Friday morning crisis – friends for dinner tomorrow. He’s a chef, she’s a restaurant manager. Theme? Italian? No, because they are and it would be like trying to show ME how to make a cup of tea (or pour a Weissbier). Mexican? No-one likes it as spicy as I do – I AM the Jalopeno Kid. Indian – way too heavy. Then, an idea…
Greek / Eastern Mediterranean – different, appetizing and good. Trouble is lamb is the staple and in Switzerland (don’t ask me why) finding lamb is like finding a sober judge.
I shall consult the good girlfriend when she wakes up…
It’s Friday, people!!!
So here I am in southern Switzerland. The sun is out, the sky is blue and I’m at home with the flu – yes I know it’s not the Buddy Holly lyric but it’ll do.
Is it an excuse not to write? No. It does however make thinking a little harder, rational decision making a little more difficult and something I had in the pipeline may now stay there a few more days as I can’t conclude it. BUT, it is the reason this new page has appeared on my blog. Till now, I’ve not used it as a “social” thing, i.e. talking with you, if, of course anyone’s out there.
The books tell us to just get words down on paper, irrespective of grammatical error, spelling mistake or, God forbid, use passive tense. Well, in my mini-mire of flu-induced writer’s (HaHa!!) block, I decided my blog needed “Transient Crap” under my home page. Even if I can’t get down what’s in my head, I can still get down what’s ready to come out of my mouth – very often not the same thing.
With this non-thought, I’ll make myself a cup of tea.
I wanted to get away, run or even be put under, anything to get away from this jolting, numbing pain running through me. I didn’t know how long I’d been here, time became irrelevant. As I looked up I saw only a shape, fuzzy round the edges, not clear, just a silhouette. Alien. I could think only of the Cybermen on Dr. Who, way back when I was a kid. It was alien anyway, as was the hurt. It was less traumatic to break a bone in the body, I thought vaguely between white flashes of agony, the nerves in my face were standing on end, screaming at me, waving angry red flags at me. Half a second then another bolt of pain. I closed my eyes and my body went stiff, I felt my hands, back and legs soaked in sweat, I hadn’t even been laid out almost horizontal for more than a few minutes but the pain was becoming unbearable. I tried to move my head but to no avail, foolishly I thought it help me. My hands crossed themselves, twisting, sweating and entwining as the pain continued. Minutes passed.
A respite. I was unsure whether this pain had subsided or whether I was gradually getting used to it. However it had started to lessen, the flags went from red to orange, I had hoped for green but I guess that was asking too much. My face went from fingernail-on-blackboard nerve shredding torture to uncomfortably numb. My hands were sweating less and they stopped writhing like mating eels in a bucket. My shirt however was still soaked. I was breathing normally at least. Fearful the pain would start again I slowly opened my eyes once more.
A hand went up, the Cyberman’s head switched off and my dentist clapped me on the shoulder. “Smile”, he said, “you’re free to go.”
My second Flash piece submission to Morgen Bailey.
Welcome to Flash Fiction Friday and the forty-third piece of flash fiction in this series. This week’s welcomes back Christopher Farley with his 727-worder.
He slammed the door, got into his car and drove like a madman from her house. He was sick of arguing, tired of continually being in the wrong and now he had had enough. Jo was good looking and had many admirers, sometimes to Mannie’s annoyance, but sex and a good looking girlfriend weren’t enough to keep him tied to a relationship that consisted of too much tension and too many fights. This one had ended physically, and after her various insults he had hit her. It was just a slap, he thought, as he left her holding the left side of her face.
The brake-lights in front flashed. Possibly Mannie was distracted. Guns n’ Roses were playing loud on the stereo. Possibly he…
View original post 1,084 more words
Under a yellow, sickening sky did I
Come from above, where once I
Led a strong legion, all powerful but I
Wanted more, much more so I
Employed temptation, persuasion for I
Used a woman to get at man and I
Have been ever present , beside you, I
Wanted followers too, however I
Misjudged your faith, I misjudged you.
Green; the leaves on the trees no longer fresh from spring.
Spring, now past. The grass beneath my bare feet in the morning dew.
Dew; a million tiny drops of water, my feet wet and cool in the morning.
Dawning, the sun is rising, to evaporate the dew. Grass turns brown.
Tamara felt the ice beneath her. It took her. She was moving too fast to think of stopping, she gave in to the slide, unsure where she would end up.
She saw the wall grow rapidly in her sight, there was no way she was going to avoid it. Realising her options were decreasing with every passing second she attempted a turn to the left, away from the looming barrier, to at least minimalise the impact with the encircling obstruction. She was now regretting going all out, hell for leather. The ice has wrested all hope of control from her.
The lights played across the ice, danced in her vision. She started to spin.
Tamara dug her heels in and fell to the floor in a heap. Legs splayed, she merely sat, skirt around her thighs, feeling the ice sting her skin. Getting up gingerly, she placed a hand on her backside. That’ll be bruised later, she thought. She kept her head down, avoiding the watching people around the perimeter wall and headed for the exit as she counted the years since she’d last been ice-skating.