CRUSHED SUNLIGHT

A prompt response for Master Class ~ Assignment ~ CRUSHED SUNLIGHT

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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

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RUTH

A prompt response for Master Class ~ Assignment 

JAILED INNOCENCE 

http://ourwriteside.com/assignment-jailed-innocence/

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RUTH

by John Yeo

“Innocently trapped in a prison of her own construction.”

  The sky was a mottled gray, cloudy with a stiff cold breeze. There was a dank autumnal smell of decaying leaves in the air.

   Two women were waiting at the imposing secure gates of Turney Abbey. An attractive young lady conservatively dressed in a gray suit and a middle-aged lady in a maroon coat with the collar turned up.

   There were tears in the eyes of the older of the two as they waited.

   “Auntie Eleanor; I know what I want! I have decided to follow my strong beliefs and give myself to God. My heroine is Mother Therese. I want the peace of worship and the satisfaction of working and making friends with people of a like-minded faith in God.”

   “Mary! Do you realise that once you have committed yourself to this way of life; it will be extremely difficult to leave after you have made it past the solemn or perpetual profession of the holy vows.”

     “Yes; but Auntie Eleanor: I never want to get hurt by anyone again. I know you will say that is not a good enough reason to enter a convent but I am a devout Christian and I want the peace and security to worship unhindered.”

    “My darling, I will tell you a story of a distant relative in Ireland who became a nun and died of a twice broken heart that destroyed her faith and led to an early demise.” The elder of the two women cleared her throat and began to relate a tragic tale.

    “Ruth was an attractive young lady who got good grades in college and was headed for a career in nursing. She fell in love with a young man from the same village. Sadly he was a fraud and left her brokenhearted to face a lonely future without the means of support and little chance of furthering her studies or getting work.

    Ruth decided to take the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience and follow the path into a convent. There was no one to counsel her about this hasty decision and she was soon admitted to a convent.”

   At this moment there was a cacophony of noise from the rookery behind the high imposing walls of Turney Abbey. As if something in the vicinity had interrupted the silence of the afternoon and spooked the Rooks.

     “Aunt Eleanor, please go on, what happened to her? How did she die?” asked Mary.

   “All went well for the first few months and she took the solemn vows. Soon the harsh mundane reality of life in the convent began to tell on the intelligent young lady. Restricted to a wholesome but limited diet, there was never enough food to sustain her completely. Worn down by the drudgery of long hours of hard work and prayer. Restricted to the company of her fellow sisters, Ruth began to pine for her former life.”

  Eleanor stopped for a minute to wipe a stray tear that was running down her cheek.

   Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she continued.

   “Then she made the mistake of confiding in Sister Agnes a sister who worked alongside her in the kitchen garden. This was a sad mistake, Sister Agnes was a bully and a vindictive person who took advantage of the situation and made Ruth’s life a misery. Threatening to expose her as an evil charlatan who had lost her faith in God. Taunting her that she would finish up in hell if she broke her solemn vows. Ruth became frightened of the consequences of leaving and became too worn down to argue.”

   Mary gasped and said. “She was trapped in a way of life that became a prison. A never ending sentence for the rest of her life!”

   “Yes Mary; She pined away and a few months later, she was discovered dead in her bed. The official cause of death was diagnosed as a mysterious virus that had struck her suddenly and she had been called to God. Unofficially we all knew she had died of a hopeless, helpless, broken heart. Sister Agnes was unrepentant, but the strange thing was, she was found dead in her bed from heart failure exactly one month later.

  At that moment the gates to Turney Abbey swung open and a kindly looking nun smiled and said, “Can I help you?”

  “No thank you!” exclaimed Mary “We are just passing by!”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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ANXIOUS PEACE

A prompt response for Master Class ~ ANXIOUS PEACE

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ANXIOUS PEACE

By John Yeo

The fighting was bloody, countryman against countryman. Explosions were tearing the country to bits. The stench of death and blood was so close it turned the stomachs of the most battle-hardened warriors.

   The stone farmhouses were dilapidated and dirty providing a temporary lodging place for the refugees from the war.

  Amy’s husband was away fighting on the borders.

   The birth pains were terrible Amy struggled and pushed as hard as she could, but the child refused to enter the world. This reluctance was causing a great deal of anxiety to the village midwife who was begging her to really try hard.

    “Push darling, push harder. Your baby is almost here!”

  Finally, a healthy baby was delivered, closely followed by another.

    “Two!” exclaimed the village midwife. “You have two wonderful strong young twin boys.”

   Sadly there was no reply from the mother. It was a difficult birth and the midwife was unable to save Amy, who died from a massive hemorrhage.

  A fire broke out in the kitchen of the farmhouse where the two young men were born. Villagers rushed to help the rescuers evacuate the inhabitants.
The guns were getting closer, the fighting was fierce. This internecine war had been going on for years. The leader said we would have to evacuate our homes and leave.

   The refugees suffered much deprivation and hardship as they traveled across the country seeking sanctuary.

  The babies were separated and taken to different parts of the war-torn country.
One brother, Amin went north to a small township, where the war quickly changed the ruling faction and he was raised as his dead father’s enemy. A father he would never meet.
Emir was dragged south and raised by a family loyal to the reigning powers.

   They grew to manhood separately, raised amid the hardship and deprivation both quickly becoming strong quick adults.

   There was a gasp from the assembled hierarchy when the two leaders of the warring factions met.
The two sides met to begin a peace process. Separate histories, separate beliefs. Yet brothers by birth who would begin to try to do the seemingly impossible and strive to begin life in an anxious peace.

   They were identical, in looks. Two people who had never met, yet they had risen to command two different factions. Fighting the same war on opposite sides. Peace negotiations began between twin siblings separated at birth who were both chasing the same dream from different parts of the country.

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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FISHY DISH

A prompt response to ~ http://thinkwritten.com/category/creative-writing-prompts/

No. 338. Word of the Day: Go to a website that has a word of the day and use it in a poem, story or journal entry you write.

http://daily.wordreference.com/
Basic+ Word of the Day: dish

Ermilia ~fish-face-illusion

Image courtesy of Ermilia’s blog on WordPress

FISHY DISH

by John Yeo

  The auctioneer’s assistant was gingerly holding up an unusual dish. The dish was lavishly decorated with 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 hand painted and the markings on the base indicated that this piece originated in Russia. The implication 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 his girlfriend as a gift to win her hand. This exquisite piece of china was a 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.

 Right at that moment a man dressed strangely in a Russian Cossack outfit leapt at Billy waving a sword, shouting in broken English:
“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 broke into a million pieces.
The Auctioneer, shocked; dropped his gavel, picked up a gun and shot the menacing intruder dead.
History was made and lay in fragments on the floor.

Copyright © written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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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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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