Multiple Word Prompt Story – Flag Flying Fervour

This was originally written in response to earlier prompts, but I am now sharing it again in response to the Ragtag daily prompt for today: Flag

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/10/23/rdp-tuesday-flag/

 

Fervor

FERVOUR

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/06/15/a-new-daily-post-word-prompt-june-15th-2018-word-benevolent/

BENEVOLENT

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/06/15/cataract/

CATARACT

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/06/15/three-things-challenge-15-june-2018/

Here are the three words for 15 June 2018: Jolly Roger, guitar, iceberg 

Flag Flying Fervour

Winston Pickle was a typical English gentleman. He tried his best not to be rude to people. He stood out of other people’s way on the street and always opened the door for a lady. He thought of himself as typical, but actually, he was a dying breed. 

That day he opened a letter from his local council. As he read it, he could feel himself becoming overwhelmed with emotion. 

Dear Mr Pickle, 

I am sorry to have to write to you concerning your decision to fly a flag in your front garden. It is against our all-inclusive policy at the council to allow such flags to be flown and as such I must ask you, before it causes offence, to remove it forthwith.

Others who wished to fly flags have elected to fly a Pirate flag. You may consider this option.

Yours Sincerely

Mrs Bigginthorpe

Senior Council Secretary.

Winston was taken aback. The flag in question was the flag of his country, the one he was living in and he flew this flag out of a sense of national pride and patriotism. Young men, including his dear Father whom he never knew, died to defend that flag. He had a patriotic fervour, but like many like-minded people, he was not an extremist who went about being rude to people of different cultures. He didn’t want to start wars or invade anyone. 

He just couldn’t understand the council’s attitude in this. They even suggested he fly the Jolly Roger, a flag flown by murderous criminals and that would be less offensive to people than his own flag! 

Winston decided to speak to his neighbours and see how they felt about this. If any of them were offended by the flag he was flying, then he would take heed.

He started with his neighbours across the road, who had lived in the area the longest. 

Mr and Mrs Khan were a very nice couple who had brought up four children in that house but all had moved out years ago. Like Winston, they were now retired.

They invited him in and offered him a cup of tea. Mrs Khan had made a lovely fruit cake which he devoured eagerly.

“So my old friend, what is it you wanted to ask me?” asked Mr Khan.

Winston showed him his letter. Mr Khan had to get out his reading glasses, he had a cataract in his right eye and was still waiting for his appointment with the NHS to remove it. 

After he read it he looked at his neighbour of the past thirty years with sad eyes. 

“I have heard this is happening a lot at the moment. It is so sad. Of course, your flag is not at all offensive to me. It is a flag. The fact that some nasty thugs decide to do horrible things while wearing it or spray it on walls with swastikas doesn’t discredit the flag. People love their country, I respect that. You have always been a good neighbour to us. I will write to the council and let them know you are a good man.”

Winston went to his other neighbours, ones that he didn’t know as well. They all listened to what he had to say and agreed with him that he should not be made to take down his flag.

In a way, this sad event had resulted in something really positive. Winston Pickle had gone round and met all his neighbours. He was surprised at how nice they all were. He felt slightly ashamed he hadn’t made more effort to get to know them earlier but then you’re never too old to make a change. 

He was so happy at how kind and benevolent his neighbours had been to him, he decided to host a garden party and invite all the neighbours to it. His back garden was only a little courtyard but his front garden was huge. Big enough to have a marquis tent put up. He sent round invitations for a weekend in August. 

The day of his party, he was making a salad with some of his homegrown tomatoes and some iceberg lettuce, when people started to arrive. 

Mr and Mrs Khan had brought with them some pakora’s and pani puri that they had made and their son Sanjay had come along too. Sanjay was a musician and had brought his guitar with him. 

As they were all sitting in the garden watching Sanjay playing the guitar and singing folk songs leaning against the flagpole, the postman came by and handed Winston a letter.

It was from the council again. It had been six weeks since the last letter.

It told him that due to the number of letters they had received concerning him and his flag, they have decided to revoke their original order. He could keep his flag flying. 

Winston was overjoyed, looking at his neighbours he felt an overpowering love for all of them that went beyond mere fervour. They were family now.

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 15/June/2018

 

 

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The Wind Sheds No Tears – Part One

As you may know, I am currently taking a break, but wanted to share some of my earliest posts with you, that you may have missed. 

This story was the last one I wrote for my Creative Writing course and I published it on my block on the 29th of March. It became part of a series and one day I intend to write some more. 

All the best 🙂 

 

This is part one of a longer story. I will keep writing and upload sections of about 800 words. 

Please let me know what you think.

 

Chapter One: Estuary Summer

The tide was out. There’d be no fishing for now. We sat down and began mending our nets, basking in the warm sun. The sky was as clear as a crystal blue lake with barely a wisp of lacy white. Rivulets trickled through the mud to join up with the main body of water which had retreated across the bay. The stagnant stench of mud was overpowering and yet strangely familiar and comforting. He had smelt this smell every summer of his life, for as long as he remembered. Whenever the tide was out and he helped his grandfather get ready for his next fishing trip.

He could see, on the other side of the now diminished river, the white buildings that made up the Casa of the richest family in the area. He saw their jetty sticking out into the water and walking on it, he saw her. Her dark hair was flowing in the wind that also stirred the hem of her pristine white dress woven with bright red ribbons that also entwined her hair. She was the same age as him and they had gone to the same school, but he had always admired her from afar. She probably wouldn’t want to talk to the son of a fish merchant, the grandson of a fisherman. He was far beneath her. His heart didn’t appreciate these social intricacies, however.

“Here lad, keep your eye on your work or that net will unravel on you and catch you no fish. What’s got your attention then eh? Oh, I see, setting your net for too grand a catch. Look, my boy, you’re too young for that sort of thing, barely out of school. Learn yourself a trade and work hard at it. When you’ve got something to call your own, some money in your pocket, then you can think about women. You’ll need someone who can work beside you, keep house or keep shop. Not a fancy thing that looks pretty but is no use to anyone when the catch comes in. You hear me, Pablo?”

“Yes Belo, A boy can dream though can’t he?”

“You can dream or you can mend nets. Now is the time to mend nets. You can dream later.”

He knew his grandfather, or Belo, as h always called him, wasn’t really annoyed with him, he was just a bit tetchy when he’d rather be out catching fish.

They went on mending their nets until the tide started to turn, after an hour of sitting in the warm sunshine. He felt the wind get stronger too. A fresh salty air straight from the sea.

They got their small fishing boat ready, the Conchita, or little shell, his Grandfather had called it. It was only big enough for the four of them, his Grandfather, his Uncle Miguel, his cousin Matias and himself, ‘little Pablo’.

One of the other fisherman, Old Diego, called out to them.

“Hey, Rodrigo, you’re not going out this afternoon are you? Can’t you smell the storm coming? You won’t catch me going out today, not for all the fish in the bay.”

“Diego, you’re nothing but an old woman! We’ll be out and back before any storm hits and we’ll have the catch of the day and you’ll have nothing to eat but your sandals.”

My Grandfather called back. Uncle Miguel laughed and wiped a tear from his eye. My Grandfather was a local character, he liked making people laugh. Old Diego wasn’t laughing though, he was just shaking his head.

They were just out of sight of the headland when the weather started to change. The rolling waves of the sea started to get white tops on them and the sky, so clear earlier, contained those wispy clouds that told of the storm coming swiftly in. Just like Old Diego had predicted. They hadn’t even had time to catch any fish yet.

“Belo, can we go back. I don’t like the look of that sky coming.”

“Yes, little Pablo. I was sure we’d have enough time, but I admit I was wrong. Let’s get the nets in and head for home.”

They all started hauling in the nets, just a few mackerel to show for the risk they had taken. Then Mother Nature decided she was not going to wait for them. The storm hit suddenly and hard. The purple clouds that had been on the horizon only minutes before now covered the sky. The thunder roared and the sea behaved like a thousand demons were writhing and wrestling just beneath the surface as all hell broke loose.

The last thing he remembered was Uncle Miguel looking grip on the rope holding the boom and it swinging around, knocking him on the head and off the boat into the churning sea. Then nothing but blackness.

 

Slowly, he opened his eyes. He was lying in a soft bed. A candle just gave enough light to show the young woman leaning over to touch his forehead. He smelt her perfume, spicy and intoxicating. Bewildered, he asked “Where am I? What happened?”

Softly, she replied. “Just lie there, don’t move. You’re safe now.”

 

End of Part One…….

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 29/March/2018

This was the first part of my story that just happened to contain the word Rivulet, which is the word of the day. If you liked this story please have a look on my blog to see the following parts.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/rivulet/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/10/30/agnostic/comment-page-1/#comment-3996

Gemini – The Broken Mirror (A fictional short story)

As you may know, I am currently taking a break, but wanted to share some of my earliest posts with you, that you may have missed. 

This was one of the very first stories I wrote and published on my blog on the Twentieth of March. 

When I wrote it, I had to go back and add in the title that it was fictional because I was being left some very kind and supportive comments but thinking that the story was a true one. I hope that means that it comes across as authentic, but I would like to reassure anyone reading this that I am not a twin. 

I hope you like this story. 

All the best 🙂 

 

 

 

People always said we were identical.

We were born only eleven minutes apart on the 1st of June.

Our star sign was Gemini, the sign of the twins. 

We were brothers and as we grew up together, we knew each other better than anyone.

We both had blond hair and blue eyes.’Totally Angelic’ people used to call us. 

We both got straight A’s at school. Both of us seemed to excel in the arts subjects but had to work harder at Mathematics and Algebra.

To everyone, we seemed to be the same. 

I knew we were different.

When we were very young and played in the garden together. I used to like making daisy chains and then I’d sit and watch the birds flying free in the air. He used to look for insects and spiders. I remember toddling over to him, walking was still quite a new adventure and I was still a bit wobbly at it, I found him playing with the ants. He was picking them up and squashing them in his fingers with a look of pleasure on his face. I was revolted. I couldn’t understand why he would want to do such a thing. 

We both had large teddy bears bought for us by our grandmother. Mine was blue and I called him Bluey. My Brother’s bear was red and he called him Boss. One day Boss was found behind the garden shed with his head pulled off. I remember Mom asking him “What happened Joey? What happened to Boss bear?” Joey said he didn’t know. He didn’t seem bothered. I knew what happened but I didn’t say a word. I remember crying that night over this bear that wasn’t mine. 

Then at high school, the most terrible thing happened. One of our friends, Jimmy, disappeared. He was younger and smaller than us, one of the smallest boys in his year. He used to like playing with us. We used to stop other people from bullying him. I used to play cowboys with Joey and me as the heroes and little Jimmy was our side-kick. Sometimes Joey used to boss Jimmy around, Jimmy didn’t seem to mind though, he was good-natured. He was a bit slow and I sometimes helped him with his homework. 

I remember as clear as if it were yesterday, though it is close to twenty years ago now, the day they called us into the assembly and told us that Jimmy was missing. Everyone was so worried, the teachers and all the children, their faces betrayed their inner fears. I looked at Joey. His face was blank. No emotion showed. That was what scared me the most. I remembered the last time I had seen Jimmy was down by the bottom of the playing field, with Joey. They seemed to be arguing about something, but I was too far away to hear what they were shouting at each other. The bell sounding the end of playtime had rung out and I ran to my class. About ten minutes later Joey came in, his face was flushed and he had been panting as if he’d run all the way from the lower field. Poor Jimmy was in the year below, so I didn’t know then that he didn’t make it back for the afternoon register. 

It was at the morning assembly the next day that we all gathered to be told the news that he was missing. Upon the stage, next to the headmaster stood a man in a police uniform. He was going to speak to us all, the headmaster said, and we were going to have to tell him if we knew anything at all about Jimmy, if he had told us he was going to meet someone or if we had seen any strangers hanging around the school gates.

I remember thinking then, that there wasn’t any stranger on the outside, it was the stranger within that was the scariest of all. 

When It was my turn to speak to the policeman. My teacher sat in with me with a look of genuine concern on her face. I knew that this was more important than what had happened with the Ants or with Boss bear. I had to tell them what I had seen. 

It wasn’t long before they’d searched the trees at the bottom of the playing fields and came across poor Jimmy’s body, lying there next to a large bloodstained rock. 

I was there, of course, when they came to take Joey away. He looked into my eyes, cold and clear, and asked me why I had betrayed him? He would never have betrayed me, he’d said.

We couldn’t understand each other. I couldn’t understand how he could do such an evil thing and he couldn’t understand how I could have told someone about it.

I remember they took him to a secure place, where everything seemed to be white. White walls, white floors, white lights and people in their long white coats. They not only spent a lot of time talking to Joey, but they also talked to me. I was, after all, his twin brother and we were identical. Eventually, they realised that although we looked identical, we were very different on the inside. I remember one of the doctors saying that. “I have rarely seen such two different personalities. One is so kind and thoughtful whereas the other is as cold as the grave.”

As I say, that was close to twenty years ago now. Joey and I don’t talk to each other anymore. He is safe and secure behind his walls and I feel much better for it. He could never understand my betrayal and I could never understand his cruelty.

The thing that I still find very hard to take in, although I have had many years of Psychoanalytic therapy and the doctors have been very kind, I cannot accept that Joey isn’t my brother. That we are actually one person. How can we be? When we are so different?

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 20/March/2018

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/identical/

via Daily Prompt: Identical

A Justified Conniption – Short Story

 

A Justified Conniption

Lawrence was a nice kid. He was calm and placid with a keen eagerness to get on with people. Unfortunately, other kids often took advantage of him. They would get him to say rude words to adults telling him they meant something different. He was so beautifully naïve.

In one class at school, he liked to sit next to Samuel. Samuel seemed like a nice kid, he had blond hair and glasses and looked like the Milky Bar kid. However, Samuel was one of those who loved to play tricks on Lawrence. In English, the teacher asked the children to write some fan-fiction about their favourite children’s story. Lawrence didn’t understand what fan fiction was and so he asked Samuel. “Oh, fan fiction is when you write a story with fans in it, you know for hot weather” Samuel replied.

Continue reading A Justified Conniption – Short Story

Multiple Word Prompt Story – An Appreciation of Candour and Eloquence

This story was inspired by the following word prompts:

Word of the Day: Candour.

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/07/30/candor/

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/07/30/fowc-with-fandango-comfortable/#comment-17980

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/07/30/your-daily-word-prompt-eloquence-july-30th-2018/

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/07/30/three-things-challenge-30-july-2018/

Today’s things are: buzz, July, load

An Appreciation of Candour and Eloquence

It was a hot July day and the air sizzled with the heat. The grass had lost any trace of green, it was dry and straw like and gave off a dry dusty aroma of the cornfields. I opened the garage door and drove my old car out onto the driveway. I wished once again that I’d had the air-conditioning fixed but money had been tight and I had no idea the summer was going to be so unbearably hot for so long. Usually we had a handful of hot days in July and August, but never longer than a week’s worth at a time. Usually a rainy day came along or a cold spell, but not this time. It had been in the low thirties since May and the forecast did not show any sign of cooling down. At least the car was a bit cooler for having been kept in the garage rather than out in the street. No one used their garages for cars anymore, they either used them for storage or else converted them into more living space. With all the hooligans around who loved walking down the street and pulling off windscreen wipers or scratching the paintwork, I was glad to keep my car locked away at night.

Continue reading Multiple Word Prompt Story – An Appreciation of Candour and Eloquence

Moongazing – A Multiple word prompt poem

 

I looked up at the moon

A golf ball in the sky

So brightly it shone above

I just lay there and wondered why

Is it an arrangement with the sun?

Have they agreed to share the light?

Or a possibility, that one

Defeated the other in a fight.

Did one placate the other

By staying so far apart?

Or agree to work together

In a celestial creative art.

One shining bright the other serene

And together making nature

A verdant splash of green.

As I lay on my mattress

Looking up at the bright moon,

Feeling its silvery caress

I pray for slumber, soon.

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 27/July/2018

 

This poem was inspired by the following Word Prompts:

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/07/27/placate/

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/07/27/rdp57-moon/

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/07/27/your-daily-word-prompt-possibility-july-27th-2018/

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/07/27/fowc-with-fandango-arrangement/

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/07/27/three-things-challenge-27-july-2018/

Today’s things are: mattress, golf ball, green

A Multiple Word Prompt Story – A Political Affair.

This story was inspired by the following Word Prompts:

Word of the Day: Sensitivity

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/07/25/sensitivity/

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/07/25/your-daily-word-prompt-constituency-july-25th-2018/

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/07/25/fowc-with-fandango-shallow/#comment-17444

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/07/25/three-things-challenge-25-july-2018/

Today’s things are: snowman, family, caring

 

 A Political Affair

William Wilberforce Dudley-Walsh was the member of Parliament for the constituency of East Redborough and Shorwell. It consisted of the eastern half of a former seaside resort and several miles of unspoilt coastline and a few scattered farms. He was a Conservative member and he was thankful that he represented a fairly typical Conservative seat. He was always returned with a safe majority and as such did very little actual work at all. He may have been given the middle name of one of Britain’s greatest political campaigners who successfully managed to get Parliament to pass the abolition of slavery act, but he wasn’t at all made from the same material. It had been quite a useful boon when trying to find a seat, people liked the reference.

Continue reading A Multiple Word Prompt Story – A Political Affair.

Sun, Sea and a Cup of Tea – Part Two

A couple of days ago I wrote a short story about a woman on holiday, called Sun, Sea and a Cup of Tea. See here:

https://talesfromthemindofkristian.wordpress.com/2018/07/23/a-multiple-word-prompt-story-sun-sea-and-a-cup-of-tea/

Well it didn’t seem finished and a few people told me that it needed some more, so here is part two.

Part Two

Jane opened the door to her apartment. To her relief her husband had managed to wake up, all by himself and judging by the sound of the shower was preparing himself for the day ahead. It was twenty minutes past ten and he’d been asleep since eleven o’clock last night. She had heard practically every snore. She was beginning to worry that he’d gone into some kind of hibernation. She’d always suspected he was at least half bear, he was hairy enough from the neck down. When they’d met he had a good head of hair too, but that had since deserted his head like snow deserted the mountains in summer. He claimed that thirty years of marriage to her had caused it to fall out.

She walked over to her open suit case and took out her travel kettle. She knocked on the bathroom door. “Who is it?” Her husband called out. Who does he think it is? She wondered.

Putting on a bit of an accent she replied “It’s Lolita your Spanish maid can I come in and squeeze your bottom?”

Continue reading Sun, Sea and a Cup of Tea – Part Two

End Game – A Multiple Word Prompt Story

https://swimmersweek.wordpress.com/2018/07/14/god/

GOD

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/07/14/rdp-44-spoof/

SPOOF

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/07/14/your-daily-word-prompt-equanimous-july-14th-2018/

EQUANIMOUS

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/07/14/integrated/

INTEGRATED

FOWC with Fandango — Cursory

CURSORY

 

End Game

The world descended into chaos and more and more people refused to agree to disagree, especially when it came to different religions. They argued over which religion was the right one, they accused each other of heresy and used religious difference as an excuse to kill. All religions stated that they must love each other, treat each other with respect and never kill, only that message was ignored over and over again. Humans refused to become integrated within the natural world.

Finally, humankind imploded, destroying most of the world with it.

God looked down on the earth appalled at what had happened to his beautiful creation.

Satan looked equanimous as usual, barely taking a cursory glance. He had won his bet.

“I didn’t think you could do it. I created a perfect world and I never believed that you could ruin it and in such a short space of time. For aeons the world evolved and everything was balanced and then you go and create those things and within just a few thousand years they destroyed everything” God said giving Satan the full force of his stare.

“Well, I admit I only created them as a spoof really. I didn’t expect they’d be quite as brutal as they were. They really were the most easily corrupted beings. I am surprised I won my bet so easily. You didn’t really put up much of a fight” Satan replied.

“We agreed not to influence things directly, we had to work through people. I sent several people to guide them. I spoke to Moses and gave him ten commandments to live by. They seemed to listen at first but then slowly they began to fall by the wayside and so I decided to find out what life on earth was like for myself. I put my spirit inside a child who they called their messiah. He even managed to resist your efforts to tempt him. He gave them messages of peace and love. Over and over again I sent prophets to them with the same message of mutual respect and forgiveness. In the end the very religions that I inspired to bring peace seemed to lead to more war.”

“Yes, you worked mainly through learned and inspired individuals but for every good, kind, intelligent, peace-loving person there are ten greedy, power-hungry people who want to take over the world. My forces always outnumbered yours. You made it so easy, you thought they were created in your image, but really I created them in mine” Satan gloated.

They looked down at the chessboard between them. All the white pieces were lying on their side.

“Fancy a rematch?” Satan gave his best Mephistophelian leer.

“OK, best of three?” God replied. Suddenly, there was a big bang and the world began again.

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 14/July/2018

A Petulant Smack

“I’m Not Being Petulant!” He screamed and stamped his large foot.

“You’re Not Listening to ME” The shout echoed around the car park for everyone to hear.

She stopped to look at her Son. He had clearly gotten out of the wrong side of the bed that morning. He had done nothing but fuss. She had threatened him with a smack if he didn’t start behaving and now threatened, she had to carry it out. No one could accuse her of making idle threats. No fear.

She grabbed him, put him over her knee, pulled down his pants and smacked him as he cried and bawled.

Lots of people came out of the supermarket and stared. It wasn’t everyday you saw a sixty year old lady give her forty year old son a smack outside Wall Mart.

The End

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/07/13/petulant/

Petulant

FOWC with Fandango — Fear

Fear

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 13/July/2018