Fall Arrives

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Strong winds blew summer away, everything became colder and darker but colour bloomed in the changing leaves which danced to the ground.

Waves

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Everyone flocked to the yellow sands and blue waters as the sun blazed in the sky and the air became stifled with heat. Being in the waves cooled people and pets off whilst giving them a break from normal life. Tomorrow, everything would be back to normal as rain arrived once again.

Summer Storm #FridayFictioneers

Jayne looked out of the window and shook her head. Everything had been set for her son, Kit’s tenth birthday party in the backyard. The marque was up, the BBQ ready and the swimming pool full. Everyone had been excited and now the party was a total wash out.

A summer storm had rolled in; rain lashed down, wind whipped around, the thunder rumbled and lightening cracked.  They had all rushed and huddled inside, the children crying and the parents uncertain what to do.

‘I’ll put a movie on,’ Jayne spoke, ‘and get some pizzas in the oven. We’ll have a sleep over instead.’

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/08/14/16-august-2019/ with thanks).

Comfort Food

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It was crazy, Petra knew but the flu was gripping her hard and the only thing she want was a nice bowl of stew….In the middle of August!

Though, today looked more like autumn, Petra thought as she looked out of the steaming up kitchen window. Gale force winds and heavy rain were blowing the full leave trees and bushes about as if a God was constantly sneezing on them.

Stirring the pot, she peered in, decided that was fine and put the lid on. Petra set the timer for a few hours, not a thing she’d normally do but she couldn’t smell so she couldn’t relay on that to tell her when it was done.

Back in bed, she snuggled down and tried to get an afternoon nap in. She dozed and thought of the tasty, warm, comforting stew bubbling in the pot. Soon, she told her stomach, we can eat and everything will feel better again. Lovely, stew…. 

A Day In Blackpool

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I smell the salty sea. I hear seagulls crying and the distant voices of excited children. Opening my eyes, I stay laying in the cloud like bed. At the half open window, the breeze moves the netted curtain back and forth as if it’s breathing. There is a waft of frying bacon.

I have eggs, bacon and toast then set off from the bed and breakfast. All day I walk around Blackpool. The morning is a little dull; heavy clouds fight with the sun, the sea waves over the dark sand of the beach. There is a handful of people about; dog walkers, families, old couples, a mini bus of school children.

I walk on the promenade. Going past all the shops selling tourist things; postcards, sticks of rock, magnets and beach toys. The cafes where breakfast is in full swing and their windows are dripping condensation. The arcades and casinos with their doors shut, locked until lunchtime. Ice cream stands, sweet treat stalls and fast food vans at every few steps trying to tempted me.

I walk on the piers. The damp wooden planks creaking underneath me. The sea crashing below trying to erode the iron supports away. The benches with their green iron frames awaiting weary bodies. The rusting memory plaques of people long gone who once loved this spot.

Just opening fairground game stalls with harsh looking aged men hanging up cheaply made soft toys. A closed beach shop, a closed arcade, a closed cafe and music hall. Near the end of the pier is a small collection of children’s theme park rides still hidden their covers. All these places will open in the afternoon when they make the better business.

Here, yet more food stalls; a white trailer selling burgers and hot dogs, a drinks bar, a sweet stand. There pink and blue candy floss swing in bags and giant ‘dummy’ suckers on red ribbon necklaces dangle next to them. In trays lay pick ‘a’ mix sweets, boxes of chocolate and fudge, mint hum bugs in jars with labels saying ‘A gift for you from Blackpool.’ Sticks of rock in all sizes stand out with their brightly coloured strips.

I buy a few sticks of rock and go to the end of the pier. I unwrap one and stand looking out to sea, sucking on the minty sweet. The waves are far out, blending with the grey sky. There are no boats or people in the water. Birds hover looking for fish. I think about being out there, surrounded by the waves.

Finishing the stick of rock, I walk back and go down a sand covered boat slipway. It sinks into the beach. I walk across the drying sand, noticing old bits of things the sea has left behind; seaweed, sticks, food wraps, drink cans, plastic bags, dead crabs, broken shells.

Close by, sad looking donkeys huddle together, their little bells chiming, their hoof prints deep in the sand. A middle aged woman in a high visible jacket gives the donkeys buckets of water and hay.

I walk pass them. The woman looks over her shoulder, sees I’m not a customer and ignores me. She pats one of the donkeys’ shoulders, muttering something to it.

I get off the beach via a long staircase which takes me back to the far side of promenade. I turn and look back. Over everything the Blackpool tower rises; a monster of iron.

It starts to drizzle. I feel the specks of rain on my face and hands. There’s only open space here, so I walk for the nearest buildings but the arcade isn’t open yet and the fish and chip shop has no seating inside.

Further on is a cafe but it’s closed, a few shops then a restaurant but going in would mean having to buy something. I cross the road and go into the shelter of rows and rows of buildings that are either eating places, shops, arcades and casinos. The rain gets heavier, the sky gets darker, I weave in and out of these places.

I realise I’m going in the direction of my B&B. I pause by a food van and get a greasy burger and a can of coke. I put them in my pockets and hurry back to my room. The front door is open, nobody at the small welcome desk. There is noise from deeper inside; a vacuum cleaner, distant voices.

In my room, I drag a chair to the window, open it and sit there. I eat the cool burger. Not enjoying it but it solves my hunger. I drink some of coke then leave the rest. I get changed out of the wet clothes and into something drier and warmer. I go back to sitting by the window. The rain is really coming down now. It sweeps across in sheets, pounding over everything.

I take another stick of rock and suck on it to get the bad tasting burger out of my mouth. I carry on watching the rain and I think about the people out there, the donkeys on the beach, the distant and constant sea.       

Waiting #FridayFictioners

A female voice came over the speaks, ‘we regret to inform you that due to extreme weather conditions all flights have grounded.’

A loud groan rose from the thousands of people packed into the airport. Eyes went to the windows where outside hurricane force winds were lashing heavy rain against everything. Thunder rumbled and forked lightening light up the black sky.

‘I’d rather be here then up there,’ an old woman uttered.

A babies started crying, children began complaining, teenagers rolled their eyes and buried themselves back in their phones and the adults prepared for a nightmare of waiting.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/06/19/21-june-2019/ with thanks).

Dear Diary

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Dear diary,

Summer is here but the weather doesn’t feel like it! It’s rainy and windy, with dark clouds and a sense of autumn more then anything.

I wanted to go for walk but have decided against. It’s a cup of tea and a lengthy novel to fill my afternoon out with.

The living room feels cold so I feel chilled which doesn’t help the aches and pains in my body. A bath later will ease things and pass more time till I can go to bed again. Sleeping, once I get there! does help.

I have been doing the exercises the nurse recommended too and spending more time standing up and less sitting which is fine on a good day but not on a bad. Swimming also has helped. In the water, I can forget anything and act like I did in the days before becoming ill. I’m going to do more swimming soon.

Warm, dry weather also helps and I’m hoping summer does settle in soon and I can spend more time feeling well enough to do things.

Till then as always, it’s trying to stay as comfortable as possible and distracting myself with as much as I can.

Postcard Story

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My Darling,

The train journey was just awful! It rained and thunder stormed all night. My compartment companion snored horribly. Then there was a flood on the line and the train had to stop and wait for the all clear! I shall not be taking that route back home.

I finally arrived safely and auntie is gravely ill. I don’t think she’ll last much longer. Her will has been sorted now, of course can’t write the details of it. The poor thing wanted to see you but I said the pregnancy had kept you away.

You might have to make the trip soon enough through.

All my love, A.

Post It Note Short

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Remember to pack umbrella for trip. Weather’s not looking great. Feels more like autumn instead of spring. Will summer ever come?

Alone #TaleWeaver

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I like being alone. There are no distractions or interruptions, just the time to read novels. I love entering into times long gone, worlds unknown and times still to come, with different people but their problems; money, love, family and hardships, can still be experienced now. I draw comfort from those stories and characters, makes me appreciate more being alive today.

When the weather is nice, I’ll sit outside with a picnic and loss myself in the words until time has no meaning. On rough days, I sit in the conservatory, letting rain and wind be the background to the darker parts of the novels. During winter, I’m by the fire with hot chocolate and Christmas cake, living in all those historical winters’ pasts.

My favourite place to be alone with my books is in bed. There I spend hours and some sleepless nights, turning pages eager to know what happens, seeking answers till everything is solved.

Some might say, I’m not living my life, I’m repeatedly living the lives of fictional people, who have never been and never will. But people can say whatever they want. If I’m happy alone with my books, that’s all that matters to me.

 

(Inspiration by; https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2019/03/21/tale-weaver-215-alone-march-21st/ with thanks).