Dimly Lit Distractions – Dead Deer

Dimly Lit Distractions

Jonathan Pixie Nickleby skipped through the forest, he hoped to see his friends. He knocked at Crealy Bealy’s front door, but the rabbit was not at home. On he skipped. He whistled to himself (a cheery tune). He arrived at the house of Alastair Bear, the biggest pig of all.

“What a huge door” Jonathan Pixie Nickleby thought to himself, “What a GIGANTIC house.” He tapped his tiny knuckle on the massive, thick wooden door.

No answer here, either, so he checked next-door to see if Alastair Bear’s best friend, Cedric Anglestone Whoop McGraw was in. He gently tickled the door with just one figure, it was so small he could hardly see it. Sadly, even this light touch was enough to knock it off its miniscule hinges, for Cedric Anglestone Whoop McGraw was the tiniest mouse in all of Figpaddle Wood.

“Where is everyone today?” wondered Jonathan Pixie Nickleby, out loud.

“THEY ARE AT PING POND.” declared The Voice, that booms around Figpaddle Wood from time to time. Off Jonathan Pixie Nickleby trotted, as fast as his little legs would carry him, off to Ping Pond.

When he arrived, what a sight he saw! All his friends around Ping Pond, staring at a ginormous yacht. There was Crealy Bealy. There was Cedric Anglestone Whoop McGraw. And there was Alastair Bear, eyeing up the boat longingly.

Today I wrote  between 20:42 and 20:52. I was prompted by an idea here. My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, my tweets here, and my book here.


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She Did Exactly What She Was Told Never To Do – Dead Deer

She Did Exactly What She Was Told Never To Do

It was not that her peers questioned her actions. Quite the reverse, in fact. They all cheered her on, and hoped to join her. It was the snooty members of the Yacht Club. They insisted that the Club Rules expressly forbade her. She knew, however, that this was not the case. He dear friend had managed to obtain a copy of said Rules, and the only possible grounds they had was Section 4, paragraph 3 which expansively and inaccurately referred to the maximum number of legs permitted aboard all sizes of ships. He had prepared a strong defence to any attack along these lines. She would stand on two legs only.

In the meantime she simply took to the water. She had become adept at going aboard, and all aspects of sailing except returning ashore which was, to be fair, still a trial for her. Her nerves, coupled with the knowledge that Yacht Club spies would be observing her every move, led her to shut her eyes at the key moment and dignity was rarely present.

But now she was in full flow. The attacks from the nastiest Club Members enraged her. So much so she had arranged a flotilla this sunny June day. And what a sight it was! A joy to behold. the glistening ripples of the deep blue ocean welcomed this extraordinary fleet. Fifteen hundred vessels set sail and the festival atmosphere was tangible in the air. Several boats took music bands aboard, they all had colourful bunting. And they were cheered by all, except the spluttering old fools of the Yacht Club.

Normal humans had long since accepted and celebrated the joy that pigs brought to the marina and Grandma Pig, in the leading boat, was somewhat a modern day hero. The yachts held over three thousand fabulous pigs. Her name was cheered, and oinked, for miles around. She was the happiest pig, no – the happiest sentient being, on all this beautiful, watery, porcine Earth.


Today I wrote from 13:52 to 14:02. I was prompted by an idea here. My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, and my tweets here

It was a ludicrous request but one that drew his attention – Dead Deer

Simple Request

“I’ve seen some things down there ove the years, but honestly? Nothing like this. The summer before last it was, and of course I’d heard the rumours: everyone has. But I dismissed it as foolish kids, or maybe some clever tourist marketing ploy. But, there we were, just casting off, when I heard this tiny voice.”

They had heard so many tall tales before, so many of his tall tales, that the could barely be bothered to interject, but she could not resist this one.

“Small?” she said eyes wide, “a tiny voice?”

“Well, low, you know?” He hesistantingly replied. “Not tiny, as such, just a figure of speech. Anyway the sun was beating down, we were looking forward to a day on the water, and again this voice. A gruff voice.”

Can a voice be both gruff and tiny she wondered. She switched off and let him drone on.

“I looked around, and guess what it was, standing there, as real as you and talking to me? Have a guess, you’ll never ever guess.”

How could he think no one could guess? Here of all places?

“Tell me, I hate guessing games.”

“No, go on, just three guesses, and the next round is on me if you get it!”

“Ok, ok. Was it … um ….. was it a pig at all?” she stuttered, innocently

His face fell and he looked from one to another, crestfallen.

“Well yes, but how? But, how could you guess?”

“They escape from the farm, didn’t you know. Very friendly, but a little shy. They just want to sail. Is that such a ludicrous request? Seriously? I hope you didn’t just stare? I hope you took them out?”

“Well, er, well, no.” he spluttered, his fat pink cheeks wobbling side to side, “I mean, well, its my boat, isn’t it?”. He looked down at his groaning plate and began to eat, self-satisfied noises making the others long for the tranquillity and culture of a porcine companion instead of this over-fed selfish bore.

Today I wrote from 08:56 to 09:06. I was prompted by idea   here. My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, and my tweets here

Pennies From Heaven – Dead Deer

As we climbed the hill, ever higher, our breath became deeper and harder. Revelling in the clean air here we pushed onwards. Finally up on the summit we paused and marvelled at the glories of the earth stretched out below and all around. In the far distance mountains thrust like fingers stretching toward the heavens, reaching for the sun. Even at this time of the year those fingertips sported crisp white nail polish.

Swivelling around to drink in the astonishing views we looked down at the great lake. From up here it resembled a very large puddle and we spotted a few specks out there. The strong light dappled as it reflected on the dark blue water; a fabulous day for a sail.

Deeply taking in one more lungful of this high air we started our descent on the far side, heading for the lake. As we wended our way we occasionally lost the path, but knew that as long as we kept going down and toward the sun we would eventually attain the lakeside. As we gradually came nearer to the beautiful expanse of water the specks grew and gained some form. With each glimpse we began to distinguish between them.

One particularly began to draw our attention, as it seemed to be moving ever more erratically. The sailor must have been a novice, we thought. I confess freely here that we allowed ourselves to be amused at the spectacle, as unkind as we knew that to be.

Now we are nearly at water level, and we think we understand; the owner of the small dinghy must be drunk. Their staggering and stumbling movements on board mirrored those of the boat itself on the water. Then as we approached the shore, yet another surprise; they appeared to be naked.

We reached for our binoculars and brought them to our eyes, and finally we did understand. Pigs are no more meant to stand on hind legs then they are meant to sail boats on lakes. We caught sight of its bewildered snouty face just moments before the panicky porcine pilot tumbled overboard.

Today I wrote from 08:57 to 09:07 AND then again from 11:23 to 11:33 as my stupid bloody phone lost it the first time. I was prompted by ideas here. My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, and my tweets here