Subtle Speech

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Hiya!

 

This poem snuck into my head, unbidden:

 

Melancholy meanderings managed,

Mother makes marmalade

Magically melt.woman thinking with cake

 

Surfaces shining, she

Sits sipping slowly;

Sugary succulence

Spoke subtly

 

 

[Pic is from here]

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Revolving – Final Edit

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Hi 🙂

Here it is!  I hope you like it!

The theme of ‘bullying at school’ and the title were given to me by Katie Duncan, a lovely follower on my Facebook page.

 

Revolving In Entirety – PDF

 

 

 

[Pic is from here]

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

 

Revolving – Part 5

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Hello 🙂

 

The drama continues…

 

Fargle turned it all into smut the next day:

“Hey!  Henderson!  Saw you snogging your mum last night, up the back of the cinema!”  his band of henchmen sniggered, and a few girls’ heads turned in our direction, too.

I kept walking.

“I’m talking to you, Russell!  It’s not very polite to ignore me, you Mother F****** bastard!” There was a general intake of breath from onlookers.

“Oh, I’m sorry, old chap.  You were being so gentlemanly I hadn’t realised it was you talking, Garble”

“It’s FARGLE” he said, drawing himself up to his full height.

“Is it?” I said, smiling.  “Y’know, Freud would have been very interested in your Oedipal fixations, Garble.  You do know that you can spend time with your Mother in your teens without it being in any way sexual, yeah?”

“Yeah, I do.  I’m not the one snogging my mum in the back row!” he laughed.

“And neither am I, Garble.  We were eating popcorn like everyone else.  And we were in the row in front of you, as well you know as you spent the whole movie trying to hit us with yours.” [popcorn]frog at cinema

“To break you up! God, I don’t want to see you all over your own Mother, it’s sick!  Get yourself a proper girlfriend!”

“What…like you have with young Marshall here?!” I said, pointing to Fargle’s right hand man.  “He was YOUR date last night, wasn’t he?”

“Shut up, Henderson!” said Marshall.

“Ooo, touchy!  Think I hit a nerve there” I smirked.

“I’ll hit more than that, you sicko!  I’ll – ”

Mr Fargle!” came the voice of the headmaster behind us “kindly desist from raising your hands to others, and be on your way…”

(283 words)

 

[Pic is from here]

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

 

Revolving – Part 4

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Hey there 🙂

 The tenses are still all over the place here, but it’s another 20 min instalment…

Mum was not too enamoured with the decibel levels emanating from my room, but I think she realised Dad was to blame.  The whole place stank of bleach, and that was always her chemical of choice when it came to him.  I think he made her want to obliterate things; eradicate his germs from everything.  Unfortunately, mum and I were both permanently infected.  His influence was literally in the walls around here.mother hugging her son

Eventually mum thumped at my door until I opened it, and just pulled me into a hug.  I love that: the no-talk-needed communication she does.  I never feel unlovable with my chin resting on her shoulder. 

I take in the close-up grey hairs and the shampoo wafts mingling with her perfume.  So many memories swirl around, and I close my eyes to try and shake them.  Instead I felt the tears begin to rise.  I wished I could curl up beside my mother the way I had in primary school, watch endless movies, and just continue feeling safe.

I tighten my grip around her back and sigh.  She pats my shoulder and begins telling me how proud of me she is, and how no-one should ever be allowed to make me feel bad about myself, not even my father.

I wish I could play her voice back as readily as I can the critics in my head.

I suggest pizza and a movie, and she smiles and agrees.

 

[Pic is from here]

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Revolving – Part 3

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Hi 🙂

 

So, here is the third instalment…

 

Mr McKenna shifted in his seat and there was a faint buzzing from somewhere near the window.  My tea had gone cold.

“It’s the subject matter: it’s…delicate” said Mr McKenna, at last.

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Mr McKenna slid the piece of paper over to my Dad, who took it without his eyes leaving the Headmaster’s face.

“Pornographic, is it?” asked my Dad.

“Just read it!” I sighed.  “Tell us how many mixed metaphors you’ve found, denounce it as ‘school boy emotional crap’ and let’s move on, eh?!  I’m missing Chemistry.  You know, where I’ll learn to blow up the school properly?”

It was Mr McKenna’s turn to wince.

Dad gave me one of his icy stares.

“Yes: I’m such a disappointment.”  I rolled my eyes. “Mr McKenna, there is no need to bring my Father in again.  As you can see: he’ll be no help in making me less prone to violent thoughts, vengeful tendencies or antisocial rhetoric.  He’s troubled too, probably needs counselling – definitely needs an attitude adjustment…”

“Russell!  That’s quite enough!”  said my Dad, in a tight voice.

“I agree, Russell; that’s not very helpful at this juncture…” [came my Headmaster’s reply]

The glassware in the cabinet was positively vibrating it seemed.  I turned and left, balance still tipped to me.

(208 words)

 

Hmmm, not the easiest of school meetings!  Which character are you feeling the most sympathy for, three parts in?!

 

 

[Pic is from here]

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Revolving – Parts 1 & 2

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Hello!

I’m back with two parts of the new story written, so that we are where we should be at this time on a Tuesday – despite me being lazy and not putting up a post on my birthday 😉

Katie gave me the title of Revolving and the theme of ‘bullying at school’ as my prompts for this week. 

 

So Part 1 goes like this…

 

My pen: loaded.

Ink-spattered bodies

Groaning.

Poisoned by my prose;

Posed

By my artful hand.

 

Trying to escape my truth,

Gasping

As it closes in.

 

A blind corridor

No mercy.

Feel my agony

As it ricochets around.

 

I’m in the Headmaster’s office.  He’s making me a ‘nice cup of tea’ and speaking ridiculously gently.  I’m missing Chemistry for this, so I’m going to try and spin it out as long as I can. 

There’s been a power shift, it’s almost audible in the air around me.  My aura is crackling…or something.  I feel like I could shatter lightbulbs in here!  I’m making him nervous.

I’m beyond proud of myself.  And also scared…

(113 words)

 

And here is my second 20-minute scribble:

 

Boy wth glasses, twirling a penI find, when adults are edgy like this, it is best to just keep quiet and not tip the balance too soon.  I wasn’t expecting the sugar hit from the tea to be quite as intense, but then who doesn’t need a pick-me-up in the afternoon?  I checked out the school trophy cabinet when my specs cleared from the steam.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Ah.” said Mr. McKenna, rising from his seat behind the large desk.  To my surprise, my father was standing in the corridor.  “Glad you could make it at such short notice, Mr…?”

“Graves.”  said Dad.  (I use my Mother’s surname).

“Graves!” said Mr. McKenna, with mock-jovality “Of course! Come in, come in!”

Dad sat in the chair beside me:  “So…what’s this all about…Mr. McKenna, is it…?”

“Yes.  Well, I just thought you’d like to read a poem Russell left on his desk the other day…in English,” said Mr. McKenna.

So that’s where it went.

“A poem…?” said my Dad, looking confused.  “I left work early for a poetry reading…?”

I winced inwardly for Mr McKenna.

“Well, the management team and I thought it was important, given the current climate…” said Mr. McKenna

“The climate” repeated my Dad.

“Yes.”

Dad frowned.  “What climate would that be, exactly?”

“Maybe you should read it” said Mr. McKenna

“Maybe you should answer my question”  said my Dad.

(229 words)

 

Again those pesky tenses have been plaguing me!  However, I am interested in these characters and where they could lead me, so that’s a big plus 😉

I’ll see you tomorrow for more!

 

[Pic is from here]

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

 

 

 

 

 

Scary Visions – Final Edit

Childhood, Facebook Collaborations, Longer Shorts, Mental Health, Parenting, Relationships, Scary Visions 2 Comments »

Or, to name this post more accurately, ‘the edit as it will stand until I get the courage to scrap most of what I’ve written and do the show, not tell version…!!’

I have a bit of a story arc, a start and a conclusion, a nod towards what the prompt was.  I have different characters and a background to most of them properly worked out. But…

Anyway, I’ll let you read it and see what you think.  I know what needs changed and why I don’t like it, and that’s the main thing.  There are still over 2,500 words that have been put down within a week on the same topic.  This is awesome practice and a learning experience…and that is why I’m here. 😉

Thanks very much for the prompt, Sandy!!

The link below should take you to the PDF.  See you tomorrow for the beginning of a new story!

Scary Visions in full

 

 

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Scary Visions – Part 5

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Hello!

Again, today’s piece seems a little disjointed, but I am still skirting around the same subject and main character…

Tomorrow (Saturday) I am off out with Hubby for the day as part of my imminent birthday, leaving the kids at my parents’.  I am hoping to thrash out the plot properly when we sit and write a little in a coffee shop as we like to do sometimes!  I probably won’t get much time to write after I come back and get the kids settled etc tomorrow, but I will try my hardest to get a full an edited story up on the blog by the end of Sunday 😉

This challenge is not running as smoothly as I thought it would, but it is really making me think while examining my creative process, which is very useful as well as fascinating! 

Her fingernails were ridiculously tiny, and scrabbled so urgently on Marilyn’s skin in the night, that it made anxiety spike.  Would the baby be this frantic if Marilyn was fulfilling all her needs?

Would she not be content to lie away from her mother, in that contraption ‘the expectant couple’ built together (through a hail of crossed words, stopping once for Marilyn’s tears, and many times for declarations that the manufacturers were sadistic jokers)?  It attached to the bed now.  It had been set to the right height.  Marilyn could still reach her arm over and offer a finger to hold or arm to caress…but the baby was not impressed.Cot picture

The baby needed all of her mother.   Not just the breast and the milk and the promise of clean clothes and nappies – the baby needed to be enveloped in her mother’s scent, peek under clothes; small digits in every fold of skin around an armpit.  Tapping in a random sequence.

Those waving little arms when she did sleep were hoping to make contact with a warm patch of skin that was not her own, but still an extension of her.  An anchor to the familiar, an assurance that all was well.

Those deep blue eyes saw things differently, could give Marilyn clarity if only she would take the time to look.  In that young soul lay reality in all its permutations…but that was frightening, and Marilyn did not have the strength to face it all alone.

(246 words)

 

[Pic is from here]

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

 

Scary Visions – Part 4

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HI 🙂

Woohoo!  The last day of November!! It’s finally vamoosing for another year 😉

Youngest is also 4 years and 8 months old today…a tad close to school age for my liking.  Why can’t I wish time away for the things I detest, but at the same time savour the things I love…?!  *contemplates app ideas*

I was hit by some inspiration, I think I have a slight inkling where this story may go.  Another character has appeared, and is conversing with Marylin; while being a bit rude.  Always a good sign…

From yesterday, I liked:

Healthy plants did not festoon Marylin’s windowsills, no roses peeped in at her doors.

The family cat preferred to dine at the neighbours’ and the coffee mornings she hosted never seemed to get past the stilted stage.

One never knew how much was enough…when one’s spotlight was truly at rest.

Or when a critical review might ruin one’s whole week.

 

So I launched into today’s writing slot with:

 

“How far are you hoping to run with ol’ Shakespeare, then?  He’s ancient, you know – he hasn’t got much mileage left”

“What…?”

“Your musings.  You’re depressing me”business woman opening a door

Marylin shifted in her seat, a little embarrassed that she’d actually articulated her thoughts.  What would Suzy know about the trials of motherhood – in her kitten heels, on a freaking Tuesday?

Plus, Marylin had made a choice, hadn’t she?  Better to suck it up and lie. That was what they expected, anyway, these non-kid-infested people.

It’s what Marylin had expected…

  1. Don’t gush unless I let you.
  2. Don’t show more than 3 pictures per outing.
  3. Don’t complain unless I do. (Oh, and you plan to go straight back to work. Like, in 3 days or something.  Because that’s being a proper member of society, who contributes)
  4. Don’t make me feel like my taxes are paying for you to live.
  5. Don’t even suggest that your husband might be able to pay for your upkeep for more than a day or two. (Cos that makes you lucky and different and therefore cancels out your RIGHT to complain ever.)
  6. Don’t wear frumpy clothes.
  7. Don’t make out you are more tired than me…

Because then we’ll get in a big competition mode where I’ll make you feel incensed (without permission to vent here because I won’t understand anyway…)

(220 words)

 

See?  That flowed better, as shown in the word count for the 20 minute stretch. 

The well is sending me up a bucket or two…

 

[Pic is from here]

 

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Scary Visions – Part 3

Childhood, Facebook Collaborations, Longer Shorts, Parenting, Scary Visions 2 Comments »

Hey there 🙂

How are we at Wednesday already?!  Wrote this pretty late tonight as Youngest has been off all day with more rashy type stuff, and Hubby has been at work…so I’ve done less walking than a full school/nursery run, but more than I have since Friday (and pushing a grumpy 4.5 year old in a buggy the whole time) because the kids were off ill on Monday, too! Gotta love the winter viruses: you just think they’re better and some other random symptom pops up…

I think my subconscious has been whipping up wisps, rather than going at this week’s story in a linear fashion, so I reckon a lot of what I have written since Monday will be scrapped, or at the very least rehashed into the story I finish with.  I like the character name I have (which Hubby gave me when I was struggling in the last few seconds of Monday’s scribblefest!) but I have lots of swirly ideas and plots in my skull…

I am trying to trust the process, it’s all part of growing into the writer I was born to be.  She doesn’t like rules very much, it would seem 😛

 

Marylin often thought back to how her mother scolded her, realising now the fears the older woman was trying to supress.  Hearing in the echoes of motherly admonishment the harsh truths that were being battled against, Marylin felt ashamed of her flippant remarks, or (worse) outright defiance.  She could not remember her mother having many friends that stopped by, and certainly none she could definitely rely on, to leave her precious charge with.  roses around the door

Maternity was bound up in fragrant sheets, gingham aprons and well-scrubbed pans of comforting food, in Marylin’s mind.  It was an ideal she aspired to, but was always struggling to attain.  There was never the right odour to her bedclothes, and her kitchen did not shimmer in the morning sun.  Healthy plants did not festoon Marylin’s windows, no roses peeped in at her doors.

The family cat preferred to dine at the neighbours’ and the coffee mornings she hosted never seemed to get past the stilted stage.  One never knew how much was enough, when one’s spotlight was truly at rest. 

Or when a critical review might ruin one’s whole week…

(184 words)

 

 

 

[Pic is from here]

 

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Copyright © 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved

Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!