Tag: Reminiscence

Friday Fictioneers — Blank

dale-rogerson2

“You’ve no idea what mortal sin we committed, have you?”

Who’s that stranger shouting in my ear?

“I’m your husband, John, for God’s sake. How dare you leave me to shoulder all the guilt.”

Why can’t that horrid man go away?    

“I’ll see you in purgatory.”

Is he the priest? I don’t know him. “Think only of the past, as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”

“What, the hell?”

“Elizabeth … in ‘Pride and Prejudice’. Mama likes to read to me. …My Harry, as handsome as Mr Darcy. I married him yesterday, you know.”

“He’s been dead forty years. We buried him.”

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories
Photo prompt: copyright © Dale Rogerson

Tell 5 Secrets Blog Hop — Snapshots from Early Childhood

Many thanks to my dear friend, Sherri, who has tagged me for Tell 5 Secrets Blog Hop. Those of you who haven’t yet stumbled upon Sherri’s blog, do check out A View From My Summerhouse after your visit here, as it is a veritable treasure trove.

For the challenge, I decided to take five snippets from my early childhood and compose a 31-syllable Tanka poem for each of them.

Clipped copper beech hedge
divides half-acre garden.
~neat lawn, wild woods~
Small girl stands before curtain
watching midnight fairies flit.

Boy likes to show off,
“Insectivorous mammal”
his latest two words.
High-pitched squeaks ~ferocious beast?~
Shrew breaks out of cardboard box.

Never mind Dad’s lungs.
Cigarette cards stored in tins
*star collectibles*
bound to impress boy next door.
Bee stings boy’s bum. Bad timing.

Parental oddness
Off to hairdresser with Mum
~latest auburn tint~
Girl swivels around in chair,
awaiting the rising sun.

Girl climbs up high tree,
determined to outdo boy.
On ground, far below,
cracked cases of horse chestnuts
remind her of broken skulls.

 

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And now who’s the lucky person I’m going to tag for the Tell 5 Secrets Blog Hop? No less than the indomitable Blondeusk at Blondewritemore, who blogs every day and manages to make me smile often, with her wonderful turns of phrase and her ability to laugh at herself.

Friday Fictioneers: Lost and Found

©Tales_From_the_Motherland

Rachel walked the rectangles of water, hoping to find a cure for old age. The featureless shallows surrounded by stark rock symbolised her brain. Lost memories and hardened blood vessels. If only she could see her reflection in these pools, her emptiness would vanish along with her wrinkles.

Today, Rachel’s face seemed closer to the water than ever, her spine bent double where the landscape had leached the minerals from her bones. For a second, in the white sun, she glimpsed a mirrored child, before walking over the edge and tumbling into the pools below along with her recaptured memory.

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A big thank you Rochelle Wisoff for this weeks photo prompt. This is my first contribution to Friday Fictioneers, a story of exactly 100 words in length. To find out how you can join in with the weekly flash fiction challenge and to read other people’s stories to go with the image above, do visit Rochelle’s blog.

Hogwarts School of Wizardry, I Wish!

Inspired by Leigh Ward-Smith’s entertaining post Six-Word Stories: On School, I’m going to share with you twenty-one six-word memories of the girls-only boarding school I attended. Why twenty-one? Because that’s my age … hah, hah, I wish. You won’t see me cross my heart and hope to die on that score.

All girls school torture for tomboys.

School tuck box. Lemon sherbets. Toffees.

Not on diet. Pudding third helpings.

Playing vinyl records on portable player.

Terror of lacrosse and hockey sticks.

Sadistic sports teachers with hairy legs.

Sent out of chapel for giggling.

Bogey up French teacher’s nose distracts.

English teacher sings Joan Baez songs.

Art class. Life drawing resembles Queen.

Swearing. Mouth washed out with soap.

Performance nerves. Messes up school concert.

Headache, tears of frustration over algebra.

Slide rules. No calculators. Mental arithmetic.

Writing science fiction instead of studying.

Midnight. Reading banned books by torchlight.

Talking after lights out. Nocturnal detention.

Chicken pox. Mock O-levels in bed.

Blank paper in exams. Time up.

School Prize Day. Nothing for me.

Wishing too late, I’d worked harder.

Previous posts related to school:

School, serpents and sin

A tribute to Roald Dahl: bad school reports versus literary genius

 

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