Tag Nature

Poles Apart – Friday Fictioneers

freyathewriter 35 Comments

Here is my latest entry into the weekly challenge brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Here are the rules: Use the photo as inspiration, write a hundred(ish) words – and share! Here goes my offering for this week – and I welcome your comments again!

This week, as we learned of the death of the celebrated UK planetary scientist, Professor Colin Pillinger CBE, I decided to write this little piece in his honour. This isn’t a serious piece, but he was in my thoughts as I wrote.

copyright_bw_beacham

Copyright – BW Beacham

– Poles Apart –

“This river used to be tidal, decades ago. Then they found that other moon. That’s when all the trouble started.”

“Trouble?” I looked at the old man who had eased himself on to the bench next to me. He was surprisingly articulate and well-spoken, for someone who looked like a vagrant.

“Yes. They wouldn’t listen to me. I told them not to go meddling. But no, they knew best.”

“What happened?”

“They decided to harness it, bring it closer to Earth, which cancelled out the magnetic pull of the proper moon. So, no more tides. And they say my Beagle 2 Project was a failure!”
 

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Click on the blue froggy below to read others’ offerings!

Shredded – Friday Fictioneers

freyathewriter 32 Comments

Here is another late entry into the weekly challenge brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Here are the rules: Use the photo as inspiration, write a hundred(ish) words – and share! Here goes my offering for this week – and I welcome your comments again!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Copyright – John Nixon

– Shredded –

The mountains of paperwork had reached mammoth proportions.

Deluged by policies, amendments, white papers and term sheets, her desk had disappeared long ago.

There was a knock at her office door.

“Oh come in, do. Please tell me you’re my new assistant…”

The air hung heavy with expectation, desperation even.

The timid girl entered, hovering near the door.

“S-sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She darted forward, placed a Perspex sign on top of one of the paper towers and left – quickly.

Clare picked up the sign and rolled her eyes.

“‘Head of Environmental Policy’ indeed,” she muttered.

Oh, the irony.

 

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Click on the blue froggy below to read others’ offerings!

Tendrils

freyathewriter 46 Comments

In my room –
when velvet black undulates in the depths of night
I am secure, cosseted, nurtured.
Encased in my duvet cloud
toes peeking out, stretching towards the radiator as it clinks and clangs, expanding and contracting
I listen for the background ‘hisssshhhh’ as water rushes through the pipes, molecules racing along in their H2O hamster wheel.
The French door is open behind the blackout blind –

Aeons earlier I had pressed the smooth metal handle, turned the angular key (I can still feel the impression its cold corners left on my fingers), sensed the bolts shudder and slide in casings worn smooth.
Night air clamoured, grappling to fill the void as indoor warmth sighed to the heavens in almost mute supplication
The damp breath of Nature caressed me, gooseflesh prickled and tiny hairs stood to attention –

Creeping-creature sounds surround me now as I recline, supine, feline.
I taste the earth in the air as the world relaxes into its darkest hours –
the delicate tip-toe of the urban fox, an owl screech to wake the slumber-bound
and the frantic flutter of a moth, searching for a shaft of light around which to dance her dance of the mad.

In my room, in the depths of night, all of this can be found.

Tendrils

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This week on dVerse Meeting the Bar, our bar-keep Brian urges us to create using all of our senses, except sight. Challenging, or not?  Well, I really enjoyed this inspiration, since I love the fact that my new bedroom isn’t infiltrated by the sound of traffic or street lighting. It feels like a womb (I imagine!). And at night, it is utterly black. Glorious for sleeping!

I hope you enjoy my offering – and do take the chance to dip your toe in the world of darkness, or pick up your own figurative pen, why not!