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

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).

I need me back

The paint on the walls must have dried several times over. That’s how long I have been looking at them. No matter how much I love my house, too much of even a good thing can suffocate. And while I may love to kick-back in front of the television, the constant broadcast of juicy tidbits and titillating advertisements does not lure me anymore. I need to meet real people out in the real world and listen to their real stories. Hugs and high-fives energise me in a way that nothing else can. No joy competes with a shared whisper or a secret laugh. There is no satisfaction like walking up to a random stranger and offering a hand.

I feel less than myself. Lord, I need this pandemic to end.


Written in response to Ragtag Daily Prompt (tidbit), and Word of the Day Challenge (lure).

A few of my unfavourite things

Nothing is more daunting than navigating today’s world of prolific disinformation and misinformation, especially in the annals of WhatsApp University*. I refuse to use the term ‘fake news’ as that phrase has become an impotent joke.

Mind you, there is an almost awe-inspiring diversity in the ignorance on display – political propaganda, religious propaganda, nationalist propaganda, conspiracy theories, celebrity gossip, nutritional theories. There is no topic that our aeolists will not spout, nor any line that they will not cross. They will divulge information about a person that even said person is unaware of. There was a time when I believed that a silent spectator was an abettor. I have lost count of the number of times that I have tried to correct people on my ‘groups’ only to be schooled myself. Now I have given up. I don’t argue. I don’t educate. Most importantly, I do not attempt to convert any ideology. Every now and then I drop a few ‘fact-bombs’ and enjoy the dead silence.

And you know that really sweet aunty who everybody loves to have over because she has such a bubbly personality – well, she’s the probably the valedictorian of the WhatsApp University.


An opinion piece written in response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Mad about Metaphor Saturday mix where we were asked to use the metaphor “She has such a bubbly personality“, and the following daily prompts: The Daily Spur (line), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (prolific), Your Daily Word Prompt (divulge), Ragtag Daily Prompt (diversity), and Word of the Day Challenge (count).

*WhatsApp University – a satirical term used in India for those credulous people who believe in everything being circulated on WhatsApp even if it is fake and propaganda.


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).

That special something

I shuffle through the flora searching for it. The outcome of today’s lunch resides in my ability to find it. Time is running out, but if it is fated then I shall prevail.

Mushrooms, mushrooms… where are you my special mushrooms…


Written in response to the following prompts: The Daily Spur (lunch), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (outcome), Your Daily Word Prompt (reside), Ragtag Daily Prompt (flora), and Word of the Day Challenge (fated).

Image of the deadly Amanita phalloides from wikipedia

Looking into the crater

Please do not climb on rocks

This world is a volcano about to go off

Image from Google submitted by Nekneeraj

Tis just a normal day yet we all wait

On tenterhooks anticipate

Red or blue, what will it be

The aeolists on both sides do disagree

Tis not my land so I should not care

But the butterfly effect – that will be there

This world is such an intricate mesh

You burn yourself, it singes my flesh

A storm I can see brewing all around

Humanity seems to be going aground

I cannot vouch how this will end

But a simple prophecy I can extend

This world will end unless our ways we mend!


Inspired by Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie’s Photo Prompt and the news; written to include words from the daily prompts The Daily Spur (normal), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (anticipate), Your Daily Word Prompt (vouch), Ragtag Daily Prompt (tenterhooks), and Word of the Day Challenge (aeolist, storm).


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).


It’s strange but his allegations don’t topple me anymore.

A decision of this magnitude should make me nervous. But take into consideration the vigorous fights and open hostility, and we have long been underwater. My heart is now tightly locked into a vault of its own making.

Endings should not be so easy. Yet this is.

(56 words)

Written for these daily prompts: Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (allegation, magnitude), Word of the Day Challenge (nervous), Your Daily Word Prompt (vigorous), The Daily Spur (endings, consideration), and Ragtag Daily Prompt (topple, strange). Also for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt, where the word is “vault” and we must use 56 words.

Also, a special shout out to Fandango for being my pathway into many new and interesting prompts.