CONFUSION 

  WEDNESDAY 7th APRIL 2021 ~ FLASH FICTION ~ POETRY

This prompt is from the ‘Story a Day’ site. Wednesday writing prompts. Hosted by Julie Duffy

The Prompt ~ Your character is searching for something…and time is running out.

CONFUSION 

by John Yeo

There is something I desperately need to know,

I must find out where I am! My location!

I lie here soul-searching for a solution,

My mind slips in and out of the flow.

My thoughts are the centre of my meditation.

Where am I? How did I get in this situation?

The answers are there and they come and they go,

I must find out where I am! My location!

I search hard to get control of the motion.

Of the patterns of thought fast and slow.

Where am I? How did I get in this situation?

I am paralyzed with mental frustration,

The clues are there and I know as I follow

I must find out where I am! My location!

My memory was good, many years ago,

Instant recollection, free from sorrow.

Where am I? How did I get in this situation?

My character of the moment is a solitary man who is recovering  consciousness from a massive car collision. He crawled away into a nearby thick, woody, copse, at the side of the road, where he became unconscious. Slowly, as he recovers his sense of awareness, he realises he is losing blood fast, drifting in and out of reality, he begins to search for himself with the slow realisation that his time is running out.

©  Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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PUFFY-EYED PIXIES

MONDAY 29th MARCH

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..

Prompt ~PUFFY-EYED PIXIES

https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2021/03/01/march-2021-writing-prompts/

Image ~ Wikipaedia.com

PUFFY-EYED PIXIES

by John Yeo

This is the place where the dream was created,

A peaceful glade deeply shaded by trees. 

Where answers by the puffy-eyed pixies were related.

~

After daylight along a shady path a surprise awaited

The discovery of the pixies always happy to please

This is the place where the dream was created.

~

A tree-lined path subject to many myths was located

Fairies and little people living here with their ease 

Where answers by the puffy-eyed pixies were related.

~

The sad puzzle of a man with an ass head frustrated,

Rumoured to be magically transformed by degrees.

This is the place where the dream was created.

~

The Bottom of this conundrum was never clearly stated,

The Fairy King and Queen did their best to appease

Where answers by the puffy-eyed pixies were related.

~

The pixies in the dream Shakespeare demonstrated, 

Midsummer night, puffy-eyes, shady, well-pleased.

This is the place where the dream was created

Where answers by the puffy-eyed pixies were related.

~

 © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

LAUGHING LIKE LUNATICS

SATURDAY 27th MARCH 2021

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..

Prompt ~LAUGHING LIKE LUNATICS

https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2021/03/01/march-2021-writing-prompts/

LAUGHING LIKE LUNATICS


by John Yeo



MIke and Steve Jones were laughing like crazy,

  ‘That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen, there was Ferdinand, our miserable neighbour, talking to a dandelion in his back garden.’

  A crowd of assorted patrons of, ‘The Dog and Duck’ gathered around the pair, sensing a welcome bit of a laugh. Mike started the tale.

     ‘Our garden was a mess, there had been an incredible North wind overnight that savagely tore through the garden. I leaned on my spade and surveyed the damage, branches and leaves had been ripped from our trees and were lying everywhere.’

  Ferdinand, our grumpy next door neighbour, was working in his garden, clearing up, when Steve winked at me and crept to the adjoining fence.

 I guessed what was going to happen next, in view of his ventriloquist talents, little did I know how brilliantly it would work.

   Steve threw a tiny voice and whispered  ‘Please don’t tread on me!’
  Shaken, as he thought he was totally alone, Ferdinand wheeled around in surprise.

   ‘I’m down here! Next to your incredibly large foot.’
Ferdinand scowled and looked down to find there was nothing there except dandelions, daisies and grass.

   ‘I can’t see you! If you are real and not a figment of my imagination, make yourself visible!’ he growled. 

  At this point we were both doubled up, shaking with laughter desperately trying not to laugh out loud. 

    Steve continued in the tiny voice ‘Look again! I am the good looking one with the purest yellow petals and a heart of gold.’ 

  Ferdinand looked around wildly and made to get away from there fast.

    ‘No! Don’t go please, I would love to talk to you about many things.’ begged the dandelion.

   ‘What do you mean by petals and a yellow heart? Do you mean to say you are a common dandelion? If so, I can’t tell one of you from another, you all look the same to me!’
The tiny dandelion’s voice reflected a note of annoyance as it politely stated.
  ‘Less of the common, big-feet. We have a unique way of survival that excludes individuality and we are rooted here as one. Funny though, I can never differentiate the different clodhoppers that stomp  around and squash our leaves and petals!    

    ‘That’s amazing!’ shouted Ferdinand to the array of dandelions around his feet.

  Then came a sound that was suspiciously like a giggle coming from the vicinity of the fence. Then a chuckle was clearly evident leading to an embarrassing roar of laughter, that led to enormous fits of laughter. 

Ferdinand’s face became bright red as he realised the implication of these odious sounds and remembered his neighbour was a ventriloquist and very skilled at throwing his voice.
We were both curled up laughing uncontrollably like lunatics.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

SHADY LAMPS


WEDNESDAY 24th MARCH 2021

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..

Prompt ~SHADY LAMPS

https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/2021/03/01/march-2021-writing-prompts/


SHADY LAMPS

by John Yeo


  The housemaster silently checked the dormitory to find 10 of the 20 beds had shaded lights where the occupants were reading under the bedclothes after lights out. He made no attempt to disturb them and silently left them alone. The next day in the Grammar session the teacher smiled and informed the class of the dangers of a lack of restful sleep. I yawned visibly as I drifted into an intense daydream.

   The lecture was long and intricately constructed of facts that had been stitched together in a cycle of repetition to set the mind drifting. Looking out of the window at the pouring rain. I liked the look of a flaxen haired girl riding by on a cycle. I believe there is life on the other side. Would you believe if the world was two sided, dreams could be split in two? The culmination of this interpretation is that dreams are an ongoing fantastical spread of nocturnal desire, flooding diurnal dreams with ideas that could never be shattered. That girl with the flaxen hair has become a part of my personal individual stream. In a world that is well grounded she is now a part of my diurnal dream, simply waiting to become a part of my nocturnal dream. Perhaps to be visualised as a character in my stream of nocturnal reading with the aid of shady lamps.

Copyright. © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

BANGING OUT A DISH

SATURDAY 20th MARCH 2021

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..

Prompt ~ BANGING OUT A DISH



BANGING OUT A DISH

by John Yeo

 The auctioneer’s assistant was gingerly holding up an unusual solid silver dish. The dish was lavishly decorated with engraved images of fruit and flowers. Billy the assistant was holding his breath, this was reputed to be an extraordinary piece of work. The illustrations were incredibly ornate and the markings on the base indicated that this piece originated in Russia. The professional theory was that this dish had been stolen and secretly smuggled into Britain. Rumour had it that this incredibly historical dish had once belonged to a girlfriend of Ivan the Terrible; the Tzar of all the Russia’s in the sixteenth century, who had presented a full dinner service to her as a gift to seduce her. This exquisite piece of silver was part of that set; the remainder of which was now housed in the famous Hermitage museum in St. Petersburg. Billy could feel his hand trembling slightly as this information was passed to the assembled buyers in the auction room.

 The auctioneer started his patter; the bidding was fierce and competitive between two buyers. 

  Finally with the words, ‘In banging out a dish of this historical quality, before I bring the gavel down for the final bang have I any further bids?’

 Right at that moment a man dressed strangely in a Russian Cossack outfit leapt at Billy waving a sword.

    ‘This is a bloodstained dish tainted with the blood of creatures consumed by creatures. Bloodstains that will never wash away!’

  Billy, in a shocked defensive reaction, threw the dish at the approaching swordsman. The dish bounced off the attackers head and then fell to the floor with a sickening, damaging thud.

 The Auctioneer, shocked; dropped his gavel, picked up a gun and shot the menacing intruder dead.

 History, in the form of a badly dented valuable dish, lay sedately on the  saleroom floor.

  The buyer claimed his property, maintaining he had secured a bargain as any competent silversmith would be able to restore it to its former glory by simply banging out the dents.

 © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

PARTY FANATICS 

FRIDAY 15th MARCH 2021

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..

Prompt ~ PARTY FANATICS 

PARTY FANATICS 

by John Yeo

  It was a special day of celebration for the Beelzebubs. Horatio, the eldest son in the Beelzebub family had reached his first century and the family were keen to raise hell.

  ‘Father! We must invite everyone in our social circle.’

   The head of the family flicked his tail across the table and responded. ‘Of course son the word will be spread through all the neighbouring covens, dens and magic circles at once.’

    Messengers were dispatched, the arrangements were finalised and preparations were soon completed.

  The night arrived, the guests flew and slithered towards the venue and the party was soon underway. 

   Devils, witches, wizards, and goblins were soon rocking the night away. A banquet was served of deviled kidney stew, sour cream sauce and blood red wine, mingled together in a heady brew keeping the evil frivolity under way. Horatio danced with an attractive witch with a head full of live snakes hissing to the beat of the music. It was difficult to find any room to spare as the monsters were at play. Everyone was having a terribly good time celebrating this special birthday when something occurred to break the spell. There was a loud bong, when a clang of the doorbell-gong announced a late arrival. A phantom butler answered the door, then jumped back in horror and fright.

  There in a shining white clerical collar stood a ghastly frightful nightmarish sight, a priest stood smiling broadly.

     ‘Good evening to you; can I speak to the person who is responsible for this party please?’

  The party-host, looked hard, scrutinised the interloper closely.

     ‘Who are you? Can I see your invitation card? This is a private haunting party.’

The priest, put his hands up in horror and said,

    ‘I’m not here to party. I’m here to complain. Would you kindly keep the noise down, the noise in the graveyard is waking the dead.’

   It was then the turn of the host to smile as he motioned the priest to enter.

  ‘Here is a special invitation card, stay with us for a while as we wait for our friends from the graveyard. Stay and enjoy the party.’

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

BLOODY BRILLIANT

TUESDAY 16th MARCH 2021

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..

Prompt ~ BLOODY BRILLIANT



BLOODY BRILLIANT


by John Yeo


Two people are playing chess. One person can read minds, the other person can see the future.

  ‘I know the result is surprising, the funeral is a surprising affair. A double funeral! I like the floral arrangements of chess pieces. When I advance this piece she will be surprised.’

  ‘What is he thinking about? Double funeral! I can read him like a book, he wants me to take the offered pawn, well I’m not going to! I’ll move this Bishop over here and take him by surprise.’

  ‘Ha! I could see that coming and I saw her next move. I wonder what she would make of the fact that her husband didn’t bother to attend her funeral. My wife attended and the rest of the family. I wish they hadn’t shed so many tears over my death. The way she brought that Bishop into play was a cheeky move. We will soon need a Bishop to conduct our double funeral.’

  ‘What’s that nonsense? Is he crazy? We are playing an important match here and all he can think about is death. Utter bloody nonsense. At the back of his mind there is a foggy area where the future should be. Perhaps he is right to be thinking about death. He’s certainly not considering a result in his mind. That line of thought and checkmate move wasn’t a bad idea, I think I’ll have to block him here, I’ll play my Rook allowing me to mate him in three.’

 ‘How did she figure that move out? Anyone would think she was a mind reader the way she can outplay my most obscure lines. Any minute now it will be curtains for both of us. Lady, if you can read my mind; start praying now. I will bring this pawn into play to bring the endgame closer.’

‘What the heck? I think he’s onto me. Here goes my unplanned assault…..…….. Bloody brilliant!’

“Checkmate!” 

A shout came from the audience as a man dressed in battle fatigues rose and sprayed both players with an automatic machine gun; killing them both instantly.
 

 © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

THUMB SUCKING SISTER

THURSDAY 14th MARCH 2021

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..

Prompt ~ THUMB SUCKING SISTER

THUMB SUCKING SISTER

by John Yeo

The Dawson sisters were identical twins. Judging by looks; it was hard to tell one from another. Yet somehow, it was easy, once you got to know them well. One of the sisters was extremely introverted by nature and the other sister developed exactly the opposite characteristics. I will let the story unfold and allow the reader’s natural judgement to separate our twins. It was the time of the school Christmas pantomime; which was to be ‘Cinderella,’ this year. The twins, Cleo and Marie, were desperate to be in their first stage show. They went to the audition together, where the only roles left were the ugly sisters. Everyone agreed they were far too pretty to be cast as ugly sisters.

The girls were devastated;  they begged, pleaded and made such a scene. It was then, their dramatic acting abilities became clear.  

   Cleo was particularly vociferous; ‘We will be perfect for the parts as we’re real sisters. We won’t even have to act the parts. Will we Marie?’

  Marie had her thumb in her mouth and simply nodded, having wiped away some stray tears with the back of her hand.

    Mr.Soames, the English teacher shrugged, then suddenly said,

 ‘I can see you would be perfect for the part of one of the sisters Cleo, but would Marie be capable of playing a bully? Both of the ugly sisters bully Cinderella.’

 Marie still had her thumb firmly lodged in her mouth and she seemed to be about to answer when Cleo responded.

   ‘Of course she can! it’s only a play not real life.’

  Miss Eagleton the casting director decided to send them to a makeup artist to work magic and make them appear ugly. 

    The professional makeup artist threw her arms up in the air, and shouted. “Impossible! I cannot work with these girls. How can I be expected to change Beauty into the Beast, twice?” 

   Once again, between them, the two girls created such a scene, Miss Eagleton quickly caved-in and agreed to do her best. Make up was applied liberally, wigs were added to create an effect of individuality. Everyone agreed that she had done her best but the twins would have to act even more ugly to complete the effect.

  Cleo was a natural actress and she was able to portray herself  as ugly as she could possibly be, in everyone’s opinion. Marie got through the transformation almost without uttering a word.

  Then fate stepped in, Mr Soames received a message from his star of the show, Eve Simpkins, informing him that she was unable to play Cinderella as she had developed laryngitis and her voice had become gruff and masculine. Mr Soames then announced there would be some changes in the cast.

  ‘Eve Simpkins will be recast as one of the ugly sisters and one of the twins will play Cinderella.’

   A voice from the group enquired, ‘Which one of the twins have you got in mind? The bossy sister or the quiet one?’

   ‘I’m choosing the quiet one. The thumb sucking sister is perfect for the part. If we can keep her thumb out of her mouth.’

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

NETTLES FOR NELLIE

FRIDAY 12th MARCH 2021

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..

Prompt ~ NETTLES FOR NELLIE

NETTLES FOR NELLIE

by John Yeo

   Norman Gellby was 69 years of age, a man who had lived a full life. A leader of men and a captain of industry, he threw himself into everything he was involved in and usually came out smiling.  Nellie, his wife, was the first to notice the little lapses of memory, the increasing number of times she had to remind him of little things. Nellie would often finish his sentences for him and  she gradually became responsible for keeping their appointments diary. 

  Norman was in total denial of the possibility of a medical reason for these lapses and just laughed the whole thing off as old age approached. 

    Secretly, Norman was worried enough to be aware that something would have to be done. He began to stretch himself with word games. Then he began to take supplements that promised to sharpen up the intellect. He watched Nellie’s reactions to his interactions with her, very carefully, to see if there would be any miraculous change or rapid improvement. No such luck, he continued to stretch himself however with puzzles and herbal supplements.

  One day Nellie heard of a herbal remedy used by gypsies, a drink made up of common woodland plants that promised to regenerate the intellect and reverse cell degeneration. Nellie secretly caught up with a large family of Romany wanderers and described the potion and then begged to be able to buy some of this miracle elixir. The head of the family introduced her to his Grandmother who agreed to mix the potion but she warned Nellie that Norman may have to take the mixture regularly for the rest of his life.

  Nellie began to notice a distinct improvement to Norman’s memory over the next few weeks. Norman assumed this was probably due to the mental exercises and vitamin tablets he had been taking.

   Norman’s mental faculties began to rapidly improve.

  Nellie continued to administer the gypsy cure, included with many brain enhancing vitamins. Norman was stretching his brain enormously with word games and astonishingly, this seemed to have worked.

  Doctors and Scientists employed by various drug manufacturers were keen to question Norman and Nellie in an attempt to isolate the substance that had effected this remarkable improvement. 

   The billion pound question was? Which area did the improvement come from? Was it even a single factor in Norman’s combination of remedies? Or was the improvement due to a combination of them all? Nellie revealed her visit to the gypsies and the herbal cure she had administered. Strangely when the potion was analysed it seemed to be made up of Nettle juice and Dock leaves. 

  There was no final answer to these tantalising questions. Norman lived to be 103, writing 15 books and becoming a chess grandmaster. 

Nellie became an expert on Nettles and Dock leaf potions. She grew a new variety of Nettle that became known as Nellie’s Wonder and made a fortune by producing a unique wine from Nettles for Nellie.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

NOTE TAKING NONSENSE

WEDNESDAY 10th  MARCH 2021

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..

Prompt ~ NOTE TAKING NONSENSE

NOTE TAKING NONSENSE

by John Yeo

  The eccentric billionaire Marc Farquharson, hosted a worldwide annual literary competition, ‘The M.F. Powerful Pen award.’

The first prize was £100,000 with £50,000 going to the runner-up. The competition, open to all and sundry, is hotly contested around the world. The winner and runner-up are chosen by a public vote in the world press, with television and radio shows collecting the votes. The prizes are presented by some influential businessmen and entrepreneurs, who are each presented with a very ornate fountain pen. Known unofficially as the note taking nonsense pen, it’s as highly valued by the recipients, as the acclaim that arises from winning the cash prize is by the writers. Competition to be invited to present the awards is always fiercest among the elite in the global business community.

 Shortly after last year’s competition, the world financial community became aware of some serious business leaks of sensitive information that could only have originated from inside sources. Insider trading was suspected and private security firms were called in to investigate; sadly, without pinning down the cause. After an intensive investigation by a little-known but respected firm of investigators; certain parallels became evident between the ‘M.F. Powerful Pen award.’ and many of these seemingly obscure, random, leaks of information.

  A separate investigation was launched into the wheeling dealing billionaire Marc Farquharson, without any questionable results turning up.

 A breakthrough occurred when a team of specialised financial investigators, headed by an intrepid lady sleuth known as Marg, discovered a bugged fountain pen in the office of a dot-com millionaire, who immediately informed the authorities. All the literary prize pens presented by the organisers of the ‘MF Powerful Pen award’ were collected by police, and Farquharson was arrested for financial fraud. The case against him is underway but proof is virtually impossible, as he denies all knowledge of these bugs and pins the blame on the Chinese manufacturers of these extraordinary pens.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved