Along the Starlit Way – Lotta the Otter

Along the Starlit Way

There was a boat crash with only 4 survivors.
They could not tell north from south, east from west.
In other words they were lost.
One of the four saw bright stars like ‘leading lights’ “lets follow them”
“Okay, lets go.”
Seven weeks later we arrived home.

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Today I wrote between 19:30 and 19:40. I was prompted by an idea here.

Along the Starlit Way – Dead Deer

Along the Starlit Way

Calmly she closed the lid, and moved away. Looking behind her as she walked she almost missed her step, in the darkness, and stumbled slightly. Her eyes were accustomed to the dark, yet it was no easy feat to see clearly in the half light.

As she continued, she wondered when that lid would be opened again. Not for a long time, she hoped, a very very long time. I’ll be long in my grave, with any luck, she thought to herself, now leaving by the unlocked gate. If any of them find out before. Well, she shivered at the thought of it.

This, along with the darkness, turned her mind to her life, and her mortality. “Long in my grave”, she repeated out loud, but softly. Her own voice startled her in the smooth silence of the moon light. Another, what? twenty years, maybe thirty. Good God, she shuddered, another thirty years of this. Her shoulders slumped at the thought of it.

Heading across the wide open field, now, her thoughts turned again, this time to more prosaic things. A long walk ahead, the stars would be fading by the time she arrived. Why do I bother, why have I done this, she mused, wearily.

She knew why. They all knew why.

In the far, far distance, a dog barked wildly, and she realised, right there and then, that this was it. The thirty years she couldn’t face. Just get to the end of this week, when it will all be in place, she thought.

Then they will be able to open that lid much, much sooner. They will be pleased.

 

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Today I wrote  between 18:56 and 19:06.  I was prompted by an idea here.

If you enjoyed this short writing, a whole load more are available in paperback, and kindle editions in your local Amazon site. NEW PAPERBACK COMING SOON

My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, my tweets here, and buy my book here

The Life of a Snowflake – The Writeycorn

The Life of a Snowflake

“Hi” I said and my best friend Bob said “hi”. This is a normal morning for a snowflake, yeah I am a snowflake most of us were born here but some were transferred from other clouds. There are 5 stations to our cloud the 1st is when you enter the cloud, it is like security in what you humans call an “airport”, the 2nd is low class estate where the lowest of the low live. The 3rd is a work station where you work, there are other stations in the work station but I’ll talk about it later. The 4th is where I live (middle class) it is kind of nice, the 5th is top class it is modern and very posh. I am a testing snowflake so I test new ways of flying and walking. I have got to go because my very annoying dad and sister are trying to get me to write about death and misery and destruction.

Sorry bye.

Today I wrote  between 20:25 and 20:35.  I was prompted by an idea here.

The Life of a Snowflake – Dead Deer

The Life of a Snowflake

“Hello,” she exclaimed, half leaning out of the upper window, “Why are you here? What does this mean?”

He did not mind this unwelcoming welcome, in fact, he was so far from surprised by it his only expectation had been for a far worse one. He waved, slightly, his straight smile fulfilling its usual role. Unsummoned by him it did, regretably, always seem to provide a non-committal entry, at least.

“I suppose I ought to offer you a cuppa,”, Laura coldly offered, before adding, icily, “although truly I should turf you out.”

“Thank you, a tea would be lovely. Lovely indeed.” His conciliatory air was quite natural. “It truly is a wonderful situation you have here. I have often longed for a nearby river in a home, better still, a stream running through your lawn. It is quite, quite enchanting.” Genuine, all this. “Yes. You really ought to turf me out. Actually, I really ought to not be here, putting you in this situation. I would truly like to apologise, but what would it mean? I would still be here.”

Laura reflected now, and later, on this honesty. He was an honest person, that had never been a question. Yes, she mused, and a good one. It is just. Well, it really is not on, is it, what he did. What he does.

He warmly complemented the tea. It really was delicious. He took a deep breath.

“Is she here?”

Laura’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, yet he perceived it, just. No, she thought, my sister is not here, and if I am correct then he really ought to know that.

She sighed. ‘What now?’ eased its slow progress through her mind. The water continued its slow journey through the garden, along the stream.

 

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Today I wrote  between 20:01 and 20:11.  I was prompted by an idea here.

If you enjoyed this short writing, a whole load more are available in paperback, and kindle editions in your local Amazon site. NEW PAPERBACK COMING SOON

My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, my tweets here, and buy my book here

Broadway Night Blues – Dead Deer

Broadway Night Blues

Lost, high, lost highs beckon,
Adulation over, low and lost.
Shoes leak, socks wrecked
On feet, filthy, sodden, lost.

Found, low, lowly floundering,
Muttering ‘I was adored once, too’
Lines learnt, lines surround her,
Sing high, lost song low, too.

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Today I wrote  between 12:07 and 12:17.  I was prompted by an idea here.

If you enjoyed this short writing, a whole load more are available in paperback, and kindle editions in your local Amazon site. NEW PAPERBACK COMING SOON

My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, my tweets here, and buy my book here

The Starlite Inn – Dead Deer

The Starlite Inn

‘Lite’ on stars, it may have been, but it certainly wasn’t light on lights. It would be hard to imagine a more floodlit motel anywhere across this great continent. In the dark, featureless region it shone like a beacon. One could only imagine that within one of its welcoming rooms the harsh brightness would filter from without, and render sleep unreachable, despite the stony, still, silence all around.

But stop we did, dear reader, stop we did. Ted himself welcomed us to The Starlite Inn, all five of us, and I see him now, as I saw him then; through my mind’s eye. Who could have thought my lifelong blindness would have been the difference, that night, and the reason why, this late night, I am here to recall those distant days.

Ted, it was, his warm smile, his warm home, his warm lights, (so I was told), Ted it was who held that door, wide, as we crossed the threshold, every bit a Rubicon. Settled in cosy chairs and sofas, in the reception area, my companions marvelled at what a wonderfully homely place this would be, were it not for those lights. I must inform you, even I could sense, the lights inside were every bit as deafening as they were outside, the lights designed to be noticed, to lure you in.

A light, warm, supper was produced somehow, an unusual array of toasts, rices, spreads and sauces. A thousand miles on the clock, though, and we gratefully tucked in to it all with gusto.

Do you know what you would choose for your last meal, should you have the chance? No, me neither, however, some of those rices! Who knew there were so many varieties, and so tasty, and varied. Certainly not my fellow diners, who attacked them all with relish, and with relish.

I have long wondered, since, if they had a chance to register their regret at their choices?

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Today I wrote  between 01:38 and 01:48.  I was prompted by an idea here.

If you enjoyed this short writing, a whole load more are available in paperback, and kindle editions in your local Amazon site

My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, my tweets here, and buy my book here