April Announcement; A To Z Challenge 2019

#AtoZChallenge 2019 badge

Hi everyone, I just wanted to let you know that I’m taking part in the A-Z Challenge again this year. Sorry, my for the late notice but I’m currently ill and struggling with lots of things, including mental health problems.

As of yet, I’ve not put anything together for the challenge but my plan will be like that of the last few years of taking part. I’ll search out words of different kinds that I’ve never heard of before and use them to base a story around. Some stories might also include inspiration from other imagine or writing prompts which I shall note.

The link to the challenge is here; http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/ there’s still time to sign up and get involved.

Thank you for all the support and inspiration I receive from all you comments and likes. They do help to keep me going when I’m struggling to write. Here’s to many more short stories!

Explore More #Pegman

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Niobe took a deep breath and looked around, Turkey was not as she had imagined it to be. Then again, none of the other countries she had visited had been.

Tourists and the media only showed you a friction of a place. To really understand a country, you had to walk the poorest streets, look deep into the history and visit the lesser well known places.

Niobe would do all that then post it on the internet for all to see. Then perhaps, she could change the misconceptions about places and inspire others to explore more.

(Inspired by; https://whatpegmansaw.com/2018/06/16/what-pegman-saw-turkey/ with thanks).

Postcard #44 Elysian #atozchallenge

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Elysian; beautiful or creative, divinely inspired, peaceful perfect.

Dear Violet,

The world is quiet here. Well, it would be because I’m alone on an island! This morning, I found the most beautiful seashell yet. I drew it for you, but I don’t think it does justice. Recently, I’ve felt so inspired as if something greater, beyond us, has influenced me. I’ve been drawing, writing and reading a lot more. It’s so peaceful here, it’s almost too perfect! And yet when I think back to how things were before….I realise I would take all of this over that any day.

Yours in hiding,

L.

Dear Diary #36

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Dear Diary,

I’ve lost the inspiration and motivation again. It’s like there’s a light bulb above my head that burns bright for a few days then dims and dims till it goes out. Turning it back on is so hard. And I swear each time it takes longer and gets more difficult.

I know what people say; ‘you shouldn’t wait for inspiration,’ ‘find your own motivation,’ ‘just keep going and working through no matter what you feel that day.’

But they are not me.

Someone of them are more successful and they use that to conquer the bad days. Others, have to do it because otherwise they won’t survive so they can’t give up. The rest are chasing their dream, the knowledge of one day getting there seeing them through.

I’m in between all of that; successful but not, surviving just, wanting the dream but also boarder line living it.

Everyday I see people moving on with their lives; getting married, having kids, getting a house, getting a better job, a new car, holidays and celebrations. Getting divorced, losing everything, maybe living on the streets for awhile but then rising back up like a phoenix and going through it all again.

Whilst, I feel trapped. I’m living through the characters I write about, seeing the world and problems through them, feeling their emotions. Some say that’s living better then anyone else, for why would you actually want to go through that?

You know what I call it? Fake living.

I can go to the park and watch the children playing and the parents talking and instead of thinking about my own life, I’m thinking about theirs’. What would happen if a child went suddenly missing? Or if that mum told that mum that she had slept with her husband? Why is that dad alone this afternoon? Is the man with the cap covering his face and trying to look normal really up to something bad?

Those thoughts can’t be helped. I try to stop the flow, to think of things I believe normal people think about; have a left the stove on? When are my library books due back? What happened to that girl I swapped numbers with at the bar last weekend? My life would be easier if that was the only stuff in my head.

I don’t know what to do about this lack of motivation again. I should maybe take a holiday, go some place new. Meet some new people too. Have a life again. It’s all well and good to live in your own fantasy world all the time, but sooner or later, you realise that it’s just not the real world no matter how hard you try.

 

Unstoppable

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Ethan wanted to be a superhero. Laying in bed and despite coughing loudly, he imaged himself grown up and being the hero. He would save women in distress, kill the bad guys and save the day. Everyone would know his name and he would be world famous.

Smiling as he watched the patterns of light and shadow on his ceiling, he let his dream play out. Ethan would be better then any other superhero before; faster, stronger, more powerful. He would be unstoppable! Though that would not make a good superhero name…

The pain in his chest forced him to roll over. Ethan hung his head over the edge of the bed and coughed for what felt like forever. He reached a trembling hand out and searched on his bedside table. His hand knocked his glasses and a comic book before connected with the object he was looking for. Picking up the glass, Ethan sipped the cool water and felt a little better. Placing the glass back, he wondered where his inhaler had gone too.

He sat up, turned on the lamp and his superhero dreams faded with the shadows. He found and used his inhaler. Hating the taste at the back of his throat from it. He took some deep breaths and felt for a few minutes his cough and chest easing. Then though he heard the familiar wheezing in his breathing once more.

Groaning, he fell back onto his bed.

‘Superheros don’t get sick,’ he muttered.

Ethan put a hand on his chest and rubbed the returning ache. He scrunched up his face and inside his head loudly told himself that he was not going to let his illness ever stop him from doing anything.

 

This story was inspired by https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/unstoppable/

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/unstoppable/”>Unstoppable</a&gt;

Air Rush

Paragliding, Blue Sky, Parachute, Sport, Fly, Sky

The wind was rushing around Martin like a tornado and no matter how many times he closed his eyes, counted then opened them again, he was still here. Gritting his teeth, he looked towards the open door of the plane and the handful of people waiting to jump out. Martin was sit in his seat, trying to stop his knees knocking together with the fear.

‘This is great team building!’ someone screamed.

Martin shook his head, he could think of far better and safer things.

‘Go! Go! Go!’ Came the call and people started jumping.

‘I can’t, can’t,’ Martin mumbled.

Someone grabbed and yanked him upwards, shouting his name at the same time. He fought against them and the forceful wind helped and made him stumble backwards.

‘I can’t!’ he yelled.

‘Of course you can! It’s easy!’ A female voice shouted back.

‘I’m going to die, Amy!’ Martin responded.

‘No you’re not!’ Amy answered.

‘Go! Come on!’ a louder voice cut in.

Martin shook his head and tried to pin himself against the stomach of the plane, but the large bag strapped to his back would not let him. Amy’s iron grip did not let his wrist go and Martin was dragged behind.

‘You have to go separate.’

‘Him first then,’ Amy said and pushed Martin.

He screamed, wind hit his face and tore his words away. He windmilled his arms and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt himself spinning and just tumbling out of the sky. Someone grab him, helping him to stop the spin, but not the huge free fall. He opened his eyes, saw the world growing below him and freaked out.

Amy opened his parachute for him then somehow flung herself away enough to open her own chute.

Martin felt himself being tugged backwards and starting to slow down. He opened his eyes and looked up. The parachute hung above him a large red and white stripy bug against the true blue sky. Then he looked down and saw the beauty of the patch work countryside below.

The fear lifted and he left it behind as he embraced the sense of being alive.

Little Crocodile

It was surreal, but there they were drifting under a night sky filled with the most wondrous activity from the stars and planets. The water lapped at the side of their boat and in the silence that was all they could hear. Mother lent on the bent wooden pole and tried not to weep. Her children transfixed by the light display above them had dried tears still on their faces. Gently, Mother steered them down the river that had once been the Nile, but was now known as the Nilegy Sea.

‘Father would have loved this!’ the youngest called out.

‘Yes, yes he would,’ Mother replied sadly and looked down at her husband’s hollowed out back.

(Inspired by; painting by Leonora Carrington entitled How Doth the Little Crocodile 1998)