THROUGH THE PRISM

Prompt…Outside the Window: What’s the weather outside your window doing right now? If that’s not inspiring, what’s the weather like somewhere you wish you could be?

 

PRISM

Image ~ Courtesy of pixabay.com

Through the Prism

by John Yeo

   “Quickly Sister Mary: What’s it like? I fancy the ultraviolet light from the sunshine will make me feel so good. Draw the curtains, I can almost taste the wind on my lips. Does the rain really wash away people’s troubles? Sister Clementine was reading to me the other day and the book said water can be holy and miracles have been known to have happened if you bathe in cool clear crystal water.”

  Sally had been bedridden for the past two years of her young life following a strange reaction to an accident. A paraplegic in the days of early Anglo Saxon Britain didn’t have an easy life, even the only child of an important tribal chieftain. The Monastery was charged with her care and she had been brought up in the total care of the Nuns and had never been allowed to leave her room.

   Sister Mary sighed as she quickly drew the curtains.

  “Yes of course Sally. You sound cheery today. Are you feeling better?”

  “I can feel colours and sense beautiful sounds that seem to filter through a window made from diamond glass. The power of this prism reflects the sunshine into a healing rainbow. Please Sister Mary, can I be carried outside to lie in the healing rays of the sun?”

  “I don’t know darling; we will have to ask the Mother Superior and the Healer. If it was my decision I would have to agree and we could make the arrangements immediately.”

  “Please ask them for me! I had a dream of a beautiful storm. A storm that filled the sky with fire and awful crashes of thunder. Cleansing water and eternal fire that burns away pain and drenches the soul in healing power.”

  Sally shouted these words which seemed to bounce off the cruel, cold, hard stone walls.

Sister Mary was shaken at this and cried, “Sally, calm down, I will fetch the Mother Superior and ask her permission for you.”

Then she quickly left the room.

  Almost immediately a bright blue light lit up the room, an ethereal light that touched every corner of the innumerable atoms that made up Sally and her surroundings.

  Sally smiled as she rose from the bed of animal furs and skins and walked away from the monastery. Never looking back and never to be seen again. Search parties were sent out by her Father, desperate to find his Warrior Princess.

 

Copyright ©️Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

 

A prism-ball-

BLISSSFUL BLASPHEMY

A prompt response for Master Class ~ Assignment ~ Blissful blasphemy

http://ourwriteside.com/category/prompts/master-class/

IMG_2210

Blissful Blasphemy

by John Yeo

   Horace stumbled as he entered the local bar and nodded to the landlord.

        “You OK mate?” enquired the landlord anxiously. “You seem to be a bit unsteady on your feet! Careful there Sir. What can I get you?”

Horace spat on the wooden floor and glared at the man behind the bar.

        “I’m OK, I tripped over your bloody carpet. I’ve half a mind to sue your establishment.” was the aggressive retort.

  Horace opened his grubby raincoat to reveal a mud-splattered pair of trousers tied up with string around the waist. He pulled a paper bag from his pocket and removed a bundle of notes, peeling off a tenner, he placed it on the bar and said, “Get me a beer.”

  It was then the landlord was overcome with the odours emanating from Horace’s clothes. Stale beer mingled with many other questionable smells that put him in mind of a refugee from a pig farm.
Two or three other customers in the bar instinctively moved to one side as this horrible odour arose and wafted around the bar.

      “Phew!” exclaimed Alphonse the local car dealer, to his glamorous wife Estelle.
“Drink up my love, let’s get out of here before we catch something nasty. I really don’t know what this place is coming to.”

The landlord then interrupted and addressed Horace, quite bluntly.

      “Get out of here you stinking freak! I refuse to serve you. You are already pissed out of your head.”

At this, Horace let rip with a tirade of curses and threats, beginning and ending with the questionable birthright of obnoxious barstewards.

Alphonse said to his wife Estelle. “Come on darling. Let’s go, we don’t have to put up with this tirade of blasphemous language.”

Then, a voice from the corner of the bar that seemed to come from behind a cloud of smoke piped up.

      “When cursing or profanity is uttered colloquially, it is a sin that can be forgiven as a common sin against decency. Punishment should be meted out in response to the level of harm done.”

The landlord then turned and addressed the stranger in the corner.

      “Father if I put a boot up this filthy mouthed drunks rear as I eject him from the premises, will this be punishment enough for his insolence?”

   “Allow me to speak to the gentleman, I’d like to get to the bottom of this.” Responded the Priest.

     “Go ahead.” said the landlord, “As long as you get rid of him for me.”

      “Excuse me, Sir, I feel you have many problems to be resolved. I noticed your obvious wealth when you left that money on the bar. I would like to offer you a drink of tea at the rectory and a chat.”

With a snarl and another tirade of the vilest blasphemy that had ever come close to assaulting the ears of the Priest. Horace staggered out the door, followed by the landlord who landed the sharpest boot up the oblivious tramps rear end.

A few days later a letter arrived from a firm of city lawyers, containing a summons for the landlord to answer charges of common assault on one Squire Horace Batchelor.

The Priest wasn’t surprised at this turn of events as he was heard to mutter to himself. “Blasphemy can sometimes lead to a state of blissful serenity brought on by the proceeds of ill-gotten gains .”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

IMG_2211

 

FUTURE HERALDRY

A prompt response for Inspiration Monday ~

ANGEL INVESTOR

http://bekindrewrite.com

 

IMG_1551

Image © John and Margaret

 

FUTURE HERALDRY

by John Yeo

      Horace Weatherall was an extremely successful industrialist, a man who had made millions from his own efforts. Now Lord Horace, since he had received an honour from her Majesty the Queen, he wished to fulfil a need to pass on something special to his children.
  At a meeting of the brightest minds in his organisation he laid out his plans to procure and institute a brand new heraldic presence, for his family’s future.

    “The design must be technologically perfect, something that will stand the test of time and never date!” Said Lord Horace emphatically.

    “OK Boss, I will get the finest minds we can find on the job and see what we can do.” replied Steve. “It could be expensive as the designs will be extensive and intricate, some of these so-called creatives charge the earth for the simplest of designs.”

   Steve Smithers his project manager spoke for the whole brainstorming team present on this occasion.

    “Now look here Smithers , money’s no object to me! Just get the design together, I want my heraldic fingerprint to resound through time forever.”

  “Yes Sir!”

  Six months later in May 2017, in a field in Kent in the garden of England several new heraldic designs were on display awaiting judgement from Sir Horace for the finest most futuristic design. A design that would adorn the industrial battlements of the Horace Weatherall foundation. Every item connected to the company would be adorned with the future company crest.

  The Knights were awaiting the signal and soon they paraded before his Lordship colourfully adorned with the most incredible heraldic livery.

  Thumbs were firmly down, for design after design, as Sir Horace dismissed almost every creative idea, until just two futuristic knights remained. Both knights were in such fabulous attire they reeked of historical futuristic significance, yet bade fair to make an illuminating lasting mark on the immediate future.

  “I find it impossible to make a decision, both designs are equally suitable. I suggest a bloodless jousting tournament between two sets of knights defending their colours. May the best side win and I will offer much gold to the victor and the designers.”

  Cheers resounded around the Kentish field as the tournament began.

  Black and Gold, versus White and Sapphire.

  Soon a silence fell as the match began and the first chess pieces were silently moved across the board. Knight after Knight toppled the pawns and the Bishops on either side as the battle was waged.
Then the final joust as two knights remained on the field. Soon the White and Sapphire knight thundered towards the opponent and it was all over. Sir Horace put his thumbs together steepled his hands in a gesture of pure admiration for both Knights.
    “I choose both heraldic designs, to be flooded throughout the company. We will alternate the designs on a biannual basis. Checkmate on both sides to commemorate a drawn match.”

   At the end of the day the two designs were amalgamated to become one fantastic work of heraldic art that lasted until the sun set on the last day of the future.

 

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

img_9739-1

 

 

ANGEL INVESTOR

A prompt response for Inspiration Monday ~ ANGEL INVESTOR 

http://bekindrewrite.com

IMG_2189

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

ANGEL INVESTOR

by John Yeo

   Billy tightened his coat against the biting cold wind. Winter winds were blasting the trees on the avenue, leaving a trail of leaves and small branches all over the pavement. Billy pulled his knapsack over his shoulder, he wouldn’t be sorry to get to shelter today.
    Billy was officially homeless now, a person of no fixed abode.
Whenever he was asked his address by the innumerable officials and interested parties he would sullenly reply, “NFA.”

    Billy lived in the basement of a large crumbling mansion just outside of town. The locals avoided the place, considering it to be haunted. Rumour had it the mansion’s owner lived abroad. An eccentric millionaire who had bought the place with his wife, who died shortly after. The owner had disappeared and left the place to rot.
Billy seemed undisturbed by the rumours and stayed put, sheltering from the elements in the basement.

      The Postman, Tom Banks was the first to be curious about the empty house, he delivered innumerable letters there and they were mysteriously collected. Once he had bumped into Billy after he had delivered the mail.
“Hi! I guess you have a forwarding address for the owner?”

   “No sorry!” replied Billy. “A chauffeur comes to collect the lot every now and then.”

“Oh! they allow you to stay here rent free then!”

“Yes!” Was Billy’s monosyllabic response.

 An old newspaper blowing down the road caught Billy’s eye. ‘Hey something to read, he thought.’

  The headlines screamed about an unknown startup company that had just patented a new product that would provide endless cheap energy to feed the starving millions in the vulnerable parts of the world.
Billy smiled inwardly as he continued to read the story. Apparently an unknown investor working through a third party had financed the whole deal. Profits from the investors stake were paid into a Swiss bank account. Curiously no one knew who this third person was.
Several new and thriving ethical businesses had received finance from this mysterious investor and the curious business world was desperate to get any information. Apparently rewards were on offer for information.

 Down at the local pub around the corner from the mansion, Jim, the local policeman was chatting to Tom, the postman.

   “A tramp you say, collecting the mail you deliver! Doesn’t sound quite right to me, I might just keep an eye on the place for a while. Let me know if you bump into him again.” said Jim.

   “Sure thing, Jim.”

   Several days later a large 4×4 car with blacked out windows roared up to the old haunted mansion and to the amazement of the hidden watchers. An unkempt old man climbed aboard and the car roared off.

   If the locals were interested before they were openly curious now and a large party gathered at the gates to the mansion with the intention of questioning anyone who came and went.

    Of course no one was ever seen coming or going again and the mystery is still unsolved.

   Six months later the crumbling old mansion was put on the market by a local estate agent and quickly sold for a price well under its market value.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

img_9739-1

 

 

MUSED MOURNING

A prompt response for Master Class ~ Assignment ~ Mused Mourning

http://ourwriteside.com/category/prompts/master-class/

the-thinker-489753_960_720

MUSED MOURNING

by John Yeo

The black-edged cards were delivered to many friends and family in distant parts, announcing the sad news, with the date and time of the funeral.
The deceased man’s wife had tears in her eyes, as she checked the wording.
The children of the couple, rallied round her, sympathetically consoling her, while holding back their personal tears.
There was no positive response over the next few days, just guarded replies expressing deepest sympathy.

The day of the funeral arrived and the dead man’s wishes were followed as the service in the little village church took place in his desired format.

We were gathered around the grave. Thirty people, composed of the close family and friends of the deceased, stood back as the priest mouthed the last rites. Some were openly crying as the poetic words were expressed over the remains of someone who was once a respected member this small community.

My mind drifted over the life of this unusual person.
His childhood spent in an unsettling wartime environment. Followed by a spell in a reasonably happy home, with brothers and then newly acquired stepsisters.
Then came Boarding school and the trials of learning in a regimented environment.

Youth, with the challenging teenage years, and the swinging sixties, with blue jeans and rock and roll. Girls and dances: Everlasting love, followed by several broken hearted partings.

Love and marriage, fulfilled with happy children and the many ups and downs of
a successful career, followed by a happy retirement.

My mind continued to rove over the peaks and troughs of this familiar man’s life.

How could he have found the dream, and lived with peace and contentment having experienced so many peaks and troughs?

My inner self, placed myself forward in time. Would my life’s end reflect the life I have led, or would my demise be just another death, mourned by the few, and forgotten by the many?

Perhaps if I follow my path through life and take life as it arrives?
My mind continued to drift, musing over the obvious realization that a life lived has already passed. The past is fixed and unchanging.

I will certainly live life while I have a life to live.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

master-class-featured-image

“You Never Expected a Call From Me.”

IMG_1851

“You never expected a call from me.”

by John Yeo

I usually don’t respond to an unexpected call as we have a well tried and excellent answerphone machine that seems to be enough to field any unexpected calls.

“Congratulations! Your lottery ticket has finally come up and I’m pleased to inform you. You have won a substantial prize. Please don’t ask about the ticket. I’m pleased to inform you that you are one of our random winners.”

Alarm bells immediately began to go off in my head, I have heard about these sort of scams, where all the caller is after really are your financial details.

“Look  here! You insolent piece of garbage.” I began. “You can take your lottery winnings and stuff the tickets up the rear end of a Bull. Wait in the vicinity and shovel up the proceeds and spread it on the garden.”

 “But Sir! This is a genuine call. You really are a millionaire. Are you seriously giving the proceeds to myself? I certainly could do with the money. I will of course donate a certain sum to charity on behalf of both of us.”

This stopped me in my tracks at once. Supposing, just supposing. No it couldn’t possibly be true, things like this never happened to me.

“You are having me on;” I responded.

“No Sir! I would like to thank you for your generosity, The children will be in touch to say thank you personally. I will see to that. I don’t need your signature as you have no ticket therefore the transfer of funds will be channelled directly to myself.”

“Goodbye now Sir, Have fun with the Bulls.”

The next day I searched the newspapers for the story related to a telephone salesperson now believed to be sunning himself in Majorca.

We are suffering the first of our April showers here. After all it  was the first of April yesterday.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

CRUSHED SUNLIGHT

A prompt response for Master Class ~ Assignment ~ CRUSHED SUNLIGHT

http://ourwriteside.com/crushed-sunlight/

Images courtesy of pixabay.com

Master class~
Our Write Side
Assignment CRUSHED SUNLIGHT

CRUSHED SUNLIGHT

by John Yeo

      “Daddy is dying Rachel: Don’t cry; he wouldn’t have liked you to be sad.” said Ginny, to her younger sister.
Both girls were standing at the bedside of their Father.
George Billings had led a full carefree life and was in a coma, having suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage.

    The nurse bustled into the bedroom and tidied up the bed. “Keep talking to your Daddy girls, he may be able to hear you! Tell him how much you love him.”

  George could clearly hear every word but he was so engrossed in the dream that seemed to have overtaken his very being.

   Suddenly, to everyone’s surprise, he opened his eyes and clearly said;

       “I can’t let myself crush the sunlight!”

Then he returned to his dream and seemed oblivious of everything.

      ‘Sera and Simu were tiny bugs that fed on the nectar provided by a huge Sunflower.
These two lovable creatures lived and loved in a microscopic world that is invisible to the natural human eye.
A world of infinite pleasures where endless streams of nectar provided by their huge flower sustained them in their eternal bug life.
Sera had a secret weapon an extra long tongue that could reach into the heart of the deepest nooks protected by the Sunflower’s huge petals.
Simu would carry the nectar crop to huge storage nests deep underground, secreted in caves formed by the roots of their home. This storage sustained them during the long sleep that was brought on by the lack of the sunshine that sustained their home and provided the food of eternal life.

   One fateful sun-drenched day in the heart of their single Sunflower home, which housed a whole community of these tiny creatures. Change erupted, in the shape of a hoard of buzzing flying giants that proceeded to steal huge swathes of their endless flow of nectar.
There was a panic among the peoples of the floral community as their world was invaded by these greedy aliens.

  The leaders met and decided there was nothing they could do except pray and implore the great Spirit to help.

   Lady Senata the superbug, the Mother of all creation said comfortingly.

       “We may be tiny and defenceless but I have a plan. I will call on the powers that are in the ether to come to our rescue!”
  Then with a crushing crash, something large collided and flattened their home to the ground. There was a sudden blackness that descended as the sunlight was crushed out and obliterated.’

   

George’s dream continued as he remembered his garden and how he used to tend the Sunflowers.
    ‘I never realized the damage my boots would do when I accidentally trod on my Sunflowers. How much life was lost as I crushed the fragile blooms into the ground.’

     “Nurse! Daddy isn’t breathing anymore!” screamed Rachel.
The nurse quickly ushered the children from the bedroom and then returned to draw the curtains, blotting out and completely crushing the rays of bright eternal sunshine.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

master-class-featured-image