Is it a Plane?

 

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Image from Pixabay.com

I had awoken before dawn again and stood at my window, searching the velvety night sky for the first signs of dawn. That barely perceptible lightening of the blackness that seems to happen almost without warning.

I found myself staring at a star, defiant in its lingering and as I watched, it seemed to be moving. My eyes must still be clinging to sleep for it couldn’t possibly be moving.

But it was.

So very slowly, it crept across the sky. I strained to see if it could be a plane but could see no flashing lights. As I watched, mesmerised, it seemed to grow bigger, which meant it was getting closer to me. I stared at the star, desperate to see what it could possibly be.

When the flashing lights appeared, I knew it must be a plane, or maybe a helicopter. But wait a minute. I counted several flashing lights all in a row and as far as I knew, planes didn’t.

Fascinated, I kept watching. The sky was beginning to lighten, revealing the outline of the craft. It did look like a plane now, but not one I recognised and far too small for a commercial airline. It glided slowly past my window, all the lights twinkling like a Christmas tree until I couldn’t see it anymore…

©jayemarie

Typical…

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Amazon screenshot

I just wanted to sleep last tonight…
The Small Dog stayed up late,
She’s all excited, I can tell,
Just by the prancing gait
And, “Writer, please just come and see…
I’m up at fifty-eight!”

“It’s not the New York Times
Bestseller list,” I try to say.
The Small Dog interrupts me
So I let her have her way…
“I’m beating Hillaire Belloc
and Ted Lear… that’s made my day!”

She’s bouncing with elation,
“I’m an author now,” says she.
“They’re not reading the classics,
Writer dear, they’re reading me!
So would you like my pawtograph?”
She grins with canine glee.

Though fame may well elude me
Till I’m six feet underground,
And I’m okay with knowing that
As on the keys I pound,
I never once imagined
I’d be beaten by a hound.


Doggerel: Life with the Small Dog

Available now in paperback and for Kindle

via

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From her Mind… #Poetry — anita dawes and jaye marie

Penny Wilson Writes

REBLOG:  Don’t miss this beautiful piece by Anita Dawes.  ❤

From her Mind I have in my many years seen shit float Heard it speak many languages So the other day I was surprised When my granddaughter asked “Nana, if the moon takes light from the sun Does she cry tears of gold?” I was taken back by this for a moment Unsure how […]

via From her Mind… #Poetry — anita dawes and jaye marie

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Lipstick and Kerosene #writephoto

Story Book Girl

“It’s just one of those things, May.”

“Driving out to the desert with a six pack and some popcorn?” May noted, eye brow raised.

“Well that too, but no… having a break-up ritual. It’s a must.” Spencer fluffed her hair with a comb she’s had since the eighties.

“Greg n’ I were only together five months for crying out loud.”

“Doesn’t matter, rules are rules.”

Both women stood in front of the small mirror, tainted with old water droplets and scuffed edges.

Spencer said, “something tells me you didn’t read the hand book.”

“Honestly should have, I probably wouldn’t have been so shocked to find myself in an RV in the middle of nowhere.”

“Rule number 67.” Spencer picked up a gas can and motioned May outside.

“Is that gas…”

“Course. Come on.”

May swept the mascara brush over her eye lashes one last time and followed her best friend…

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It’s Beginning To Look A Lot …

Widdershins Worlds

Although we (Mrs Widds and I) celebrate the beginning of Winter at Samhain (31st October, here in the northern hemisphere) it doesn’t really ‘feel’ like winter until the Summertree is bare.

A light dusting of leaves on the emerald grass A light dusting of leaves on the emerald grass

There’s nothing like taking photos in the late afternoon light at this time of year.

Believe it or not, well over a third of her leaves have already fallen Believe it or not, well over a third of her leaves have already fallen

We made a nice fluffy pillow around her feet for all her beasties to overwinter in without disturbing them too much. The squirrels however, were quite put out that they’d have to relocate their larders from all over the lawn to their new home before the bluejays and crows descended to ‘relocate’ them themselves.

The Summertree hath spoken - Winter is upon us The Summertree hath spoken – Winter is upon us

This afternoon Mrs Widds raked up the last of the leaves and put them…

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Funneling Challenges and Stress into Creativity – Daily Quote

Jo Hawk

the-challenge-in-my-life-really-is-keeping-the-balance-between-feeling-creatively-energized-and-fulfilled-without-feeling-overwhelmed-and-like-im-in-the-middle-of-a-battlefield.-amanda-

They tell us success requires a laser-like focus on a single goal. Then they suggest we create a work-life balance. They say it is necessary to spend equal time on our finances, personal growth, health, career, family, relationships, social activity, spirituality, creativity, attitude, and amusement. The demands are overwhelming and the wheel of life bumps over us imitating the proverbial bus.

The creatives among us are perhaps more sensitive to the underlying need for harmony. We wrestle with the tension, channeling it into our creations. The stress creates conflict, which we try to harness and incorporate into our work. If we are successful, we convey those feelings to our readers. It allows us to form a connection and tell a story that resonates.

How do you maintain balance in your life?

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

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Cowboys at work?

pensitivity101

Sometimes it’s quite interesting watching the world go by from one’s lounge, or in this instance, repair men carrying out maintenance.

A van pulled up outside the house opposite and three guys got out.
Next thing we see is the top of a ladder being placed against their conservatory guttering and our interest is piqued.
A head appeared followed by a body, then feet came up to the next but highest rung as he surveyed whatever they had been called in to do.
He went down and another angled ladder was seen hovering in close proximity to the first, waving around like a demented flag overdosed on starch.

The roof of this conservatory consists of several angled glass panels radiating from under a long strut attached to said roof and bracketed to the wall of the building.
The angled ladder was then placed along one of the roof panels and…

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#ThrowbackThursday ~ CrossFire…with poem by Anita #MysteryThriller

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Excerpt from CrossFire

‘Do you know why we have brought you here today, Ann?’

Ruth thought she would ease her way in, rather than accuse her straight off, for triggering any hostility wouldn’t get them anywhere.

The woman stared at Ruth, her pale, colourless eyes searching for clues. ‘Nah… but I ‘spect you’ll get to it pretty quick…’

Ruth indicated a brown paper bag on the table beside her. ‘We found a pair of work boots at your house, Ann. According to your husband, they’re not his. Are they yours?’

Ann Taylor glared at Ruth. She seemed to be enjoying the interview, her arrogance showing through the previous nervousness. ‘Dunno, can’t see them can I?’

Ruth undid the bag and placed the dirty boots on the table. Most of the mud had dried and fallen off, but still didn’t seem like the kind of boot a woman would wear. ‘Are these your boots, Ann?’

Without looking at the boots, she shook her head. ‘Nah, I don’t think so.’

Ruth looked at Snow, but not for confirmation. She wondered why he was choosing to stay silent. What was the point of sitting in if he wasn’t going to contribute? Not that she cared, one way or the other. She had only looked at him to signify inclusion.

She looked back at the woman. ‘Are you quite sure, Ann?’

The woman shrugged her shoulders and refused to speak.

‘For the benefit of the tape, Ann Taylor has refused to answer.’

Ruth decided to read out the coroner’s report, detailing every bruise and damage to the child’s body. When she read the part about the boot imprint on the child’s back, she slid the photograph across the table in front of the mother.

‘Did you do this, Ann?’

When the woman didn’t answer, Ruth decided it was time to play the ace card, and she looked forward to it. This cold-hearted bitch of a woman was about to be arrested, but not before Ruth had enjoyed herself. ‘Are you aware that the person who wore these boots would have left significant DNA inside them?’

Ruth paused, watching as the realisation sunk in.  ‘And are you also aware that we have tested your DNA and it has been proved that you are the owner of these boots?’

The fear and shame were beginning to show on the woman’s face, and Ruth watched, wondering what she would do now. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Ann Taylor’s face seemed to implode, as the terror of being found out took effect.  ‘I swear I don’t remember that part… I know I were angry, but when she fell over and banged her head, I thought she was dead…’

‘So what did you do then, Ann?’ Ruth knew what had happened next, but not which one of them had done it.  ‘Were you aware that Amy was still alive when you dropped her into the canal?’

The horror was all-encompassing, as the woman realised the enormity of what she had done. She looked around the room, just once, before she started screaming…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

CrossFire

Snow has a target on his back

A female finger on the bow.

He may not have long to go

This life a clock ticking fast.

Blood and sand made of paint.

Does Kate still factor in his fate?

Alas, she is taken by the wind

A new female wants her pound of flesh

With arrow poised, she lets it fly

Snow is hit, his trap undone

Ruth has fled, now on the run…

©anitadawes