Warning Light?

 

 

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We have a mystery and a creepy one at that. We noticed it a while ago and try as we might, we cannot figure out what it is or what is causing it.

We are quite used to the spooky goings-on around us, as weird things have been happening to us for a very long time. Some of the things have been a bit scary, like the time all of the mirror tiles in the hall were removed during the night and stacked neatly against the wall. Or the times we smell pipe tobacco or perfume that vanishes as quickly as it comes.

Our cat constantly watches things, things we can’t see and follows them around the room with his eyes.  Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I see an old woman dressed in old-fashioned clothes in our kitchen and she seems very at home and interested in what I am doing. Our house is very old, built in 1887, so there are probably many echoes of the past in every brick!

Our lights flicker and switch off all the time, and we have had them checked, but it still happens, so when I caught sight of a strange red light among the bushes outside the front room window, I wasn’t unduly alarmed.

Curious, hell yes. It looked similar to those standby lights that all modern appliances seem to have these days.  I was sure it was outside, but it could only be seen from inside the room. Trouble was, we couldn’t find the source of the reflection, and why it was only visible from certain angles.

For ages, we thought it must have a simple explanation, but the harder we thought about it, the less sense it made. Forced to rethink, we wondered if it could be supernatural as nothing else made sense. The problem with this idea was why? And why was it there at all?

It looked for all the world as if something was sitting in the bushes outside our window. We hunted high and low, both inside and outside the window, but found nothing that could be causing it.

It had to be something reflecting on the glass, but our investigations revealed nothing. Maybe it could be a reflection from somewhere else, but where?

This has been going on for several months and we are no nearer finding the cause.

And before you say it, we know that reflections can be misleading, but it is driving us nuts!

Could it really be a demon visitor, one with only one red eye, spying on us through the window?

What do you think it could be?

 

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#Jaye’s Journal (or how to Juggle a Couch!)

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image by Pixabay.com

 

Most weeks in our house are usually a mishmash of incidents, some good and a few of the other kind. But whatever happens there is never a dull moment around here!

This past week has excelled itself, hurtling from one mini-disaster to another. At one point, I contemplated staying in bed, just to break the cycle, but as I am the nosiest person for miles, I couldn’t bear to think of anything happening without me. Seeing as how I was born with a sword in one hand and cleaning mop in the other, I could usually cope with anything!

It all started to go wrong when we spotted a fantastic bargain in our local charity shop, a two-seater couch in black leather. It was in perfect condition and a price that would n’t bring our bank account to its knees. So without thinking things through, we bought it, to be delivered the following day.

But what to do with the dilapidated broken down couch in our living room?

The local council have a collection service, so all we had to do was get it out of the house. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? In case you were wondering, it definitely wasn’t.

We are both in our 70’s and not the fittest people on the block, but we were determined. We would do this, even if it meant dragging the couch out of the house in pieces. A not so small nightmare later, two broken and bad-tempered women sat on the old couch in the front garden, swearing never again. We didn’t understand why it had been so difficult, it was a two-seater after all. We clearly remembered the day years before when it was first delivered, so either the couch had grown, or the house had shrunk.

The next day, tempers and difficulty forgot, the new couch was delivered and peace reigned once more. How I wish the story ended there.

At this point in the story, I can blame Anita for what happened next. She had seen (and fallen in love with) another couch in the charity shop, which she assured me, would be far more comfortable than our old three seater. You couldn’t make up what happened next.

To cut a long and painful story short, we bought the three seater and managed to drag the old one out. Slightly easier this time as it could be dismantled. Shame it was so bloody heavy though!

Shortly after the new three-seater was delivered, it became obvious that the blessed thing wasn’t comfortable at all, and had to go. By this time we were exhausted,  unhappy and tempers were flaring. Again!

After three days of juggling large, heavy and unresponsive pieces of furniture, I have banned the word ‘couch’ from ever being spoken of in my hearing again. The furniture we have will just have to last, for there is no way I am going to lift anything heavier than the kettle for the foreseeable future!

 

 

#QuickFire Tuesday: The Cottage

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I was reading my morning paper, flicking to the property pages. My morning ritual of looking for houses for sale. And there it was. My cottage, the one I had been dreaming about for half of my life. I knew every piece of furniture and fittings that I would buy to put in it.

I put on my coat and went straight to the estate agents in town. The young man, who said his name was Malcolm, asked me, “And when would you like to view this property?”

“There is no need; I know this cottage very well…”

He looked a little puzzled, but I carried on talking. “There is no chain on either side, a cash purchase, how quickly can I move in?”

Recovering his composure, he said, “With any luck, in about six weeks.”

Signing the papers made my body tingle, and I left the estate agent’s feeling about ten feet tall. On my way out of the door, I heard Malcolm say to his colleague, “There’s a young lady who knows what she wants.”

With a smile on my face, I telephoned work to say I wouldn’t be in that day, that I would be taking the leave owed to me. Then I went on the hunt for everything I would need. My family and friends thought I had lost my mind, but I knew better. I was having the time of my life searching the markets.

Nearly six weeks had passed and I had just one more item that was proving difficult to find. Maybe they were right and I had lost my mind thinking I could recreate everything I saw in a dream. The next day I had a phone call telling me I could pick up the keys to the cottage. My heart skipped several beats and once the keys were in my hand, I searched every shop for miles. I had found everything but for one thing, a blue and white stone for my coffee table.

 

I have lived in my cottage for three weeks and still looking for the last piece of the puzzle. There was a market in the town at the weekend, maybe I would find it there. Saturday couldn’t come soon enough, and looking at all the stalls, I wondered if I would be lucky today. The stone I was looking for was small enough to hold in the palm of my hand. I had walked around twice before I noticed an elderly woman tucked away in the corner of the market. She was polishing something in her hand and I was dumbstruck when she placed my stone on the table in front of her. I picked it up with no hesitation and asked, “How much?”

She looked up at me with strange pale eyes. “To some, it would be priceless. To others, I would say to be careful. It is just £5.”  Handing over my money, I left the market feeling elated to have completed my mission. I hadn’t wanted to hand it back to the woman to have it put in the small paper bag she offered. I put the stone in my pocket, leaving my hand wrapped around it. I felt a strong vibration, so I took my hand from my pocket, half-expecting to see a mark on it, but there was nothing to see.

Back home, after I hung up my jacket, I put the stone on the kitchen counter beside my phone. I switched on the kettle to make a cup of coffee and as I sat drinking it, I looked at the stone, wondering why it had been so important to find it. Picking it up, I moved to the living room and the coffee table where the stone belonged, but something stopped me from reaching across to put the last piece of my miracle in place.

I put my coffee cup on the table, just as the phone rang. I stood up and absent-mindedly put the stone down beside my cup. It was my job, wanting to know when I would be coming back. I said the date should be in the book and hung up. When I made my way back to the living room, the stone was sitting in the middle of the table and the room looked strange, it was fading, the furniture disintegrating, turning into light, tiny coloured lights floating in front of my eyes. It was so beautiful. I reached out my hand to touch the stone, to take it back, but I could not reach it. Whatever was happening, it was happening to me too. I could feel myself melting away…

Anita Dawes 2018

Come out, come out, wherever you are…

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image by Pixabay.com

 

I have been trying to sort out my ever-growing collection of photographs as I am a bit of a hoarder; things have been getting out of hand lately. Actually finding what I’m looking for is proving to be not only impossible but downright frustrating, even though I know what I’m looking for is there somewhere.

I put my ultra-patient hat on and set to work, but soon realised that I might still be doing it this time next year, so I gave up. I would have to do a section at a time, fitting the time in as and when possible.

Fast forward to the following day, when I was looking for yet another image on Pixabay.com. If you have ever used this site, you will know that you have to enter your requirement in their search box and with one click, they give you pages of exactly what you are looking for.

I realised that this same system is in operation on many other sites too. There are search boxes everywhere, and this got me thinking. Why can’t we have a search box on our own image files?

Just think, instead of scrolling endlessly through dozens of folders and hundreds of images, you could just enter the relevant word and hey presto, no more frustration!

I just know that round about now, someone is going to tell me that there is already such a system. So, why don’t I know about it, and who is going to tell me how to get it?

 

Guest Posting…

 

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One of the first things I learnt when we started blogging, was the importance of sharing, for although the blogosphere is a crowded and busy place, it can feel like the loneliest place in the world.

That first year, before I learnt the finer points of internet communication (it was so complicated and confusing at first, with all the technical stuff you need to know, like all the linking and tags) we didn’t get many visitors.

We were adrift in a tiny boat, fumbling about in the dark. The thought of actually talking to complete strangers all over the world was both exciting and terrifying.

Gradually, we have become a part of this worldwide community and the support and generosity have been amazing. In turn, we like to support our fellow writers and bloggers, helping to promote their work, so all of you writers, poets and photographers, if you would like to have a guest post featured on our blog/website, you can contact us in the comments below this post.

We are happy to promote your work, as long as it is original, family-friendly material that is all your own work.

The average guest post is between 500 – 1000 words long. Please submit your article as a Word Document and images as email attachments.

We will also need a brief personal bio and links to your website/blog, along with links to your social media/Amazon/Goodreads Accounts.

We will…  create and schedule your post, letting you know the time and date of the post. We will also send you a link when it is published and post links to the article across all of our social media accounts, including our blog feed on Goodreads.

Our Caveat: We reserve the right to refuse any submission we feel unsuitable for our blog/website…

 

A Quick Question…

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Do you know where the stories you write come from?

What if they have already happened in some other reality, time or space we know nothing about?

What if that is where it really comes from?

It reminds me of the saying to be careful what you wish for, so maybe we should be careful what we write and put back into the universe…