I have been at the random word generators again, but this time I liked the words that Randomlists gave me so much that I used them two days in a row! The result was a poem and a story, which are below. Enjoy!
(As a quick note on the poem, ‘greet’ can mean ‘to cry’ in Scots)
He would always wave to greet them before sticking out his thumb. Sometimes he knew who the driver would be, heâd been doing this so long, but not always.
It would depend upon the company running the trucks, of course. There were some who had strict regulations these days about picking up extra weight, or stopping before scheduled to and so on. He described all of this as a supreme âpain in the posteriorâ that was damaging his way of life.
He claimed that he had travelled the whole country beside one trucker or another â worked in various places for a colourful succession of low life cheats or miserly drunks.
He sat writing what he said were songs in a beaten up notebook marinated in the vegetable soup he always ordered. The manager asked him if he could sing once, and whether his old guitar could still do a turn. He said heâd give it a go, and we made good money on the bar that night – he definitely looked the part in his shabby slept-in clothes and with that defiant twinkle to his eye.
I havenât seen him for a few years, however. There were reports heâd struck gold somewhere doingâŠsomethingâŠbut no one Iâve talked to has what Iâd call concreteknowledge of his whereabouts.
So, I continue to serve cake in this lil backwater place, give free coffee top-ups and hope he blows in again someday soon. I have made a pact with myself that Iâll tell him next time instead of making small talk awkwardly and hanging around waaay too much. Maybe he sensed trouble and thatâs why he bailed? Mum has always said thatâs what his father was like, too.Â
Maybe Iâll just have to settle into the thought of wearing this floofy pink-striped apron for at least another year? If he hopes to wait me out heâll find I can be juuust as stubborn as him.
And that’s all for today, folks! Have you been doing any art or other creative goodness recently that you would like me to come and experience? Please post a link to your blog or website in the comments below this post đ
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!
My weekend was fab, and yet ‘Departure Glance’ is still on my mind…
I did not generate any more words for today’s piece, but played with one storyline that presented itself to me đ
My thoughts about this were that our protagonist was semi-conscious in the forest, but unable to move or properly open his eyes, and this conversation was taking place above his prone body:
âIs he hurt?â
âNot seriously.â
âHow much did they pour in the fire?â
âNot enough, it would seem.â
âHeâs strong, he always was. Did I ever tell you he almost died after birth? That infection should have damaged him but -â
âYes.â
âI wish he could ju-â
âItâs not an option. We have discussed this many timesâ
âI know.â
âWe must follow the plan, no matter who you claim he is. He is handsome, however. He shares your strong brow.â
âYou have unwed daughters, my lady…â
âDo you presumeâŠ?!â
âHe could be taught and trained. You could make him worthy. I hear there are great places of learning beyond these shores. Take him to the elders, they might see some promise too.”
âThese sound like orders, Paraton.â
âHeartfelt suggestions, only.â
âA leader does not rule by heart alone.â
Do you think this adds to the story in any way? What did you glean from the above?
Pssst!!! I need inspiration for the coming weeks â follow the instructions on my Facebookâs âsticky postâ challenge if you want to help me out and choose a picture and generator for me to play with!
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!
My feet, unfortunately, kept up a constant throb as I tried to get comfortable on the sandy earth beneath my makeshift shelter. I had started to feel a little breathless too, as if my woodsmoke was occasionally trying to choke me. I put it down to the soaking I had received the night before, and gathered my cloak around me a little tighter while my eyes lazily watched the pattern of the firelight splay across the small beach.
I fell asleep a few times, but frequently startled myself awake, feeling as though I had just heard something move towards me over the sound of the rushing water and usual animal noises. My pupils always took that split second to contract in the burgeoning light, and that was when I was convinced I witnessed something large retreating into the shadows â but it was gone as quickly as the thought appeared in my head.
I began to wonder if I should return to the village in search of medicine, my adventure-seeking and self promotion of just a few hours ago seeming absurd in that grey dawn of unease.Â
Eventually, there came an almighty noise that I couldnât explain away, and simultaneously three trees seemed to crack like mere twigs and plummet into the sand. As my brain took this in, an elongated, scaly snout appeared from where the trees had once stood (at the height of a large horse) followed by two semi-webbed, scaly feet and the start of what looked like a long body.
The creature seemed to be about to venture towards the waterâs edge, but I gasped a little too loudly and it turned its attention to me.
As it locked eyes with me (and I realised I hadnât turned to stone) I had sudden visions of the flowers I had mutilated as a young boy, as well as all the strange names for the different parts of âfloraâ that my mother had then painstakingly gone over from a complicated book of my fatherâs (to try and foster within me a little respect for nature). Would my shirt collar be left circling the meaty hole where my neck once was: a sad epicalyx to my missing head, as this beast callously cast it into the fallsâŠ?
Somewhat understandably, I made up my mind not to wait to find out.
I am undecided whether to leave the story on this cliffhanger, or to forge ahead with the ideas that are swirling to answer the loose ends…one thing is for certain, however: I’m not writing anything over this weekend. Hubby and I are getting out with our friends on Saturday night and will be having a lazy day on Sunday đ so we’ll see what my preoccupations and workload are like on Monday.
So…this may or may not be the end of ‘Departure Glance’. I hope you’ve enjoyed it, anyway!
Pssst!!! I need inspiration for the coming weeks â follow the instructions on my Facebookâs âsticky postâ challenge if you want to help me out and choose a picture and generator for me to play with!
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!
Pyramid  Ministry  Paradox  Shift  Role  Easy  Secretion  Revival   Agony
That first night, it rained.
I had become frustrated with the task of properly constructing a tent for myself, having walked a fair distance and conserved as much food as possible, so I had slung the animal skin across some low hanging branches of a tree in a rough pyramid shape and curled up on the earthen âfloorâ. I awoke in a puddle, a steady drip just behind me, where the wind had obviously caused the roof to slide.Â
I moved closer to the trunk of the tree, first rescuing my belongings and firewood from the deluge as best I could. I felt in need of ministry by morning: every joint seemed to protest at the slightest movement.
However, a young man can easily create a paradox within his mind at will, creating a seismic shift in his thinking when he wants to assume the hero role once more. After something to eat, and in the warming sun that follows a storm, it is easy to laugh at a bad night and tell yourself that it built character. Grandfatherâs stories told of many such nights and the hero always survived. There was nothing foolish in the path I had chosen for myself.Â
There was tree sap (or some other less savoury secretion that I didnât dwell on) staining my clothes. I am now wearing proof of my struggles, becoming a man in the wild, an expert in overcoming obstacles. I felt wonderful!
My spiritsâ revival buoyed me through the whole of the second day, but my feet were in agony by the time I reached the falls, nonetheless. My pride still made me take the time to fashion a shelter much more fitting for a male brought up in my village.Â
Predictably, my second night brought no rain. But it did furnish me with a different kind of adventureâŠ
Oooo, let’s see what ‘adventure’ I can conjure up from tomorrow’s words, eh?!
*crosses fingers for lots of adjectives…*
Pssst!!! I need inspiration for the coming weeks â follow the instructions on my Facebookâs âsticky postâ challenge if you want to help me out and choose a picture and generator for me to play with!
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!
Outlook  Pocket  Suggest  Spot  Rate  Extension  Ball  Deposit  Visible
The positive outlook only wobbled a little while standing on the hill above the village; cheese and bread in my backpack, sharp pieces of flint in my pocket â first sunlight glinting off the little stream that wound past my sleeping mother and her fears of abandonmentâŠ
Everything seemed to suggest âroutineâ down there. Each tidy dwelling had its spot for drying clothes, and a designated area to cook and socialise. There was always someone ready to rate how productive you were on any given day, so everyone kept busy and contributed as best they could. Each home was an extension of the next; a village journeying homogenously through whatever lay ahead.Â
I could just make out the figures of some of our neighbours, checking fences and feeding animals. The ball of my right foot started to ache, and I was surprised to become aware that I was straining to see so much when I had, just an hour or so before, been so ready to escape that life.
I resisted the urge to deposit my heavy pack on the grass and watch my mother discover Iâd left. I was not entirely convinced that I wasnât visible from the ground and, anyway, that was sure to crack my resolve.Â
I averted my gaze from the village, and kept walking.
Come back tomorrow and see whether our protagonist keeps heading into the great unknown…
Pssst!!! I need inspiration for the coming weeks â follow the instructions on my Facebookâs âsticky postâ challenge if you want to help me out and choose a picture and generator for me to play with!
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!
We are on to the second instalment of this weekâs story; here is part one if you need it!
Flavor  Future  Foundation  Module  Breakdown  Stake  Extreme  Hilarious  Struggle
I never really sought out adventure, but I got such a romanticised flavour of expedition and âthe unknownâ one summer by helping Grandfather with the horses (for he had hurt his foot and was ordered to rest it as best he could for about a month) that I suddenly felt that my future lay beyond the village; and with Grandfatherâs teachings as a foundation I could make my way in any terrain.
I started talking to the men who had explored beyond the next few villages, and got them to outline each module of kit they had taken with them â then I asked them to give me a breakdown of exactly what had been the most useful in tackling any difficulty they had come up against.
I kept my plans from Mother. Father had gone missing a few years back, so I knew sheâd naturally assume my life was at stake. âBut, knowing me, Iâd not do anything extreme; just reappear in under a week and regale everyone with pitifully hilarious accounts of my struggle to even keep a campfire litâ said my less confident side.
It is best to try to get these things over with, however, once they enter your head. I of course would hate to sit and wonder âwhat ifâŠâ instead.
See you tomorrow for part threeâŠ
Pssst!!! I need inspiration for next week â please follow the instructions on my Facebookâs âsticky postâ challenge if you want to help me out and choose a picture and generator for me to play with! Thaaaank Yoooou!!
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!
Gemma gave me a picture prompt on my Facebook sticky post today, and asked me to use Random Word Generator to conjure up all my words for this week. Thanks Gemma!! đ
(This particular waterfall is in Iceland, you can read about it here.)
As usual, I asked for five words initially to get my title; then changed the options so that I could have nine words to inspire my first instalment.
I chose ‘Departure Glance’ as my title because it seemed to have more possibilities than any other combination đ
Then I got stuck in with today’s ‘big nine’:
Reptile  Turn   Relative   Judicial  Wander  Shower  Mixture   Dismissal
My Grandfather used to gather us all and tell us legends of the âreptile of the fallsâ. It had various abilities: could turn you to stone, or hypnotise you so you went back and murdered every relative you had; that sort of thing. There seemed to be no judicial wiggle room for the creature â wherever he decided to wander in our lands, he was deemed to be up to no good.
As he continued to shower every impressionable young mind in the village with these exciting myths, Grandfather looked on inscrutably while we responded with a mixture of dismissal and a healthy respect for the watersâ edge.
There was a pilgrimage of sorts, taken by older teenagers with rebellion on their minds, once every year or so. Mostly they came back disappointed and poured scorn on Grandfatherâs stories. But occasionally there was a tragedy that left us all a little unsettled, and looking over our shoulders more often when alone.
Join me tomorrow for Part Two!
Pssst!!! I need inspiration for the coming weeks â follow the instructions on my Facebookâs âsticky postâ challenge if you want to help me out and choose a picture and generator for me to play with!
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!
Violence  Vixen  Groan  Greasy  Binocular  Allowable  Expert  Guideline  Bounce
According to Abe and his colleagues at the FBI, this ex of hers had been violence incarnate. He had kept tabs on every woman he had ever been with, but appeared particularly obsessed with Mary. Sheâd never really talked about him, and always liked to come across as a self-assured âvixenâ, so I was shocked when Abe told me it had got as far out of hand at one stage.
Abe said that the first sound Mary had made when they found her was a groan. Sheâd been tied up on the floor of a greasy, run down kitchen in a back alley. Apparently, sheâd been beaten so badly her binocular vision was affected permanently – if I had known that I would never have performed with her. It gives me palpitations even now when I think of how lucky we were every nightâŠ
Her ex was not the kind of man to let such a prized âpossessionâ go easily. She was pursued across state lines many times and only had a few years of peace while he was behind bars for something else.
There were miniscule margins for errors allowable in the plan. Gavrill was an expert at illusions, and meticulous in his planning; so I tried to quell my anxieties that night. Gavrill had gone over every guideline with Mary and me numerous times, and we had managed to keep the specifics from Maria. She had to believe her mother was falling to her death, too. That was the part I really hated about the plan, but it needed to be that way to keep her safe.
As the night drew nearer, I knew I couldnât watch. Even with Gavrillâs assurances, I couldnât help thinking of his son and how bitterly he was still missedâŠ
Mary and I planned to use my car afterwards to get her to that late flight.
When I heard the news I ran, and somehow expected it all to be part of her âfarewell flourishâ. People were saying that the audience watched her head bounce up horribly, which ultimately caused irreparable damage and killed her very quickly.
Maria did not touch Maryâs limp body, and I have never seen her cry about it. Sheâs just thrown herself into work and doesnât want me to be sad, either. âShe died doing what she lovedâ she says. Sheâs so much stronger than me.
As I watch Maria going through Maryâs routines in those same costumes, I can almost trick myself into believing we never lost her. Maryâs expressions and mannerisms live on in our daughter as if somehow Maryâs spirit is woven into the ceiling of the big top itself; breathing her essence into everything Maria undertakes.
Thank you again to Michelle for choosing the inspirational photo, and I hope you will all join me after the weekend for another story based on a prompt (which I always need your help with, so please visit my Facebook sticky post challenge…link is below).
See you soon!
Pssst!!! I need inspiration for the coming weeks â follow the instructions on my Facebookâs âsticky postâ challenge if you want to help me out by choosing a picture and generator for me to play with!
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!
These are the wordsTextfixerpumped out for me today:
Phenomenal Blame  Heroes  Dolphins  Invention  Jack-knife  Friend  Federal  Hectic
There was a phenomenal amount of press coverage when mum died. Most of the tabloids seemed to hint at dad being to blame. Like all tragic heroes in life, he still thinks that way. His name was cleared pretty quickly, but he regrets not being there that night.
I was there, however. I saw what she did.
âEven dolphins are not monogamous, itâs not an intelligent move to stick with just one loverâ heâd said afterwards, gesturing towards the big pool across the grounds. âItâs just an invention of your romantic mind to think she was all mine. But I loved her.â
I couldnât comprehend him at the time, and I still struggle with that point of view. It had all seemed so simple as I watched her jack-knife to the floor.
Our circus family gathered round us, dad had a friend from university in some federal position that quickened the autopsy; and we were ok again.
Life soon became hectic as my talents were recognised (at long last). I could do all of mumâs stunts, and I brought Marco on board to help; unfortunately, dad refused to perform with me. It was not quite how I had envisioned it, but no matter.
Pssst!!! I need inspiration for the coming weeks â follow the instructions on my Facebookâs âsticky postâ challenge if you want to help me out and choose a picture and generator for me to play with!
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!
Camel  Meat  Prime  Beads  Hangover  Mushroom  Melt  Behold  Illegal
âIn my country, there are camel butchers!â
I am not convinced that this argument should have mentioned the animalâs meat; now not only the keeper but the beast itself was grumpy. I swear that camel could understand everything us humans said.
This is a prime example of why I donât live here. Any time, day or night, there seems to be a passionate exchange. I know these are performing people, but it wears on me. The sequins and beads I can handle, but I like to retreat after the show, not earn a bruised hangover by having a punch-up behind a trailer â while high after Madam Vogeraâs âspecialâ mushroom stroganoffâŠ
I stood watching the strong words escalate, biding my time to step in and calm things down. It is what I do, how I made their icy stares melt when Mary first brought me here. I care about them all, I care about their troubles and see how hard they work. I know they are family to each other in every sense of the word. Lo and behold, just as I thought my services were needed, Ammon said something so ludicrous in his anger that  Gregor leaned against his camel and roared with laughter; which made Ammon follow suit. Then there was the shaking of hands and a promise to share whatever illegal herb was to be added to that nightâs evening meal. I was again glad that I would be heading home for a microwaved meal and some tame television.
I read thison Wikipedia about camel meat. I’m not going to try it any time soon, though.
I wrote today’s piece with eldest going absolutely crackers in the background, so I think the tenses are out and I was also quite surprised it hung together at all…
I am hoping tomorrow’s words boost my imagination and I figure out what the point is behind all this chat the two speakers have given us so far. C’mon subconscious, do your stuff đ
Pssst!!! I need inspiration for next week â please follow the instructions on my Facebookâs âsticky postâ challenge if you want to help me out and choose a picture and generator for me to play with! Thaaaank Yoooou!!
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!
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