PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ FUMIGATION

This is a latest Picture it and Write prompt from Emilia’s blog ~ 22ndNovember 2015

https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2015/11/22/picture-it-write-78/

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As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia.

FUMIGATION

by John Yeo

Many candles were burning at the funerals.

An assassin was gunned down by police after a shocking murder. In an act of suicidal determination, he had pulled the trigger on a well loved respected man.
Masses of tearful people were stunned. Five hundred people were gathered together, to express their sadness at the death of a heroic saviour of the town. A scientist who had perfected an antidote for poison in the water, that had been killing the children.

Many candles were burning at the funerals.

For days the local population had been suffering from severe symptoms of poisoning, many children were affected first, and several died. It was thought to be a severe form of food poisoning, that affected the nervous system and had a fatal effect on the children.

Many candles were burning at the funerals.

Dr Qwerty was a young scientific investigator, called in by the town council to investigate. After extensive tests he had pinned the problem down to the water supply and developed a revolutionary antidote that restored the water to its original pristine freshness.
When the final report came to light, it was revealed, Dr Qwerty had discovered high levels of lead in the drinking water, and he came to the conclusion that the water had been deliberately contaminated.

Many candles were burning at the funerals.

The unknown assassin was a member of a feared team of mercenary killers hired to cast doubt on the deceased, in an amazing double bluff.
Some pessimistic folk blamed the unstable political situation, and maintained that lead was deliberately introduced into the water supply by persons unknown, in a cold hearted attempt to create unrest and sow seeds of doubt.

Many candles were burning at the funerals.

 

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ CRAPS

This is a latest Picture it and Write prompt from Emilia’s blog ~ 8th November 2015

https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2015/11/08/picture-it-write-77/

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As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia.

CRAPS

by John Yeo

  Tommy and Billy passed an alley in town, a group of young men were standing in a circle shooting dice. The excitement was contagious and the two teenagers were drawn to watch. The two boys were intrigued and curious to be involved.
     “Hey! Have a try and score, this is an easy way to make lots of money.” said one of the players.

    “I haven’t got any money, only our Mummy’s shopping money, We are both running errands.” said Billy

  “Don’t worry! Use that. You are sure to double your money. I’ve only been playing a few weeks and I’ve been winning regularly. I’m Wolfie, I’ll look after you.”

 Tommy said to Billy, “No way brother, we could get into mischief here, you have Mums shopping to get and I have something belonging to our old Dad in my pocket that could help get us into trouble.”

 Billy knew what that meant, winked, then turned to Wolfie and said, “Wolfie, that’s an unusual name, could you show us how to play? We haven’t got much time or much money, but we would like to try.”

      “Well done,” said Wolfie, “Meet Foxy, we will show you the ropes.”
Wolfie and Foxy threw the dice a few times, to show the brothers how to play and a game was soon underway. Soon the boys were steadily losing and it came to Tommy’s turn to roll the dice.
Tommy suddenly slipped on the hard pavement and fell, everyone rushed to help him get up. No one noticed the sleight of hand as he swapped the dice for Daddies legacy.
A few minutes later the boys luck had turned and they had doubled their money.
       “Raise the stakes! I am on a roll, the dice are breathing and alive.” Tommy got very excited.

Wolfie and Foxy looked increasingly upset at this change of fortune. Sirens suddenly could be heard nearby and everyone ran away fast. Street gambling is illegal everywhere, and as the two villains were running away, Wolfie slipped on some dogs crap and a pigeon crapped on Foxy.

Tommy had the dice in his hand as the two brothers entered the local grocery store laughing.
     “Dad was smiling on us today, from on high.” said Billy, “Craps was definitely his favourite pastime.”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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Image from the net

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Image from the net

 

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PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ A DIGNIFIED EXIT

This is a latest Picture it and Write prompt from Emilia’s blog ~ 1st November 2015

https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2015/11/01/picture-it-write-76/

Ermila's Lady in Red

As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia.

A DIGNIFIED EXIT

by John Yeo

  She sat on the throne of swords, denoting the powerful influences of the razor sharp effects of her power. The power of life and death that she was able to wield with a nod of her regal head, flowing with the long blonde hair of a Warrior Queen.
The ceremonial robes she was attired in, were made from red and grey woven silk. Her enemies said she always wore red, when she sat on the throne, to denote the blood-soaked terror of the untold thousands of deaths in her wars of terror, in pursuit of alluring power.
  A fearsome sight to behold as she was leading her generals, riding on a black thoroughbred stallion, into battle, with her long blonde hair streaming behind her!
One mysterious day, she cut off her long blond hair, then wrapped the tresses in the blood-red robes, after placing the package on the throne of swords, she rode off into the night.
  Her disappearance took the world by surprise. After a cryptic announcement, delivered on the last day, she ever sat on the throne of swords.

  “Power once attained is too dangerous to retain.”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ THE FACE OF HIDDEN FEELING

This is a belated Picture it and Write prompt from Emilia’s blog 25th October 2015

https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2015/10/25/picture-it-write-75

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As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia.

THE FACE OF HIDDEN FEELING

by John Yeo

I am the one who knows the real me, deep inside I am angry and unhappy.
My eyes are blind, but my soul can see, the futility and prejudice in this unhappy world. My hands have been painted with wide open eyes to give the illusion of sight. When I remove my hands to touch and feel, my eyes will always be unable to see, the pain and sorrow in this unhappy world.
The eyes in my soul will never shed tears, in sympathy or sadness. I have had the artist describe my looks, to reflect a face I will never see, in any mirror that will work for me.

And yet….

I am the one who knows the real me, deep inside I am happy and carefree.
My eyes are blind but my soul can see, the hope for the future of this wonderful world. My hands have been painted to create a disguise and present an illusion of sight. When my hands are removed the painted eyes will never reflect a smile, to mirror the happiness and hope I feel, in this magical mysterious world. The eyes in my soul will forever light up with the joy and happiness I feel. I have had the artist describe my looks, to reflect a face I will never see, in any mirror that will work for me.

Which of my faces is hiding from you, behind my painted hands.

That, I will never, ever, allow you to see!

Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ A HARSH REALITY

This is the latest Picture it and Write prompt from Ermilia’s blog

https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2015/10/11/picture-it-write-74/

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As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia.

PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ A HARSH REALITY

by John Yeo

     The very wealthy man had a vision, he approached the local authorities with a large sum of money, to be used for the good of the local people who still lived in the town where he grew up as a lad.

     The plan was for a green space, with flowerbeds, pretty shrubs, and trees where wild birds were able to perch and nest. Many benches were to be strategically set up, to allow elderly folk or mothers to rest while their children were at play. Waterfowl were to be encouraged to swim on the stream, flowing through this oasis of rest and tranquility and a yearly annuity would be set aside for the upkeep and maintenance of his dream.

    His plan was welcomed with open arms by the grateful folk, who served on the town council, and an agreement was quickly reached. The Mayor named the park after this very generous benefactor, and a statue of him was erected in a small enclosed garden in the centre of this beautiful green, open space, in memorium of his generosity.

     Ten years later there was an extraordinarily brutal killing in the town, and the news media were congregating at an overgrown, neglected, little-used open space set in the middle of an urban conurbation. A young lady was standing alone with tears streaming down her cheeks, amid the littered open area, in the centre of this rundown little park. Empty beer cans and plastic bags were everywhere under the rusted broken seats and carelessly tossed into a stream that was flowing through. A moss-covered, chipped and broken, unrecognisable statue had been overturned and upended into the water.

           “Why are you crying Miss?” Asked a hard-bitten seen-it-all news reporter.

      “I cry for the love of my Grandfather who had a dream that is now shattered and smashed by unthinking unashamed vandals. I cry for the visible drop in the standards of living, that allows the memory of a very caring man to be ground into the dirt and detritus of drink-sodden ne’er-do wells. Above all I cry for justice to be meted out to the killers of my beloved sister who was abused and murdered here in the very place where his dream came to fruition. God may have mercy on their vicious souls! “

Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ THE PAINTED SMILE

This is the latest Picture it and Write prompt from Ermilia’s blog

https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2015/10/04/picture-it-write-73/

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As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia

THE PAINTED SMILE

by John Yeo

   Everyone else was laughing, except for me, I was embarrassed for her and felt her pain. Children can be cruel to one another sometimes, especially when someone looks slightly different to the norm. Mandy was born with a birth defect to her mouth in the shape of a permanent smile, the other children called her names and she was continually bullied.

  I became her friend, we went everywhere together.
I arranged to meet her after our classes that day. She came into view wearing green and pink wellington boots, the rain hadn’t stopped for two whole weeks and muddy puddles were everywhere.

      ‘Hi Mandy! Would you like to come for a coffee? I am having trouble with the homework project and I want your help.’

   There was no response and Mandy avoided eye-contact, I looked at her closely and I could see tears in her eyes. I had been taken in at first by the painted smile that hid poor Mandy’s tears. She stamped her foot into a large muddy rainwater puddle and sobbed.
      ‘Why won’t they leave me alone, I hate it when they laugh at my face, I wish I was normal.’

     ‘Oh Mandy, I am so sorry you are feeling down, I think you are pretty, that smile is infectious, you always cheer me up whenever I see you.’

  Mandy stamped very hard into another puddle making a large splash.
‘I want to look normal and angry when people tease me so I can stop them from hurting me.’ Mandy said, kicking the water again with her boots splashing water everywhere.

   I then had an idea, what if we covered her mouth with very heavy makeup that would hide her false smile and see how she got on in class with a natural scowl.

     ‘Mandy I have an idea, let’s go and visit my Grandma who was a makeup artist, I am sure we will get some help from her.’

      ‘Oh thank you!’ Mandy said with a smile that I am sure was a real smile this time.

    My Gran worked wonders and hid the permanent smile with some special makeup. Mandy was delighted with the result and wearing her new scowl she went back to school.  

   A different Mandy emerged, more confident, she began to single out the abusive bullies but instead of seeking revenge she befriended the girls and became very popular.

  Then she asked my Gran to remove the makeup.

      When the rain came down again Mandy was dancing through the puddles in her green and pink wellies, singing in the rain with her natural smile on her face again.

Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ RAGS AND MR. POTTS

This is the latest Picture it and Write prompt from Ermilia’s blog

https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2015/09/20/picture-it-write-71/

Ermilia dog-with-stick-having-trouble-getting-up-stairs

As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia

RAGS AND MR. POTTS

by John Yeo

   At last we own our own property, we are so proud it belongs to us, lock, stock and barrel. There is a lot of work to be done it is very rundown and we have boxes and stacked everywhere on the bare wooden floorboards.
  Our pet mongrel dog Rags, has settled in, always barking at the slightest noise or a strange passing dog.
Cindy and I are energised and we are decorating the house from top to bottom.

Cindy has an organising mind and this morning she said.
      “We will sleep in the downstairs front room until we finish the bedrooms off”

   “That’s OK by me!” I reply. “Hey! Look at that dog, what is he doing with that old stick someone has wedged across the stairs? He is trying to get that out from there!”

     “Oh, Rags, come here you silly boy!” Cindy shouts.

    “Oh leave him, at least it is the outside stairs.”

   Mrs Brown our nearest neighbour pops in for a chat and a cup of tea, bringing a hamper of groceries,
     “Just to tide you over dears, until you can get to the local store.”

    “Thanks so much!” I respond, “Can I pay you for them?”

     “No don’t be do silly! I would like you to take them as a good neighbourly gift.”

  Mrs Brown sits on a packing-case drinking a cup of Cindy’s special brew tea.

     “Did you hear the story of old Mr Potts, who last lived here, he was a very eccentric tyrant of a man. He would always be chasing the local kids away if they wandered off the path out front, on to his drive. He would charge out of the house waving a big stick to scare them away, every time anyone passed by.”

    “No!” We chorused.

  Mrs Brown took another sip of tea. “Well he was a bit of a hermit, living alone and not mixing with anyone socially. Rumour has it that he would drink vast quantities of home-brewed cider and get very drunk. One day he tripped over a stick on your back stairs, very drunk and not looking where he was going. He lay at the bottom of those stairs for a whole week before he was discovered, sadly he died on the way to the hospital.”

  Cindy refilled Mrs Browns teacup, as we sat listening to this tragic tale.

     “Well!” She continued. “Rumour has it that someone deliberately lodged that stick there to trip him up, but there was never any proof and nobody is owning up to anything.”

  At this point there was a loud barking from around the back as Rags, tired of trying to dislodge that pesky stick, just sat there barking at nothing, there was no one to be seen.

  When Mrs Brown saw this and noticed the stick lodged across the back stairs she nearly fainted with the shock. Cindy gave her a glass of water and produced some smelling salts. When Mrs Brown came around she was alarmed.

     “Surely that is not the same stick that was responsible for the death of Mr Potts! How did that get there?” She cried.

    “Oh! That stick has been there since we moved in!” I said, “Rags has been going potty trying to get it out, we thought he was just having a game, but after hearing your story now! I wonder?”

  We both finish the day working non-stop, flat out to get as much done as possible before it gets too dark.

  As we settle down to sleep Cindy whispers. “Good Night darling, I hope our little house is not haunted by the ghost of Mr Potts!”

  “Good night Cindy! Don’t worry, Rags will see him off!”

Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ MIRROR DISTORTED DEFLECTION

This is the latest Picture it and Write prompt from Ermilia’s blog

https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2015/09/13/picture-it-write-70/

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Original image by Michelle Monique.

As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia

MIRROR DISTORTED DEFLECTION

by John Yeo

My friends and family in fact everybody I come into contact with, all tell me how wonderful I am looking. My boyfriend is so very proud of me, he does everything in his power to encourage me to go out with him as he would like to introduce me to his friends and family.
I always make an excuse not to go anywhere. How can I be seen in public looking like this? Why do people tell lies all the time and compliment me on my looks? I know how ugly I am, I can see myself in the mirror.
When I try to tell my parents why I am not a sociable person, they laugh and tell me not to be shy, then they tell me how beautiful I am.
Can’t people see these horrible black marks all over my face and hands? They look like tattoos! I have never been near a tattoo shop in my life.
My friend Cynthia is always telling me not to be so silly, she says I am lovely and slim and beautiful. I know she is lying though, as she is always going on about how fat she looks in the mirror, yet she is slimmer than I am. My Mum says she is an anorexic and she can’t help it.
I have to pretend to be ill all the time so that I can stay indoors, my Dad thinks I am a hypochondriac. When I asked the doctor if I could have plastic surgery, he laughed and asked me what for? When I told him, he wasn’t laughing anymore, he thinks I need to see a specialist Psychological doctor.
My Dad got angry and said that’s a waste of time and money as there is nothing wrong with me.
I don’t look in the mirror anymore!

Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ AN ARDUOS JOURNEY

This is the latest Picture it and Write prompt from Ermilia’s blog

https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2015/08/29/picture-it-write-69/

Ermilia's Desert
Original image found here: http://www.thedesignwork.com/weird-pictures As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia

AN ARDUOS JOURNEY

by John Yeo

The travellers were weary on the trail through a parched, dry, arid, waterless wasteland. The sand stretched out for miles in every direction. Then the wind whipped up sandstorms that penetrated every orifice in their outer clothing into the very pores of the skin beneath.
Fresh water is the most valuable substance here and every drop is conserved and squeezed out to the best effect, to enable the survival of the travellers.
Sadly the pack animals are the first to suffer and drop, refusing to go on, simply giving up the struggle to continue. Our only course of action is to grant them a merciful release from the torture of death by a slow painful thirst that eventually turns everything to dust.
The jeep and the all terrain vehicles struggle to keep a grip on the sandy desert floor as the exploration search party continues on their perilous quest.

“The tree of life is our goal, we will know it when the rain time arrives!” Blind old Pete said offhandedly.
Blind old Pete was actually a twenty-four year old medical scientist who was colour blind.
“When the what? arrives!” Marg exclaimed derisively. “I don’t think this place has ever been rained on ever.”
They both laughed, almost conspiratorially, they had been very good friends for years.
Donald Prestwick, a leading medicinal botanist, laughed loudly at this exchange. “We are searching for a particular tree that survives for long periods without water. We need to harvest some of the dark grey bark, which is reputed to have unique anti-ageing properties that could be the key to longevity in humanity allowing some people to triple their lifespans.”
Blind old Pete grinned at Marg and pointed to yet another vicious-looking whirlwind on the horizon. “We’d better take cover! ” He shouted.
After the storm had abated and passed on, the travellers had to dig the vehicles out before continuing their journey.
Suddenly there were dead-looking trees all around the vehicles. Marg had never seen such a bleak prospect in all her days.
“Surely these trees are dead, not the wonder-bark that is going to make us all very wealthy!” She exclaimed
The Don, as Donald Prestwick had affectionately been re-named, behind his back, almost jumped for joy.
“Yes! Please take as many samples as possible, we need a good supply to work with when we get back to the lab.”

Then the arduous return journey was soon underway, many times there were holdups due to vehicle problems and eventually our versatile trusty mechanic Willie, almost gave up as the jeep died, but miraculously was nursed back to life again.
We almost missed our main watering oasis on the way back due to a faulty compass reading. However after some more sparkling adventures in the desert, our only thought was to get back home.
Some weeks later we were all back in our super sterile lab, measuring and testing the precious samples.
Marg thought inwardly, “It will be many more years before any of the expected wealth arrives! The memories are preserved and my long, probably tripled, average life expectancy will be enhanced by the addition of the royalties to come.

Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

Ermilia's Desert

Original image found here: http://www.thedesignwork.com/weird-pictures As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia

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PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ THE NIGHTMARE

This is the latest Picture it and Write prompt from Ermilia’s blog

https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2015/08/16/picture-it-write-68/

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As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia

THE NIGHTMARE

by John Yeo

“It doesn’t hurt much Doc. Really, I don’t know why I am troubling you, I get a little twinge every now and then, especially at night when I am lying in bed.” I said, making light of the whole thing, I just wanted something to ease the pain and I would be on my way again.
“Hmm! I think I had better take a look, it is odd that the symptoms you describe are happening at night when there is no weight on your legs.” The doctor replied. “Go behind the screen and take off your trousers.”
When the Doctor saw my green legs with the cactus spines clearly visible he gasped.
“How long have you been like this? When did it start? How did it all begin? I need you to be truthful to enable me to make a diagnosis.”
“Well Doctor, I have just returned from a trip to the jungles of Borneo where we encountered an unknown Indian tribe. We were introduced to the chieftain and were offered liquid refreshment by his wife. Most of our fellow travellers politely refused and drank water from their water bottles, except for Jones, my closest friend and myself. The proffered drink was a golden flecked green liquid that was very sweet made from a rare cactus plant. We were so taken with the refreshing effects of this mild looking drink that we both consumed several more.”
“How and where is Jones!” Exclaimed the doctor.
“Ah! Jones died after being bitten by a very poisonous snake that coiled around his neck searching for an entrance to his bodily fluids.” I replied.
“I suffered no visible ill effects until I got back to England. A week later I was invited to afternoon tea with Lord and Lady Gommersole. Then the trouble started I was offered tea in a beautiful bone china teacup with the Gommersole crest finely displayed, as I raised the cup to my lips, to my horror it seemed to have grown vicious poisonous looking spines. I threw the cup to the floor and it was destroyed. I was ejected from the tea party and from that moment every cup I try to drink from seems covered in spines.”
“Hmm, when did the legs begin to swell and grow these lethal looking spines?” Enquired the doctor patiently.
“The night before last, I suddenly found myself writhing in pain in bed”
“I have to say I have never encountered a malady such as this in my entire forty year long career as a Doctor. My first thought is immediate amputation of both legs to counter the night time painful effects and a period in a secure psychiatric institution to explore the nasty hallucinations. Just sign these appropriate forms granting permission for your operation and I will make the necessary hospitalisation arrangements.”

“Nurse, send in the next patient please! “

 

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Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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