The hillside was a patchwork quilt Neatly stitched with tidy hedge And crumbling grey stone wall The trees were bare, but Spring was near To conjure up its endless strings Of green magic handkerchieves
Could you only see what I’ve seen You would surely know what I mean I think I must have caught a glimpse of heaven.
A string of diamonds formed a stream That tumbled down the daunting cliff To sparkle bright on the beach.
New born lambs that sweetly played Speckled eggs all newly laid But for you I would have stayed I think I must have caught a glimpse of heaven.
The Ragtag daily prompt it Lamb, so it also is included in this song.
He glanced out of the narrow window at the ships anchored in the harbour. This was the scene that had greeted his eyes every day of his life and it had inspired him to write several novels. Many of his books had Piracy as the main theme. He’d written many of the men who had come off those ships into his novels, embellished to represent a pirate king or a kidnapped victim.
The book he was currently working on was particularly challenging. It was a story or revenge and books about vengeance and retribution require a long time; it is the rule. However, he also knew that brevity was key. People’s attention spans nowadays were shorter and novels were often half the size they used to be. He decided to use a mechanism that was the retreat of many authors faced with this problem. He would use flashback to condense a long time into a handful of pages.
He began writing furiously and with a smile he placed his pen down at the end. He knew he’d penned another great novel. If only there were enough people around who could actually read. The Covid pandemic had killed all the teachers.
This story was written for the 50 Word Thursday Challenge.
His body lay in the gutter. He could feel the hard cobblestones, but the discomfort they caused was nothing next to the pain of the wound in his side. Stabbed by a Knife. It was Ironic he should end this way, bleeding to death in the street. The rain washed the blood away and with it, his life ebbed.
He took one last look at the London street, lit by gaslight that guttered in its glass lamp.
I found this song from Billy Elliot, the musical. The song was written by Elton John.
I hope you enjoy this song:
Recorded for the musical Billy Elliot
It doesn’t matter if you’re large or small Trapezoid, or short or tall Even if you can’t dance at all All you really gotta do is shine
It doesn’t matter if your life’s a mess The whole process will coalesce Girls, just try to effervesce All you really have to do is shine
chorus: Give them that old razzle dazzle Turn on the old pizzazz There’s no time for shilly shally Give it backbone, give it welly
Bowl ’em over, knock them out Show them what life is all about Give them that old razzle dazzle, and shine
It doesn’t matter if you’re unemployed Only partially humanoid An octopoid whose mind’s a void All you gotta do is shine
It doesn’t matter if you’re born in Leeds They love to see a heart that bleeds You’ll all be stars one day, you’ll see All you really gotta do is shine
You might be feeling lousy You might be feeling blue A little disenchanted A minor touch of flu They couldn’t give a monkey’s cuss They couldn’t give a fig Come on girls get over it It’s all part of the gig
Give them that old rinkle tinkle Give them the old kabam Grab the buggers by the bollocks Knock ’em sideways, blow their minds out Keep it coming, keep it coming There’s no time for half-assed frolics Give them that old razzle dazzle, and shine
It doesn’t matter if you’re short or squat Cerebrally challenged, completely shot You might have it, or might not All you really have to do is All you really have to do is shine Give them that old razzle dazzle and shine Give them that old razzle dazzle and shine, and shine, and shine
It also includes the Ragtag Daily Prompt word today which is Backbone.
It seemed like the perfect Valentine’s day. Her boyfriend had paid for a night in a luxury hotel in a picturesque village and also a chauffeur to drive them to a local beauty spot.
He had woken her early and they had sat on their balcony and watched the sun rise and shared a bar of chocolate, not quite all of which melted in their mouths.
After breakfast, the driver had arrived with a huge grin on his face. There was something about him Mona did not like, something they preyed on her mind. He seemed quite jolly as he drove them to a remote and secluded place where a long stretch of sand met the sea. He even sang to them. Mona hoped that this was part of the service because she didn’t think it was worth paying extra for. She could only take so much more of ‘Spanish eyes’ sung just off key.
Some days expand, Mona thought; their seams stretch and they hold more than a day’s worth of time.
Then things started to go wrong. After taking just one sip of champagne, her boyfriend began to choke and passed out.
As she tried to resuscitate him, she looked over at the chauffeur who was still grinning.
“How can you be so cheery at time like this?” she shouted.
“Oh, I just love my job and my hobby” he replied.
“And what’s your hobby then?” Mona asked, with some trepidation.
“Butcher” he replied as the axe swung.
This story was written for the 50 Word Thursday Challenge, hosted by Deb Whittam.
You have until Wednesday if you want to take part, click on the link.
I’d decided to make the most of my freedom. I’d no lectures today, no tutorials or dreary sessions in the library reading about Einstein’s theory of relativity. This was my first real day of freedom since lockdown had ended and that deadly virus, so persistent, had finally rescinded to controllable levels.
It had left it scars. I still avoided crowds where possible and I don’t think any of us would ever feel the same again.
Today I went to Greenwich to bask in the history or my scientific forebears. I’d wandered around the observatory where scientists of old had gazed through their telescope and seen the glories of a distant planet.
Then I sat and had a picnic on the green.
I gazed in dreamy contemplation across at the building in the distance topped by a triangle, really a pyramid and although it was a simple thing to be doing, something strange was happening.
It seemed as though those scientists who had walked this ground were passing on their knowledge and mixed with my own studies of theoretical physics I suddenly had a ‘Eureka’ moment and, without an apple like Newton, I had worked out how to travel through time!.
This story was written for the 50 Word Thursday challenge posted last week. Today is the last opportunity to take part.
It was his wife’s fiftieth birthday and he had managed to convince her he had forgotten all about it.
When they woke up that Saturday morning, he behaved like there was nothing special about the day ahead.
He’d got up, had a shower, fed the cats and then went to the corner shop to pick up the Saturday paper.
On his way back he quickly accosted the postman who was about to post some birthday cards through their letter box. He took the cards and put them in his coat pocket and only allowed the bills to pass through.
The postman gave him a strange look as he continued on his round.
Hiding round the side of the house he heard his wife open the inner door and pick up the few measly bills and slam the door again.
Stifling a laugh he opened the door with his key and went in.
“Has the mail been love?” he asked, how he kept a straight face, he had no idea.
“Only the gas and electric bills and a letter from the council about the drains, that’s all. I was expecting…”
“What were you expecting?” he asked as innocently as he could.
“Oh, Nothing. Nothing at all” She replied then went into the kitchen and slammed the door.