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..
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..
It was a damp Autumn day on the moors. Billy and I lived next door to each other in a row of workers’ cottages on a fifty acre farm. Billy was a shortish lad, about 4’ 10” tall with a shock of brown hair and brown eyes to match. He had a stocky muscular build that he used to good effect when he indulged in his favourite sport of boxing. In contrast, I was a comparatively lanky lad at 5’5”. I was always described as a bookworm, avidly reading every word that came my way, even on the sides of sweet wrappers and popcorn bags.
There was a dense mist on the moors on this particular day, the smell of damp grass was swirling around and visibility was limited to about three feet in all directions. We wandered through a small wooded copse in the bottom of a shallow valley where we came upon four unusual sheep, huddled together for warmth.
Billy said, ’Look Walt! Those are funny looking sheep, they’re bright yellow with frothy woolly coats. I wonder where they’ve come from?’
I nodded and made to get closer to them but they ambled away into the trees as I approached. ‘I’ve never seen any sheep like this before Billy; we’ll have to tell the farmer.’
‘You’re right there Walt! Let’s continue on our way and follow our noses. These trees are a rookery, that’s why there is so much noise from the roosting birds. I have never heard of rooks daring to interfere with sheep and these four look quite healthy.’
We continued to ramble across the moors and unusually we took a trail that led to some rocky stone walls that were boundary markers. To our surprise, we met an elderly man, wearing an old fashioned overcoat tied around the middle with a piece of string. He carried a long stick with a crooked handle and he was wearing a floppy hat. He was seated on a wall and he appeared to be consulting a map which was in danger of taking off with the wind.
‘Hallo lads!’ he said, ‘I’m Gabriel and I’m trying to locate four of my prize sheep, these are a special breed of Bourbon blondies that wandered away from the flock this morning.’
At this point a large sheepdog bounded into view and Gabriel gave him a pat on the head. ‘I’ve been trying to figure out where I am from this map, but I can’t make head or tail of it.’
Billy said, ‘We saw four yellow sheep in a copse just a couple of miles away back there. We can take you there if you like.’
‘Don’t worry, Bruce and I will find them. Thanks lads.’
It was then I noticed the map he was studying was a map of France but I didn’t like to mention it.
Next day the farmer searched high and low for the shepherd with the odd sheep but they were never seen again.
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..
A mysterious man entered the marketplace in the town of Northchester carrying an ornate, richly decorated chest.
‘Gather round folks I would like to reveal an instrument that could transport your innermost soul to places you could never dream of. I bring an instrument that is capable of changing your life forever.’
Then with a flourish, he pulled off the lid to reveal the contents of the box:
An ordinary antique black plastic telephone. A scratched, battered, extremely well used, old fashioned telephone.
The telephone suddenly rang!
The mystery man said. ‘This proves this is not just any old telephone, this is a special telephone.
A line to the timeline of history revealing the twists and turns of the life of the planet since time began.
To travel through the timeline one just needs to dial the year one wants to visit. No kidding! Past, Present or hopefully the Future.’
The worrying thing was when you dialed the future there was no response.
‘Why was this?’ You questioned the powers in authority.
Mr. Optimist replied. ‘There is no reply as the future hasn’t happened yet.’
Mr. Pessimist said. ‘There is no reply because there is no future. A bomb has wiped out the entire planet. There is no future!’
There was a third person present. An old man who shrugged and said. ‘Hang up the phone; it is written.’
The wise old sage in the company then addressed the mysterious stranger.
‘Sir! Excuse me please. I don’t think there could ever be such a thing as physical time-travel. The end result would never be the same. People would surely travel backward and forwards in time to undo or change an unfortunate action or to rectify a mistake. Surely one person’s mistake is another person’s gain.
Some of us may not actually exist. How many times have people admitted their child sadly was the product of an unfortunate mistake?
The past surely should be left in the past. The future is surely best left in the empty mists of time.’
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..
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..
The duel was to be fought at dawn between a celebrated army officer and a mysterious, anonymous man in black. Both men had professed love for the Lady Svetlana, a desirable Russian beauty who seemed to have deliberately played one man up against the other.
Captain Lewenski pointed the pistol and pulled the trigger. Everyone gasped as the man in black turned to the assembled witnesses and fell to the floor mortally wounded.
‘I leave without questioning?’ gasped the man as he lay dying.
At that point another shot rang out from a coppice nearby, and the Captain fell dead without a murmur.
The seconds shook hands as Lady Svetlana walked out accompanied by a retinue of attendants and minders.
‘At last we have cleansed ourselves of both these nasty double agents who have been responsible for so many deaths.’
‘They were duelling over your affections, my lady.’ said the taller of the two seconds, who had represented the Captain.
‘My affections lie with my country. This duel was fought for our survival. The order for the execution of the victor, was signed, sealed and delivered to me.’
Two further shots broke the silence of the cold morning light and both seconds fell dead.
‘Cleanse the remains!’ Lady Svetlana ordered coldly and an ox cart was loaded with four corpses.
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..
The sky briefly turned pink after we’d experienced a short heavy shower of rain with high winds this afternoon. We had some storm damage last week and I lost a smallish tree from one of the borders.
I was busily staking up and giving some support to a couple of our shrubs today when I got caught in the rain. More high winds and heavy rain is forecast in the next couple of days. The problem is, this excessive rain, coupled with the high winds, weakens the root systems and there’s a danger of trees and shrubs getting blown over and uprooted. I have enjoyed taking care of our Camellia shrub which gets bigger and better every year. The winds have forced this 16 years old shrub to bend precariously and I’ve staked it with a double stake support. I also have a Forsythia that needed a supportive stake. This Forsythia shrub brings back some good memories to Margaret and I, as it was nurtured from a cutting we obtained from the garden of a very special lady who once lived in Bishops Stortford. I think as these plants and trees reward us every year it’s worth spending time taking care of them.
I also snapped a quick shot of a large pot of pink Nerines that are in full flower at the moment.
This collage shows our beautiful Camellia and Forsythia shrubs in flower in early Spring.
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..
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..
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..
Magwich, Megan and Mary had been friends for years. They’d all met up at Professor Merlin’s magical college in the depths of a root encrusted, mysterious, haunted wood. No one who graduated from this academy had any illusions about their future careers. They left as fully qualified witches.
Magwich was a tall slim attractive blonde, with blue sparkling eyes that had a habit of involuntary fluttering whenever she was concentrating. She wore her traditional black pointed hat at a jaunty angle that betrayed something of an impish sense of humour. Her parents were successful industrialists who hadn’t done much research when they’d sent her away to school. They were just happy to have her education completed at a school where she would be well looked after.
As a total contrast, Megan was born to be a witch, her parents were both steeped thoroughly in the magical arts and they knew exactly what they wanted for their only child. Her father was a practical working wizard who had enjoyed great success in curing people through his use of magical spells. He had been somewhat disappointed when he discovered he’d fathered a daughter, although he was genuinely proud of her. His wife Miranda thought the world of her bright, dark eyed daughter, with her long flowing black locks that hung freely down her shoulders. Megan was somewhat short and quite dumpy, which was a direct result of her mother spoiling her and over feeding her with tasty titbits from the family cauldron.
Mary, our third and most remarkable member of this trio of spellbinding witches was an individual character in her own right . She had bright reddish auburn hair and a fiery temper to match. Mary was an orphan. No one knew what had become of her parents, or indeed if she had ever bothered to be born to conventional parents. The story went that she was the offspring of an egg laying large black tabby cat and a red feral feline wanderer. Apparently they were shapeshifters who had been originally born in the shape of humans and were able to take the feline form at will.
Professor Merlin was seemingly an easygoing wizard who had educated many students over the centuries and inoculated them all with a sense of purpose. It wasn’t until you looked into his eyes that you realised there was a streak of steel running through his educational purpose.
Graduation day had arrived and Magwich, Megan and Mary were destined to become a coven in a far off nation, where they were to reside until they received further orders from the Professor.
Mary acted as a natural leader and she bluntly said.
‘Listen here you two, we haven’t been informed what this elusive sense of purpose is. I’m certain it’s not going to be pleasant for certain people and I need you both to be loyal and obedient to our coven. We are going to live in a place in the Black Forest in a country far away from here.’
Magwich flicked her blonde hair to one side, fluttered her right eye and spat on the floor. ‘Look Mary, I don’t take your orders but I respect your judgment. If we have to live together indefinitely I will do my best to tolerate you and your insolence but don’t push us too far.’
Megan scowled and nodded at these remarks and aggressively responded. ‘My Dad is an important practising wizard and he knows what this sense of purpose is. I have been shown the universal sign of a magical sense of purpose.’
With that she turned to Mary and administered a sharp pinch on her face that resulted in a scream of agony. Mary instantly retaliated and viciously pinched Megan back. Mary then savagely pinched Magwich and soon all three young witches were rolling all over the place pinching each other wildly, on the buttocks, in the face, literally everywhere.
Suddenly there was a loud shout as the Professor arrived and waved his magic wand and some sort of peace was restored.
‘I’m happy to see you have all administered several pinches of purpose to each other. Bear in mind you are all equal and I’m equally proud of you all. There aren’t any leaders among you. You will all work together or I will see you are reminded with some further unpleasant pinches of purpose. These will be stronger and more hurtful. Now go in peace and work together for the benefit of your coven.
THE FUTURELESS FUTURE 
