#WEEKLY TANKA PROMPT #POETRY CHALLENGE – WEEK 113 – POVERTY & GIFTED-Sacrifice

poverty stricken

but hoping to do their best

for their gifted child,

they sacrifice everything

for a prosperous future.

 

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Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 101, “Plan & Finish,”

Start with an outline

then expand your ideas

end with a flourish

the layman’s guide  to writing

just another fantasy

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Flash Fiction Challenge for the Carrot Ranch Literary Community…#Epic workplace Just another day

Invi in the turn

0700. Flight deck out  of bounds to all non essential personnel. Embark 810 squadron from Royal Naval Air Station Yeovilton.

0800 Embark 849 squadron Sea Kings from Royal Naval Air Station Culdrose.

0900 Prepare flight deck for arrival of Admiral Sir John Dymond, Flag Officer Carriers and Amphibious Ships.

1000 Rendezvous with Her Majesty’s ships Embellish, Tornado, Trebouchet and Scunthorpe for passage to Gibraltar.

1030 Launch Pacific for transfer of Ship’s Commanding Officers to Indomitable for Admiral’s briefing.

1100 Revert to sea watches. Launch Sea King 923 for return of FOCAS to Devonport.

A typical morning at sea for a Royal Navy Aircraft carrier. A most epic workplace.

 

 

 

 

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Ronovan writes #Weekly Haiku #218

ronovan-writes-haiku-poertry-challenge-image-20161

The steam underground

built using cut and cover

London pioneers

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Sue Vincent’s #Thursday photo prompt: Early snow #writephoto

 

hills

Patrick reached up to the last berry on the low branch. Nervously looking to right and left while occasionally stretching his neck to scan the skies above. No dark shadows were visible, no signs of a soaring bird above. He felt safe, camouflaged in his brown, mottled gold and fawn, feathered coat but one still had to be wary or they could be unlucky. A badly timed movement could be notification to watching eyes on the ground or in the skies, then with a pounce or a swoop life could rapidly be cut short. Patrick listened intently and sniffed the air, he felt something amiss. Gradually, like a mist forming in front of him he saw small feathery white flakes starting to fall all around. “On no, he thought, I will be caught out here in a minute, the snow has come too early. Quick,quick, I must go and hide”. With a rush he ran into the heather and nestled down onto the cool pine mat, crouching as low as he could. With his head tucked under his wing he soon relaxed and pondered his best methods for keeping warm. His feathers provided excellent insulation and if it got too cold shivering for short periods warmed up the blood. He hated the snow, he would have to dig  through it every time he went to eat and often the water would turn to ice so he couldn’t drink or bathe. Like most birds Patrick enjoyed a bath, fluffing his feathers right up and letting the water splash over his exposed flesh. Of course there were times when water wasn’t available and this meant he had to take dust baths, this was quite exhilarating too especially when he could sit on top of an ant’s nest. Though feeling guilty he knew that the ones he beheaded and rubbed into his skin were so soothing. Getting rid of any itchy little ticks that had fastened on, irritatingly sucking his blood and so difficult to scratch and dislodge. Anyway now was not the time or the place to daydream. He would have to run back to the copse before the snow covered the ground like it had the hills in the distance where his white cousins lived. He didn’t envy them sitting out in the cold snow. He was happiest when he sat dozing with just one eye open in his warm heather and bracken bed

 

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#TMAT120 #writing #prompt for September 2018

578

For twenty years Snoopy was my constant companion, whether out walking or sitting on the couch. When my relationship broke down we had to move out. My new accommodation did not allow pets so I took my dog to stay with a good friend but lived many hours drive away. Snoopy seemed happy. She sent photos of her lying on her new bed in front of the fire and looking happy. I wasn’t able to get back to see her for four weeks and the two of us went for a slow walk before I again left. The next morning my friend called to say Snoopy had died in the night. Perhaps she could not bear me leaving her again.

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Breve New Stories Call for Submissions

Breve New Stories  is now accepting submissions for new short stories and flash fiction.

If you write in English and have a passion for short fiction, send your work before October 15th.

Read the complete submission guidelines and catch up on the back issues.

Selected works will be published in Issue Three in the autumn.

 

Good luck!

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#Weekly Tanka Prompt #Poetry Challenge – Week 112 – Hope & Observing, An optimist’s view

Through the fields of hope

we walk, eyes and ears open

but often blinkered,

observing yet ignoring

the obstacles in life’s path

 

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Do You Love Flash Fiction? Enter Our Contest! — Jebraun Clifford

Yes! It’s that time of the year again. Fellow speculative fiction fan, Sheri Yutzy, and I are hosting a flash fiction contest and this time Laura L. Zimmerman is joining us! We’re so excited to see the amazing flash fiction work YOU come up with. We’ve got some great prizes lined up to feed your […]

via Do You Love Flash Fiction? Enter Our Contest! — Jebraun Clifford

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September 5, 2018 · 4:56 am

MLMM’s #First Line Friday: August 31st, 2018

Summer died that night. It was a time of celebration, the deep fire-pit, filled to the height of a man with peat, brush, bracken and branches ready to be lit. The cattle, pigs, sheep and fowl driven in to the central enclosure ready for the elders to carry out their grisly task,

The children had asked the usual questions which we had asked when we were young. The answer was always the same throughout the years. “This is the way it has always  been.”

“The beasts we have nurtured lovingly throughout the year must repay our kindness. There will be feasting for everyone before the dark days come as they surely will. There is not enough goodness in the fields to keep and sustain our flocks and herds. Only the necessary  few will be kept for our daily needs.”

“The offering  we make now will be noted by the sky-dwellers and if pleased they will  send the bright sun back to lighten our days once more when the time is right. This is as it has always been.”

As we watched the great fire was lit. Bright scarlet and yellow tongues of flame leaped into the not yet dark sky. Our animal’s eyes rolled at the sight. As each one was led through the narrow entrance between the stakes into the very heart of the village the remainder started to grow restless and were snorting, bleating and clucking wildly. We could hear the loud cries of pain from within and panic started to spread through the now terrified animals. We beat them furiously to  try and stop the by then dangerous mayhem.

A greasy cloud of dark smoke hung motionless in the air above the cluster of thatched dwellings and the smell of animal fat was strong in ours and the remaining animal’s nostrils. The addition of the animal fat helped the flames to reach high above the height of the palisade for all to see.

The last beast was lead through the opening, their  dark, deadly destiny assured. Gradually we heard the sound of drums performing an increasingly louder, rhythmic, hypnotic beat.  It was hard to stop our feet from stamping and dancing in time to the music.

Finally the last of the sun’s rays died and only then were we able to pass through the portal to join the great feast marking the change of the seasons.

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Filed under Alternative history, Flash fiction, Inspired by fable, Old knowledge, Seasons, Self compositions