A prompt response for Master Class ~ Assignment ~ 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.
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
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers ~ Writing challenge.
Hosted by Priceless Joy.
The goal is to write a story between 100-150 words (give or take 25 words) based on the provided photo.
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Scott, author of the blog, Scott’s Place
by John Yeo
The Gaucho regarded the penned wild horses with a sadness that welled up into a sympathy for these beautiful creatures. As he regarded this latest herd of captives waiting to be broken and tamed one of the horses held his gaze. He began to feel an extreme sadness for the loss of freedom of the wild horses roaming the range. It was almost as if this magnificent creature was communicating with him as pictures formed in his mind, of the love between a stallion and his favourite mare. The colts running and jumping along with the herd as they traversed the range. Wind rustling through the brush and ruffling the manes of the free-moving, fast-galloping horses.
“I have broken in so many horses in my long career, I have never felt this way before!” He murmured.
The wild horse held his gaze, he felt a deep compassion well up inside of him. The horse whinnied and tossed its head.
Entranced the gaucho unlocked the gate and set them free.
Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.
This is in response to a challenge hosted by Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. If you would like to participate in this challenge or need more information, please click the following link:
by John Yeo ©
Michael had a reputation for fun and laughter, everybody loved his sense of humour and went along with him in his merriment. Often when we were down in the dumps, an off-the-cuff remark from Michael would lift our spirits to new heights. His brand of humour was not a bullying, vindictive cruel variety, all the laughs were gained by pure quick-wit, from unusual situations. There was another side to Michael that he never displayed.. A deeply sad thoughtful side. He struggled desperately to keep this sad side under control. The jester played the joker, to trump the face of despair.
Written in response to the 100 word challenge from Verbal Verbosity~~ JESTER
This is the latest Picture, from the picture it and write series from Ermilia’s blog
silent dying by laura makabresku on Flickr
By John Yeo
The peace of the moment.
Reflected in Stillness and Silence,
The shroud tries to conceal
The awful tragic truth.
A young life lived, so short,
So sweet and full of laughter.
The curse of the cancer that eats away,
The frailty of our human defences.
Many a care you faced in a life,
Shrugged away with the ease of youth.
You lived a life in an enquiring way,
Never realising the awful truth.
Many tears have now drowned the moment,
Your short life has sadly expired.
The cancer sapped your strong free will
Until the fight for life back-fired.
Now you lie here, at peace,
We all find it so hard to bear,
Our frailty shows in the tears we shed,
As we say goodbye with a prayer.
Life is a passage from here to somewhere,
A stage in the eternal journey.
A short sweet life has left today
Thanks for the life-long memory.
Copyright (c). Written by John Yeo. All rights reserved.