Woman, Scream, Monochrome, Shout, Mad

Pardon me, I’ll have to insist

That you sit down, and stop acting like this

It is very unbecoming

The way you behave

The consequences might

For you be grave

Lower your voice,

Others are trying to work

Just because you are the teacher

Doesn’t mean you can be a jerk


Paths of Misfortune

Mountains, Lake, Lagoon, Glacier

The direction of travel was a matter of dispute.  Wentworth was sure that their destination was right over the eastern ridge.  Haymann on the other hand said that it lay to the north.  The bickering ended up being so intense that they went their own ways and Wentworth wandered widdershins and found himself in the Valley of the Trolls.  Haymann fared little better as he became lost in the glaciers of the north and froze.


Weekend Writing Prompt #245 – Widdershins in 75 words



Electric Beater, Appliance, Silhouette

It said it was instant on the label. All that was needed was for the requisite amount of chilled milk to be measured and added to a bowl and then the packet added to the milk. This then was to be supplemented with a sweetener of choice to the taste of your choice to be added before whipping on medium speed with a whisk or blender for two to three minutes. This is then to set (ideally chilled) before serving. I think someone needs to consult their dictionary on the definition of “instant.”


Instant with Fandango

The Answer

Cloak, Grim Reaper, Horror, Halloween

“What are you doing here, and who are you?” Dollen demanded of the dark hooded figure standing before him.

The apparition merely raised a bony hand and gazed at trickle of sand as it fell through the hourglass.

“Seriously, what do you want?” Dollen asked becoming unnerved. “You can’t possibly be who I think you are. This must be a dream,” Dollen said pinching himself. “WAKE UP DOLLEN ROGERS!” he frantically called to himself.

“Dollen Rogers?” a crypt-deep voice asked. “Not Roger Dollen?”

“Dollen Rogers, I’m Dollen Rogers!”

“Shite,” the dark figure said. “Sorry to have bothered you.” The spectre then disappeared.


Change of Tune

Street, Montmartre, Paris, Sacred Heart

The path was well travelled, yet there seemed to be no one about today. Harn thought this strange as it was his understanding that it was meant to be market day. Surely there would be travellers on the road. Not a soul, however, was seen.

When he arrived in the town, it was equally quiet. The stalls were empty in the square, and the houses all seemed to be locked and shuttered. Had he missed something?

A stray cat darted across the square, but nothing else moved.

He then caught the faint sound of singing on the breeze.

Turning to follow the sound he discovered a lone boy of about six years of age sitting on a balcony backed by a shuttered window.

“You, boy, where is everyone else?” Harn called.

The lad interrupted his melody just long enough to reply, “I sang them away, because they were mean to me.”

Thinking quickly Harn said, “That was very wrong of them. You seem a pleasant chap to me.”

“Do you think so?” the boy asked.

“Indeed,” Harn replied, trying to make sense of it all.

“Well, you can stay here, I think,” the lad said. “But you better not change your tune or I might have to change mine.”