#Writephoto ~ Vista

Thursday photo prompt: Vista #writephoto

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a wide, summer landscape, seen from a narrow path near the top of a hill that looks out across a valley.

(Dictionary definition)

Living in misery
Attended by misery and woes
Inferior in performance or quality
Very unpleasant: deplorable

For the past two weeks, it has been a case of all the above, since Anita, the head of our family had a nasty heart attack. She also had pneumonia, which was complicating matters even further, but due to the corona virus lockdown, we were not allowed to visit her in the hospital.

So for seven miserable and wretched days we worried our socks off at home, wondering what was going on and how Anita was feeling.

On the third day, we managed to acquire the number of the telephone, which was conveniently right next to Anita’s bed, which enabled us to speak to her and find out how she was feeling and what had been happening. This contact was a godsend for all of us and went a long way to keeping us from self-detonating!

Anita is back home now, but the misery is still present, although not as intense as it was before. She has extensive damage to her heart and as yet no way of knowing the exact prognosis. There is a waiting list for the MRI which will ascertain the damage, but until that day arrives, wretched will unfortunately be the order of the day…

I once stood on a hill very much like this one, breathing in the hot sunshine as I tried to figure out which way I needed to walk. I didn’t really have a clue as to the direction and since leaving the train station, I seemed to have myself hopelessly lost.

I had an appointment that afternoon in a place called Clandon and that was where I thought the train had brought me. I found out, too late, that I should have stayed on the train for one more stop for where I was now, was East Clandon.

How or why I thought I could walk to the next station rather than wait for over an hour for the next train still puzzles me, even now. Or why I chose the countryside rather than the road to reach my appointment. I remember feeling confident that it would be quicker and that I could do it. I loved to walk, and the day was perfect.

What I didn’t know at the time, was there were a mile of fields to cross, not something I had done since a child.

Somehow, I guessed the direction and set off. It seemed to get hotter as I walked, the air becoming heavier as my breathing deepened. As I walked, I lost track of time as I enjoyed being alone and at one with nature. The everyday world had gone away, replaced by so much green, fields, hedges, and the faint song of a skylark so high above my head.

I managed to keep my appointment, but quite glad I wouldn’t need to walk back to that station…

We’ll Meet Again…

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

We’ll Meet Again

The minute Ian walked into the waiting room; he knew he had come to the wrong place. Rows of uncomfortable looking chairs, most with old people sitting in them, all waiting patiently. Some of them looked as though they had been there a while already.

The bright light in the white painted room hurt his eyes and the constant faint humming was beginning to annoy him. He sat down on the nearest empty chair and discovered he had been right; it was uncomfortable. He had never understood why. If you must make people wait, surely a comfortable chair wasn’t too much to ask?

He looked around, wondering why he was there, and if he wanted to wait to find out.  He felt so tired.

A younger man walked past him on the way to the door Ian had just come through. The man pushed the door, but it didn’t open. He was trying again, using more of an effort, when a nurse in a white uniform appeared, took his arm, and led him to a chair.

This posed a question for Ian. Why hadn’t that door opened?  Something else occurred to him, something that made no sense at all. He had been in so much pain for a long time, but it had gone, and he felt fine.

More than fine in fact and a thought came to him. He didn’t need to be in this waiting room at all.

He stood up and walked to the door, wondering if the door would open for him, then, somewhere behind him, someone began to sing.

He recognised the song and turned to see who was singing. A tall, elegant, and attractive elderly woman was standing at the front of the room, singing the song everyone remembered so well from the days of the last war.

She smiled at Ian and held out her arms as she sang the last words of the song.

“I knew we would meet again, one sunny day…”

In loving memory of Dame Vera Lynn and Sir Ian Holm

The Colour of Sin…

Image by garageband from Pixabay

The Colour of Sin

I sat on the bus, holding the pamphlet
Given to me by a woman in the street
I hadn’t managed to dodge this one
The way I do most pamphlet waving people
Large red print, Do You Know the Colour of Your Sin?
I looked out the window, she was no longer standing there
Looking left and right, I wondered which way she might have walked
The message felt personal.
I etched the memory of her face into my mind
Hoping I would see her again to ask why
She had handed out the pamphlet to only me
The list of sins according to colour
White – a lie to save someone from the pain of truth
Blue _ envying your friends life,
wishing it to be your own turns this sin dark blue
Brown – for stealing
Purple – for cheating on your boyfriend/husband
The list went on quite a bit, right through to murder
The colour – black clinging to the list
That was the one sin I hadn’t committed.
Stepping from the bus,
I felt giddy with the sudden memory
of terminating a pregnancy in my teens
My sin had come back to haunt me from the hands of a stranger
So I thought, until weeks later I bumped into the same woman
I asked her why she had given me the pamphlet
Her dark rimmed eyes looked right through me
“because the child you aborted should have been mine…
My name, should you wish to know, is the wife of Thomas Grey.”
A name I remembered well; the father of the child never born
That’s when I realized that sins never die
They linger like a bad smell on the wind
Time brings them back to you
I watched her walk away,
wishing I could turn back time…

©anitadawes 2020

Searching…

Searching

I awoke this morning
The clock telling me it was too early.
Looking around the room for a moment
I thought I might be dreaming
A hurricane had swept through my bedroom
Wardrobe doors open
Clothes on hangers flung across the floor
Drawers pulled out at odd angles
Someone had been looking for something.
I made my way across the room
Stopping in front of the full-length mirror.
I stood staring at the silver backed glass
Empty of my image
The sound of my scream bounced around the walls
back to my ears
I realized who had ransacked my room
I made this mess, looking for myself…

©anitadawes 2020

For those new to our website and blog, we would like to thank you for visiting. Between us, we write in several different genres, so there should be something for everyone to enjoy. Anita’s books tend to be varied, from horror to supernatural romance and coming of age, where mine (Jaye) are all mystery thrillers. We try to keep our website interesting with guest posts, bloggers, poetry, and reviews for all the books we read. Our books are shown in the right-hand sidebar and clicking on the images should take you straight to Amazon.If you enjoyed your visit, we would love you to leave a comment…

Hoping to see you again!

#Writephoto ~ Veiled #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Veiled #writephoto

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows a green horizon, beyond which the mist veils a hill topped with strange rock formations.


Driving through the canyon between the land
Feeling like the filling in a sandwich
I found it hard to keep my eyes on the road
The rocks reaching high above my head
Shrouded in mist felt more interesting
Than our destination
Something ancient still lived there
I felt its presence like a memory
Each rock, each tree, each blade of grass whispered,
you have been here before, we miss you…
I felt lightheaded, as if I were floating in a dream
From the back seat came a shout, Mum, watch out!
I slammed on the brakes.
Someone stood in the middle of the road
Before I could hit him, he vanished
I couldn’t bring myself to tell my family
That moments before I had seen that same figure
Standing in the mist between the rocks
Watching us…

©anitadawes 2020

#Whatdoyousee #Keepitalive

What do you see # 32- 1st June 2020

Image credit- Pixabay-DariuszSankowski

( The image shows an old-fashioned camera resting on a faded map. There are three photos in sepia print next to the camera)

Was it the best find ever?

My husband loves to rummage around boot sales

His passion, old cameras. He was in luck today

He found an old Zenith camera

Complete with a faded brown map

And three photographs.

I managed to spot Paris and Rome

couldn’t make out the third photo

Before my husband snatched up the box

Asked the lady how much and paid thirty pounds.

Without looking further, he decided it was time to go home

Luckily, I didn’t want to find a treasure of my own.

He drove us home, driving me mad at the same time

As he became a twelve-year-old, excited over a present

An aging aunt might have brought.

I had seen him flip the back of the camera open

the film roll inside might have something viable to print.

He thought the Russian Zenith and map could be from the forties

I knew where his mind had gone, 007 spy stories!

A couple of hours later, I found him slumped in his favourite armchair,

looking like an old tire with the air let out.

The prints were pegged on his line and heard myself say OMG.

The prints were very blue, exotic

Not the spy story he had been hoping for after all.

One of the old prints turned over under his lamp

had the beginnings of something written there

Could it be the spy story he had been hoping to find?

©anitadawes 2020

The Sunday Whirl ~ Word 458

After walking for twenty minutes

We found Tim’s picturesque cottage

Smoke rising from the chimney

We caught the smell of eggs and bacon being cooked

Reminding me I hadn’t eaten this morning

I stood for a moment, holding Tim’s favourite whiskey

Sun fingers reaching through the trees

Light playing on the ornamental fishpond

A frothy layer of frog’s eggs clinging

To a patch of purple water iris

Remembering their soft velvet touch

I breathe in the magical spot Tim had chosen to live in

The front door stood open we entered

To find one empty dish on Tim’s old wooden table

No sign of eggs and bacon being cooked. No sign of Tim.

We stood in what could so easily have been the Marie Celeste

Our friend of twenty years has never been found

The whiskey never drunk…

©anitadawes 2020

For those new to our website and blog, we would like to thank you for visiting. Between us, we write in several different genres, so there should be something for everyone to enjoy. Anita’s books tend to be varied, from horror to supernatural romance and coming of age, where mine (Jaye) are all mystery thrillers. We try to keep our website interesting with guest posts, bloggers, poetry, and reviews for all the books we read. Our books are shown in the right-hand sidebar and clicking on the images should take you straight to Amazon. If you enjoyed your visit, we would love you to leave a comment…

Hoping to see you again!

#Flash Fiction Challenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community

May 28: Flash Fiction Challenge

May 28, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story using two words that contradict. Examples include champagne and hard-rock; rosemary and sewage; duck down and firecrackers; sleep and square-dancing. Use one of these or make up your own. Go where the prompt leads!


Yesterday I found some words lying around

Pages from a book.

I followed them around the house

They reminded me of scattered rose petals

The pages were not from a book

One spoke of love, while the other

Spoke of betrayal

Echoes of Romeo and Juliet

Yet this is not from Shakespeare

These pages are handwritten

As I gathered each one

I felt the weight of heartbreak.

The words shone like neon

Would there be light when I reached the end,

A reunion?

These pages belong to my mother’s old diary

I hope I can find the last page…

©anitadawes 2020

Free Fall… #Poetry

Image by Pixabay.com

Too hot to sleep in bed, I drag my duvet to the garden

It feels cool beneath the stars

I watch, as shadows dance across the face of the moon

What or who they are I cannot tell

until they begin to free fall, growing larger,

the nearer to Earth they come

I stood with my duvet around my shoulders

Too fearful to move any further

I could see the dark forms of human shapes

Slowly gliding now, it seems with a purpose.

Knowing across the road stood the rooftops of my neighbours

As many shadows disappeared, while others floated on

I know two of my neighbours are about to give birth

Are they new souls, waiting for their first breath?

If so, what of the others that came along

Surely not simply for the ride?

I could watch for changes in the neighbours I speak to

Ultimately what could I do?

Tell them I watched shadows fall into their houses?

They would have me locked up.

I know I was awake and not dreaming, where could they go?

Two days later, Mr Thompson died.

Reminding myself he was old, my mind asked the question

Did I see the shadow of death, plus companions?

searching for souls to take, others to inhabit?

Now, whenever I see the two newest tiny neighbours

I remember the night

I watched dancing shadows cross the moon…

©anitadawes 2020