JUNE 17th, 2014~Writing 101, Day Twelve: (Virtual) Dark Clouds on the Horizon

Today, take a cue from something you’ve overheard and write a post inspired by a real-life conversation. Revisit a time when you wish you’d spoken up, reminisce about an important conversation that will always stick with you, or tune in to a conversation happening around you right now and write your reaction. Take time to listen — to what you hear around you, or what your memories stir up.

Today’s twist: include an element of foreshadowing in the beginning of your post.


By John Yeo

I find myself wrestling with the danger of rumour and false impression that is very real and can generate a lot of hurt.

Some time ago I met a very old friend, Ena, at the bus stop. There was a couple in front of us, almost oblivious of us, one of them turned to the other and said quite loudly: “She is a thief, it was all over the town, caught red-handed. Mary something, pretty well known, I hear”.

We were sitting on the bus, when Ena nudged me and remarked: “Did you hear that? They must mean, Mary Smith, round the corner. Well I never! I would never have believed that! They said she was well-known here.”

The news spread like wildfire among the locals and Mary soon became ostracised with her reputation ruined. “Keep your children away from that Smith woman! She is a thief and not to be trusted!”

It was not until the truth was revealed that a well known TV star, Mary Stevens had been caught shoplifting, and it was her the idle gossips were referring to.

Sadly our Mary Smith never got to realise who blackened her name, although it became clear to everyone close by that she was innocent.

I wonder, should I speak out, or stay quiet?

Copyright (c) ~Written by John Yeo ~All rights reserved. All characters and situations in this story are fictitious.


JUNE 16th 2014~Writing 101~Day Eleven: Size Matters

Tell us about the home where you lived when you were twelve. Which town, city, or country? Was it a house or an apartment? A boarding school or foster home?  Who lived there with you?

Today’s twist: pay attention to your sentence lengths and use short, medium, and long sentences as you compose your response about the home you lived in when you were twelve.


By John Yeo

 Twelve years of age! To me that is a very long time ago. Yet, I can vividly remember the boarding school, my brother and I attended. I was eighteen months older than brother, Pip.

We were very close, both in age and in our mutual interests.

The school was situated in a small coastal town in England, Clacton-on-sea. The accommodation was divided into houses. We were both assigned to Essex house, under the guidance of a house-master, Mr Goodman, who looked after us, with the help of his kindly lady wife.

A sports field was attached to the school, where we took part in a wide range of sports. Football and cricket predominated with athletics also a  very popular choice. I was scorer for the school cricket team and a batsman, when I was selected. I also enjoyed running. My brother Pip also enjoyed taking part in a variety of sports.

I can almost touch the wooden desks in  the classroom. A blackboard, with chalk and a dusty cloth that the teacher used to clean off the illustrations from the previous lesson. I remember the homework I would work on in the evening, before joining the rest of the boys on the playing field.

Twelve years of age, I was just beginning to notice girls. There was a girls section of the school that was situated across a busy main road. Segregated and separated. Except for the occasional glimpse and a wave, the unattainable girls became very desirable as time passed.

Although our school was near the seaside, I don’t ever remember walking down to the beach which was on the other side of town. We were taken out regularly in school parties to various places, supervised quite closely, then returned to the school in our groups.

I have vivid memories of the food we consumed and the least said the better. Suffice to say I rarely eat rice pudding, porridge, bread pudding or stodgy foods.

A short sentence. A medium sentence composed of a few more words. A lifetime sentence of likes and dislikes brought on by consuming mass catered food at boarding school that was a surprisingly interesting time in my life.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo All rights reservedwriting-101-june-2014-class-badge-2

Writing 101, Day Ten: Happy (Insert Special Occasion Here)!

Tell us about your favourite childhood meal — the one that was always a treat, that meant “celebration,” or that comforted you and has deep roots in your memory. Today’s twist: Tell the story in your own distinct voice


Written by John Yeo

 This very memorable occasion took place a very long time ago in the early 1950’s. My school-friends and I had been looking forward to a huge upcoming get-together for many months. Several schools were meeting-up for an early Christmas lunch, funded by a charity organisation. We were all lively school-kids between the ages of eight and ten years old. 

 The excitement began to mount when we boarded several buses at our school to transport us to the venue. I remember how we were all cheering and laughing and how difficult it was for the masters, (our teachers), to get some order for the journey. They had a hard job on their hands looking after us.

 500 children were seated in a very large building on chairs at wooden tables, arranged in rows, with the teachers and school monitors and prefects scattered strategically around to keep an eye on things. The noise was deafening at first, with a hubbub of chatter, and much laughter resounding everywhere throughout the building. We all soon settled down as we began to tuck into our lunches of roast chicken, roast potatoes and all the trimmings. This was followed by Christmas pudding with custard, and there were crackers to be pulled with jokes and funnies to be read out loud.

 After lunch a very special visitor arrived, dressed in red with a long white beard, Santa Claus entered the building, the cheers and shouts of welcome were deafening. Every child had a present to unwrap, I got a jigsaw puzzle of dogs in the countryside. Then we enjoyed  a magic show with a real conjurer wearing a top hat, who was very mysterious and very clever. Finally we all sang Christmas carols at the tops of our voices and everywhere there was a feeling of happiness and good spirits.

 At the end of the day, 500 very tired, happy children, boarded the buses to return home, some with memories that would last a lifetime.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo, All rights reserved.writing-101-june-2014-class-badge-2

JUNE 12, 2014 Writing 101, Day Nine: Changing Moccasins — Point of View~

A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry. Write this scene.

Today’s twist: write the scene from three different points of view: from the perspective of the man, then the woman, and finally the old woman.


By John Yeo


The Man’s Story

We had to get away from the family and the house as Amelia whispered that she had something important to tell me in private. I suggested a stroll in this beautiful park, I always enjoy walking here among the trees and flowers, watching the birds and it was a beautiful day. Amelia hesitated, then broke the news.The hospital had telephoned to say that the tests she had undergone were completely normal and not cancerous as we had feared. I cried tears of relief and joy as the news sunk in, I couldn’t help myself, I am not normally an emotional man. I gave her a huge hug, with the tears streaming down my face. We then danced a jig together, right there in the middle of the park, laughing out loud.

The Woman’s Story

I am glad Peter brought me to this park where I could tell him the good news in private. We didn’t want the family to worry about our fears for my health, they didn’t suspect I had undergone tests for breast cancer. I had discovered a suspicious lump some time ago and my doctor immediately arranged a barrage of investigative tests, I had received the results today. When I gave Peter the good news he cried. Peter burst out crying, real tears of joy! Then we danced around the park together revelling in the sheer happiness of the moment. There was an elderly lady sitting on a bench nearby knitting, she must have thought we were mad.

The Old Woman’s Story

It was such a beautiful day, I thought I would take my knitting and sit in the park in the sunshine. I must finish this sweater for my grandson Fred’s birthday next week. It is red his colour of the moment, the colour of his favourite football team’s shirts. I noticed this man and woman walking along hand in hand, they seemed quite oblivious of everything around them. Suddenly the woman said something to the man, who stopped in his tracks and burst into tears. I thought they were going to have a row, but they were suddenly laughing, dancing, screaming with laughter and joy. I wonder what that was all about, it really is a funny old world! Knit-one, Purl-one, Knit-one, Purl-one.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo All rights reserved.writing-101-june-2014-class-badge-2


This is the latest Picture, from the picture it and write series from Ermilia’s Blog~


Ermilia Black and White lips

Picture is provided and credited by Ermila


By John Yeo

My Father would laugh about a very strange dream that my Mother had twenty years ago, before I was born.

My Mother insisted one day that she had been abducted by humanoid aliens. They had taken her to a gigantic flying saucer-like machine where she had been made love to by an alien and impregnated with their seed and life force. The aliens had travelled across the universe from their dying planet to implant their seed to save their race. Conditions here on Earth were alien to them and they were unlikely to survive, this was the only way. They were able to distort our timewaves and my Mother awoke in her bed at home the next morning, as if from a dream.

My Father laughed at this dream and made fun of her vivid imagination, he always said Mother was a dreamer and this is a very precious gift to have.

One year later I arrived and Mother and Father were very proud of their new daughter. I had a very happy childhood, I never lacked for anything and I was rarely ill. My parents always asked me about my dreams, Daddy laughingly wondered if I took after my Mother as a dreamer.

 At the age of twenty my features suddenly altered and this unusual growth appeared on my face. I lost the ability to speak, but I found I could read minds and I knew what people were going to say before they opened their mouths. I would actually communicate by thought transference, I found all I had to do was think to make my wishes known.

I was examined by many Doctors, Psychiatrists and Scientists, I succumbed to every known scientific test but there was no logical explanation for the black and white growth.

Then my Father suddenly remembered Mother’s very strange dream and a frission of excitement buzzed around the scientific world. I have many extra unusual abilities and there are two protrusions growing on my back as time passes. I know these are wings and I will be able to fly.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo~ All rights reserved

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Writing 101 Day Seven~Rustic and Flash

Give and Take ~Write a post based on the contrast between two things — whether people, objects, emotions, places, or something else.

Today’s twist: write your post in the form of a dialogue. You can create a strong opposition between the two speakers — a lovers’ quarrel or a fierce political debate, for example. Or you could aim to highlight the difference in tone and style between the two different speakers — your call!



By John Yeo

Hallo Rustic, my friend the ploughman. Pleased to meet you!

Likewise Flash, Moi pleasure you well-suited city-slicker!

Look Rustic, we city dwellers have all the fun and thrills of metropolitan life.

Arrh roight Flash, but we folk in the countryside have the benefits of the peace of Nature.

In the city we have the choice and convenience of many different shops and stores.

Here in our rural paradise we grow fresh food and enjoy the pleasure of real natural taste.

Listen Rustic, city life is fast and furious and we can get to the office easily and network.

Arrh but Flash, here on the farm we get up early, work hard, and commute by tractor.

You country bumpkins rarely get the chance to appreciate real art or the theatre.

Yes but city slickers choke on exhaust fumes all day and get real nature, second-hand.

We have the pleasure here in the city, my rustic friend of mixing with many different cultures and sharing the lifestyles of people from all over the world.

Flash moi over cultured, stressed-out nine-to-fiver, the rural life is very peaceful with low crime rates and the luxury of a slow pace of life.

Rustic you stuck-in-the-farmyard-mud fool! I would not swap my network friends and excitement to live in the countryside.

Flash, you are a close-minded, idiotic, unenlightened twit!  I would hate to be you, living among thousands of city people and still manage to feel very lonely in your concrete apartment.

Copyright (c)  Written by John Yeowriting-101-june-2014-class-badge-2

Writing 101~Day Six~Modern-World Gypsies

Who’s the most interesting person/people you’ve met this year

Today’s twist, turn this post into a character study

Around the World in Words

By John Yeo

We were aboard a medium sized cruise ship visiting ports along the Adriatic coast of the Mediterranean sea. A wonderful itinerary with some interesting ports to visit along the way.

Between destinations, when our ship was at sea, we attended presentations in the form of lectures on a wide variety of subjects.

This is were we came into contact with one inspiring presenter, David who travelled with his wife Janet. An interesting lecturer who gave some sparkling lectures on wildlife and photography, David had a way of presenting his subject, in a very loud enthusiastic voice, backed up by some brilliant examples of his photography, he brought the subject of his lectures to life. He held his audience by virtue of that very loud voice, which he used to good effect to accentuate the flow of his lecture.

We had the pleasure of having dinner with David and Janet allowing us a very good opportunity to meet and converse with the man behind the lectures with his very supportive wife. The conversation flowed, punctuated with much repartee between husband and wife, one of David’s favourite expressions is, “I’m a Cockney, London born and proud of it!”. Between them, both David and Janet had a fund of stories about their previous cruises together, with David remarking “ What other wife enjoys sailing the world with their husband as he lectures on the work he enjoys doing very much?” Janet smiled benevolently obviously enjoying her role as the supportive wife behind the man, although it was obvious to us that she played a very important part in cementing his self-esteem. They have travelled together to many parts of the world, one of their habits was to collect a pebble or a small stone from every port they have visited and take it back to place in their garden in England.

When they were not travelling the world, David had many other ventures on the go, lecturing and teaching photography. He would produce highly-valued large photographic books of country houses for their owners, very individual works of highly illustrated photography with a historic description of the property. Another venture was organising wild life safaris to Africa, where he would extend his photographic library and portfolio.

Yes, this man who travels the world visiting many countries with his supportive lady wife is probably the most memorable character who has crossed our path so far this year.


Copyright © Written by John Yeo, All rights reservedwriting-101-june-2014-class-badge-2


Writing 101, Day Eight~Adverb-less writing


Go to a public location and make a detailed report of what you see. The twist of the day? Write the post without adverbs.



The sun appeared with rays and shadows. I sit at a table overlooking a lake with flowers and reeds along the banks. Birds sing and ducks quack, the peace of the early morning, shattered by voices. Tables, trees and grass with flowers on the banks. A heron hunts then flys away. Sunlight is on the leaves of bushes nearby.


The Outer Limits

In response to a prompt on~ http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/binding-judgment/


By John Yeo

The leather binding was so beautiful, it added something to the overall impression of the delights to come. There was a clasp on the edge that was an indication of the quality of the content to come when the book was opened and the contents perused. The author’s name and the title of this extraordinarly presented work of literacy was hand-tooled in gold leaf. The title modestly emblazoned on the cover and the spine in golden type read,

“The Greatest Story Ever Told”


I cradled the book in my hands and gingerly opened the covers, the leather felt so soft and smooth in my hands as I ran my eye down the contents list and briefly started to read the foreword written by the famous author A.N. OTHER. An ecstatic review of the delights to come followed, the quality of the verbal description and outer limits of the subject was excellent.

I bid for this treasure in the auction and my determination to own this volume knew no bounds, the bidding was brisk, as three other prospective purchasers were bidding furiously to procure the book. The bidding reached £5000.00 for this very collectable work of pointless literature, I managed to purchase the first edition and it is destined to repose on the shelves in my library as a wonderful work of reference, probably unopened until the day arrives when I have nothing to research.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo

All rights reserved

Electric After-Shock

This is the latest Picture, from the picture it and write series from Ermilias Blog~


Erilia~Picture it and write~hando

The Picture is credited and
 provided by Ermila

 I was working as an engineer on high power cables,  strapped to a vehicle with a hoist that lifted me high into the air to enable me to reach the overhead cables. Suddenly I blacked out and I could remember nothing from that instant to this day. I was informed by my working colleagues that I had suffered a massive electric shock and I was very lucky to be alive. Indeed the doctors were proclaiming my escape from serious harm a miracle. My hand although perfectly normal to look at in daylight now glowed in a fluorescent way in the dark. Several illustrious learned men had examined my fluorescent hand and there was intense interest in my sparkling hand.

 I remain here in hospital awaiting the results of countless tests. In the next bed to me is a little boy, Billy, who is dying of terminal cancer, on the other side another victim of an accident, Bob, who is conscious but not expected to live. Billy was very interested in my glowing hand, and in the gloom of a cloudy late afternoon in the ward, he asked if he could touch my hand. I said of course, but don’t tell the doctor. Billy shook hands with me and we could both see a sparkling glow travel between both our hands. Billy smiled, and said he could feel the pleasant warmth spreading throughout his body. Bob in the bed next door asked if he could try it and he also reported a strange feeling of  warmth and electric power racing through his body.

 The results of my tests came through and I went home. A few days later I heard that the doctors were getting praised for the miraculous cures of two patients who had not been expected to live, Billy and Bob’s faces were staring at me from the newspapers.

I contacted them both and asked them to keep our secret and I would try to use my electric aftershock without the nuisance of publicity. I now live in a remote farmhouse and travel to many places to bring my electric magic, then fade away into the background again.

Copyright © written by John Yeo All rights reserved.

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