The simplicity of my day to day.
This is where I write my thoughts, feelings and my daily trials, tribulations and happy things
|This was my chance and I took it.
The enigmatic man who sat nightly in the corner of the bar, scribbling away, wouldn’t interact with any of the other patrons.
This had gone on for months and people had stopped asking the same old questions.
“Where are you from?” most of the locals wanted to know.
“Nowhere,” he’d reply.
It was unusual to have secret visitors to the island of Writing.Com, and yet this man had managed to get here by himself on a small rowing boat. He’d checked in to the only accommodation, and since then done nothing but sit and write and drink. He simply raises a finger in my direction when he needs a refill. Whiskey sour with a dash of coconut juice is his tipple.
Of course he is only human, well I believe he is, or maybe not. When he goes to relieve himself he always gathers up his writing materials and takes them with him, but this time he’s forgotten.
I creep up to the table and drag out my mobile phone and prepare to take a photo of what he’s been writing these many weeks. I quickly press the camera button.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Oh no, I’ve been sprung!
I spin around. I mutter that I’m just cleaning the table, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
I apologise and walk behind the bar to check the photograph of his work. The pages were covered in tiny writing. My eyes aren’t what they used to be so I enlarge the screen.
Oh my God, he’s a spy. He’s been busy checking up on all the members as they log in to the place. It seems as if he’s working his way up from the black cases, then the yellow, blue and so on!
I’d better warn the StoryMaster.
1. Orange creamsickle
Write about something people do that isn't necessarily a huge deal, but if everyone did it, it would be total chaos.
If everyone drove motorbikes without mufflers on their bikes, we wouldn’t be able to hear ourselves think! There are a certain group of bikers around here who insist on roaring around the streets with engines so loud you have to stop speaking. Can you imagine what life would be like if all vehicles had no silencers on their exhausts? Intolerable and certainly chaotic.
When should books be banned? Share thoughts but do answer as personally as possible. Have you had this experience? Would your life-experience or who-you-are be banned? Why is this happening now?
The answer to the question is simply, never. I can’t think of one reason to ban a book. The only experience I’ve had during my life was when Lady Chatterly’s lover was banned in England. It would have been early seventies or maybe late sixties. There was a court case and endless newspaper columns dedicated to the publication of the book. All this succeeded to do was make people seek the book out, underground. There actually by today’s standards nothing much offensive in the book.
The reasons that have been given for banning books have been many. ‘13 reasons Why’ was banned because it was thought by many to incite or encourage suicide by teenagers.
There have been a few such as To Kill a Mockingbird’ because of perceived racial slurs.
But the fact remains banning anything doesn’t work.
|The Curious and Mysterious Disappearance of Lord Lucan
Lord Lucan, who vanished in 1974 following the murder of his children's nanny. Will we ever know what happened to him?
I remember this story very well. It made international headlines at the time and has been the but of jokes ever since. Anytime since then if anyone went missing it was always suggested they were hanging out with Lord Lucan.
My theory is because he had powerful friends at the time he was assisted to leave England. I think that much is definitely true. But where did he go? There were rumours he fell overboard from a boat whilst fleeing to France. But these were just rumours bandied about to put the police off his scent.
When he arrived in France he became a snail handler. Some of his snails, although destined for the table, became his pets. He trained them to climb walls on demand and even began a team of racing snails. They became so adept at covering a metre in rapid time he started to take bets on the winner. Each snail would sport a painted number on its shell.
He lived out the remainder of his years as a breeder of snails, retiring when he reached old age. He died peacefully at the great age of 99 years and nine months.
|What's Written On Dighton Rock?
In the 1950s, workers uncovered a huge 40-ton rock near Berkeley, Massachusetts with strange marks and symbols carved on it. It had first been described around 1680 and was studied many times by scholars in the centuries after, as per New England.
Because it appears to have both pictorial inscriptions as well as some letter-like carvings, not everyone thinks it is the work of Native tribes in the area, but possibly the work of sailors from Portugal or even proof of Viking or Phoenician visitation.
Andre says, "If anyone can decipher this message, it would have to be a writer."
Share your theory, and solve the message in the marks and symbols. Convince your readers that your theory is the only factual solution.
So many great minds have spent centuries trying to decipher the markings on Dighten Rock. How the inhabitants and authors of the area would laugh about the time and energy expended when there is such a simple answer.
It was around this time the Puritans had settled there. They were trying to fit in peacefully with the local Mohawks. The Dighten rock became a meeting place. Long discussions took place, each side trying to put their point of view across without causing offence.
They would sit around the rock for hours and doodle as the new laws were made. One of the carvings has been interpreted as saying: KILROY WAS HERE. and another says: MUST REMEMBER TO FEED THE DOG. Yet another sweet one was: I LOVE POCAHONTAS. This one has an arrow and a heart.
Underneath these is a shopping list.: DON’T FORGET TO ORDER TWO BAGS OF SALT.
It’s simple really, they were just ordinary folks going about their business.
|You have 3 options. Choose one or mix and match.
1. Cotton candy — land or sea, beach or mountains, prairie or city, hot or cold or ___. Where would be best for (you) growing up, making a living, growing old?"
Use the genres gay-lesbian/computer/crime-gangster to weave a tale but no romance
For this post 200-500 words is great. But can you give it a hook? If so consider
Chapter One (18+)
Write the first chapter of a book, inspired by the prompt.
#2251577 by Cubby (1358)
The prompt is an image of a tail (a whale?). No genre restrictions and up to 18+ rating allowed.
3. TABOO (ADDICTIONS)
Don't answer these questions directly but use them to prompt a response. Are you an addict? Broadly defined that can include anything; but, WDC taboos aren't fussy about weight or how many books you have in your abode. xxxxx however... whistle the WDC rating-police. In real life people have addictions of all sorts, from acceptable to criminal. Possible approaches: 1. Speak from personal experience if you dare (Rate entry appropriately. I don't care but others do.) 2. Speak from the experience of those near and dear. 3. How does your community (church/neighborhood/city/culture) deal with addictions. 4. Support can be key ... or so 'they'
Prompt one: Re the best climate, country, environment for me personally to have grown up in.
I count myself very lucky because my first 27 years were spent in England. In an England that no longer exists. The years after the war, although poverty ridden they were also peaceful, safe and happy ones. The war was over and all people wanted was peace.
My Dad came home after six years away and although there was a lot of settling in, we were happy to be a family again. All I remember of those early years are Summer days. I don’t know why, but those are what I recall. Other times are Christmas and icy pavements. Then Autumn days, kicking the leaves on our way to school. Horse Chestnut fights ( conkers) and Bonfire night.
So all in all they were days of fond memories.
In 1972 we left to come to another country. One of sunshine, fresh fruit and a great place to raise our family. I have no regrets of not being in Australia throughout my life, we had the best years in both places. England is not the place it was and neither is Australia. Too many people and traffic now.
As to the question of addiction. There were no addictions in my family when growing up. But close family members have made up for our lack of experience.
The first time addiction entered my ignorant zone was when our son was eighteen. On the face of it he was the least likely person to get involved in drugs. He and his father had been heavily involved in motor-cross. Each weekend was taken up with the sport until our son reached fifteen. It was then he began to drift away from us. To cut a long story short I told him to leave home. He left the state with little funds but kept in constant contact with us. He had a very hard journey and I was castigated by many for turning him away. But he is now a mature, happy, successful man and I’m convinced I did the best for him by refusing to accept his addiction. His father wasn’t so sure and told me I was risking our son’s life.
His sister still battles alcoholism. This didn’t start until she was in her late thirties. She was a wife and mother. Her addiction has led to a divorce and estranged children. It was and is heartbreaking to witness.
There is not a good side to addiction no matter what the substance is.
|January, 2022 5 Day Mini Challenge
5 DAY MINI CHALLENGE PROMPT 1
by Brother Nature (122)
Ancient Technology - Antikythera Computes A Mystery
Named after the island near where it was found by sponge divers 115 years ago, the Antikythera mechanism is an incredible machine of finely calibrated gears that appeared to be technology not available until at least the 10th century—but the mechanism was at least 2,000 years old.
Then in 2016, it was found in Andre the Blog Monkey's luggage when he returned to Canada from a magical mystery ship vacation.
Can anybody shed some light on this mysterious object?
This mining machine was left behind when Alien visitors to Earth travelled here on the starship, Kardashion. They were from the planet, Aegisthus, and were on a fact-finding mission to establish whether their people could survive here.
The machine was a submersible which mined and sifted minerals from the ocean floor. The samples were analysed on site and the results were sent back to the mothership.
A team of the space explorers, dressed in the garb of the day, attempted to blend into the general populace. However there was something odd about one alien in particular which made him stand out and before long his cover was blown. It was when he turned water into wine that people began to notice him. The final straw was on a reconnoiter one day. He had gone out to the submersible meet the rest of the crew, when he totally forgot his cover and walked on water.
The captain of this team of underwater alien explorers was understandably upset that his team member’s cover was blown and made the harsh decision to leave this inept creature behind, when they departed.
All didn’t go too well for this shipwrecked character. He’d called himself Jesus, a name chosen because it was a common one at the time. Historical records show he was eventually shunned by the populace and came to a sticky end.
The mission had come to an abrupt ending and all the equipment was left on the sea bed for eons. That was how the Antikythera machine remained undisturbed until that fateful day when a team of sponge divers discovered it.
They dragged it to the surface and sold it to a science museum in Cairo. Despite comprehensive tests, no one had ever found the real purpose or origin of this amazing machine.
Andre the Blog Monkey was on a Mediterranean Cruise and visited the Holy Land. After speaking to the curator, Andre, who had introduced himself as Professor Andre from The Space Museum in his homeland, was convincing enough to be allowed to take and exhibit the Antikthera there.
|Let’s talk about differences. Different views, different natures, just different. Aren’t we all just that little bit different? Let’s face it how boring would this world be if we all looked the same, had the same ideas about life and even looked the same. We’d be clones, robots and life would be grey.
It’s the difference between us which adds the colour, the spice and the joy to life.
Looking closer to home, my family and friends each bring something different to my life. My husband is absolutely as different from me as cheese is to chalk. And yet we’ve been together for sixty years. How can that possibly work? I don’t know, is the answer. Yet somehow it has. I think what has happened is we’ve stopped fighting the differences and instead worked with them and each has respected or is resigned to the fact that you can’t change someone and neither should you attempt to do so.
The person closest to me whose differences have in the past made me laugh, cry and pull my hair out with frustration is our youngest daughter. I can’t imagine how boring, yet peaceful our lives would have been. Right from the day she was born her presence made itself felt. Forty eight years later she still has the ability to throw a grenade into her father’s and mine lives. Yet would we wish she had never been born? Not on your life. She is the funniest, kindest person alive.
| Choices. We make so many each day, continually, each minute, each second. I’m tired just thinking about it. But how dreadful it would be if we were in a situation where we weren’t allowed a choice. Not one single choice. Someone would dress you in the clothes they chose, fed you meals which they decided you would eat whether it was to your liking or not. (Snails and Brussel sprouts, every day!)
You would go to the bathroom only when told to, wear your hair in the style delegated to your age group. Read books of their choice and be allowed to watch television programmes but when and if and what would be decided for you. Bedtime, getting up, lights on or off, temperature regulated to that other persons comfort. I could go on, but I’m starting to think I’ve got an idea for a story😂
As to the question of what I feel is a taboo subject.
I can’t really think of anything, as I’m against all form of censorship. My only gripe is age appropriateness. I really don’t think, I know, children shouldn’t be exposed to pornography at all. I realise of course that ship has sailed. It’s everywhere and available for any child who is allowed free access to the internet.
Personally I won’t read anything with child abuse in it. Not because I’m burying my head in the sand. I know only too well of all the terrible crimes perpetrated against innocent children but I don’t want to put those images in my head when reading or watching movies or television as a form of entertainment. I’m still old fashioned enough to dislike bad language spoken, or shouted out in front of children or anyone really. It’s a form of air pollution as far as I’m concerned. I can swear with the best of them but only in my own home, when I’m provoked, or joking or maybe when I shut my fingers in the car door😩
|I wonder why we figure it’s okay to over indulge in chocolates at Christmas. I would never dream of buying a great big box of chocolate selection at any other time. Then people give me chocolates as gifts as well. Because of the heat here in Perth, chocolates need to be kept in the fridge. So each time I open the fridge door to get milk, juice, cheese or anything but chocolate, they are the first thing my eyes are drawn to. Just one, I say, as I pop another delight in my mouth. I reckon I’ve got another week or two then they’ll be gone, thank goodness.
January 6th is the anniversary of the attack on democracy in the US. Even here in Australia it affected us as we watched thugs battle their way in to the Capitol Building. It made us feel sick and scared. It was as if the crazies were taking over. A reminder of what life would be like if law and order broke down. It made me appreciate our law enforcement and the court system.
Even worse though was that the mob was incited to do such a heinous act by a man who was supposed to be a law abiding head of state. Whose main job had been to make his countrymen safe and his “country great again”
We hear now that he sat watching the mob, trash the building and threaten people with violence, on the television somewhere safe.
All I pray for is that Trump never gets elected ever again, I don’t think I could bear seeing his face and hearing that voice ever again. It would be enough to drive me to drink. And chocolate!
|Happy New Year to everyone who reads this. There probably aren’t many! At least I know Kåre Enga — taking a break. will read it because the only reason I’ve got off my backside and I’m writing in my blog at all is because of him and his promised prompts. So, thank you, Kare.
He suggested writing about Butterscotch. Actually there aren’t many things I don’t like in the sweet department but that is one of them, as well as popcorn. They both have the same sort of smell, a little sickly in the case of butterscotch and popcorn has a weird odour, oily and a bit like burnt butter.
I have a very sensitive sense of smell. It drives my husband crazy. I’m almost positive he doesn’t have any.
“What’s that stink?” I say and the dog slinks off to her bed, even if it isn’t her.
The actual worse smell is when a rat/ mouse/ possum dies in the roof. I can smell it days before anyone else and can tell where in the roof space it is with pinpoint accuracy. Which makes my husband’s job of locating it easier.
As for the question re Christianity and it’s relevance in today’s world. As an agnostic, I can’t say for sure. I was raised in a non religious family. We were not baptised but we were still allowed to attend religious instruction at school. We sang hymns at assembly and learned the Lord’s Prayer by rote every day. It didn’t do me any harm I suppose.
My great grandchildren go to a Baptist school, but the only reason is because their mother thinks there’s more discipline there. Another great granddaughter is going to be Christened this year. This is because her father is Catholic but he’s only having his daughter baptised to avoid upsetting his elderly grandmother. I will attend but feel it’s an excuse for a party.
People tend to turn to a God they never even thought of or believed in when there is a catastrophe in their lives. There is so much pretence regarding religion these days. I don’t think Australians are anywhere near as religious as other nationalities. In my experience, the poorest countries are the ones that need to believe in God. They have little else.