Category Archives: Self compositions

Personal literary offerings

COLLEEN’S WEEKLY TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO.62 The crow’s nest vigil

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High  above the deck

while watching the rise and fall

of the cold, dark waves

below, the deep throated gong

measures each hour completed

 

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Photo Challenge #192 → Twittering Tale #62 – 12 December 2017

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“Look mummy the note says to make a wish, it’s signed Jeanie.” “Make a wish then dear.” “Ok mummy done.”

High above their heads the cliff started to crumble and a rock fell, knocking the woman, head bleeding, to the ground.

The girl smiled.   137 ch.

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Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge 179 Flare / Steam

Each night the sun’s flare

is baptised in red oceans

but no steam rises

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Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt – Portal – #writephoto

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I took a look round the small, cramped room, no bigger than the average walk-in wardrobe and tried hard to picture how I would feel shut up in there for an indeterminate time. I shuddered at the thought. Having introduced me to the Priest’s hole, John led on and I followed him along a passageway towards a welcoming looking doorway. On my right was an opening which appeared to be illuminated from above.

“Look up,” instructed John. I glanced up to the source of the light in expectation. Above me was a dark-wood varnished platform consisting of two short planks with a hole cut about the size of a washbasin. “A couple of hundred years ago you wouldn’t like to have been standing there, “ John said with a smile.

“Go on, tell me why?” I asked.

“Does that bit of wood look familiar?” John replied, “think about the size and shape.”

”I could only think of it as a medieval lampshade but that is obviously wide of the mark.” a remark I immediately regretted.

”Well I could say, ‘here’s mud in your eye’ it’s the garderobe, the forerunner of en-suite bathroom facilities, amazing eh!”

”Brilliant, “ I replied, with more than a hint of jealousy, “are there any more features you want to tempt me with.”

”Wait until tonight, you’ll be well impressed I guarantee but that is something for later, meanwhile it’s nearly time for a drink.”

 

The story continues…….

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Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction challenge, Invitation to my mind

I replaced the lid on the pot and taking my wooden bowl and spoon chose a place to sit cross-legged on the blanket laid on the ground by my kindly hosts. Their droning chants added a taut background to the calm, warm evening. I started to spoon the broth into my mouth, it was lukewarm and although not unpleasant tasting it had a faint wooden smell infused with how I imagined raw, wild mushrooms would taste. I was eagerly look round and watch the expressions on my companions’ faces but my eyes were drawn to the six totems that surrounded the slow-burning fire. The smoke drifted upwards seeming to form humanlike, silent dancing figures. The owl God totems in order from right to left started to turn to face me. I placed the now empty bowl upon the ground and tried to clear my mind in expectation of my promised message from the Gods.

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Three Line Tales, Week 97

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 “You don’t believe that will be enough to hold him do you, remember it’s a full moon tonight and if what we think is true he won’t be able to control himself.” I said, after he told me that John was chained in the barn for his own safety.

“I’m sure we will have nothing to worry about from him tonight,” Adrian replied.

He turned to me with a strange look in his yellowing eyes and to my horror his lips curled back, saliva dripped down his chin and throwing his head back, gave a blood-curdling howl.

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Friday fictioneers flash fiction challenge

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I look out of the window to the old apple tree at the bottom of the garden. My inheritance you may call it for though valueless it has repaid me many times. Now it is a naturally decorated tree, the light shining and glinting on the frozen streamers. In Spring blossoms appear, pink snowdrifts in short-lived glory. Leaves slowly unfurl, changing hue as the sun passes overhead, food for marching caterpillars. Bright red apples form then wither and fall for hungry animals and birds to scavenge before in readiness for Winter, the leaves form falling, orange-brown carpets. My living calendar.

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WRITESPIRATION #144 52 WEEKS IN 52 WORDS WEEK 49

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Again I assured her it was safe but I could see she still had doubts. I had passed behind the roaring curtain many times. That gave me the idea it would look great to pose,  head back, arms outstretched behind, through the translucent milky screen. A persuasive setting  for a glamour photoshoot.

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Twittering Tales #61 – 5 December 2017 By Kat Myrman

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I will never understand how the boys in my school’s minds work. They don’t realise we do like a bit of courtesy some times. The least one could have done was to offer to carry my books for me. 193

 

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COLLEEN’S WEEKLY TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 61 – “STARK & TRAP” #Haibun

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She sits on the frozen snow. Her nose twitches as she surveys the ice floes ahead. Beside her the mewing toddler is crying for more milk. She knows that she will have to kill soon after her long hibernation. In her icy den she successfully gave birth to one cub who at three months is becoming more and more demanding of food. But then she spots a dark shape lying on one of the numerous floating ice blocks , a seal snoozing in the Arctic sunshine. Motioning the cub  to sit quietly the huge white bear slips into the freezing waters and  with just her nose above the water gently swims towards her prey causing hardly a ripple. This is the opportunity she has been waiting for. On such a calm morning the ambush will be difficult but desperation favours the bold and the large seal will satisfy her and her cub’s hunger for many days. Judging her moment she risks one glance above the waves, the snoozing seal, oblivious to the danger, lazily draws a flipper across her itching nose but suspects nothing. A few more short strokes and the bear launches her attack, the ice floe rocks and sways and she manages to grip the seal by her fat-lined neck. The struggle is fierce but eventually the b ear drags the exhausted seal into the water and returns with the bloodied, limp carcass to the patient, hungry cub waiting on the icy shore.

Hunger drives her on

across the desolate ice

species survival

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