Grounded – dVerse

June 10, 2014freyathewriter 39 Comments

nailers, brewers and
butchers; artists, hoofers and
railway platemakers

Titanic, double-
booked, third class overflowing
what a stroke of luck!

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This week, on dVerse Poetics, Grace has asked us to delve into our family history – what makes us, where have we come from, who are our ancestors? As I get older, as life changes, I feel more of an urge to answer these questions. Recently I spent a lovely long weekend with my family up in Worcestershire, investigating old photos and luxuriating in tales of what happened way back when. This knowledge is to be treasured, no?

I have decided to be short and sweet this week. Two haiku-form stanzas and two photos – one of me as a little girl, and one of my scribbles during a quick coffee break. You’ll see the second stanza didn’t really sit well with me… hence it got the chop. Ancestors in both my mum’s family and in my step-dad’s family almost made it on to the Titanic… strange, but true!

Meat is Murder – Sunday Photo Fiction

June 8, 2014freyathewriter 14 Comments

I zip up my wet suit, noticing the tightness in my shoulder as I reach between my shoulder blades. I’m not getting any younger or more flexible, and it’s been a week since I felt the muscle tear. I have to do this now, before it’s too late.

I look up, back to the dunes and watch Timmy gnawing at the bone I had given him earlier. Hopefully, the marrow will keep him occupied long enough for me to be nearing the horizon and far beyond his failing eyesight. I’d been giving him a lot of meaty treats lately. Guilt, I suppose.

I pat my chest, feeling the reassuring crackle of plastic underneath. All of our, no my worldly goods are in there. It should be enough.

I push the canoe into the waves, past the first swells and step in, settling myself into the seat. I begin paddling, strong, swift strokes that are my reward for months of practice.

I ponder at Timmy’s new and healthy appetite. Funny, I’d never thought of him as a predator before. Still, I suppose any animal can develop a taste for human flesh, given the opportunity…

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Here’s my latest entry into Alistair’s Sunday Photo Fiction. He supplies us with his own wonderful photos, so deserves our support! Happy Sunday, all….

Do take part if you have time, or just pop over and read the other entries.

Spliced – Magpie Tales

June 8, 2014freyathewriter 18 Comments

– Spliced –

Harry stared at the reels as they whizzed round and round, the tale of the finished tape hitting the playback heads at each turn. He had lost track of how long it had been since the recording had finished, how many times he had splashed whisky into his glass, how many times the phone had rung, rung, rung and then stopped, only to begin again a few moments later.

It had been an impulse buy. He had always wanted a vintage quarter track recorder – it reminded him of growing up, of a happy home, of his parents. It reminded him of a time when his life was simple.

The man in the second-hand shop had called him back just as he was leaving. Harry could remember the feel of the smooth, slightly dented brass doorknob under his fingers as he paused and looked back.

“’Ere, mate. You might as well ‘ave these, free gratis like. I ain’t got no use for ‘em.”

He brought the tapes back in an equally vintage Tesco carrier bag, turned inside out.

His wife had reacted strangely when she saw the machine set up on the dining table, even more so when he put the bulging old carrier bag next to it. Suddenly, she had to be anywhere but at home with him.

Now he knew why. He leaned forward and pressed the red ‘Stop’ button. Silence enveloped him.

The truth will out. Even after fifty years of marriage, there was always something new to learn about your wife.

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Here’s my latest entry to Magpie Tales. Another fabulous photo prompt – I’d love to have and use one of these machines, although I’d hate to be in the same position as Harry….

I hope you enjoyed this, do let me know what you think!