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Rated: 18+ · Book · Writing · #2094067
A clumsy attempt at writing, including G.O.T. 2017
A blog on my personal writing process. Just random thoughts, notes and other stuff. Don’t know yet what that will be like. Am exploring possibilities and pulse towards an unknown future. Let’s find out!

Manipulated Photo

"Game of Thrones 2017
Previous ... -1- 2 ... Next
June 1, 2019 at 7:50am
June 1, 2019 at 7:50am
Tweet Me a Story  (18+)
Write me a story or poem in the equivalent space of an 'old-school' tweet-140 characters.
#2040737 by Sally

Walking the dog. Singing a song. Misstep! My ankle. Pain! An enormous bump. Stumbling at the other side of the leash. Confined to a seat!

Characters: 137

October 12, 2018 at 8:34am
October 12, 2018 at 8:34am

They met in a bar downtown. Her high heels and a killer smile, his weary wrinkled face, and tuxedo. In the night they checked into this hotel down the street. The manager gave them their key and said goodnight. They stumbled into the dim lit room and fell down the bed, smoked some pot, drank their drinks and watched TV. The clock stroke 4. He took out his gun, shot her point blank and aimed at his own head. They never checked out again.

Fortune cookie at the scene: Life is short and it ain't going to be better.

WC: 99
Musical Drabble - SUSPENDED FOR NOW  (13+)
A Flash Fiction contest based around a given song prompt
#2085951 by Spacecat

WOOT, WOOT I Won First Place!!

and Merit Badge in Creativity
[Click For More Info]

Congratulations on your 1st place in the October 2018 Round of Musical Drabble
October 9, 2018 at 7:58am
October 9, 2018 at 7:58am

Hey, I am your average green leather tobacco case. My purpose is to contain the bag of tobacco and hide the horrible death pictures that are put on tobacco bags and cigarette packages nowadays.

Because of me, my owner would not be troubled with nasty pictures of ruined longs, dying people and babies that are on IV's. I hid nasty lines like smoking is bad for your sperm and smoking is ruining your family life.

Because of me, my owner can just smoke and fondle me every hour round the clock. I am one lucky tobacco case. Smoking is bad for your health, everybody knows that but I am so glad to be the focus of a happy life. I am thrilled to see my owner react jubilantly to my existence every time she lays eyes on me. She caresses me, plays with me and takes out the paper and tobacco every time to roll her own cigarettes.

Inside me, there is a place for the lighter and a place for extra paper. Every week I got a new bag put inside me. Within days I lose weight, but in the end, just as you can almost see my flat belly I got filled up again with a new friendly bag of tobacco.

Sometimes I make new friends. When my owner is sitting at a bus stop, for example, she just might share me with another addict. Because of my appearance, people spot immediately my owner is a smoker. That creates a bond easily with other smokers. So, yeah, I am one happy camper.

Come closer. I smell nice, that is if you like freshly made tobacco.

One day I got lost in the supermarket. When I was found by somebody they thought for a minute I was a wallet and checked me for money. But they brought me to customer service where I was found a half hour later by my owner. She was so relieved to find me again, I could tell. Tears were in her eyes at the time. It's always nice to be appreciated.

But, hey, have to go...she needs me again. I will be in her hands for a few minutes. Love that feeling!

WC: 370
PersonITfication   (18+)
Show off your skill using personification - give inanimate objects human qualities.
#2055579 by Sally

October 6, 2018 at 12:49pm
October 6, 2018 at 12:49pm
Twas where wonder weaves with welcome grace, the poet’s putty poem’s face, ferociously fulminating. Ah, goblin gobbled thru grasses ghostly gosh.

140 characters
Tweet Me a Story  (18+)
Write me a story or poem in the equivalent space of an 'old-school' tweet-140 characters.
#2040737 by Sally

Round 80

October 4, 2018 at 9:15am
October 4, 2018 at 9:15am
heap leaves cascading
colors brown and bright: autumn!
“snap,” bites dodging dog!

Bi-weekly Oriental Poetry Contest  (E)
This will be a bi-weekly contest.
#2106425 by Chris Breva - 6 Years at WDC!

Prompt: Haiku

October 2, 2018 at 3:11pm
October 2, 2018 at 3:11pm
Liquid orange, add
salt and pepper,
sniff of love of the poet,
blow breath
over mass -

pure alchemy.

Syllables: 24
Lines: 7
24 Syllables  (E)
Can you write a poem in just 24 syllables?
#2162300 by Lostwordsmith🐩💔

Prompt: Alchemy

September 29, 2018 at 10:53pm
September 29, 2018 at 10:53pm
A spurious assumption
you can't compete
with the best
in blogging.
State your truth

Syllables: 24
24 Syllables  (E)
Can you write a poem in just 24 syllables?
#2162300 by Lostwordsmith🐩💔

Prompt: spurious

September 29, 2018 at 4:22am
September 29, 2018 at 4:22am
Tiptoeing so
I won't wake up
at this nightly hour
jinxing Kismet, I
can barely

Syllables: 24
Lines: 7
24 Syllables  (E)
Can you write a poem in just 24 syllables?
#2162300 by Lostwordsmith🐩💔

Prompt: kismet

September 28, 2018 at 12:17pm
September 28, 2018 at 12:17pm
Existential humbug
flourishing nowadays:
Breath in and out;
Live in the moment;
and Floss! Floss!

Syllables: 24
24 Syllables  (E)
Can you write a poem in just 24 syllables?
#2162300 by Lostwordsmith🐩💔

Prompt: Existential

September 22, 2018 at 4:47am
September 22, 2018 at 4:47am
Sleeping Beauty snores!
Lulleby, lullaby
Endles times ostentatiously
E-iii, e-iii, w-haa, w-hoo
Pretty in pink she lay
Intensely poisened by the Queen
Not her mother but her step
Gruesome, over beauty

Breath in, breath out
End on and on
A- ii - aa - ii
Uhwwa - uhwwa
Till one moment in time
Yonder Prince dares to kiss

Lines: 14
Form: Acrostic Poem
"Once Upon A Contest [E]

September 20, 2018 at 2:49pm
September 20, 2018 at 2:49pm
Loneliness is longing. Your shadow makes my heart ache. I can hug nor love you. A deathly embrace with nothing. Hole in my core.

139 characters.
"Tweet Me a Story [18+]

Won FIRST PLACE!!! YAY! *Bigsmile*
Featured in "Short Stories Newsletter (November 21, 2018)

Merit Badge in Tweet Me A Story
[Click For More Info]

Congratulations on 1st place in Round 79 of  [Link To Item #2040737] !
August 28, 2017 at 11:18am
August 28, 2017 at 11:18am
I bought a new guitar.

Not that I can play the instrument, but I had an old one laying in the attic and I wanted to restring it so I went to the music store. There they told me the guitar was too old to restring,

I had to buy a new one. So I did.

I made a promise to myself to actually take lessons this time to learn how to play.

So, I found a teacher online.

The website was well developed, he had a good teaching record of kids, adults and even older folks who he taught the pleasures of the acoustic guitar. And he was living close by, in my neighborhood. He was teaching from his home.

The first meet was very agreeable, he looked like a nice guy, his story was good and he would be a coach in teaching me to play. So, I went along, paid for the upcoming month and waited until the date arrived that I had my first lesson.

In the meantime, I thought it necessary to listen to guitar music on Youtube, and learn how to tune the strings by myself, with the help of a little tuning apparatus. The first three times all went well, but the fourth time of tuning the guitar I broke a string. I was petrified. Perhaps not a big deal to others, but I thought I ruined the guitar. Luckily the shop put on a new string and that was that.

But something changed from that point on.

I became afraid to even pick up the guitar, let alone tune it. I even began to fear the lessons.

The day after tomorrow my first lesson starts, I don’t want to go.

There’s something not right about the place, but I have to go. It’s silly I know, but I am afraid and anxious. But, I paid for the first four lessons, didn’t I?

So, after my lunch today I am going to pick up that guitar and play a little with it. Perhaps, I even learn to like it! I hope my fear will go away.

I hope my teacher will be patient with me.

Weekly writing Challenge week 5. Prompt 2: There's something not right about the place, but you have to go there... ~ Story

August 23, 2017 at 8:54am
August 23, 2017 at 8:54am

The sound of chirping

Listening to the
whoohoo, whoohoo of the pigeon
chatter, cluck, clack of the chicken
cock-a-doodle-doo of the cock
cuckoo, cuckoo

hoot, hoot, hoot of the owl,

twitter, tweet,

high up in the tree
or on the land
they stand

shriek, trill, quack

an everlasting dawn chorus
the song of birds

WC:58 / Lines:18
SP spin # 3. Write a poem with the title "Bird's Song"

August 22, 2017 at 4:56am
August 22, 2017 at 4:56am
In my youth, I was very skeptical of the United States of America. In the 60s, 70s, and 80s of the last century, it was common to be a lefty in my country. And so I was, very anti-establishment, ultra left in my political views, member of The World Shop, a left movement dedicated to change the world for the better and raise awareness on poverty, ban the bomb manifestations and anti-apartheid to name a few topics. America was Reagan and Nixon and we, the youth of the Netherlands, were not in favor of that country. At least in my circles.

My aunt had immigrated to the States and had invited me numerous times to come over and visit, but there was no way I would do that, so I declined every time. Till 2004 when I was in my second wind and the world no longer was divided into left and right, at least in my country The Netherlands.

I was curious to what end The States had reformed over the years, and I was interested in the people and in its Nature.

So, I visited in the Fall of 2004 for the first time.

It was an eye-opener. I had never encountered such an interesting and beautiful country as the US and I immediately fell in love with the people who were friendly and respectful, and its Nature.

The strangest thing happened: I experienced something in the air I had never experienced before: the feeling of utter freedom, of joy over ‘the sky is the limit’ of great hope and potential. It was the beginning of a change in my attitude towards the USA. I was smitten and head over heels.

For four weeks I traveled through Colorado, visited Denver and stayed one week longer to participate in a sculpture’s workshop, crafting black stone from Zimbabwe from an African artist. I had the time of my life.

When I went home I made a promise to myself to come back as soon as possible, perhaps even at Christmas time that same year, to really experience the life of an ordinary citizen, to find out if living in the States was something for me. So, I did. I was there Christmas time 2004, celebrating with my family in Aurora, Colorado, and I even managed to do some volunteering in a homeless shelter in Denver. It was a great experience and I was convinced I would go back to the States to work and live there.

Alas, suffice to say Life got in the way and my plans stranded. I never went back.

Till last year, when a friend of mine wanted to visit New York City and had no one to travel with her. She obviously didn’t want to go on holiday all by herself and so she invited me to come with her as her companion on a week’s trip to the city that never sleeps. On her expense!

I immediately said yes, how could I refuse? A dream come true, I was going to visit this beautiful country once more and even better I would have the opportunity to pay my respects and to mourn over the deaths of so many: 9/11. I would finally have a chance to visit Ground Zero since that horrible event 16 years ago was still imprinted in my mind.

But again: Life got in the way. In the form of a new President, Donald Trump. And since he is my very own nightmare as the man in power of the most important job in the world, it was imperative I could not visit The States while he was in power. I felt that strong about him.

So, finally, after long deliberation, I declined the trip with my friend.

I won’t return to this land of the brave till President Trump is out of office!

Is it a fluke on my part? Am I overreacting to this new situation with Trump at the wheel? Perhaps, but the man scares me to death. He is my worst nightmare and I think a danger to the equilibrium of the world. For all I know, he can easily disrupt the slight veil of peace that is still predominant in the Western World. But with his erratic behavior, I am not at all sure what will become of the relationship between different countries.

He is making me very nervous indeed.

Of course, I am in no position to pass judgment, I only know what the newspapers are telling me, what the local television and CNN is broadcasting and we all know they are not really in favor of the man. But I try to stay informed and I am as good an informed global citizen with an opinion as anybody else. So I am as much entitled as anybody.

I regret not visiting New York this year, and I hope to have the opportunity to come back real soon. Because that would mean somebody else is ruling the most important country of the Western World.

I am hoping for the best.

Till then I am just reading newspapers, watching television and praying President Trump is not doing something terrible like disrupting world peace, among other things.

And till then I am dreaming of visiting the States once more while reading the bible of the global traveler: Lonely Planet, edition USA.

I look at its maps, read the descriptions of the various chapters of the different states and capitals, cities and towns. I watch CNN and marvel on the poetry of the American language, its art, and writers, its science and culture.

And of course I enjoy participating at this wonderful American, yet internationally oriented website of Writing.com.

And sometimes, when I lay awake at night I regret my decision not to visit New York City.

But there is no way back, my friend already went on another holiday with somebody else. I’ve had my chance.

So, I wait and pray nothing bad will happen in the global dynamics of this world. And I pray I will have my chance to visit once more one of the most beautiful countries of this globe: the USA.


House of Black and White: Dark Story prompts. # 12. "I won't return to this land until..."
August 20, 2017 at 1:58pm
August 20, 2017 at 1:58pm
“Helga, I have to talk to you, it’s urgent.”
“Where are you?”
“I am in the ladies room of the restaurant.”
“You had a date?”
“Yes I had, I mean I have…it’s still going on, he’s waiting with the desert.”
“That’s terrific, how is he?”
“It was wonderful, we met near the church, we talked all afternoon, we had drinks and everything was fine. He is a great guy, I was feeling so lucky. All of a sudden things were great. He is the best date I have ever had.”
“So, why are you calling me for?”
“Oh, Helga…it’s so weird, but I think something is wrong.”
“What’s wrong, what are you talking about?”
“I think he is not human at all, I think he’s from out of space or something!”
“I think he’s an alien, Helga, what do I do?”
“How do you mean, he’s an alien, what’s that nonsense.”
“He keeps forgetting things, the slightest things, car keys, his I-phone, parts of the conversation, within minutes it’s gone, as if it didn’t exist.”
“That’s weird, dear, but very human, perhaps he’s suffering from Alzheimer’s disease?”
“No, Helga, I am telling you, he’s an alien, I caught him looking funny at me over the soup in the restaurant, and then it hit me…he’s not human at all.”
“What did you do?”
“I looked at his I-phone when he got to the toilet and there were these strange messages on the phone record.”
“What strange messages.”
“Like, that he’s is boarding the mother ship at 11 p.m. after his date with that – quote- human girl. I am telling you, he’s an alien who came to talk to humans for information. He is probably going to fly away in his UFO later tonight.”
“That’s spooky, what do you do?”
“I don’t know, what shall I do. He did nothing to me, it’s not that I can call the police or anything. Why does this always happens to me…he was just perfect an hour ago, now look what’s happened, I am on a date with an alien.”
“Stay calm, dear, we figure this out.”
“I am panicking, real hard. I cannot stay in here forever, at one point I have to go back in there.”
“Why what?”
“Why do you have to go back there. Can’t you just sneak out the back and run?”
“I am not sure, can I?”
“If this was your average Joe and you were freaking out on your first date, what did you do?”
“I’d run!”
“I am running, like hell. I am out of here. Thanks, Helga, talk to you later.”
“Call me when you get home.”
“I will, bye.”

WC: 447

Prompt 2: You're on your first date with someone and it's astonishing how compatible you are! There's just one problem... as the evening progresses, you're increasingly convinced that they're an alien. Now what? ~ Story
August 18, 2017 at 4:54am
August 18, 2017 at 4:54am
This is my journal. I will write my story so I cannot forget what my goal was from the start. Things have changed considerably, but I am still positive everything will work out for the better.

Keep alert, keep alive, keep focused! I keep repeating this mantra to myself all day for several days now.

I was closing in on my goal, which was marrying a real Thai Princess.

I am but an ordinary Dutch guy, but my aim in life is to have a real good life where I don’t have to work that hard to accomplish things. So, marrying a real princess and becoming part of a royal Asian family comes pretty close.

But let me start at the beginning.

I went to Thailand as an exchange student and a model, like a lot of guys. To learn about other cultures, make money and have a real good time.

I wasn’t doing all that bad, really, when I read about this Thai sultanate with an eligible daughter. That’s when it hit me. If I could only meet this young woman and become friends with her, I might have a chance to win her over and be a prince in my own right.

Some would consider this scheming and foul play because they have this preconception of romantic love that is only working if you meet by chance, but I say no…a prearranged marriage is also something they did for centuries and it worked as good or as bad as the so called free marriages. Why not plan this one out and see what the result is?
So I waited for a chance to meet this girl who was a student herself.

Because of my good looks, I am a visitor at a lot of parties in high society Thailand and one night it was bingo. Somebody introduced me to Layla, the Thai princess who was living anonymously and quietly in the city of Bangkok.

I immediately recognized her and staged my introduction in such a way that it looked like I didn’t know who she was. From then on it was easy, because she was a lovely and interesting young woman. I didn’t have to fake anything, I really liked her from the start.

We began meeting every weekend and soon we kissed, fondled and became boyfriend and girlfriend. She was very open about her family and where she came from. It was understood from the start that if things worked out well for us, we would have to marry because living together was not done in her circles. I obliged of course, as a Dutch guy with a good Dutch upbringing, I only was happy that everything worked according to plan.

So we had this really exceptional royal wedding. There were a lot of guests from abroad, an international wedding. We were dressed in traditional clothing. We looked real good!

We were happy.

So far so good.

But then I made my first mistake. I became greedy.

I wanted more money and more wealth that belongs to the really rich. A sultanate has its own benefits which come with the title and the grounds, but it's more the name and the history than anything else.

We weren’t poor, but we were not filthy rich either. And I wanted filthy rich!

So, I had to adjust the plan. Not only did I marry my princess, I wanted to have my own money as well.

And the drug scene could do the trick, I thought.

So I began to import and export high-quality cocaine from Thailand to the Netherlands. Amsterdam is a haven for drug users and a good route to the rest of Europe.

I set up a business like an ordinary business with a plan, worksheets, and my own accountant, leaving nothing to chance.

So I gathered.

Till one day the police dragged me out of my bed and put me into a Thai jail cell. The charges were unusual high: they wanted to make an example out of me. Fifty years imprisonment is what I am facing.

So now I am sitting in my cell, murmuring my mantra over and over, again: Keep alert, keep alive, keep focused!

The only good thing is that my wife is visiting every day. I hope she will continue to do so, without her I am lost.

Phase three of my plan will be to escape this prison and flee to the Netherlands. I have friends there who will hide me for a couple of months in order to go to a country I cannot get expedited from.

I am still working on that one.

Because of my high status, I am reasonably comfortable here. I meditate a lot, do my usual push-ups to keep fit and have enough money to bribe the guards and to keep other inmates at a distance.

But the thing I miss most is my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. As a prince I could import it from Europe, as an inmate I lack it. It’s what makes my stay here uncomfortable.

But I don’t think you would understand that.

Am I losing it?

I feel more uncomfortable lately, the other inmates look at me funny. It’s been a while since my wife has visited me. I am feeling all alone and I don’t know how to execute my plan to escape. I am at a loss here.

The second mistake is I told an inmate that I am a Prince. He was very interested of course. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him. Perhaps I have endangered myself. There is a lot of poverty in here, they don’t like royalty much.

The lights are out, I cannot write anymore.


In a cell in the county jail of Bangkok, Thailand, they found the body of Prince M.K. from the Netherlands. The Prince who was jailed because of his involvement in manufacturing and selling hard drugs was sentenced to fifty years imprisonment.
He was stabbed to death. An inquiry is on the way. The Sultanate is not available for comment.

Prompt: Facebook message: Dutch guy marries Thai Princess.

August 15, 2017 at 5:37am
August 15, 2017 at 5:37am
Not to boast or anything, but I am a very popular guy at my school and beyond. It’s not so much that I care or do a lot to accomplish popularity but I am. People find me a nice and friendly guy, which I think I am, and they like me for it.

As I am a poet and very busy on social media like Facebook and Twitter I have 500 followers, which is a lot in my book. I also have a lot of close friends at school, I am a lucky guy I guess.

This time I was in the library all afternoon and a girl caught my eye. She was tanned, with beautiful long black hair and a really nice face. I was watching her, wondering why I hadn’t noticed her before.

She looked kind of sad, which caught my attention.

So, when she left her books and stuff at the desk to leave for a short break to go to the toilet, I silently went over to her desk to figure out what’s she’d be doing, which books she was interested in, mainly to satisfy my curiosity.

There was an open journal on the table. It said: Today was my birthday. No one showed up.

I looked at it again, it shook me to the core.

I slowly found the first page of her journal that gave away her name and address: Joyce Birkensale, Road 1455, New Haven.

Because I saw her coming back and I didn’t want to intrude I quickly made myself scarce.

That evening I was still thinking about this mysterious girl in the library when suddenly I came up with a plan. Why not invite everybody I knew to give her a birthday party at her house? I had plenty of friends and followers on social media that could do the trick.

So I posted this message: Everybody, Joyce is having a birthday party at Road 1455, New Haven. Bring your own booze and birthday presents at 20.00 p.m.

I went early to see where she lived and I was glad to find out there was a good sized garden in front of the house if by any chance lots of people showed up there was plenty of room for them to hang out.

She was obviously a girl from a wealthy family, but with no friends at all, how sad.

At 7.55 the road became crowded. From everywhere people showed up, by foot or by car and parked near the house.

When they saw me standing in front of a tree near the mansion everybody waved and greeted me.

“Hey what’s up bro, who’s this girl..how old is she anyway?”
“Nice touch, we hope to have a lovely party…”

With two bottles of champagne and almost forty people behind me, I rang the doorbell, praying by God she was home.

When the door opened, I was yet again surprised by her looks, she was stunning.

She looked surprised.

“Hey there, Joyce,” I said with a blush on my face, “I am Ken and I brought some people over to celebrate your birthday. Hope you don’t mind?”

She looked at me with great surprise in her eyes, her face glowing.

Suddenly a woman's voice from the back of the house: “Who’s at the door, Joyce?”

She stuttered: “It’s ... It’s Ken, mother, he brought some friends over for my birthday.”

“That’s wonderful, dear, please let them in.”

I gestured to the people behind me and answered quickly to Joyce: “We are with too many, we will stay in your front garden. I brought some balloons, shall we put them on the bushes and hang them in the trees to brighten up the place?”

A big smile broke through and her face was even more lovely. “I would like to,” she said with a grin.

The next ten minutes we were busy decorating the place, while the guests sat onto the grass.

There was talking, chattering and laughter. Within minutes there was a lively party going on.

My friends Pete and Chris and Steve showed up with their instruments and soon there was music as well.

“How did you know?” Joyce asked me

“I saw your journal entry in the library,” I explained. “I couldn’t resist to throw you a party. Everybody should have one at their birthday. How old are you anyway?”

“Twenty-one,” she said with a soft smile.

“Well, Joyce, may this be the first of many to come,” I said in a jokingly manner, but I meant every word. She was lovely, and I wanted to know her better.

We set up a small table at the entrance of the garden, where people could put their presents. Soon there were stacks of books, dvds and bunches of flowers.

Joyce looked at it with tears in her eyes.

“I have only been here for three weeks,” she told me in a small voice. “We’ve moved here from Singapore. I had to leave all my friends behind because of my father’s work back in the States.”

"That must have been hard for you, you must have been lonely out here," I answered.

“It was, and yes, I am.” She responded. “But this is great. I love big parties. Tell me who your friends are, please?”

So, I introduced her to the rest of the gang.

Everybody had a good time and a few hours later I saw Joyce had made a lot of new friends.

“Come and sit with me for a while, I insisted. I want to know you better."

For the next hour, we talked to each other while the moon was hovering over us in the big black sky.

I was feeling wonderfully excited about this girl, and I made a promise to myself to keep an eye on her from now on.

It was the beginning of a new found love that lasted. That next year she and I were on holiday at her birthday. We visited some of her friends in Singapore.

After that, we stayed together and she never had a lonely birthday ever again.

WC: 1020

House of B & W: #39. An open journal sits on the desk... Today was my birthday. No one showed up.
August 15, 2017 at 2:47am
August 15, 2017 at 2:47am
I had some friends in my life, I had them all:

Carla with her golden hair, from high school
And Bianca, who lost her firstborn
And the one who’s name I forgot

Some friends in my life, I had them all
But I lost their friendship during the years
It made me sad, it was not meant to last

Friendship is precious, is keeping an eye out for each other in time of need
Is laughing, is talking, is healing

It made me sad, it was not meant to last

Carla with her golden hair, from high school
And Bianca, who lost her firstborn
And the one who’s name I forgot

I remember those times with the three of them
But in my dark days, I needed them in my life
To laugh, to talk, to heal

It made me sad, it was not meant to last
Carla, Bianca and the one who’s name I forgot

I sometimes sit and think back:
They deserted me, I left them
It was not meant to last

Friendship, those bitter-sweet memories
When I was young

It made me sad, it was not meant to last
Their love gave me strength
And when it died I was lost for a while

It made me sad, it was not meant to last

(And I remember her name: the tall Alice)


August 8, 2017 at 2:26am
August 8, 2017 at 2:26am
I was doing research in the National Library on great-great-granddad who was a Javanese Prince living on the Isle of Sumatra, Indonesia. Since the Dutch had ruled over The Dutch Indies, now known as Indonesia, for 400 years, they spoke and wrote a mixture of Dutch and Indonesian, also formerly known as the Malaysian language.

In a corner of the library there it was: the personal diary of Prince Ismael, born 1760-died 1810 in Padang. In translation I found:

Dear Siona, Madras and Ignatia,
I sent you this letter by special courier so nobody but you three concubines will receive word from me. I am dying, suffering from a disease to the lungs. I don’t have much longer, dear threesome, but I wanted you to know that I loved all three of you like I loved my official wife with whom I have had three kids. They will be my official legacy to this world, but I will never forget that you also carried and raised children of mine. Between the three of you, there are nine, four boys and five girls. I always will see them as my own flesh and blood and I have made arrangements as to secure their lives when I am gone. Please, tell them about their father and that he was proud of each of them by the spirits of the holy universe. All kids are equal to me, let them think no less of themselves when they grow old.

You, dear ladies, have made my life a blessed one and I will take this knowledge with me.

Always, truly yours, Ismael.

3 ex. sent by courier, date: 1810, February 7th.

I was really excited because that meant that there were three more families to research on. I now had a family tree, multiplied by three. Lots of work to be done in the near future. Family, here I come. I hope you’re ready!

WC: 320

August 5, 2017 at 4:55am
August 5, 2017 at 4:55am
Extra, extra: Dutch scandal. Poison fipronil found in lots of eggs. Result: Tens of thousands chickens killed, millions eggs thrown away.

138 characters
Round 54.

[For: WOT single player #29. Pick a contest (other than the official contest), enter, post your entry in here as well.]

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