The size six snake three trees over, slithered past here last Saturday. The iguana on fern saw her by the pool. Think’s she looks better in the water. Told the croc by willow he should swim on. Big boys like him stand no chance. This is what happens when poets start commenting on other poet’s work. You end up down the rabbit hole with snakes, iguanas and crocodiles. (It didn’t end well for the rabbit.) To check out the writer who provided the inspiration for this quadrille, and then joined me in the madness, hop over to Jane Dougherty Writes. There you can find more of her work like the poem below: Whip snake resplendent in green and black beading, striped vicious as a wasp, terrifying as braided headdress, twisted and entwined with feathers and human teeth, squirms and twitches and sloughs, aghast that this shrugged off apparel, skin of skins, must be how he looks.
The flowers were supposed to be an apology and a promise. The apology was for buying three thousand miniature figures of a unknown comic book hero and failing to find somewhere other than the living room to store them. The promise was that they would be gone before she got back from her sister’s the following week. He bought her a second bouquet when that deadline came and went and the boxes were still rendering the kitchen inaccessible. They were pretty flowers, she’d admit that. The flames were beautiful though. She liked them much better than any bunch of flowers. (100 words)
I’ve always been short, short person, short stuff, short arse, elbow rest, lean on my head, talk over the top of me, clamber over boxes, steps, stools, ladders to reach those things you can reach. I’ve always been short, not going to get any taller, stopped growing now, stopped growing up at least, bought new jeans this week two dress sizes up which is a pain because these jeans are a 10 and my wedding dress an 8 but there’s room to breath and wiggle a little so perhaps I’m more 9 than 10 and as a 9 maybe I can suck in… or go to the gym and use the membership draining my account each month. I like to work out sometimes, I like yoga when there’s the room, but really I should go, less to loose weight more to tone and focus on staying fit instead of spreading outwards because I’m short and I’ll always be short so best not match my height with my waist and try to find the stuff to …
‘The phrase “ignore it and it will go away.” does NOT apply to being chased by a dozen cop cars… trust me on this one. ‘ Amy swore and pressed herself into the passenger side door as Ken flicked off his indicator and skidded around the roundabout at sixty. ‘For fu-‘ Her words disappeared as the car clipped one of the council’s new ‘keep our streets clean initiative’ bins and rubbish exploded across the car windscreen. ‘Can you believe the weather?’ Ken tutted and turned the windscreen wipers on. ‘I blame global warming.’ Behind them the screech of the police sirens grew. ‘Shall we have some Radio?’ Ken asked, already reaching for the dial. ‘Ken!’ Amy lunged for the steering wheel and wrenched it towards her as they began veering right. ‘Shit, Amy!’ They hit the curb, and then the flower bed of freshly sprouted daffodils, before the eventual howling whine of the town park’s wrought iron fencing. Coughing on the smoke now pouring from the engine, Amy fumbled for her seat belt. Across from …
Not So Green Fingers One. Remember the rose plant you bought two weeks ago Two. Pray to something you only half believe in, that it’s still alive. Three. Quickly brush away the dead leaves, crunchy and browning in a circle, and after, fill the bin with odds and sods, to hide your failure at tending a living thing. Four. Water it! But remember, too much and it will die somewhat more than it already has. Five. Let it sit, then dispose of any remaining water, still staining the saucer, culled from the kitchen cupboard because you don’t own any pretty plant pots. Six. Buy a plant pot, because the saucer doesn’t fit on the windowsill, and sunlight would probably be a good thing seeing as photosynthesis, is pretty important for these plant types. Seven. Pray and hope a little more. Who knows? Green fingers might be something you grown into.
“You know what they say!” Phil grinned, edging his toes closer to the edge. “If at first you don’t succeed-” “Not again Phil!” Lilith snapped. “This is literally the definition of insanity.” “Maybe,” Phil shrugged. “Or it might work.” “You’ll die… Again.” “Or I’ll fly!” “No Phil. You’ll go splat.”
“Right,” said Death adjusted his new hat as we stepped out of the clothes shop, fresh soul in hand. “Hand me the list!” Scowling at him and the crowds pressing towards us I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled out the water-stained parchment crumpled against the lining. “Ah, wonderful,” said Death, taking it between thumb and forefinger. “It survived your dip in the Thames then?” “And the Ganges,” I shrugged. “You should really stop dropping us in rivers.” “What can I say,” shrugged Death, uncurling the list as he spoke. “Teleporting has it- Ange? Why does this say eggs, milk and cup-o-soup?” (104 Words)
“Have you ever thought about travelling the world?” he asked her, sliding into the seat across from the one she’d snagged in the corner of the coffee shop. “I hear Nepal is nice this time of year.”“Nepal?” she said, drawing her cappuccino a little closer. “Why Nepal?”He shrugged and fiddled with the handle of his cup.”“I just said, I heard it’s nice this time of year.”“Then go.”“I would, but I can’t alone.”“Girlfriend?”“Not got one.”“Boyfriend?”“Not my type.”“Mother?”“That would just be sad.”She narrowed her eyes at the stranger.“Just take a friend if that’s all that’s stopping you.”“Now that’s a great idea. Hi, my name’s Mark.”“Tammy.”“Tammy, nice to meet you, I think we should be friends.”“We’ve just met, like two seconds ago.”“And already I sure you’re the sort of girl who wants to see Nepal.” (150 Words)
The prompt for this piece: “… the hips and haws signal …” The hips and haws signal that something really bad is about to happen. Like you’re parents attempting the Lambada at your school disco when both of them struggle doing something as simple as the macarena bad. And you know, you know it from the blood pounding in your ears to the weight of you stomach landing on your toes as it drops, there is nothing, nothing you can do. Beyond calling in the military your options are limited to standing there and watching the whole thing unfold before your eyes. Nothing stops Grandad trying to pole vault the neighbor’s fence.
An experiment in dialogue. I have written purely dialogue based pieces before, but I tend to find them a lot more difficult to create and therefore tend to avoid them LIKE THE PLAGUE. Not that the plague is that difficult to avoid in somewhere like Shropshire and Bath. So maybe that saying should be adapted to “avoid it like someone who’s clearly suffering the oh so dreaded common cold. RUN CHILD RUN!” Anyway, this isn’t actually my submission for VisDare, just my take on the word attached to the prompt itself. I’ll do my entry for the real prompt for tomorrow. She says hopefully and with all the best intentions that can be mustered this side of the atmosphere. Wow I’m in a weird mood today. Random rant aside I would love to hear any feedback that any of you may have, but more importantly I hope you enjoy the story. (141 Words) “Do you have any idea how old words like that make you sound when you actually say them?”“What? You mean precocious?”“Yeah. I mean …