Tag Love

All That Glisters – Prompt Nights: A Dash of Sunny

freyathewriter 26 Comments

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“A

rose by

any other name!”

She looks sweetly at

him, the centre of her

world, or so he thinks, oblivious

to her machinations. Machiavelli would have paled

in her shadow. She allows him a kiss,

pressing his finger to the rose’s thorn. The pain

sears his finger, but doesn’t reach his heart. Not yet.

I feel like I’m flitting from one prompt to another at the moment, a little like a butterfly. Maybe I’ll settle for a particular selection, maybe I won’t. It’s not a bad thing to investigate what’s out there, is it?

Anyway, this is another prompt I settled up, courtesy of Michael. His poem ‘The Black Rose’ is full of beautiful memories, but he has the black rose to link him to his past, so it’s not a mournful poem by any stretch of the imagination.

I took a different turn to the prompt, which you can find at A Dash of Sunny, and is focused on roses this month. It’s not that I’m not romantic, but it’s not my natural writing bent, if you will. So… love can be what we want to see it as, rather than what it is. Such is human nature. I hope my male lover learns the truth before the pain of discovery becomes unbearable! And in case you were wondering, the poetry form is an Etheree.

Why not pop on over to A Dash of Sunny, take part in the prompt, or just read the other entries?

Mulani – Friday Fictioneers

freyathewriter 31 Comments

photo-by-piya-singh-bittercharm-6

“Your grandfather was a gajo, he made the place as much like a vardo for your grandmother as possible, but without having to move. He was a homebody.”

I stared at Mother, at the curious little stone house, the wheel seeming to prop it up on a hidden axle.

“Was she happy?”

“She was his mollisher. She chose to marry out!”

I heard the sneer in her voice, the sprinkle of Romani for her, not me.

I looked up at the mountain tops, the splendid isolation. Such freedom, yet such a prison. Nowhere to go for granny.

I wept.

 

Better late than never for this week’s Friday Fictioneers – thank you Rochelle for the weekly inspiration!

I thought this little old house looked a bit like a caravan, with a wheel stuck in the ground, hence I went down the Romani route this week.

mulani – ghost

vardo – Romani wagon

gajo – an adult male who isn’t Romani

mollisher – woman, wife

Please do head on over to this week’s prompt and see what other writers have created!

Good times – Writing Prompt #161 “Collage 24”

freyathewriter 6 Comments

“Sometimes your only available transportation is a leap of faith.” Margaret Shepard

collage-24

“Drink me.”

“Eat me.”

Alice stared at the buffet-laden table. The sausage rolls, the pork pies, the little triangular sandwiches with their crusts cut off, the cheese and pineapple cubes speared on cocktail sticks, the trifle, the jelly, the little clementine segments floating in their sweet, sticky juice, the bottles of cherryade and ginger beer, they grew in size, reached for the ceiling, loomed towards her menacingly. ‘No, no, invitingly’, she forced herself to think up a better word than the one that towered in her mind.

She gulped, panic turning her throat to sandpaper, gluing her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She took slow, steady breaths, just as she had been taught.

“Darling, isn’t this wonderful? All your favourite foods from ‘The Best Christmas Ever!’ Do you remember? We struggled so hard that year, what with your dad on 3 day weeks and no money to speak of, but it was the best one ever, for you. We were so happy!”

“Thanks, Mum,” Alice whispered, clenching her fists, magicking up a smile. Mum was doing her best, they were all doing their best.

She reached for a cheese and pineapple morsel, closed her eyes and took a tiny bite, the cheese clagging itself to the roof of her mouth, the pineapple tang making the back of her jaw tingle with the sweet, acidic bite she had barely thought of in years.

Suddenly, she was transported back in time to the 1970s, to laughter, to fun, to warmth and comfort, to when food was a joy and not a monster to be battled with every day.

‘One bite at a time,’ she thought, her therapist’s words echoing in her ears. ‘One bite at a time.’

 

And this time, thanks to Michael for inspiring me to take part in this prompt, hosted by Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. The initial prompt is the quote above, this week form Margaret Shepard, and then to provide more inspiration, we have a little tableaux of beautiful images to ponder as well.

I hope you enjoy my piece and do head on over to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie to read other contributions and… take part!