THE HARMONY CIRCUIT

SUNDAY 23rd AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

THE HARMONY CIRCUIT 

by John Yeo

  Something had pulled the plug and fused the reliable harmony circuit! The fans were staying at home!

 It was always the same, year after year for Brad and his group, ‘The Strangers.’ These young men had been making the rounds for about ten years. Their music was well liked and their fans would pay good money to follow them around and hear them perform. Brad Wilkins was the lead singer, at six foot tall, he had shoulder-length black hair he usually kept tied back in a ponytail. Onstage he would leave his locks flowing freely as he danced and pranced around the various stages of the different venues on the harmony circuit. Then there was his younger brother on drums, nicknamed Shorty Wilkins he was just 5’.5” tall with a shaved head and an earring in each ear that gleamed brightly under the stage lighting.  James Brown on the lead guitar was a stocky fellow of medium height, a singer with a permanent scowl on his face, who was always referred to as the hard man of the group. Finally, on the bass guitar, there was the nondescript cheeky chappy, Barry Hall; always smiling and having fun, well loved by everyone. Barry was average height and build and always wore his trademark beret, to hide his receding blonde hair.

 The group’s voices harmonised beautifully and they were a popular act on the circuit.

 Then the global pandemic arrived and pulled the plug on everything. This virus took everyone by surprise and the group were locked down and out of work.

After four months of inactivity, Brad took a job as a dustman, his brother Shorty worked on the council as a road sweeper. James and Barry both became ill and recovered to a life of unemployment. Life for The Strangers had become extremely strange indeed.

© Written by John Yeo

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ALTERNATING DEFICIENCIES

SATURDAY 22nd AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

ALTERNATING DEFICIENCIES

by John Yeo

The car wouldn’t start and the appointment with the solicitor was extremely urgent. Bill and Katy were going through a painful divorce.

‘I want access to the children on Saturdays.’

Katy refused. ‘No Sunday is more convenient.’

There was always this ongoing argument, backwards and forwards.

To stop them coming to blows the solution was agreed by the court.

Visits would be allowed on alternative Saturdays and Sundays.

This proved to be a good temporary arrangement until it was realised there were alternating deficiencies neither partner would agree to be available on the relevant day. Soon a new day was firmly fixed; it was to be Friday or nothing.

When Bill took his car to the garage the mechanic diagnosed a fault with the alternator. The device that converts mechanical energy into electrical energy in the form of an alternating current,

consequently the battery wouldn’t charge up.

‘You will certainly need a new alternator.’ said the mechanic.

‘Fine!’ Bill replied, ‘When can you fix it?’

‘Next Friday! Our auto electrician only works on Friday.’

Bill swore and said. ‘My life seems to be full of alternating deficiencies at the moment.’

© Written by John Yeo

DOUBLE IMPACT

SATURDAY 22nd AUGUST 2020 ~ FLASH FICTION

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/author/sammicoxwriter/

DOUBLE IMPACT

by John Yeo

Mary was of a nervous disposition, she was due to go for surgery to remove an unwanted growth on her neck. Fortunately for her the growth disappeared. She was elated until a further diagnosis was revealed.

‘Sorry you have an advanced form of cancer.’

Mary, shocked at the impact of this word, just sobbed her heart out.

Then a brand new treatment had an even bigger impact?

(67 WORDS)

I WAS HIS BUT HE WASN’T MINE

FRIDAY 21st AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

I WAS HIS BUT HE WASN’T MINE

by John Yeo

Josephine smiled and looked so divine

As she gave the court her explanation.

‘The fact is, I was his but he wasn’t mine.

~

The Judge smiled, his thoughts to confine

How could this girl kill without compunction? 

Josephine smiled and looked so divine

~

The lawyers pleaded a compassionate line 

Pleading a mental state, her sad Iteration 

‘The fact is, I was his but he wasn’t mine.

~

The jury concentrated, she seemed so benign,

The outcome was sure without complication 

Josephine smiled and looked so divine

~

Witnesses drew a portrait of a man so fine

Josephine had killed without rationalisation 

‘The fact is, I was his but he wasn’t mine.’

~

The judge gave his verdict a cell should confine 

Her to a life of internment and sad isolation 

Josephine smiled and looked so divine

‘The fact is, I was his but he wasn’t mine.’

© Written by John Yeo

HE WAS A WHISTLING WONDER

THURSDAY 20th FEBRUARY 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

HE WAS A WHISTLING WONDER

by John Yeo

  In July 2015, Margaret and I visited La Gomera, a small island in the Canary Islands. This tiny island is extremely mountainous with narrow winding roads leading from valley to valley. The journey from one small village to another could take hours along the narrow, winding roads. 

 In the days before mobile phones arrived, the quickest and most reliable form of communication between the rugged valleys would be a whistling language. This is a historical form of communication the early settlers developed, to pass messages from one high ravine to another. Sadly redundant, in these days of mobile phones, the authorities are trying to preserve this whistling language, through compulsory lessons at school

   Pedro Hernandez was an expert whistler and managed to communicate with the surrounding villages by using this unique whistling language. This was similar to the famous jungle drumbeat form of communication, but this was developed by using the power of breath and the human lips and lungs. Given that whistles can travel much further than normal speech – as far as 8km (5 miles) in open conditions – they are most commonly found in the mountains, where they help shepherds and farmers to pass messages down the valleys. 

  One day a lorry had collided with a car and pushed the car off the road into a deep ravine.

Pedro raised the alarm by whistling the recognised SOS whistle. This was picked up by a farmer in the next valley and passed on to the nearest rescue centre and a rescue helicopter was soon on the way.

Pedro’s whistling abilities were in demand when he was recruited to pass them on to the children in the village schools.

© Written by John Yeo

MANGY MAX

WEDNESDAY 19th AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

MANGY MAX

by John Yeo

The family pet, went by the name of Mangy Max 

An aloof, predatory thoroughbred cat

A furry feline rebel who preferred to relax.

Sleeping on his cushions eating tasty snacks.

Purring and preening on his favourite mat.

The family pet, went by the name of Mangy Max.

~

At night he would prowl out on hunting attacks

Chasing mice and his enemy the wild black rat

Max, a furry, feline rebel who preferred to relax.

Wild rats usually run together in packs

When meeting a mouse, he hissed and spat.

The family pet, went by the name of Mangy Max.

~

He ruled his territory leaving scent in his tracks

Then arrived home following his nocturnal combat

Max, a furry, feline rebel who preferred to relax.

Max left his calling card next door with a splat

The neighbour rushed out shouting ‘Scat!

Do your business elsewhere you pesky cat.’

~

Dawn arrived with the sun and the preening acts

To procure peace away from the hate-word scat

The family pet, went by the name of Mangy Max.

A furry feline rebel who preferred to relax.

© Written by John Yeo

RAW CAKE REALITIES

 TUESDAY 18th AUGUST 2020 

This was written in response to a writing prompt from ‘M’ on WordPress. Which can be found by following the link below

image courtesy of pixabay.com

RAW CAKE REALITIES 

by John Yeo

   Well, the reality is extraordinarily simple. I had never heard about raw cake until today. I mean what is the definition of raw if it’s not uncooked? Every cake I’ve ever eaten in the past has been thoroughly cooked. I was about to call the whole thing off and write about cake in general. Particularly creamy, delicious, high-fat, dangerous to the waistline, gooey, tasty, cream-filled cake. In dietary terminology, ‘forbidden fruit’. 

  Suddenly I had the inspiration to enter raw cake into the Google search engine. 

 ‘What is a raw cake? Often described as “conscious desserts”, raw cakes are free from wheat, gluten, egg, dairy, soy and refined sugar.’ 

 I mean is there anything left? Probably a handful of currants.

I then typed in

Are raw cakes healthy?

 ‘They may look gorgeous and contain healthy ingredients such as fruit and nuts, and may be higher in fibre, vitamins and minerals than more orthodox sweets, but because they are usually made with a lot of dried fruit, nuts and seeds (often with a hefty swig of coconut oil) they are very high in calories.’

Then my search engine put me off raw cake altogether. When it came up with this.

  ‘EATING raw cake mixture, dough or batter could land you with a nasty bout of food poisoning, experts have warned. But while you may worry raw eggs are to blame, you would be wrong! … But don’t worry, your cake and cookies are perfectly fine to eat once they are cooked as the cooking process kills the bacteria.’

© Written by John Yeo

SHADOW MONSTERS

MONDAY 17th AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

SHADOW MONSTERS 

by John Yeo

    Elaine was late coming home after a wonderful evening out with her new friend Robert. They had danced the night away at a local youth club and the time had just flown by. Elaine’s dad was a stickler for timekeeping and she really didn’t want to be late and get grounded. Robert had left her after the youth club had closed, when his Mum arrived to pick him up. They had offered Elaine a lift but she had declined in favour of walking home. In reality she wasn’t ready for her Dad to find out where she had spent the evening.  However there was just one way of getting home on time before her Dad’s deadline time and that was to take a shortcut through the local cemetery. 

    The gate was always open, day and night, no one ever bothered to lock the gates at nighttime for obvious reasons.

 The gate squeaked eerily when she pushed it open. Elaine shuddered to think of the short walk past the rows of headstones. An Owl hooted from the top of an Oak tree. Elaine’s heart was in her mouth as she broke into a run along the pathway.  A sharp wind blew and the trees alongside the pathway were bending and leaning towards her as she quickly ran past. There was a shape lying on one of the benches in the shadows that seemed to be a body. Elaine ran faster and faster until she raced through the gates at the other end and was soon at home knocking on the front door.

    ‘Hello Elaine, you are out of breath! Have you been running? You look all pale as if you’d seen a ghost. Come inside in the warm.’ exclaimed her Dad as he closed the door behind her.

   ‘Thanks Dad, I didn’t want to be late home so I ran.’

    ‘Silly girl, we wouldn’t have worried if you were a few minutes late.’

© Written by John Yeo

DIFFICULT DAYS

SUNDAY 16th AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

August writing prompts

Image courtesy of pixabay.com

DIFFICULT DAYS

by John Yeo

Charlotte was despairing of work on Mondays

It always too busy at her waitress station 

Mondays were always her most difficult days.

~

Yet the diners were satisfied and full of praise

Of her efficiency and always careful attention 

Charlotte was despairing of work on Mondays.

~

Charlotte started the week in a dreadful malaise

Then gradually got over her initial frustration 

Mondays were always her most difficult days.

~

Work was always a joy during her happy phase

Everyone was impressed by her dedication 

Charlotte was despairing of work on Mondays.

~

Her contrasting demeanour never ceased to amaze

She happily worked hard without compunction

But Mondays were always her most difficult days.

~

Management decided her work to appraise 

Ordering a four day week as the only solution 

Charlotte was despairing of work on Mondays

Mondays were always her most difficult days.

© Written by John Yeo

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HE WORE A YELLOW BANDANA

SATURDAY 15th AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction writing prompt by M on WordPress. Which can be found by follow the link below.

August writing prompts

Yellow bandana

HE WORE A YELLOW BANDANA

by John Yeo

  The leader of the Harley crew was Gizmo Green, a man who worshipped his gleaming mean machine. He always wore his trademark yellow bandana over his mouth.This branch of the Hells Angels were devoted to doing as much good in the world as they possibly could. Their fearsome appearance in their leather motorcycle outfits was enough to put people off. Leave alone their long hair and unkempt beards which were enough to instantly breed suspicion in the minds of the police. 

 On the day of a horrendous accident on a major motorway the Hells Angels chapter were on their way to the coast to generally have a good time and raise hell. A train had been derailed from a line alongside the motorway. One carriage had landed upside down on the motorway blocking all three lanes. Scores of people were injured. The Hells Angels were able to get through the blocked lanes on their motorcycles and offer their help. The police and the emergency services were taken aback and the Angels were soon recruited to carry messages and ferry people away from the motorway. When things settled down the Hells Angels chapter roared off on their way to the coast.

  Some time later when the story got around everyone seemed to be searching for the wild man on a motorcycle wearing a yellow bandana. 

 © Written by John Yeo