadful injury to her head.

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Her anxious family gathered around the hospital bed. They were warned to expect the worst, but they didn’t want to believe it.  So when Cat’s eyes slowly closed, their grief was overwhelming.

‘It’s not over yet’ thought Cat as she drifted away.

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The window was ajar.  A kitten crept through the narrow gap and leapt from the sill to a bench.  It carefully picked its way between some unwashed pots and pans. 

‘I said it wasn’t over’ she purred as she licked clean a plate. 

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Forty-five words …

for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt  where the given word is Goodnight and the limit just 45 words.

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“Goodnight Mabel,” I said.

“Goodnight Gilbert,” said she.

 

Seconds later I was flying. 

I rescued a trapped kitten, helped an old gal cross the road … I disarmed a bank robber! 

Then I woke up.

 

“Good morning Gilbert,”  she said.

“Good morning Mabel,” said I.

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Half a dozen

For Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Charm..

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A small crowd gathered in the square where a handsome young man sat behind an elegantly draped table.  

I watched, fascinated as an attractive lady seemed drawn towards him.  She sat and they gazed into each other’s eyes.

He held both her hands in his, as his alluring voice made promises of rapturous times to come. 

She offered him payment, but he shook his head and kissed her hand as she stood, smiled and walked away.

One gobemouche after another fell for his charms but by the time they realised their rings, bracelets and watches had disappeared he was gone.

 

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By the way, gobemouche is an archaic word for a gullible person, and I’ve been waiting for ages to use it! Did you know that a gybotikolobomassophile is a man who nibbles womens’ ears? You do now!

 

Thanks to Denise for hosting.

 

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A silly story …

for Friday Fictioneers

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What should we do with it now?

With what?

The Christmas tree.

Undecorate it?

Yea, but what then?

Well, chop it up.

Then what?

Burn it.

That seems disrespectful.

It’s only like a cremation, and they’re not disre-doo-da.

We could pile the bits on the compost heap.

They’ll probably still be there next Christmas.

Then you could piece it back together again!

Now you’re being silly.

I’m being frugal.

Being whatal?

Never mind. We could carry it to the recycling place.

Where’s that?

Down the road, second left, first right, up the hill, round the ….

Let’s just burn it. 

Okay. 

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dales-processional (1)Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Dale for the picture

 

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