EDIBLE PORTAL

A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Edible Portal

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EDIBLE PORTAL

by John Yeo

  The two minuscule friends, from the rodent  “Mus musculus” family, scurried across a floral patterned carpet on the cottage parlour floor.  They were members of a nocturnal family of uninvited residents who lived in the thatched roof of the period cottage in the centre of the village. There was a new large colourful structure in the corner of the parlour.

  “Oh! Look at this wonderful new house in the corner here, this is just right for the children; the doors are locked, though!”   said Minnie excitedly.

    There was a loud snore from the bedroom and a grunt as Colonel Travers, the occupant and owner of the cottage turned over in his sleep restlessly. The two friends dived for cover. In the process, Micky knocked a lamp down that crashed to the floor. That sound brought a figure wearing a nightshirt and a floppy nightcap rushing from the adjoining bedroom carrying a shotgun. Stomping around the house the Colonel,  searched high and low looking for intruders.

  Cursing loudly he picked up the lamp and headed straight back to bed.

  “Oh, that was close Minnie! Let’s try and get inside this house and have a look around. The door is pretty solid but my word it does taste good; I think if we bring the whole family in we should eat our way inside and have a good look round.”

  “OK! Micky, I’ll call everyone together and we can have a feast.”

    The whole family were soon eating their way into the gingerbread house.

There was a knock on the door the next morning that got the Colonel out of bed early.

“Hallo!” Called Mrs Manners “Are you home?”

“Of course I’m bloody home, where else would I go?” came an almost inaudible reply. “Coming!” Came a louder response and the Colonel opened the door still wearing his floppy nightcap.

“Hello Colonel, I’ve come to finish the gingerbread house, how’s it looking?” said Mrs Manners, as she bustled into the cottage.

“Oh Wow; judging by the look of it, a whole nest of mice must have visited.”

“Good lord!” said the Colonel and raised his eyebrows. “You will have to demolish the house now, I will set some traps to catch the mice.”

“Sorry Colonel, I will get the ladies together to construct another house for you in time for your great grandchildren’s arrival. Merry  Christmas!”

“Thanks; Merry Christmas, Mrs Manners.”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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HEY!

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Man’s First Word

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HEY!

by John Yeo

   There was silence in the outer hemispheres of the galaxy for millennia. The elder trolls were unique in the areas of communication throughout the exo-galactic panoply of extraordinary people. Their way of communicating by nonverbal means had been raised to new heights.

  On an extraordinary blue planet, life was formed and developed. Asteroids had collided and re-collided. Comets visited;  bringing chemicals to permeate a life-giving mix of chemicals giving rise to unique life-forms. Exoplasm mingled and re-mingled again in the hands of the entity that was controlling the flow of matter.

  The life forms mixed and remixed, soon a survivor in the likeness of the controller emerged. “Hey!” Thought the controller; “I am almost there!”

 Then to his delight, he heard the word. “Hey!” Repeated back to him.

 Shocked he silently strained his ultrasonic hearing to the limits.

  Then the silence was broken by the familiar sound of his Mother’s voice resonating around the galaxy.

  “God! put your toys away! It’s late!”

“Oh; Mother! Please; Can’t I just have another couple of eons?”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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THE INFERNAL EPISTLES according to the BARD

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Infernal Epistles

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THE INFERNAL EPISTLES according to the BARD

by John Yeo

 The Bard sat at his writing desk and began to write another play. This would be

the most fiendish, frightening, fantastic play he had ever put his name to.

Just as he had sharpened the nib on his favourite quill pen, there was an unruly din from the ground below. Someone was knocking vigorously on his door and shouting his name raucously. He recognised the familiar tones of his good friend and fellow playwright Kit. He opened the window quickly and shouted;  “Hold fast Kit, I’ll come and join you!”

   Leaping down the stairs two at a time the Bard opened the door gingerly, the busy muddy path was thronged with people going about their business. His good friend Kit stood way back from the rickety house grinning all over his face. “Greetings Bard, I come to tear you away from your dubious scribing. Let us retire to the nearest ale house and consume vast quantities of good sack.”

  “An offer too good to refuse Kit, Let’s go!“

 The two friends were soon in a popular local hostelry, quaffing flagons of sack together, toasting the success of the Bard’s last phenomenal production.

“What are you working on now Bard?” asked Kit

“The play is almost complete Kit, based on a number of scrolls that have come into my possession, this is the story of an evil scribe, the good lady Agatha. She will be ruthless, cold-hearted, cold-blooded with no morals whatsoever, harsh with her friends; her enemies would rapidly become terminated, one way or another.

 Lady Agatha is a woman with ambition to dominate: Her power and her control over the life and death of victims will be absolute. Lady Agatha will  be in a position to raise people up to the heights, then smash them back to earth. Without the slightest compunction whatsoever, Kit.” said the Bard excitedly.”

“Zounds! Where did these scrolls come from? How did you get hold of them?”

“The scrolls were recovered from a cellar beneath the infamous Bedlam asylum. They are so full of mysterious ritualistic killing and unhealthy feelings of murder and mayhem. They could become a blight on future generations, indeed they could become addictive and even popular. I obtained them on loan from a satanic priest who stole them from the archives. They are believed to be so dangerous that the Queen has ordered them to be burned. I have since learned that the thief has been hung drawn and quartered, and his head now resides on a pole above London Bridge.”

“Wow!” exclaimed Kit. “You must be in grave danger being in possession of these infernal epistles! You should be in hiding!”

 At that precise moment, there was a commotion as a person whose face was obscured by his cloak lunged at the Bard with a knife. Kit turned and received a wound in the eye that killed him instantly. The Bard turned and made good his escape through the rear door of the hostelry before the constables arrived.

The Bard returned the epistles from whence they came.

 History relates that the infernal epistles survived into the early twentieth century where they were updated and published by another famous Agatha, who became a well-known scribe. Controversy still rages over the content of the infernal epistles.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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SOUL SURGERY

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Soul Surgeon

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SOUL SURGERY 

by John Yeo

  Jim Greaves was a hard- bitten, been-around retired medical doctor. Jim had reached the age of honorable discharge from the health service and joined the ranks of silver-haired senior citizens.

   Retirement didn’t come that easy to Jim, he was no gardener, and the easy life of pints in the pub at lunchtime, with the doubtful, soul-destroying, excitement of daytime television, was beginning to bore him stiff.  

    When Jim took up golf, on the advice of his GP;  Mary his beloved wife of thirty years almost fainted away with relief at the news. Jim had become a bit of a nuisance, hanging around the house all day long and getting under her feet.

      “Why don’t you come and join the golf club, Mary?” Jim asked excitedly:

  Mary went white at this request, but she quickly recovered to coolly reply, “No thanks, Jim, I will try to catch up with the garden on the days you play golf.”

    Peter Danvers, another retired medic and Jim became golfing partners and firm friends. Both men were having difficulty settling into retirement, and when an unusual opportunity came up for some part-time health officers at London airport, both men jumped at the chance.

  Life at the airport was full of varied experiences and close contact with people from many parts of the world. 

  One memorable day, several members of the border patrol force were summoned to a remote part of the airfield to interview and process three strangely dressed individuals. They were bussed to the spot to find a small alien-looking craft surrounded by armed forces.

  The first individual, to be interviewed spoke perfect English, with a slight old-style, Anglo-Saxon accent, introduced himself as the leader of the party.

   “I am Merlin, we come in peace, from the recently resurfaced island of Atlantis. We are physicians of the inner regions, making good the damage done by polluted thinking and feeling. We come to offer surgery to save the souls of sentient beings.”

    “Can I see your papers?”  Asked the Chief Security Officer.

  At that precise moment, Jim Greaves and Peter Danvers collapsed unconscious on the tarmac. There was a panic as medics were called forward and began desperately trying to revive the two men. 

  There was a sudden silent liftoff as the three visitors re-boarded their craft in the general melee. 

   It proved impossible to bring the two men round to normality and they became soulless zombies, confined to a hospital.

  Until the day, exactly one year later they came round and related a tale of souls that could travel without the need of a body. The first recorded communication by Jim, was as follows.

    “ Bodies age and decay! Life is forever!”

  Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

(“If you provide me some wonderfully bizarre prompts Stephanie, the chances are you will read a bizarre response occasionally.”)

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TURNIP AND CHIPS

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Vegetable Oppression

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TURNIP AND CHIPS

by John Yeo

“I tell you it’s the Turnips fault; ever since he was voted in with a narrow majority, we have been forced to be openly aggressive to anything and everything. I always used to think it was the Sprouts and Runner Beans that were full of wind. This Turnip fellow has majestic plans to sort out the rest of the allotment and stick strictly to home-grown vegetables in future. No more imports of any description will be allowed in.” The Pumpkin puffed out, as he openly flicked a large slug from attempting to gnaw into him, with a large frond attached to one of his leaves.

A group of Iceberg Lettuces standing in a neat row nodded in agreement in the strong wind, their spokesman addressed the assembly; “Don’t blame us! We voted for the Onion; a good choice: Not exactly a Spring Onion, you understand, but a super experienced Onion. An Onion that knows its Radishes from Beetroot.”

The Pumpkin continued; “The Turnip has promised some incredibly wealthy nutrients, riches beyond our wildest dreams. The powerful fertility from the rear end of some home-grown equines. An economic miracle is on the way.”

“Surely there is no way our economy can function without the cheapness and convenience of the new varieties of F1 interbreeding and Scientifically modified imports.” emphatically stated a venerable Pak Choi.

“No way? Our esteemed Turnip is decidedly against all mass-produced cheap imports and proposes we will function quite successfully with our own homegrown vegetables. The new leader didn’t hesitate to propose a solid wall be erected right around the allotments, preventing entrance by all alien varieties of vegetables.” the Pumpkin went on.

An army of potatoes, smartly dressed in heaped up piles of rich khaki fertiliser stood to attention, awaiting orders from their commanding officers. Always at the ready to be roasted, fried or mashed for the good of the allotment appetites.

Meanwhile grumbles of discontent at the new order were heard among the Carrots and Swedes and several other varieties of vegetables. Particularly certain sections of the Jerusalem Artichokes and Asparagus.

There were also rumbles of discontent among certain self-seeded wild flowers whose seeds had drifted onto the allotments from neighbouring areas. Dissatisfaction was noted with certain inferences and some mysterious patterns of thought as to their place in the future plans of the allotment growth.

Threats of anarchy and revolution were brushed off by the Turnip administration. Peace would certainly require a re-count and possibly a re-seeding of the whole administration to promote new growth and eliminate oppression.

The whole assembly agreed that the well tended allotment site would continue to function successfully regardless of the vegetable at the head of the assembly during the future growing seasons.

 

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

 

FICTION NOTICE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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COMFORTABLY NUMB

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Comfortably Numb

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COMFORTABLY NUMB

by John Yeo

Henpecked Humphrey is worn down by the demands and blatant unpleasantness brought on by the vulnerability of his wife, Angelique; an invalid who is perhaps not as invalid as he believes. Demanding and cruelly calculating she knows he will never find the courage to leave her. Humphrey, her husband, is a meek, mild-mannered man who always looks on the positive side of any situation and is infrequently rewarded with small favours from this overbearing manipulating monster.

One sunny day Humphrey and Angelique are out walking

“Come along Humphrey! We are falling behind: My legs, even with my stick and my other walking aides will never stand the strain of these hills. You are an impossible man to get along with I will never forget the day after we got married when I had that terrible fall that did irreparable damage to my spine. Are you listening to me or am I talking to myself.”

“Yes Angelique!

“Humphrey! Push harder, we will never keep up if you are going to be lazy. Push the wheelchair harder. Look out there’s a car coming, it may career onto the pavement and kill us both. Look out man!”

“Yes Angelique!”

Just at that moment Bob and Phylis came by, they had just become friendly with Humphrey and Angelique.

“Hello folks!” said Phylis, “How are you both?”

Angelique immediately answered the question. “We’re fine thanks, Humphrey is being a bit difficult at the moment; aren’t you Humphrey?”

“Yes Angelique!”

Bob then smiled and said; “How are things with you Humphrey?”

“Oh! You’re fine aren’t you Humpy? We are out for a walk taking the air.”

“Yes Angelique!”

Phylis then interjected and said, “Angelique; why don’t us girls have a nice cup of tea in this cafe? I’m sure Humphrey won’t mind, and we can let the boys loose to have a pint in that pub across the road.”

“I’m not sure about that! I need Humphrey here to take care of me at all times, don’t I Humphrey?”

“Yes Angelique!”

“I’ll look after you while we sit and enjoy a nice cup of tea and a chat Angelique!” said Phylis.

“I’m not sure about that, you like to be with me all the time don’t you Humphrey?”

“Yes Angelique!”

Bob then said, “It’s OK both, we would hate to come between two lovers who are devoted to each other as you two obviously are. How long have you two lovebirds been married?”

Angelique then immediately responded, “Thirty eight years, we met each other at university didn’t we Humpy?”

“Yes Angelique!”

Bob then said with a smile, “That must have been a red letter day in your life Humphrey! Certainly a day to remember.”

“Yes it was,” Angelique answered swiftly, “We are very happy and life is comfortable. Aren’t we Humpy?”

“Yes Angelique!”

“Come on then! Humphrey push on or we will be late for our yoga and relaxation session. Goodbye you two; lovely talking to you; we always enjoy a chat. Don’t we Humpy?”

“Yes Angelique!”

“Come on then! My legs are getting stiffer by the second. Get a move on Humphrey! Push harder or we will be late.”

“Yes, My Angel”

Bob was stunned at this, as they watched the couple making their way up the hill to the village hall. Humphrey was almost bent double pushing the wheelchair up the hill.

“Phylis that bloke is so worn down he has got past uncomfortable and is numb with shock. Comfortable and numb.”

“Yes Bob, you’re absolutely right. Comfortably numb! I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

 

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

TOUR-de-FARCE

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Tour-de-Farce

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TOUR-de-FARCE

by John Yeo

    The caravans were parked in a circle on the village green, strategically encircling a large canvas structure, affectionately known to all as the big top. The circus had come to town!  Overnight the village green was transformed, closed in, with a huge area roped off.

  A siren shattered the calm of the village as a paramedic arrived, just in time to deliver a healthy bonny boy with a powerful pair of lungs.

 Billy arrived, born in a caravan; his arrival coincided just as the evening performance was about to begin. His Mum and Dad were professional Clowns

    Postnatal depression soon kicked in; Billy’s Mum was clearly affected by giving birth. Her husband was sympathetic, although he was suffering from a long-term depression himself.

   The circus was always on tour, village to village, town to town, a different background to get used to all the time.

 Dogs guarded the children while the family worked in the big top. Friends; all circus  performers, Acrobats, Jugglers Tightrope Walkers and Dancers all took responsibility to care for the children.

  The Ringmaster ruled the roost, travelling, always travelling; another week, another town as the circus toured the country.

  Education on the move, Billy attended a different school in every town the circus visited. Mum and Dad taught him all they  knew. How to be funny! How to apply makeup to please the customers.

  Uncle Coco committed suicide by overdosing on antidepressants

  Mum and Dad were more sorrowful than ever. They practiced a new water routine to keep the customers happy. The makeup  told a different story as the painted smiles hide the truth. The matinee audience roared with laughter on the day of Uncle Coco’s funeral.

  Billy found the funeral sad as the hearse delivered the coffin containing Uncle Coco’s remains that were quickly consigned to the flames. Uncle Coco’s ashes travelled through many small towns until the touring circus reached his home where his ashes were ceremoniously buried in the local cemetery.

  Another week another small town, the circus tour was never ending. The big top always full, to bursting.

 Billy began to grow up fast and sharp, he became a quick-witted, sensitive young man, following in his father’s footsteps.

 A very gifted clown who knew how to make people happy with his funny routine.

 Then one sad day in the life of Billy arrived with a tremendous shock, Rover his trusty Labrador dog who, went with him everywhere, died suddenly. Billy was devastated at this turn of events, crying uncontrollably. The time for the show arrived and Billy’s father was desperately trying to calm him. As he applied makeup to Billy’s face, the ringmaster arrived and insisted he take his place in the circus ring.

With these words his, Father sent him to the circus ring.

“Laugh Billy, Laugh! You are a clown to fool around and make people laugh. You will always work in the circus on a perpetual Tour-de-farce. No one will ever understand the tears of a clown.”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

 

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SHOCK TACTIC

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Trick or Retreat

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SHOCK TACTIC

by John Yeo

    A cloudy sky frowned down on the soldiers as they took the fight to the natives. Colonel Grant made a serious mistake in the battle for the plain. The pony soldiers were heavily outnumbered The Indian tribes were massed in force, lying in wait in the hills. Smoke signals wafted high in the air as the Army approached.

  The prairie stretched out for miles in every direction as far as the eye could see. There was a line of low hills in the foreground. Scouts had returned with the information, the hills were riddled with the enemy and to everyone’s surprise at the foot of the hills, the Colonel ordered the army to retreat.

    “Retreat Sir?” Shouted his officers Riley and Miller in unison. “The men will be seriously demoralised if we turn tail and run!” Riley said, and Miller nodded in agreement.

  “Are you two questioning my orders, if so you are under arrest!” The Colonel motioned for his personal guards who led the two men away.

  The order to retreat was relayed along the line of the advancing troops. There was a noisy ripple of shocked surprise as the bulk of the army turned. The retreat was soon under way, as a line of dejected trained fighters turned and rode the other way. Soon there was just a cloud of dust where an army was once gloriously arrayed.

  There were whoops and harsh cries from the Indians as they rode onto the plains in pursuit, Shouting with new found confident cheers they raced after the retreating forces, loosing arrows in clouds and then taking aim with their spears they chased after the retreating forces in the open across the plain.

  Then to the amazement of the retreating force, a cry came swiftly down the line,

  “Charge! Turn and charge! Take aim and fire. Fight like you’ve never fought before! Take no prisoners. Kill or be killed.”  came the cry from the officers in command.

  The Indians were caught in the open, superior firepower won the day as the fight was soon over and the blood-soaked plain told a gruesome story.

  Colonel Grey was recognised as a hero who had won the day. “My strategy was to trick and retreat, then to retreat and to trick. I had no option but to trick or retreat.”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

THE QUESTION

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday:  Uncertain Death

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THE QUESTION

by John Yeo

    Mr. Spokes looked at the class and said, “Good Morning class.”

     “Good Morning Sir!” Chorused the assembled group of thirteen-year-olds.

   “Today we will discuss a subject that is closely bound up with everything we say and do in life. We are going to talk about something that most people would think is unmentionable in polite circles. Can anyone make a guess at this subject?”

   Three of the students instantly raised their hands. Mr. Spokes coughed loudly and said.    “Put your hands down if you have come to the answer of sex or sexual relations.” The three hands instantly disappeared. Mr. Spokes looked disappointed; “Can’t anyone here think of anything else?”

   There was a deafening silence until Sammy looking thoughtful said, “Everything else is discussed on the television or on the Internet Sir!”

   “Good thinking Sammy, but not quite everything. What about death? Or to put it more obscurely. What about uncertain death?”

    “Uncertain death?” Said Tommy to Mary, sniggering. “What’s that? My Mum says the only certainty in life is the certainty of death.”

   Mary grinned; she liked Tommy, they had always sat next to each other in school, since the first day they had met each other, only to discover they lived a stone’s throw from each other on the same road.

  “I don’t know what death is. I never think much about death,” she whispered, blushing.

  “Mr. Spokes,”  Tommy said loudly , “What do you mean by uncertain? I’ve heard death certainly comes to all of us. When my Grandma died, Mum says we have all got to die some time. She said Grandma has gone to a better place.”

  Mr. Spokes grinned and said, “You have just uncovered the uncertainty of death Tommy. If your Grandma is dead how can she go to a better place?”

    Sammy then interjected,  “We buried our cat in the garden when it died last year. Tibbles went into a hole in the garden, that wasn’t a better place.”

  Mary who professed not to know anything about death, suddenly asked. “What about Jesus? In Sunday school they say he died and came back. My Auntie believes we never really die.”

  Mr. Spokes smiled and said, ”Some doctors in hospital say, people who have died, have come back to life again!”

  There was silence in the classroom for a few minutes before Mr. Spokes suddenly said.

  “Class we have just discovered the uncertainty of death. Easy really!

  I now want you all to go home and ask your parents and friends the question “How certain is death? Then write an essay on the results. Class dismissed.”

  Tommy grinned at Mary and said, “Maths lesson next, at least that’s a certainty.”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~All rights reserved.

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CRACKED ICE


A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: 
 We Come in Pieces

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CRACKED ICE

by John Yeo

 It was the same every night, the conversation would haunt me, I kept going over it in my mind.

  “Multifaceted, he called me! A man of many parts! What does that mean? Who is he to judge me or my makeup. I pride myself on being a unique entity; an entity that is definitely a whole unit. A very together individual!”

  I exclaimed, peeved at the remark. I had interpreted as a veiled criticism. “He had been implying I was a jack of all trades, therefore a master of none.”

 “Calm down Peter, he meant to say you are adaptable able to turn a new face to any part of your life at any moment.”

My wife Judy, a trained teacher, was always quick to defend another member of her profession. I had decided late in life to attend an adult education class at the local institute. I had become set in my ways and I needed a new challenge to keep my mind alive.

It started with a few drinks with my fellow students. This was the beginning of the fall down the slippery slope to ruin. I met and stupidly fell for a fellow student, Maria, I was besotted with her and this led to my wife Judy, leaving me and taking our two children with her.

The drink then began to take a firm hold and I lost my job. Maria became disillusioned and demanded I leave the flat we shared, this was in her name and I had to leave. I found myself on the streets with nowhere to go.

I then realized the hidden meaning behind the conversation that had been haunting me and the importance of the word multifaceted. My life had come to pieces. smashed to bits by my own actions.

 

My wife who had been a major piece of my life had left me.

I now have no contact with my children or any part of their lives.

My profession and my source of income had vanished.

My sense of self, an important part of my identity was now lost.

My home, self-respect, and self-assurance were now irretrievably gone.

Incredibly, I felt all the important aspects that made up my life were now lost forever.

 

We are not always aware we come in pieces unless we allow life to come to pieces.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.