Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt: Span #writephoto

span

It was a long walk but it was worth it. I had followed the old drover’s road from the beach at Porlock Weir. In times past the only way that the necessities of life could be carried to the outlying small settlements on the moor was either by pack-horse or pulled on sledges, called truckles. Their way had for centuries been blocked by a fast-flowing stream which had it’s birth on the high moor till it finally plunged into the sea at Becky falls. A total length of over forty miles as the crow flies but much further with all the twists and turns as it followed the contours of the land. This old bridge was the only crossing point. Still standing after probably hundreds of years but virtually disused; having outlasted it’s reason for being, now only serving as a mystery to any hiker who happened to come upon it in their travels.

Surrounded by dappled sunlight, I decided to rest, breathe in the cool air and enjoy the idyllic scene. I stretched out, my back propped against my rucksack on the large granite rock which formed a firm foundation for the little archway, like the roof support of some parish church nave. The only sound was of the rushing stream, each ripple and wavelet jostling it’s neighbour in the race to pass through the  narrow channel. In my drowsy state I imagined I heard the sound of whinnying, snorting and shouting. The use of the whip being unnecessary as the proud little Exmoor ponies would have known the direction they were heading and the path they needed to take. Back up to their homeland to discharge the sand for the farmers to mix in with with their cloying, damp, peaty soil from which to try and wrest a few reluctant crops.

The names of those who built this stout bridge are long forgotten but the moss-lined, grass-topped, faced stones remain as testimony to their skill as they helped others to carve a life from the inhospitable region they were proud to call their home.

9 Comments

Filed under Alternative history, Flash fiction, History, Inspired by fable, Old knowledge, On the lines of romance, Self compositions

COLLEEN’S 2019 WEEKLY #TANKA TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 135 #SYNONYMSONLY #Lost-gardens

p-challenge-header (1)Elizabethan

gardens, both medicinal

and quite appealing

some though find, regular lines

can prove an unsightly bore.

 

 

2 Comments

Filed under Factual, On the lines of romance, Self compositions, Tanka

RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #261

 

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

Just a Zen moment,

in the chaos of the day,

sanity restored

 

 

5 Comments

Filed under As you read it, Factual, From the heart, Haiku, Self compositions

MLMM’s First Line Friday: July 5th, 2019

“Take the gun.” the second’s voice barked. With trembling hands I grasped the grip and slid the pistol from the velvet and silk case. My opponent, the Right Honourable Sir James Leeson Esquire and I turned and then stood back to back, he with a condescending smile, myself a frown, not of determination but resignation at this farce. We walked fifteen paces, counted out by my friend Tom Skeene and turned to face each other. My pistol held out at arm’s length straight in front of me pointing at James Leeson’s chest. Two shots sounded. I felt no pain, he had missed. I looked at his astonished expression. His arm dropped to his side, I saw the red stain spreading over the upper arm of his frilled, white blouson. It was done, honour was settled, without the senseless waste of life that usually accompanied such events. There was no elation, only intense relief. We both returned our weapons to the seconds and while the doctor attended to Sir James I slowly walked away.

1 Comment

Filed under Alternative history, History, Inspired by fable, Self compositions

Rhyming Friday

Confined by health to her reclining chair

she told her nurse, “I’m dying.”

She replied by calling her a silly mare

but they both knew she was lying.

 

The old lady refused her breakfast

saying, “Please take it away,

last night’s dinner will be my last,

for the Angels are coming today.”

 

And the nurse with a smile jokingly said,

“You’re a bit grumpy today,

did you get out the wrong side of the bed

they’re not coming to take you away.”

 

The old lady passed away at lunchtime,

died peacefully but alone.

The smile on her face when they found her

told them the Angels had carried her home.

 

Leave a comment

Filed under As you read it, faith, Inspired emotion, On the lines of romance, Self compositions

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #34

 

73641A5B-0231-4BCD-8B5E-21F30C16FDED

I could hardly believe it. Suddenly stricken with a craving for nostalgia and childhood memories I had decided to take a tour around the land of my birth. Driving around the village of my childhood  I remembered one of the local children’s favourite pastimes. There was a steep hill out of the village with at the bottom a shallow ford where a small stream crossed the road forming a pool, one foot deep at the most. We all used to career down the hill on our pushbikes and with loud cries of delight hold our shorts-clad legs in the air as the water sprayed from beneath our wheels as we crossed. It was great fun especially when someone had the misfortune to fall off. Probably due to the large pebbles we had hidden in the pool. Sadly, now the stream has gone and the children no longer have the pleasure.

1 Comment

Filed under As you read it, Flash fiction, nature inspired, Self compositions

I Write Her Weekly Haiku/Senryu Challenge #26

eye

Tumblr Image

An envious eye

becomes a spur to progress

evolution’s spark

 

2 Comments

Filed under As you read it, Factual, Haiku, nature inspired, Self compositions

RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #260 Pride&Fight

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

Maintaining their pride

in the fight for acceptance,

divisive movement

Leave a comment

Filed under As you read it, Factual, Haiku, No offence intended, Self compositions

Sammiscribbles Weekend Writing Prompt #112

7E3A564E-BEA0-4A59-BC7A-49A960003AA0

Bee laden lavender blooms in twilight sunbeams reflect our last carefree Arcadian Summer together.

1 Comment

Filed under nature inspired, On the lines of romance, Self compositions

Thursday photo prompt: Open #Writephoto

NAB684BC5-01AB-4747-860B-ECB29DE61256

Having shown me the Priest’s hole John recognised that I was not only intrigued but downright jealous of his and Sue’s stately home in miniature. We continued up the staircase with John calmly leading the way. At the top he stopped suddenly. This made me pull up with a start. “What is it, man, are you okay,”  He smiled.

“This is probably what was once the long gallery but as you can see it is now just a series of rooms that we haven’t got round to fitting out yet, well, not much. We’ve put you in the one at the far end and don’t worry, there is a bit of furniture in there, no need to use the floor this time.”

”Great, “ I enthused, “but do you always keep all the doors open? Bit draughty isn’t it?”

”Well, funny you should say that but there’s a reason for it,” he put his finger to his lips. At that moment we heard Sue call up from the kitchen, “Haven’t you got him settled in yet John, the tea’s getting cold down here.”

”She means well, I’ll tell you later but don’t ask her about it. I can’t decide if she thinks I’m foolish or if she’s a wee bit worried.”

“Not long my dear, he’s been asking too many questions, wants to know the whole history of the old place,” he called back down. Turning to me he said, “We’d better get on, as you can imagine a place this old has stored up a few quirky habits that we can have a talk about later if we go down to the village for a drink.”

We proceeded along the corridor to the end. My room for the night was sparsely furnished, a double divan, a small bedside table, over large dark oak wardrobe, which had probably been in the house since it’s earliest days, due in part to the great difficulty anyone would experience in trying to remove it. A modern high-backed chair completed the tally. Leaving my bag on the bed we made our way back to the kitchen to rejoin Sue.

Whilst sipping our tea we discussed our plans for the evening but all the while I kept thinking about John’s enigmatic comment about the open doors. It was becoming increasingly difficult to contain my curiosity. Luckily the phone rang during our chat. It was Magdalena my partner checking that I had arrived safely as I had forgotten to ring her and confirm it. A cardinal sin in her eyes.

She then proceeded to announce that she had been able to leave work early and would we mind if she drove down to join us for the weekend. We agreed that it would be a great idea and settled down to await her arrival.

Knowing that Magdalena and I would be sharing the room I thought again about the doors. When Sue went out of the room I asked John if we could go out and move our cars around so there would be enough parking spaces on the gravel drive. He agreed guessing the true reason for my suggestion.

Immediately we were outside the door I voiced my concern. I asked whether Magdalena would be affected by the open door policy. He said that he had better tell me the curious story and later tonight would be a good test.

Sadly he was unable to elaborate as with a laugh, Sue came out of the house to join us thinking that we were hatching  some conspiracy against her.

7 Comments

Filed under As you read it, Inspired by fable, On the lines of romance, Otherworldly, Self compositions, Short story