THIS IS A CONTINUATION BEYOND THE RESTRICTED 150 WORDS OF THE ORIGINAL PROMPT
Welcome to What Pegman Saw, a 150-word weekly writing prompt inspired by the photos found on Google Maps. Yep, that’s really a picture of Manhattan. Inwood Park, at the very tip of the island, is one of the few places on the island that looks as it did three hundred years ago.
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
by John Yeo
Gerald stood at the top of the hill transfixed and just stood drinking in the absolute beauty that seemed to reach out and draw him on. Georgina breathlessly caught up, then gasped with surprised wonder.
Suddenly there was a chuckle as a rough looking stranger emerged from the depths of a nearby copse. A middle-aged, rather overweight, bearded man stood before them, he had long greasy black hair, with grey streaks, held in position with a battered trilby hat. His bushy black eyebrows met in the middle, atop a large crooked nose. He suddenly opened his mouth to reveal a blackened set of uneven, crooked, gap-filled teeth.
‘I see both of you young people are overwhelmed with this place. I’m Captain Ted, a hungry man and I’ll thank you to turn out your pockets and give me everything you find in them. Oh! And I’ll take that smartphone you’re clutching young man.’
Georgina loudly screamed! ‘Go away you horrible man, I’ll scream the place down and you will be locked up by the Police.’ Screaming loud enough to split her lungs apart.
The stranger suddenly raised his gnarled walking stick in a threatening manner. ‘Stop that ruddy noise of I’ll break your curly head open.’
Startled, Georgina stopped screaming and stood with tears streaming down her face.
Gerald stepped forward and emptied his pockets and handed everything he had over to the stranger.
‘You coward!’ shouted Georgina sobbing loudly.
The stranger chuckled and held the club threateningly above her head.
‘That’s a good lad, now hand me that smartphone. I’ve always wanted one of those! Give it here! Quickly lad.’
As Gerald held out his smartphone to the stranger he demonstrably pressed a button twice and held the screen up towards the man.
‘You see these two nines on this screen!’ said Gerald.
The man suspiciously nodded and gruffly said.
‘Just hand over the phone without any monkey-business or I’ll break her pretty little head open with my stick, then I’ll hurt you too.’
Gerald took a deep breath and said, ‘Listen here you crook! If I press another nine on this smartphone, It will dial 999 and summon the Police. There will be a helicopter overhead instantly.’
‘Don’t lie to me you little monkey! How will they know where we are?’ said the stranger visibly unsure of this turn of events.
‘Why do you think they call them smartphones you ignoramus?’
Gerald then demonstrably pressed the nine button.
With a curse, the unkempt villain took to his heels and ran for his life.
Georgina looked at Gerald with new respect.
‘Sorry I called you a coward. How did you know he would believe your story?’
Gerald laughed and said, ‘I guessed he hadn’t a clue about smartphones and I just took a chance.’
© John Yeo ~ All rights reserved
Images Courtesy of pixabay.com
A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: 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
THE RATTLING BONES
The life and works of Lori Carlson
Good morning, fellow writers! It is the first Friday in July. Hope your summer is going well! It’s time for Fiction Friday!
Today’s prompt is to write a story about a construction worker who makes a discovery of a lifetime at a construction site. You set the scene, decide the discovery, and figure out how it will impact his/her life.
Keep the story between 500-1000 words.
Image from the net
LOVE ON SITE
by John Yeo
The construction site was a huge area, almost a mini town. Seven hundred and ninety-five men were employed here along with a good number of women.
One young lady in particular relished her job, she had always been a bit of a tomboy and followed her Dad into his trade much to the surprise of her Mum. Grace was a welder used to working under enormous pressure, she had worked alongside Paul for six months solid now. They were very good friends and some would say, almost an item. Paul was a loner he usually had no time for anyone, Grace had almost melted his heart of stone.
Monday morning and Grace arrived with bloodshot eyes, red-rimmed from shedding very many tears.
Paul shocked, shouted, “What’s wrong Grace, why have you cried so hard and so long? I have never seen you so upset!”
“Don’t worry Paul, it is very personal, I cannot tell you, please trust me and don’t ask questions.”
“I would like to know my friend, but when you are ready.”
The site hooter sounded and they began to work. Paul was deep in thought as he could see Grace was hiding her face behind the welding mask.
It was even more of a shock to everyone close to where they were working, when the site manager arrived with two uniformed policemen asking to speak to Grace.
“Would you accompany us to the office please Grace?”
Paul was mystified and very upset, he wondered what the heck was going on. There was very little welding getting done in their section that day.
Grace returned to work and Paul, full of a feeling of great relief embraced her unashamedly. “I am so happy to see you, what happened? Why were you questioned? I must have some answers? Please Grace.”
His face mirrored the concern as he gently tried to allay her fears.
“Paul I discovered a carton full of money in the communal changing room, after you had gone home on Friday. When I handed it in, I was informed it was stolen money from a break-in, hidden by the thieves on the site.”
Grace poured a cup of tea for both of them, from a flask that she had brought from home for her lunch break.
“Why were you crying so much, when you did the right thing Grace?”
“I am so sorry Paul, I didn’t mean to think badly of you, but I was in shock. I have been agonising all weekend, stupidly thinking that you may have been involved and led into trouble by the suspect. I know you and his group drink together in the local pub. Please forgive my stupidity!”
Paul was taken aback and quickly swallowed his cup of lukewarm tea. Realisation suddenly dawned on him.
“Grace you mean to say you were crying because you thought I was involved and you had got me into trouble?”
“Yes I am a fool I know, but I have grown very fond of you and I don’t want to lose you.”
Paul smiled broadly, then quietly took her into his arms. His mind was turning cartwheels as the situation began to sink in. He then knew he had found the love of his life and he never ever wanted to let her go.
“I always liked this job and I enjoyed working with you on this site. We have met on site and I plan to wed you and stay in our life together forever. Will you marry me?”
Grace blushed as she accepted Paul’s proposal. “Of course silly, I love you!”
The wedding took place six months later in the middle of a construcion site. The Bride wore overalls and a safety hat to match the grooms outfit .They arrived by truck and the priest wore a hard hat above his clerical collar. The best man had a welding mask attached to his face and there was a horrible moment when he could not find the ring, but after a quick lift of the mask, the priest mouthed the time honoured words. Paul slipped the ring on Grace’s finger
Then Paul and Grace said “I do!”.
The priest said , “You may now kiss the bride.”
Almost one thousand construction workers raised a cheer that was heard two miles away.
They were remarried in a local church six months later, after the banns had been properly read. The bride wore a dress of sparkling white and members of their families and many friends were there to see them on their way to a life of ecstatic happiness. Their lives were now welded together forever. They both found love on a building site.
Copyright (c) ~ Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved
This is clearly subjective, but some words really sound like the thing they describe (personal favorites: puffin; bulbous; fidgeting). Do you have an example of such a word (or, alternatively, of a word that sounds like the exact opposite of what it refers to)? What do you think creates this effect?
Splurge is a very descriptive word. Descriptive of what I hear your cry. A splurge of colour on a canvas can begin to represent anything in the artists mind.
The splurge can be anything loose and messy, mud tends to ooze and a splurge of mud oozing over the hands as one begins to wipe the mess away from the surface can be annoying.
A splurge of delicious ice cream left on the lips after enjoying an ice-cream cone can only be dealt with by licking the lips, a universal remedy.
I ask you my discerning fellow daily post followers, what else could a splurge be? Apart from something very messy and inconvenient.
The universally understood splurge, is the retail binge, shopping and spending as if there were no tomorrow. The splurgy mess comes in when the credit cards are maxed and the interest uncontrollably and messily splurges on the monthly statement.
Copyright © Written By John Yeo All rights reserved
OVERCOMING THE INFERNAL WRITERS BLOCK
By John Yeo
The block is in place and creativity is impossible. Life pressures build, and priorities change, the writing and the creative process have ground to a halt. Tossing and turning in bed at night, seems just to make the block far worse, almost insoluble. How to alleviate the misery and begin to write? The way to deal with a dam is, of course, to puncture it and unleash the contents.
Relaxation is the key and the first step in the process of unblocking, is just to breathe and allow the creative juices to flow. A wide ranging reading session of some very good books will help to generate ideas, and start to puncture the dam, fertile thought tends to generate fertile thought.
The fertility and the greenness of “Mother-Nature” and all things growing and fighting for survival, make up a very very large slice of the creative oeuvre. Walking the lanes or working in the garden, will do wonders to stimulate thought and to germinate the seeds that will turn into wonderful creative ideas.
The puncture of the dam is now well and truly under way a tiny trickle of ideas for creative writing has now become a continual seep.
Never be afraid to ask for help along the way, many people have suffered and overcome the dreaded block, and the road to inspiration is well travelled. Guidance is always available, sometimes in unlikely guises, as well as the obvious leadership that is always available.
Lastly the secret of turning that regular seep of ideas into a flood of inspiration, is to look around you. Take careful note of how others are learning slowly to cope, in a generally uninspiring world, and come to terms with the block through belief in themselves and belief in a far greater inspiration.
Copyright © Written by John Yeo. All rights reserved.
In response to a prompt on~ http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/binding-judgment/
THE OUTER LIMITS
By John Yeo
The leather binding was so beautiful, it added something to the overall impression of the delights to come. There was a clasp on the edge that was an indication of the quality of the content to come when the book was opened and the contents perused. The author’s name and the title of this extraordinarly presented work of literacy was hand-tooled in gold leaf. The title modestly emblazoned on the cover and the spine in golden type read,
“The Greatest Story Ever Told”
I cradled the book in my hands and gingerly opened the covers, the leather felt so soft and smooth in my hands as I ran my eye down the contents list and briefly started to read the foreword written by the famous author A.N. OTHER. An ecstatic review of the delights to come followed, the quality of the verbal description and outer limits of the subject was excellent.
I bid for this treasure in the auction and my determination to own this volume knew no bounds, the bidding was brisk, as three other prospective purchasers were bidding furiously to procure the book. The bidding reached £5000.00 for this very collectable work of pointless literature, I managed to purchase the first edition and it is destined to repose on the shelves in my library as a wonderful work of reference, probably unopened until the day arrives when I have nothing to research.
Copyright © Written by John Yeo
All rights reserved