An Autumn Morning #3LineTales

three line tales week 95: cowboys down under because the first Ashes test starts today

Mist danced in the rising sun which fell in-between the tall trees. The land was quiet, expect for the low movements of cattle and horses. The cowboys tried after their drunken late night and rough sleep, dozed on and off, missing the glory that was around them.

(Inspired by; https://only100words.xyz/2017/11/23/three-line-tales-week-95/ with thanks.)

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Village Bakery

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Every morning, Jenny got up and went to her family’s bakery. Always the first to arrive, she tied on a clean pale blue apron over her black pants and white blouse then set about the morning tasks. Firstly,  she took the now clean aprons out of the washing machine and hung them up on the line in the little yard. The sun was just coming up and there was only the sounds of birds to be heard.

Secondly, she checked the stock rooms and made a list of everything that needed re-ordering then Jenny placed that notepad on her grandpa’s desk for him to see. There was no need for her to clean anything as her grandma and mother tided when they closed then again before they opened.

Tying back her short chestnut brown hair and washing her hands, Jenny went to the back kitchen and the bookcase of recipe books. Even thought she knew how to make everything the bakery sold with her eyes shut, she still liked the comfort of the big, overused books. Selecting one which was all in her great-grandmother’s handwriting, Jenny placed it on the book stand and flipped through the pages.

Grabbing the ingredients, she began to make a few different loafs of bread. It didn’t really matter what kinds they were because the second they were on the shop’s shelves they would start to be bought. Having mixed, divided and put the additional ingredients in to the batches, she let all the dough proof.

At that time, other family members began arriving; Jenny’s parents and grandparents. Greeting each other, they all began their morning tasks. Her mother and grandma cleaning everything, her grandpa going in his office to do paperwork, her dad coming to help with the baking.

As the sun fully rose on another picture perfect summer day, the villagers and tourist started awaking. The lovely aroma of freshly baked bread filled the warm air. The bell above the bakery door tinkled and the first customer arrived. Jenny smiled as she heard an old man’s voice asking what bread there was this morning.

Her grandmother began answering as her father pulled a tray stacked with white and brown loafs out and carried it into the shop. Jenny breathed in deeply, shutting her eyes. There was no better job in the world she decided.

Gold

golden-dawn

It was some stupid time in the morning. That moment between night and day. We were parked on the roadside in the middle of nowhere where we had been all night. Some strange noise broke through my sleep and I had to get up. Navigating though the new motor home, I made it to the bathroom.

Coming out, I heard my wife moving in the bed, sighing and muttering. That was not the sound that had disturbed me though. I went to a side window because I had put the cover across the front window screen. Peering out into the predawn moments, I saw winter frost on the grass and shinning on the countryside road.

The noise sounded like an engine and my thoughts went straight to a car, a lorry or a tractor. However, as the sound grew it didn’t seem to be the engine of any of those, more it was an aircraft.

I put on my coat and boots before unlocking the door and going outside. It was weirdly still outside; no wind or sound. Then though a hole in the tall evergreen trees ahead I saw a glowing golden light.

The rising sun?

The noise of an engine filled the air and without really knowing it, I pressed myself to the side of the motor home. The light grew brighter, more stronger then the sun. I turned my head away, my mind flashing though everything I knew that could possibly be this machine coming towards me.

The gold light swept over me, the engine roaring deafening above. I blinked and looked up. There was something huge moving just above the tree tops. It was an aircraft, but like nothing I’d ever seen. It had no wings or tail and seemed to be round in shape. Light was pouring off it causing the forest to look like it was on fire.

Then it was gone.

I looked around, moving away from the motor home and searching the skies. There was just nothing. I was alone in the darkness.

To my left, through the hole in the trees once more, a weaker yellow light began. I knew this time it was the sun rising. The sky changed becoming soft pink and pale blue colours   above me.

I got back in the motor home. A part of me wanted to wake my wife to tell her what I’d seen, but then what had I really just seen?

 

(Inspired by https://scvincent.com/2017/01/05/thursday-photo-prompt-gold-writephoto/ with thanks)

Cold Morning

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Lizzy didn’t want to get up, but the alarm clock was demanding she did. Throwing the bedding back from her nest, she got up and ran to the bathroom, before her body had time to register the cold. She got in the shower and blasted hot water until she felt like a layer of skin had been burnt off.

She got out before she had fully thought about it. Leaving the shower to drip itself to a stop, Lizzy wrapped three towels around herself and went back to the bedroom. There she got dressed, trying not to take too long to decide what office clothes to wear. Anything warm and comfy would do.

In black trousers, a dark blue blouse and a long black cardigan, Lizzy sat before her mirror and sorted out her hair. Then abandoning the towels on the heating rack, she went into the kitchen and made breakfast. It was at that point Lizzy’s mind fully awoke. It was as if someone had flipped the switch that made her off autopilot and on to normal again.

Lizzy sighed as the kettle clicked and the microwave binged.

‘I don’t want to go to work today,’ she muttered, ‘its going to be another blue Monday.’

She made a cup of tea then collected her porridge out of the microwave. She put the TV on just for background noise and had breakfast whilst half watching the news. Then she left her things in the sink, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction that no parent or housemate could yell at her. Living alone might have it’s loneliness, but there were so many benefits.

Gathering her things, putting on her shoes and coat, she risked a peek out of the windows and saw the streets below shining as if a million tiny diamonds had been dropped on the tarmac. The weather forecast hadn’t lied.

Leaving, Lizzy didn’t bother calling the elevator, but went straight down the five flights of turning stairs. She braced herself at the front door then opened it. An icy wind blew in her face and around her legs like an old man’s wandering fingers. Lizzy fought it off and hurried outside. She walked boldly to the bus stop and waited with a few other people.

There were two old women dressed like Antarctic explorers with shopping bags on wheels. A middle-age man in a tried grey business suit who looked washed out by society’ demands. Four chatting school girls in mini skirts and nothing covering their legs, but short socks. Lizzy wondered how they masked the cold they must be feeling so well.

The bus pulled up and it was full as was to be expected. She showed her pass and had to stand up for the twenty minute ride into the city center. Luckily, her office was just around the corner. Getting off in a sea of people, Lizzy hurried down the slippy street and to the office door. She took off her gloves keyed in the numbers and opened the door when it clicked.

Climbing the stairs, she decided to head straight to the kitchen and make herself a hot drink. Maybe some fancy fruit tea? She pushed open her office door and stopped.

Brightly colored Christmas decorations were hanging from the ceiling and the windows. Plastic ornaments spun in the breeze from the door and the soft notes of Christmas songs tickled her ears. In the far corner, a fake green Christmas sat. Heavily decorated with cheap tatty things which the string of fairy lights lit brightly up.

Lizzy walked in and closed the door. A few people were at their desks all ready. Their voices as they spoke to one another or to someone on the phone rose and fell. She went into the small kitchen and found that had had a make over too. Someone had hung some mistletoe up by the window and there was a wicker gift basket by the sink.

She went over and looked at it. A large noticed announced it was a collection for the homeless to be given to the church just up the road on Christmas Eve. Lizzy tucked the card back and made herself a strawberry and lime tea. She took it back to her desk and just sat there for a few moments.

There’s just something, she thought, about Christmas decorations that makes you feel at home. I guess I was wrong about it being another blue Monday.   

Autumn Blues

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Summer had only just gone and Autumn had arrived via stormy weather in the night. Sammy got up and out of bed to see this. Seeking out a warm jumper and a cotton skirt with thick tights from her wardrobe, she dressed. Then with longing looked back at her still warm bed.

Fighting the urge to crawl back in, she went into the her flat’s tiny kitchen. The rain tapped against the window as she ate breakfast with the dull voice of the news reporter filling the living room. A loud meowing made her turn her head and there was Boris at the window.

‘You can’t go out. You don’t like the rain,’ she reminded the black cat as if he was a child.

Still Boris sat by the window yowling, till she got up and let him out. He walked into the empty flower window box then came back in, shaking water from his coat and leaving little brown paw prints on the windowsill.

Sammy sighed as Boris looked at her is if it was all her fault he was now cold, wet and muddy. Muttering under her breath, Sammy gathered her things and left. It was windier then it had seemed and she was almost swept back into the door of her apartment block. Hurrying to the bus stop, she prayed that the bus wasn’t late.

The Season of Change

autumn, fall, forest

The colorful leaves fall from the trees, dancing to the ground.

I walk through them, admiring the feel of the misty morning on my skin.

Though, it’s just a vision of what once was long ago before the finally war.

 

Here We Stand (Part 4)

Religious Statue in Greyscale Photo

The voices were whispering so it was hard to tell where and how many there were. It was the echo that had carried the sounds to my ears. Fighting down the urge to get out of the suffocating darkness, I kept still and tried to quieten my breathing. From above came shuffled footsteps and the sound of shifting rumble.

A voice said something, but the words were too faint. I gritted my teeth and hoped they’d move on soon. What had they come for? There was nothing here that anyone would want. Unless, they were looking for things to burn or to salvage. Though they’d see pretty quickly that there wasn’t much here.

Maybe they were hiding?

My thoughts flashed back and my breathing quickened. The pitch darkness made it easier for my mind to start playing images. I crouched down, hugging myself and pressing my forehead to my knees. I was back in that moment and they were coming for me. There were six of them, wearing mostly leather clothes and carrying weapons; knifes, cricket bats and homemade glass blades.

I could hear their voices taunting me to come out, followed by laughter. I put my hands over my ears and tried to block it out, I thought about other things, anything whilst also begging that they didn’t find me. I knew if they did I was dead. My breathing was so loud and I was sure they would hear me.

A loud sound broke through the past. I dropped my hands and listened. Stone and wood seemed to be falling. Without thinking about it, I swung on my hiking bag and scrambled for the stairs. My toes hit the first step and I tumbled down. My knees and hands taking blows of pain. Ignoring that and the taste of blood in my mouth, I crawled up the stairs. At the doorway, I squeezed through and surveyed the scene.

If there had been people in the church they were gone now. The small space was just like I remembered it minutes ago, beside from a new hole in the roof which was noticeable by the dust cloud. Deciding not to waste time figuring out what had happened, I hurried across the rubble and out of the door.

Morning light washed over me and I had to wait till my eyes had refocused. Breathing in clean, woodland scented air, I moved away from the church and into the graveyard. Long grass wrapped around, but a ploughed through it. Dew soaked my jeans as I become more aware of my painful knees.

Avoiding the gravestones, I made it into the trees and stopped. I half turned, making sure no one was following me. From the corner of my eyes, I saw a little flutter of blue from the church doorway. Looking over, I saw a figure emerging.

To Be Continued…

 

 

 

Wall

art, brush, painting

He liked to draw, but only on walls. Early in the morning, before the city fully awoke, he set out with his tools. He walked the almost empty streets where yesterday’s newspaper rustled around lampposts and the air hummed with rotting fast food. Lights on top floors shone out, growing dim as the sun rose higher.

He found his ‘canvas’ on the inside wall of a pedestrian tunnel under a road. Setting his things down, he looked for the best spot to began as he ponder what he would paint today.

Out There

Roy stood on  a large slippery moss covered boulder and looked at the raging river water threatening to splash against his hiking boots and pants. He could see nothing below the foaming white tops and dark blue rapids. He rose his head and took in the scene before him, his eyes and mind still not able to fully take in the magical beauty that surrounded him.

A gentle wind was blowing the early morning mist through the tops of the pine trees, making the landscape before him seem taller then it actually was. Roy could just make out the faint outline of the rising cliffs he had climbed through yesterday as they shadowed out of the low grey clouds.

Roy bent down and dipped his first canteen below the waves. His skin pricked at the cold water’s touch before growing use to it once more. Raising the leather bottle out again, he screwed on the lid and grabbed for his second. A low growling brushed his ears and he froze.

Ever so slowly, Roy eased his head up to looked. Directly across from him, having appeared out of the too close pine trees and scrub was a brown mother bear and her cub. Roy’s breath caught and his heart skipped a beat. The bear was large, but looking thin and her coat was damp with the dew and brush off from the leaves. Her cub couldn’t have been older the two months, he was tiny yet looked identical to her as he nestled against her front leg.

Roy gradually lowed himself to the floor. A few times he paused to stop the rattling of the three canteens at his side and pull up the straps on his shoulder. He felt the splatter of water against him and was thankful for his water proofs. He felt the hard stone against his knees then risked another look up.

The mother bear was still there, watching and judging him, deciding if he was a threat or not. Her cub was yowling, his voice carrying even above the sounds of the raging river. He clearly was not happy to stand still for long.

Roy looked away again, trying to keep his breathing steady and the eddies of panic in his stomach down. A part of him desperately wanted to flee and he weighed up the option of doing that carefully. Would the river make her think twice about chasing me?  It wouldn’t stop her if she decided to. Her cub would be swept away though, there’s no way he’d make it through there. No. It’s best just to stay and wait. If I don’t move, she’ll know I’m no threat. She probably only came down for a drink. The water looks too rough for fishing.

Roy flowed the cresting waves over to the rocky shore and saw the massive claws and paws of the mother bear. The cub was skittering around, playing with the loose stones he was now kicking up. The mother started to move, her black nose sniffing the air greedily. She reached the water’s edge and her cub charged up beside her and almost into the water. The shock of cold against his face brought him to a halt and cried wildly out then snuggled into her leg.

A small smile curled on to Roy’s lips and he wished he had his camera to hand. It was back with his tent and other gear on the grassy nook he had set camp up on last night. He had feeling though, this would stay in his memory a long time. Without warning, the mother bear turned away and began lumbering up the rocky shore. Her cub scrambled after her, crying his dismay loudly.

Roy finally took a deep enough breathe the fill his lungs completely. He stretched his stiff and now aching limbs as he stood. His eyes tracked across the river and he saw the fleeting end of the bears. He took another few breathes, feeling himself becoming totally calm again.

He turned and got halfway back up the boulders when he he suddenly remembered what had been doing. He turned back again and hurried down to the river, his canteens rattling loudly at his side.

Another Sick day

Ash settled under her sofa fort, fighting a wave of the shivers. Tightening the duvet around herself, she rested against the fluffy cushions and look out over the darkened living room. Her dog, Harry, snuggled into her feet and lower legs. Heat drifting from his body and his paw tapping against her. Ash wonder what he dreamed of as dawn broke outside, bring life to a crisp January day.