Writing Wednesday – 13 September 2017

Writing Wednesday – 13 September 2017

Hello everybody and welcome to another Writing Wednesday. The idea of this is I am going to write about whatever subject has inspired me this week.

Everybody is welcome to join in, of course, and you can do that by either writing something in the comments or giving me a pingback to your work. (It goes without saying that you should feel free to share your work if you get the urge to do so!)

What am I going to use as my inspiration this week?

The word… Smile

I have always been told that my smile is pretty. I can’t tell you whether this is true or not because you very rarely smile at yourself with any meaning. In the mirror it is often just for a quick check of your makeup or clothing before you go anywhere, and, in a picture, a smile is a natural reaction to having a lens shoved in your face.

Mind you, it is always a compliment if someone tells you that because they are basically telling you that you are pretty, and, therefore, accepted. It is a strange idea that society has built up that you need to be pretty in order to be an accepted human being. Especially if you happen to be female.

So, it has ended up, my smile is simply part of my make up and is generally painted on to hide the issues underneath my skin. Nobody needs to know the battles I am having with myself on a daily basis.

I am a warrior and my smile has become my warpaint.

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Writing Wednesday – 30th of August 2017

Writing Wednesday – 30th of August 2017

Hello everybody and welcome to another Writing Wednesday. The idea of this is I am going to write about whatever subject has inspired me this week.

Everybody is welcome to join in, of course, and you can do that by either writing something in the comments or giving me a pingback to your work. (It goes without saying that you should feel free to share your work if you get the urge to do so!)

What am I going to use as my inspiration this week?

 

It’s just the time of year

Every year it is the same thing.

You see, years ago after the 20family was cursed by a witch. It meant that our lives with something like Groundhog Day, only instead of a day, we had to live a year of our lives over and over again. It wasn’t like we were ever able to change anything so it seemed that there was no way out. Long ago we had become resigned to the fact that we were going to have to keep living this for an unspecified amount of time.

Probably eternity.

The which had never given a timescale for which our family was going to suffer. I don’t even know what we had done to provoke it because I was only nine years old. I wasn’t the one who did anything and it is not like anyone will ever admit to doing anything that upset the which enough to cause her to cast this curse on everybody.

Mind you, it was always interesting to see the developments of the growing world. The changes between the time that we were cursed and the modern day was quite astounding. In some rather strange way, I was almost glad that I was left alive to witness these changes. On the other hand, I really wanted to grow up and experience all of the things that the adults were going through. In appearances, I was only nine, but in actuality I was actually centuries old. It seemed unfair that I was going to live forever as a young girl.

But everything always stayed the same. When my cousins would meet the same girl and get married in winter. In spring, my brother would become a father to a beautiful boy who would never experience his first birthday. In summer, my sister would turn 18 and there would be a big party where each year we all hoped that we would all live on without the reset. In fall, uncle Eric would be killed by some freak accident and we would have to go to his funeral.

Then, just before Christmas we would wake up and find ourselves in January ready to start a year over again. We never did get to celebrate Christmas.

Every year everybody tried to save uncle Eric because it was the only thing that happened that we could see a change was possible. Sadly, we all failed miserably in every single attempt. If we made him stay at home then he would die there. Even if we accompanied him, something would seem to happen that would see us all standing by this ever familiar graveside.

This time of year was soul destroying.

And yet, year after year we would be standing here in our own states of despair. We have stopped mourning uncle Eric along time ago, now we were just mourning the fact that we had no future.

We never knew the name of the witch that cursed us. As that had been during the period of the witch trials it seemed very unlikely that she would have survived. Even if she had, I doubt she would want to lift this curse that has been handed down because of something someone else had done. It all seemed so unfair.

However, that was the day that something did change. This time my father took out the gun and shot my mother in the back of her head. As she crumpled to the floor we all felt the change and realized that we were actually going to live out of lives in this modern area. Well, except for my mother of course as she now lay dead on top of uncle Eric’s coffin.

“It was her,” my dad whispered as he heard approaching sirens. One of the other people at the ceremony who was not part of our family had called the police it seemed. “It wasn’t a curse but a wish that Miranda had made recklessly. She didn’t want any of you to grow up and this was the result. She blurted it out last night when we were preparing for the funeral. Sorry, but I could not take it any longer and had to try to end the never-ending cycle.”

I stared blankly at the body resting on the coffin. I know wager developed something like grief because she was gone but the realization that the never-ending cycle had all been because of her left me feeling nothing but anger. Looking at the family I could see that everybody was feeling the same way.

It was a shame that uncle Eric was not alive to see everybody growing up. At least we were never going to have to bury him again. The relief was just about palpable. My father was taken away by the police and the rest of us went about our lives. I was placed in the custody of my brother, and my baby nephew that was finally going to make it to his first birthday.

People never understood why our family did nothing but smile on the day of uncle Eric’s funeral and on mothers death. They never would understand what it meant to grow up.

SPF: Not the best idea…

SPF: Not the best idea…

206 07 July 23rd 2017© A Mixed Bag 2009

It was the year 3099 so scientists decided to look back on the technological advances of the millennium.

The favourite was not, as many thought it would be, time travel. Even though time travel existed and many people used it, it came with a lot of problems. Too many people had been breaking the rules and changing things in their past so their future would be brighter. Scientists were having a nightmare trying to rectify what people had started to refer to as glitches in the matrix. The term bothered scientists because it was based on at old and long forgotten film which was proven to be false.

The advances in air travel were not on the list either. People had developed high-speed pods that would carry people anywhere and be more environmentally friendly. They were using solar power and the carbon footprint was significantly less than traditional airlines. This sounded perfect on paper, but the resulting problems caused scientists as much of a headache as time travel.

Admittedly, more progress was being made with the air travel system. Now, it could be happily announced the mortality rate had dropped to only a 50% likelihood.

The winner was mental communication.

Written for Sunday photo fiction

Writing Wednesday – 19 July 2017

Writing Wednesday – 19 July 2017

Hello everybody and welcome to another Writing Wednesday. The idea of this is I am going to write about whatever subject has inspired me this week.

Everybody is welcome to join in, of course, and you can do that by either writing something in the comments or giving me a pingback to your work. (It goes without saying that you should feel free to share your work if you get the urge to do so!)

What am I going to use as my inspiration this week?

The words… School break

School’s out

Every year it is the same thing.

Every year the children come streaming out of the gates with screams of delight. Their cage has been closed for the summer and they are free to enjoy their time.

Every year you hear people complain that six weeks is just too long. The children will get bored. There is nothing for them to do. The children are too noisy when they are playing outside of my home.

Every year we watch as the six weeks drag by. The children become restless and fidgety. Parents clamour for different ideas to try and keep them entertained.

Every year we watch as the children seem to eagerly file back to school to regain some kind of routine.

Every year it is just the same thing.

Writing Wednesday – 12 July 2017

Writing Wednesday – 12 July 2017

Hello everybody and welcome to another Writing Wednesday. The idea of this is I am going to write about whatever subject has inspired me this week.

Everybody is welcome to join in, of course, and you can do that by either writing something in the comments or giving me a pingback to your work. (It goes without saying that you should feel free to share your work if you get the urge to do so!)

What am I going to use as my inspiration this week?

The word… Kids.

Growing up

isn’t it ironic that the one thing you couldn’t wait to do is something you really didn’t want? When we were young, there is nothing we wanted more than to grow up.

Now that we are grown-up we want to do is to return to the days we were children and did not have any worries like bills. It has been said a thousand times before, but that does not make it any less true, childhood is a golden age.

It is such a pity that we did not appreciate it.

Is there anything more heartbreaking than watching your own child wanting to be older?

Writing Wednesday – 5 July 2017

Writing Wednesday – 5 July 2017

Hello everybody and welcome to another Writing Wednesday. The idea of this is I am going to write about whatever subject has inspired me this week.

Everybody is welcome to join in, of course, and you can do that by either writing something in the comments or giving me a pingback to your work. (It goes without saying that you should feel free to share your work if you get the urge to do so!)

What am I going to use as my inspiration this week?

The word… Sunshine.

Lost childhood

I wanted to be a child again. I wanted to be one running over the beach without a care in the world. I watched the children playing in the sand for quite a long time with the green eyed monster clouding my vision.

When the ball came towards me I had to fight two opposing desires. The first one was to kick it back while running into the middle of the game to join in. The other option was to pick up the ball and ran into the office building at my back.

If I couldn’t play, why should they?

Writing Wednesday – 21 June 2017

Writing Wednesday – 21 June 2017

Hello everybody and welcome to another Writing Wednesday. The idea of this is I am going to write about whatever subject has inspired me this week.

Everybody is welcome to join in, of course, and you can do that by either writing something in the comments or giving me a pingback to your work. (It goes without saying that you should feel free to share your work if you get the urge to do so!)

What am I going to use as my inspiration this week?

The word… Dreams.

(The following is a short piece of fiction inspired by my work in progress, Dreamweaver.)

Time has gone by

The dream I stepped into could not be described as the usual scene. It was a chaotic swirl of colours that I am sure were being used to distract the dreamer. Well, maybe not distract, but to completely disorientate and confuse. Different images would flash up that I am sure were relevant to the dreamer.

Images of children being abused, images of someone crying at a party, somebody standing watching a wedding, a man growing old alone. I understood none of it, but then I was not the dreamer in question.

Usually, the dreamer was easy to spot because of their golden aura. However, in this particular instance, I was struggling to find anybody at all. For some reason, my palms felt sweaty and I wipe them on my shirt as I gazed about.

Eventually, I found a young man with tears streaking his face. He looked up as I approached and it radiated his sadness. “I am going to grow old alone,” he muttered.

Suddenly the images made sense. It was supposed to be showing him and everything that was going to go wrong in his life. I held out my hands. “You are all right, this is just a dream and I here to take you from it. My name is Marcus, take my hands and I will get you out. I am sure none of this is going to happen. The dream has been made to try and break you. You are better than that I am sure.”

The child, who could only be about 12, reached to take my hand. “My name is Warren.”

I smiled at him as I began to beat my wings and knock the dream apart. I was satisfied that I would have set him on the right path for the future.

Looking back now, this certainly wasn’t the case. I should have left him broken.