August 6, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about molten lava. It can be real-time, such as a volcanic event or the result of one in the geologic timeline. Or, think about making the prompt into a metaphor of heat. What is so hot? Go where the prompt leads!
The sudden hot blast as you take hot cross buns from the oven Balmy temperatures that drive most people to the nearest beach Looking at the sun through dark glasses Reminding yourself it’s a ball of molten lava Boiling seas of golden fantasies Hot pavements, melting tarmac Car tyres in danger of melting (It has been known) Desert sands, hot springs Shooting geysers you cannot bathe in Only admire the height it reaches A falling star so hot It melts sand into glass The only heat I appreciate Is between cool cotton sheets Should I be telling you this?
For visually challenged writers, theimage shows a green landscape of rolling hills and an island in a bay. In the foreground, pastel-painted buildings and a tall clock tower are surrounded by summer trees.
Flipping through the pages Of someone’s imagination is one thing Here, you get to walk through fantasy made real. You can become more than the number of your parts The colours, the cool Italian marble Dazzle the senses Transporting you to parts of your mind That suddenly come alive Come visit, stay awhile Marvel at the tall clock tower Standing sentinel, guarding the bay Does the island, the green hills Contain more mystery? Time to go find out Before I go, I’d like to say I am a man, not a number…
Fill the walls with old sound Choir voices ring Silent days they fill with long remembered song From the black hills forgotten Eagle feathers dance in circles They sing their songs for children learning Fathers voices echo in red brick walls…
( For the visually challenged reader, the image shows a baby monkey looking down from branches of a tree)
My parents don’t know where I am and they look worried. So am I, as not altogether sure I could climb down this tree by myself. I should make a sound, let them know where I am, but not yet, I’m in no hurry to get my ears boxed. Wait, they’re walking away… Going home without me…
I’m sure it wasn’t my imagination, but last week seemed to crawl … each day longer than the one before as we waited for the day of the MRI to arrive…
Apart from the time Anita broke her ankle a few years ago – she hasn’t needed any medical attention in the last fifty years, which is just as well, for she wouldn’t have gone anyway! She hates doctors and hospitals, but luckily, always been disgustingly healthy…. which has left her without the patience necessary for a sick person!
When Saturday finally arrived, our nerves were stretched to the limit. There were quite a few iffy moments, moments where Anita swore (literally) that she wouldn’t be going, that she couldn’t stand any more of the waiting and worrying. I tried hard not to dwell on what might happen if she stuck her heels in, but luckily, she didn’t push it.
We gave ourselves two hours to get to Basingstoke hospital as we hadn’t been there before and uncertain about the route and the traffic.
Better to arrive miles to early than to risk being late!
We hadn’t gone far before we were diverted. I should have known then that fate was having a laugh, for this diversion seemed to encompass the whole of Hampshire, taking us far away from Basingstoke. I didn’t think we would ever find it the blessed place. The satnav was as confused as we were, kept changing her mind and issuing ridiculous directions. In the end, we simply followed the diversion signs and prayed we wouldn’t end up in Land’s End.
Fate didn’t stop laughing when we finally drove into the hospital car park, either. It was the wrong one for the MRI clinic. By this time, we were all frazzled, and there was steam coming out of Anita’s ears!
We finally found it with literally minutes to spare…
We were not allowed into the waiting room, so retired to the car. Luckily, we managed to grab a free coffee and found somewhere shady to drink it in.
The MRI took just over an hour, and from Anita’s account, it was a miserable experience. The room was too hot, the machine cramped and noisy, and she had to keep her face mask on all the time.
When she emerged, with large dressings on both arms from the injections, she looked exhausted, but extremely glad to see us.
Driving home, exhausted but glad it was all over, our stomachs started rumbling, so when we spotted a Welcome Break nestled among the trees, we didn’t hesitate. We ended up eating our lunch in the middle of a beautiful pine forest, a peaceful haven so far removed from the morning we just had as it was possible to get. The fried chicken never tasted so good!
The only thing left to do now, is wait for the verdict!
P.S. We want to thank everyone for their good wishes, hugs and prayers… I really think they have helped so much with Anita’s recovery…
The flow of time in space is twisted Truth hidden behind sharp knives We cannot see the fabric of our world coming undone There is no name for the slow bleed of things we know Are we next to vanish? leaving no name behind The low rumble of time Turns the rest to dust…
July 30, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that uses the phrase “her crowning glory.” (Thanks to Anne Goodwin for the prompt idea.) It can be in the traditional sense of a woman’s hair or applied to any idea of a best attribute. What happens if you play with the meaning or gender? Go where the prompt leads!
She stands on the edge of decision Beneath the pale silver crescent Her earthly form chosen Dark mane flowing Magic cannot be contained Her crowning glory, the spiral horn Long sought after by man One such as hers Said to be held by Merlin The magician, to raise Camelot She must risk going back in time When magic held no mystery, it just was To find a mate, to keep magic between the worlds As it had been from the beginning Will she risk losing her magic At the hands of some eager Wannabe wizard Or find her mate?