Market #FridayFictioneers

For the first time in two months the market was awake once more.

People set up their stalls under a orange-yellow sky, greeting each other. Plastic and paper rustled in the breeze whilst the heavenly scent of fresh bread, cakes and pies called to be tasted. 

Harriet and her mother set up their small farm’s produce stall. There were eggs laid by their chickens. Homemade jams, marmalade and chutneys using fruit and veg from their field. Golden honey from Harriet’s beehives and goat’s cheese from mother’s goats.

The nervousness in the air was broken by the first customers arriving. Harriet let go of the breath she was holding. It felt like things were returning back to normal.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/06/24/26-june-2020/ with thanks)

The Scent of Roses

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The Lady hadn’t left her home when she had passed on. It wasn’t that she was trapped there, she could come and go as much as she wanted. The Lady had loved the house so much that she couldn’t help but walk the corridors and through rooms still.

The Lady was glad people still came and stayed in her house. She loved hearing them praise the decor and paintings, the gardens and the water fountains. Also, it was so nice to hear the laughter of children once more as they dashed from room to room.

She knew her presence was felt because people talk about smelling her perfume. It was one she had made herself using roses from the garden and water from the spring. The Lady felt pleased by this, she liked them to know she was still here watching over her house.

Told You #FridayFictioneers

He decided to clean the windows himself despite his wife’s warnings of ladder dangers and having to juggle things but he had waved her away.

Water sloshed down the windows then there was an all might crash and screaming.

His wife hurried outside and saw her husband sprawled across the floor the ladder on top of him, Quickly, she threw the ladder away and knelt beside him.

He was moaning and mumbling, tossing his side from side to side whilst his left leg twitched and blood formed around varies openings.

‘Well, I hate to say it but I told you so!’ she snapped.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/06/17/12-june-2020/ with thanks).

Summer Pickings

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I loved the pick your own farm which was close by. As I child, my parents had taken me and now, I took my own children. We visited often during summer and autumn, to pick fruits, veg and herbs. It was great to take over flowing baskets home and cook with things we had picked.

This year we were missing out. The farm was closed because of the lock down but they still delivered a weekly box of goodness to us but it wasn’t the same for me. I brought some seeds and plants online and told the children we were growing our own.

There was nothing better then plucking, deep red strawberries, plump raspberries and green heavily smelling herbs straight off the plants and out of the Earth herself.

Food! #FridayFictioneers

Pausing for a moment, I rested on top of blade of grass and scented the air. I could smell flowers and something else….something that sent a tingle through me and called for attention.

Setting off, I followed the scent as it grew then I found myself on something different. The land rose and fell then I came across my prize.

I half rose in the air and sent the signal out to the other workers; food here! Food here!

They came in a drove, eager to see what I had found. Then together, we carried everything back to our hill and our Queen.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/06/03/5-june-2020/ with thanks).

 

 

Waterlily #FridayFictioneers

Dazing lights shone through the night as water played it’s tinkling tune within the fountain. Rising up from the centre was a large pink and white waterlily, posed on the edge of fully opening.

My mum sat on her balcony each clear evening, sometimes with a glass of wine and my dad, looking at the fountain. She didn’t know she was having me until four or five months in. She couldn’t get pregnant and thought it was another phantom.

My parents struggled to name me for weeks but finally one evening on the balcony with me wrapped in a blanket in mum’s arms, she looked across at the waterlily and knew what my name was.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/05/27/29-may-2020 with thanks)

Hay fever

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Every spring as soon as the grass got cut and the flowers started popping up, my sneezes and watery eyes started. Normally, I’d take some meds and get on with it but this year, my hay fever was worse then ever.

I felt like I had a cold. My nose was blocked and I was sneezing so much whilst my eyes were puffy and always felt like they had something in them. None of my normal things seemed to work, so I went all out on cold and flu things as well. At least they kept some of the symptoms at bay.

The days grew longer, the sun was out more often and spring turned to summer. Still, I was plagued and only cold showers seemed to help. I longed for autumn and winter to come.

 

 

Books #TaleWeaver

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Upon opening the book, she let out the waterfall of words that were trapped inside. They filled her head and took her on a journey through the pages. A part of her vanished into that world. She walked with the characters and listened to their conversations. Her thoughts judged them and her feelings rode the waves of emotions.

The plot carved its way, twisting this and that, giving up the secrets like a shipwreck. Soon, things waxed to climax then waned as the rush of words settled. The tided went fully out and the pages became empty before her.

The book was over but the characters would remain with her.

 

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/05/21/tale-weaver-276-books-21st-may/

Wishing Hats #FridayFictioneers

The one eyed hawker pulled his cart into the middle of the tourists, stopping them in their tracks.

‘Get you’re wishing hats here! Magical hats! Special discount for you, ma’am!’ he cried.

The tourists grumbled and waved the old man away. They weren’t interested, they sights to see.

‘Can I have one, please, mum? Dad?’ a young boy cried as he admired the hats.

‘Guess,’ his dad muttered, ‘replace the one you left at the cafe yesterday.’

The boy picked one out and the hawker placed it on the child’s head and whispered, ‘this is a wishing hat. Unlimited wishes for you, sonny.’

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/05/13/15-may-2020/ with thanks).

 

 

Home #WWP

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I kept dreaming of a house I could never go back to. Each time, the house was the setting for a different story; a fire in which my friends died, a place of safety from a invisible monster or a brothel where I had to work to survive.

It was my great-grandfather’s home. The place I had lived in for ten years after my mother give me up. She was only fifteen, I forgive her. Nothing bad happened to me there so why was it in my dreams?

Perhaps, it was because the house had long been knocked down and was now haunting me? Can that happen? Can you have a ghost house?

 

(Inspired by; https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/05/09/weekend-writing-prompt-156-home/ with thanks).