Keen to travel – A short tale.

airplane wing towards clouds
Photo by Sheila on Pexels.com

 

“Where do you think you’re going, my lad?”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you?”

“Don’t just sit there. Do something useful for a change”

“Why can’t you be more like your Brother?”

“You’re Just plain lazy?”

“What do you mean you’re moving to Australia?”

Despite his barrage of abuse over the years, Father couldn’t understand why I had developed a wanderlust to move to the other side of the world.

 

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/01/30/barrage/

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/01/30/rdp-wednesday-wanderlust/

 

 

A Fools Journey – A Wanderlust

 

A Fool’s Journey

It was a challenge I couldn’t refuse. To travel to the most distant corners of the world in a hot air balloon, it sounded like an amazing adventure to me.

Continue reading A Fools Journey – A Wanderlust

Manic Mondays 3-way Challenge – Caught in the Boondocks

This story was written in response to Laura M Bailey’s challenge. See Link:

https://alltheshoesiwear.wordpress.com/2018/09/17/manic-mondays-3-way-prompt-boondocks/

You may also wish to read my previous 3-way challenge story because this one follows it:

https://talesfromthemindofkristian.wordpress.com/2018/09/10/manic-mondays-3-way-challenge-stubbornly-stoic/

I would like to thank Laura for introducing me to a new word – Boondocks – which, in case you think I was being very rude with my title, means a wilderness, ‘out in the sticks’ and what my Aussie friends call ‘the outback’ or ‘ Woop Woop’.

 

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Caught in the Boondocks

This was Jenny’s first visit to the United States and everywhere she went she gawked. Arriving at the Airport on the outskirts of Washington DC, she’d flown over the city, she hadn’t seen much though, there was a fair amount of cloud.

Aunt Emily and Uncle Frank were waiting as Jenny wandered out of the Customs gate. Uncle Frank wore dungarees over a checked shirt. He looked every bit the country bumpkin. Aunt Emily wore a bright yellow dress, that complimented her long brown hair. She rushed up to Jenny and gave her a huge hug. The tears came to her then. She couldn’t hold them back. Aunt Emily’s hugs were so like her mothers.

“It’s good to have you stay with us, dear Jenny. How was your flight from England?” Aunt Emily sounded like her mother too. Of course, she had a bit on an accent, but she’d been living in the states for ten years, since she’d met and married Uncle Frank who’d been serving in the US Air Force stationed in Mildenhall, Suffolk. Jenny had been a flower girl at their wedding but as she’d only been four years old, she had little memory of it.

Aunt Emily had come over for Christmas or Easter a number of times over the years, but she’d only seen Uncle Frank once growing up.

“It was fine thanks. We had some turbulence over the Atlantic, I didn’t like that much, but apart from feeling a bit fragile underneath, It was OK.” Jenny replied.

They walked her over to their parked station wagon. Uncle Frank jumped up behind the wheel, then Jenny sat in the middle seat with Aunt Emily taking the right-hand passenger seat. As she sat down, Jenny couldn’t help smelling a strong smell of dog. She’d grown up with Cats and was not at all sure she was a dog kind of person. ‘Oh, well’ Jenny thought ‘I knew this would take some adjusting to.’ 

“Can we drive through Washington DC, Uncle? I didn’t get much of a look from the plane.” Jane asked hopefully.

“Why, girl, that’s plum in the other direction. Heck, it’s gonna take nearly two hours to drive home as it is without wasting time sightseeing.” Uncle Frank said rather gruffly.

“Don’t worry dear,” Interjected Aunt Emily “I’ll take you into Washington next weekend, how’s that?”

Jenny nodded solemnly.

“You’d be better off taking her to Richmond instead.” Uncle Frank said. He was a Virginian boy, born and bred and had all the prejudices that came with it, though Jenny would not have understood at all.

As they drove along they passed open farmland and wooded hills. The leaves of the trees were turning golden and red as autumn fast approached. It was a beautiful palette of autumnal colour. Jenny enjoyed the scenery immensely. After a while, they arrived at the town of Woodstock. Jenny had heard of a famous festival that had been called Woodstock but apparently, that had been in New York state somewhere and not here at all. It looked like a pretty little town though.

Driving through, Uncle Frank waved at a few of the people he knew then they pulled off the main road and drove down a rougher track for about twenty minutes before pulling up outside a wooden farmhouse, painted cream with white highlights around the windows and the verandah, or porch. Jenny thought it looked quite charming in the late afternoon sunshine. She heard dogs barking in the distance, clearly, they’d heard the vehicle pull up and wanted to greet their owners.

As Jenny got out of the car, she turned and saw a rough track disappearing off into the trees.

Curiosity got the better of her and she asked: “Where does that path go?”

Uncle Frank replied “Oh, you don’t want to go up that way. That leads to the boondocks.”

Jenny stared “I beg your pardon?” she asked, puzzled.

Aunt Emily laughed and grabbed her hand. “It’s just an expression, dear. It means wild country. Uncle Frank’s right though, you don’t want to go up there.”

Jenny thought she was already in the wild country. She grew up in Suffolk and was used to fields and woods but this looked like the wilderness went on forever. How wild must it be down there then?

Jenny was an adventurous child and she couldn’t wait to explore her new surroundings.

After being introduced to the dogs, who had obediently sat patiently and each gave her their paw to shake, she realised that well-trained dogs were very nice indeed.

She changed her clothes from the more formal clothes her mother had insisted she wore for travelling into something more suitable for country living.

Then she ran out to find adventure. One of the dogs, a beagle type hound called Baxter, followed her, wagging his tail.

After exploring the yard and the outbuilding filled with farm machinery, Jenny found herself at the start of that mysterious path.

Despite the warnings, she started out walking with Baxter in tow.

As she turned a corner and the farm disappeared behind her, she felt a change in the air. It had been a lovely warm afternoon, but suddenly the temperature seemed to drop. The wind blew through the trees depositing several brown leaves across the path. She took one more step forward and she could feel someone watching her from the bushes. It did not feel like a friendly onlooker.

Baxter began barking at something unseen down the path ahead of them. Jenny took another step forward but Baxter refused to follow. He started to howl like only a beagle could do.

Jenny stood paralysed in fear.

Suddenly Uncle Frank was there and grabbed her in his arms.

“Didn’t I tell you not to go down here. You won’t last long around here unless you listen. It doesn’t bear thinking about what could have happened to you if you’d kept on going. If Baxter hadn’t warned me.”

Jenny burst into tears.

“There, there. You’re safe now, I caught you just in time.”

As Uncle Frank led her back to the farmstead, Jenny turned and saw a pair of red eyes glaring at her from the darkness.

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 17/September/2018

FOWC with Fandango — Fragile

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/09/17/your-daily-word-prompt-palette-september-18th-2018/

 

 

 

Picture of the day – More Mosaics

I haven’t done a Picture of the Day for a little bit. The last one talked about the Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood, In St. Petersburg.

I mentioned the beautiful mosaics that lined the walls.

Well this is a picture that shows you what I mean.

You may ask why I didn’t put them all the pictures on one post, well there is a simple answer to that.

I don’t think the software I’m using lets me do that. it only seems to let me have one image per post. Either that or I lack the skills and knowledge to do it….

Anyway I hope you like this picture.

It may be some time before I ever get to visit Russia again…

 

 

Picture of the day – Happy Sunday

Whether you choose to spend your Sunday in a church or other religious establishment, or if you just decide to stay at home and say a little prayer in your own time. Or if indeed, you don’t do any of that. I hope you have a lovely Sunday.

I have posted a picture of the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood in St Petersburg. It is a Russian Orthodox church (which you would expect, given it’s location).

I visited St. Petersburg a couple of years ago, and it was a fascinating place.

This particular church is built roughly near the spot of the assassination of Tsar Alexander II, which occurred in March 1881. The church was constructed in a traditional medieval style, harking back to the old wooden churches, a style known as Romantic Nationalism.

The walls, ceilings and floors of the church are covered in the most beautiful, brightly coloured mosaics and it is really breath-taking.

Apparently after the Communist revolution a survey was conducted on several churches and buildings to decide if they contained anything of artistic merit. This church was rated as devoid of anything worth keeping. I don’t think this view is one widely held by any of the people who flock to see this church today. Due to this decision, the church was nearly demolished and during the war was used as a morgue and a vegetable store.

I hope you like this picture, and enjoy your Sunday.

 

Picture of the day – The Fishermen’s Bastion, Budapest

Today I have chosen a picture of the Fishermen’s bastion in Budapest to share with you.

Budapest is a fascinating city and I enjoyed 3 nights there a couple of years ago.

Like many cities it is actually two separate cities, Buda and Pest (three if you split Old Buda and New Buda). The Capital of Hungary has a very interesting history.

Hungary itself is interesting because the Hungarians are culturally different to all of its neighbours. Most of that part of Europe are either Germanic or Slavic in origin, but the Hungarians are neither. Nor are they Latin in origin. Their closest cultural neighbour is actually Finland!

The Hungarian language is so different that it is one of the hardest to pick up because it doesn’t share many words with any other language. Hungary was, however, part of the Austria-Hungarian Empire that occupied much of Eastern Europe up to the first world war. Hungary was also partially absorbed for many years into the Turkish, Ottoman empire. In the 20th Century is was occupied by German troops and then it fell to the Russians and was behind the Iron curtain for main years.

This turbulent history has meant that many Hungarians are multi-lingual and we found no trouble being understood.

Budapest has many interesting places to visit, including the Fishermen’s Bastion.

I thoroughly recommend you add it to your list if you haven’t already been there.