Battle strategies

The battle was raging.

Angry dark vapour laden clouds were firing arrows down upon the earth. Fierce winds attempt to topple over the palm trees, who through sheer doughty grit rose back up again and again. The music they were making was intoxicating and primitive.

An impertinent thought pops into my head. I want to join the dance. Is it a figment of my imagination or are they calling my name? Thrilled by the invite, I open the window.  

A hard gust of icy cold wind smacks my face and I retreat and hastily gobble down the erstwhile plan. What was I thinking! Even blindfolded, one does not walk into a battle with nature’s wrath.

I look through the window again. The sky beyond the proud palm fronds is slowly morphing into a deep royal blue.

Reading the motifs, I experience an absolute clarity of purpose. I know what must be done.

Snuggling back into the warm and tranquil embrace of my bed I tune into the latest season of The Crown.

Photo by Hunter Tober on Pexels.com

Written in response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie’s Photo Challenge 342 and the following daily prompts: Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (impertinent, vapor), Your Daily Word Prompt (tranquil, doughty), Word of the Day Challenge (gobble, figment), The Daily Spur (dark, thrilled) and Ragtag Daily Prompt (motif, crown).

The demur

It was a rather irregular and vulgar affair.

Two complete strangers seated around an ostentatious spread.

“Eat…eat…” he urged me on pointing towards the turkey as he continued to farcate. However, the spittle flying out of his mouth and the gravy dribbling down his chin decimated any appetite that I may have had. I had been burning the candle at both ends and had no patience for his grandiloquence. Instead I attempted to drown my simmering rage in my glass of punch. Eventually the thelemite let out a burp, and I almost felt relief realising that this signalled the end of the charade.

He buzzed and a pathetic looking man-servant hobbled in dragging his steps. Noticing a bandaged foot that was obviously still healing I felt compassion for the poor man. That was until he got closer and I was hit by his malodour that was a mixture of dusty clothes and stale sweat. The strong perfume of amber that he had on served only to make the smell more noxious.

I looked towards my host but he seemed unfazed.

“Well, now we can get down to business,” he proclaimed. “I am having tea with the minister and should be off to the club soon.”

I was seized with an almost violent urge to leave the room. The temerity of the man. If it were not for his hubris, we would have no business to get down to.

“Many have approached me, but I have chosen you. Now tell me, what is the best that you can do?” he added.

“It’s rather a paradox. The more you have, the more you need, I suppose. Basically, if you impignorate this mansion I can give you the money that you need to repair it,” I offer with scadenfreude.      

*****

This temerarious attempt is in response to the following daily prompts: Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (hubris, temerity, paradox), Your Daily Word Prompt (seize, proclaim, demur), Word of the Day Challenge (candle, impignorate, farctate, healing), The Daily Spur (relief, irregular, affair), Ragtag Daily Prompt (amber, steps, compassion) and MMA Story Time Word of the Day (rage, turkey, punch).

No Parry

Parents often bequeath characteristics to their children. I appear to have bequeathed sarcasm. My son being a rather capable gentleman usually responds to my jabs with an ‘I see you and I raise you one’ attitude. The battle of wits is quite a tough one in our home with a hysterical audience in my husband. In fact, we’ve made a sport of it where the loser proudly appreciates the winner; pride being a sentiment usually feel on the parent’s side at their child’s impressive triumph.

(85 words)

Written in response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt and for the following daily prompts: The Daily Spur (side), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (hysterical), Your Daily Word Prompt (capable), Ragtag Daily Prompt (tough), and Word of the Day Challenge (triumph).

Bubbles

I don’t believe in utopia or the promise of forever. If ever I did, then the last twenty-five years have burst those bubbles.

Yet your amazing zeal for life and the picture that you paint of a possible future together as a couple have made me almost wonder. I surmise that whatever mysteries or suspense or even battles that life holds ahead it would indeed be a far nicer ride to share it with you.

You treat me like an equal. You treat me with respect. Not merely a pretty face with a callipygian derriere. With you I have felt like a person of worth. I feel free and at peace around you.

Today you stand patiently waving goodbye, not knowing if I will return, glad that I’m off to have my grand adventure, with not a speck of grudge. Suddenly I feel those bubbles of hope burst forth again.

I guess, sometimes it takes a goodbye to find an answer.

I’m off now, my love, but this chicken will definitely come home to roost.

*****

Written in response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver Challenge and the following daily prompts: The Daily Spur (couple, chicken), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (surmise, utopia), Your Daily Word Prompt (zeal, promise), Ragtag Daily Prompt (suspense, paint), and Word of the Day Challenge (callipygian, amazing).

A whammy

The spoon dropped from my hand. “Is this a joke?” I ask.

“Joke would not be my word of choice… a whammy perhaps! Why, do you find it completely surprising?”

“Well, I kept trying to pacify myself that aloofness is an augury of boredom with the mundane. Was that illogical?”

“If you didn’t find the secret bank account and locked den ominous, then perhaps it was you who was not lucid through those years!”

I continued staring in incredulity at the photograph My wife was leading the resistance.

Image from Corey Agopian at Unsplash

Written to respond to Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #90 of a picture of a resistance, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt, which is to write a story that contains or make reference to a joke of some kind, and a bunch of word prompts from The Daily Spur (photograph, illogical), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (pacify, ominous), Your Daily Word Prompt (choice, augury), Ragtag Daily Prompt (lucid, spoon), and Word of the Day Challenge (surprising).

The drama-queen

The house was decorated like a dungeon. People in ghoulish attires moved in the shadows to eerie music serving snacks shaped like internal organs.

Yet the drama-queen started her histrionics – “I planned for this all year but now my party is totally ruined. Frankenstein can’t make it.”

*****

Written in 48 words in response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt, using words from Ragtag Daily Prompt (shadows), and Word of the Day Challenge (ghoulish).

Star struck

It was rather difficult to sport a professional expression when in fact she was buzzing with anticipation and glee like a kid in a candy store.

Her first live fashion show. The very reason that she had become a student of journalism.

As a teenager her interest in fashion had been insatiable. She had devoured every fashion magazine, spent hours dressing up and walking the ramp in front of her mirror, worked summers at the mall just so that she could befriend the girls at the cosmetic counters and get free makeovers. But as a size 4, she couldn’t possibly fulfil her dreams of becoming a model and her dad had refused to help pay for any ‘frivolous studies’. So, journalism it was. Then when it was required to pick a specialization, she didn’t require a second thought.

The lights dimmed. The music and strobe lights came on. She was in paradise.

The show was fabulous. The costumes were over the top, but the models looked truly divine. With their classic slender bone structure and silky bronzed skin, each was a goddess upon earth.

Late that night the dormant monster reared its ugly head again. Mary Luis Jane went to the washroom, stuck two fingers down her throat and brought out her entire dinner.

*****

Written for MLMM’s Tale Weaver #299 – Over The Top using words from the daily prompts: Ragtag Daily Prompt (anticipation), Your Daily Word Prompt (require), The Daily Spur (student), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (insatiable), and Word of the Day Challenge (monster).

Blank

“Well mother, the doctor’s recommendation is that you do some puzzles. It will help with your memory. He did say crosswords, but until then improvising is the name of the game…” With these words she placed a box full of Leah’s alphabet beads in front of me.

“Leah’s going to cry until she gets these back.”

“How she feels is not pertinent. She was prancing around playing princess of the castle, scattering everything about. As queen of the castle I made her a deal; I get to annex the beads for a day and she doesn’t have to clean up her room until then. Every princess knows that agreements must be honoured, so she wont ask for it. At least not today. Which mean, as queen mother, you get to use them.

Now let’s see… ah, how about you spell out our family tree. Daddy and you, below that Micky and I, our spouses, children, etc. And then you build the tree upwards with grandma and grandpa’s families. Tell you what, you should use the empty room. More floor-space.”

So, there I sat, hours on end, doing nothing, because today of all days, I just wasn’t sure of her daddy’s name.

Photo credit: Morguefile.

Written for Roger Shipp’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner using words from the prompts:

Ragtag Daily Prompt (empty room), Your Daily Word Prompt (annex), The Daily Spur (recommendation), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (pertinent), and Word of the Day Challenge (improvizing).

Inevitability

The man at the reception issues me a curt instruction – “utilize the time wisely.”

A rather redundant warning, seeing as this was the moment that I had been dreading all week.

With much trepidation, I perch upon a cold hard chair. There was something chilling about the place, like a crypt that disseminates an aura of hopelessness and despair. Never again, I promise myself.

Seconds stretch into a minute and a minute into over ten minutes. My heart is now beating in synch with the creeping clock on the wall. Tick Tock… Lub Dub… Tick Tock… Lub Dub…

Eventually the door at the other end screeches open and in he comes. I admit, I did not expect a friendly or jocular countenance, but neither did I expect the walking dead. He appears to glide in and descend upon the chair. I am tempted to check for feet.

Tick Tock… Lub Dub… Tick Tock… Lub Dub…

I look towards the exit. If I leave now, would mother create too much of a fracas?

Slowly he raises his head. Cold disapproving eyes stare at me. Had my portion of breakfast been anything but miniscule, it would have been knocking at my throat right now. As it is, I feel a lump that I try to gulp down.

Eventually he hands me the marksheet.

*****

Written using words from the prompts:

Ragtag Daily Prompt (fracas, week), Your Daily Word Prompt (jocular, portion), The Daily Spur (promise, reception), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (disseminate, utilize), and Word of the Day Challenge (chilling, crypt).

Rightfully

It doesn’t look like her.

Well, it’s obviously her, I’m not visually challenged, but she doesn’t look like her. She never used to laugh so much. She flicks her hair back giggling like a common harlot. That beautiful silky blond hair that I could still feel on my pillow. An egg blended with olive oil was how she nourished it. Disgusting weekly ritual that she would never stray from. Made the bathroom stink. No man wants to get back after a hard day’s work to that foul smell. Told her as much. She swore that she’d stopped, but I could always smell the rot.

A car whizzes by, and its light reflects off of her hair like a swath of fire. I quickly turn away, pulling my hat lower as I pretend to inspect the local merchandise. But I can’t look away for too long. My head starts buzzing and the speculation starts.  

What does she see in him with his nifty clothes and fancy mop of hair? He sure doesn’t dress like an honest working man. One of those white-collar types, I suppose. Did she fuck him already? That’s all that he wants. That’s all they all want. Doesn’t she see it? How can she be so dumb! And the bitch takes out a restraining order on me. A man does not stalk his wife, he looks out for her. No damn piece of paper changes the fact that she’s my wife. Always was, always will be.

I note down his car number.

image from Renate Vanaga at Unsplash

Written in response to Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge 89, using words from the prompts Word of the Day (stalk, order), Fandango’s One Word Challenge (merchandise), Your Daily Word Prompt (speculation), The Daily Spur (fire) and RagTag Daily Prompt (swath).