The Hole #FridayFictioneers

The hole kept filling with water and Farmer Brown had had enough. He threw the spade away and climbed out.

‘I just don’t understand it!’he shouted.

Neighbour, Farmer Turner, stared over the fence and said, ‘it’s a natural spring. Never gonna stop flowin’.’

Farmer Brown stormed away and told his wife. She sent away some of the water to be tested.

Months later, the results came back; high in minerals.

‘This is our fortune!’ Farmer Brown’s wife cried, ‘bottled drinking water!’

And years later, they retired early and deeply wealthy, leaving their mineral water bottling company to their children.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/05/30/8-june-2018/ with thanks).

 

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Fountains #WeeklyWritingChallenge

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Joy had been fussy all day which had, as far as Mercy was concerned lowered the whole tone of shopping in the city center for holiday clothes. Tried from dealing with the four year old, Mercy decided to finish early and try again when she was alone.

Buying drinks and snacks, Mercy pushed Joy in her pram which was full of things she had brought, across the road to the large patches of grass that made up the ‘gardens’, though really it was just two rectangles of grass divided by a large sunk circle area where there was seating and water fountains.

Mercy found a good spot and give Joy the orange juice. It was a brilliant day; hot and sunny, with a cooling breezy and not a cloud in the sky. Mercy could almost believe that she was no longer in rainy England but in an hotter country. It was busy though and just as the shops had been crowed so was the street. There were people everywhere! The noise was like a constant loud humming.

Joy was fussing again, tugging at the straps holding her in the pram and making straining noises. Her juice forgotten but still clutch in a small hand. She was too big for the pushchair now but her habit of running off meant things had to be this way. Joy was a cute toddler but all ready spoiled by grandparents who had always believed they’d never get a grandchild. Mercy blamed them for the problems Joy often give her.

‘What is it now?’ Mercy asked.

Joy waved her free hand and give a little screech, ‘water!’

Mercy looked and saw that there were children playing in the fountains. Water jets were shooting up at different heights and seemingly at random in what would have been a nice display, if not for the children running about between them. As Mercy watched, she noticed some of the kids were only half clothed; wearing just shorts or underwear, some even had swimming costumes on.

‘No,’ Mercy said firmly, ‘drink your orange juice.’

‘Mama, mama!’ Joy cried and strained more at the straps halting her freedom.

‘Now you stop that,’ Mercy snapped and moved the pram around.

Joy threw the juice bottle away and tried to stand up in the pram.

Ignoring the watching eyes from the people around them, Mercy picked up the bottle, found it half empty and placed it into the pram. Then she put her hands to her daughter’s shoulders and eased her back down.

‘Now, listen, Joy, I said no,’ Mercy spoke in a low voice.

Joy’s face crumpled and fat tears began flowing. An awful wailing sound came out of the small mouth and more heads began turning to look.

Mercy gritted her teeth, getting ready for the rant that was about to happen.

‘You won’t get any sweets.’ Mercy snapped.

Joy screamed loudly and kicked out her legs madly out. Her hands pounded the straps and Mercy had to grab on to pram to stop it from falling over.

‘Fine, fine! You can go and play!’ Mercy half-shouted.

She released her daughter with a few clicks and Joy tumbled out of the pram.

Not dazed at all, Joy forgot her tantrum and stumbled off to the closest water fountain.

Mercy lowered her head, re-arranging stuff in the pram as if nothing had happened.

 

(Inspired by; https://secretkeeper.net/2018/05/21/weekly-writing-challenge-142 with thanks).

Water Escape #FridayFictioneers

As I waited for the lock to fill up so we could get the narrow boat down the canal, I noticed the strange trees and house behind them. I wondered what kind of trees they were, for I’d never seen just a bare trunk then a puff of green leaves like that before. The house must be a rich person’s home.

I shook my head, that kind of living wasn’t for me, I needed the flow of water, the experience of the elements, the escapism from this technology driven world.

We opened the gates and drifted onwards.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/03/07/9-march-2018/ with thanks).

Flow #writephoto

Life is like the flow of a river, I realised looking up at the waterfall from the canvas I had been painting on. You start off like a spring then become a stream, turning this way and that as you take different paths. Then you join a river and carry on going through things; some good and some bad, changing and growing older. Finally, you join the sea ending your life.

I looked down at the canvas balanced on the small easel, the painting I had done was a likeness of the waterfall and mossy rocks below, but I didn’t like it. Some of the strokes looked childlike and I really hadn’t captured the true beautiful force of the waterfall. I signed and began to pack up. It was always the same when I paused and valuated my art; I couldn’t go on when I became negative about it.

When I was done, I stood and watched the river carrying on tumbling down. The sound was so calming and mixed in with the soft singing of the birds and the rustle of the trees this place was a peaceful spot. The river then bubbled past me and away into a cluster of trees towards the next waterfall. It began raining.

I looked up at the sky frowning then ducked into the cover of some trees. A thought popped into my head; this is the full circle of water. I watched the raindrops falling in the ground and realised that we too became a part of the earth, only we didn’t raise up again. It was a morbid thought but at the same time reassuring.

The river couldn’t stop it’s flow and nor could we stop the flow of life.

 

(Inspired by https://scvincent.com/2017/09/21/thursday-photo-prompt-flow-writephoto/ with thanks).

Star Race

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The three of them sat in the natural hot water spring rock tub, relaxing. Above them the late night sky was a wash with colourful clouds and stars. This morning, they had placed bets on which spaceship would win the Intergalactic Ring Race tomorrow. However, they had all entered the race and voted for each other, because it was all a bit of fun between brothers.

(Inspired from; https://allaboutwritingandmore.wordpress.com/2017/08/24/daily-picture-prompt-236/ with thanks.)

Lake Side

A photo by Michael Fertig. unsplash.com/photos/ypFabCEUnuA

She tossed her head back, basking in the early evening sunlight. Dangling her bare feet over the edge of the jetty, her soles just skimmed the calm lake’s surface.

This is the life, she thought.

Shutting her eyes, she let the warmth drift across her face. She heard little waves lapping against the shore, the jetty and the small boat that was moored behind her. Birds were singing their late evening song and the wind was sometimes shifting the late summer trees.

There were no people or cars or another distractions, it was just her and the lake.

Melting

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It was too hot and she felt like she was melting away. Trying to find the energy to get up, knowing a cold shower would help, she pushed all the bedding away. She lay there wondering if this was how the Wicked Witch in OZ had felt. Wishing someone would throw water at her, she give up the struggle and began dozing off again.

Sunny

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There was something satisfying about dozing in the hot sun by the side of the swimming pool. All my troubles seemed to melt and not want to resurface. I was carried away by the cool water gently lapping, the palm trees waving and the pleasant sounds of children playing. It was going to be hard to leave this all behind and return back home to work. Maybe, I could just hide out here forever and become part of the hotel furniture.

 

(Inspired from: https://thewriteedgewritingworkshop.wordpress.com/2017/07/06/writing-prompts-for-monday-july-10-2017/ with thanks)

The Eating River

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The river consumed everything in it’s path.

Not caring if it was natural  or man-made, it swept all it away.

Washing the earth clean of everything that once was.

 

 

Inside #writephoto

The maid frowned in her cleaning of the grand staircase as her sharp eyes spotted the water on the stone window sill opposite. Shuffling over, she looked and tried to figure out where the water had come from.

The window couldn’t be opened for it was just a single panel of glass fitted into a thick stone wall so the rain from last night couldn’t have got in. Plus, this section of the castle was currently closed and she was the first person to come in for a few weeks now.

Deciding there must be a leak somewhere above, the maid mopped up the water and give the window a quick clean. Then getting back to her main tasks, her mind forgot all about reporting the problem.

A month later, the maid came back to that section again to keep on top of things. Once again she noticed the small puddles of water on the window sill. This time she checked to make sure there was no holes in the glass and that the other window sills were dry.

Satisfied, she made a note in her little notebook and went back to work. It had to be a little leak somewhere. The castle was late thirteen century so it was to be expected that some of the old lead lining was fading.

At the end of the shift, the maid reported the leak and detailed where it was; south tower, third window on staircase.  

However, every time she went into that section the water puddles were still on the window still. She mopped them up and tried to find a source for them which even on rainy days seemed a mystery. Then she would report the problem.

Finally, one afternoon the maid complained to her manager.

‘The leak I keep reporting isn’t getting fixed,’ she said, ‘it was there again this morning.’

‘The third window in the south tower?’ her manager said straight away.

The maid looked at her from over the top of a very cluttered desk. The manager’s office was a big space that had once been a part of the servant’s ground floor rooms. It had been converted ages ago and was filled with office furniture.

‘It’s been looked at every time you have reported it and no leaks have been found,’ the manager replied with a serious look on her face.

‘But there must be something….’ the maid uttered.

‘It’s the ghost,’ the manager responded with a shrug.

‘Ghost?’

‘The story goes that a young boy fell from the tower. It was raining and he slipped. The servants believed that the boy’s ghost keeps trying to get back inside because he’s trapped on the outside. The third window use to be the only one you could open…’

The maid pulled a face and answered, ‘I don’t believe in ghosts…’

‘Nor do I or anyone else who works here, but for the groundskeeper and the two old gardeners. They use to work here when this place was a stately home, before it got handed over to the Trust. They’d tell you the story better then I can,’ the manager added.

‘No, thanks,’ the maid replied and saying goodbye left to get on with her other tasks.

The water puddles remind still and once a month when the maid was there cleaning, she would wipe them away. She really didn’t believe in ghosts and thought that it must still be a leak somewhere.

 

(https://scvincent.com/2017/05/18/thursday-photo-prompt-inside-out-writephoto/)