Tuesday, 18 November 2014

THE SERVICE

It is time for this week's Blog Hop and this time we have one photograph and five random words to be used

Here are the rules:



1) Use the photo(s) and prompt to write a 500-word story; all elements of the prompt must be a feature in the brief story you create. We aren’t counting, but for the fairness of the readers please, no 1000+ word entries.

2) The Photo(s) must be visible in your blog post and where 1 photo/5 words is the theme, the 5 words MUST be clearly referenced in your story. Variations on a word are allowed within reason (for example: adding s, ed, ing to the word to be grammatically correct); but creating a new, unrelated, word is not. (To see an example of a “1 photo/5 word” story see Faith, Hope, Love, and Pink by one of our hosts, Debb Stanton.)

3) Photos are the property of the hostess for the week, unless otherwise mentioned. Please Do Not share photos and/or prompt words as your own.

4) In order to honor the community-purpose of the blog hop, we ask that you please reference the blog hop in your post so your blog audience and the blog hop community may all be connected.

5) Link your story through the blue froggy at bottom by the following Tuesday (direct link to story, not your whole blog, please).

If you have any questions or need any help don’t hesitate to contact one of the hop hosts: Tena, Debb, or Heather (our fourth host Leanne is on a sabbatical due to health concerns and we ask that you continue to keep her in your prayers for complete recovery and return to full health).

Tena is our host this week and she says:

After much deliberation (and looking back to see what kind we’ve been doing lately), I decided to use the 1 Photo/5 Words for thus hop. 

So Here is your photo:



Courtesy of Wikipedia


And the randomly (aka close eyes and point using dictionary method) chosen words:
  • Footloose
  • Inherit
  • Genuflect
  • Stun
  • Audacious


HERE IS MY STORY TO GO WITH PHOTO INCORPORATING THE ABOVE WORDS 




THE SERVICE

Fred stood in the biting cold wind, he could feel his back beginning to ache but he wasn’t going to let it show on his face.  He was lucky that he had been able to inherit a stiff upper lip from his British ancestors although he was so glad that living in the States meant he didn't have to genuflect to anybody as his great grandmother had done when she was in service at the big house and nobody from downstairs mixed the upper classes.

He could feel his eyes watering as the service went continued.  He would pretend it was the bitter cold making them look weepy but in reality he recalled his comrades and friends, now no longer here, some taken at a young age and some of his age and no longer with us.  They were not many of them left now but that was the way of the world.

His thoughts went to his son, Joe, as he held the folded flag to his heart.  His Joe, the youngest of his two boys, always brave, always a daredevil, he would sometimes stun him with his outlook on life.  His wife, Mary-Beth, called him a free spirit; he loved to live his life with gusto.  He could be regarded as footloose in some respects especially as he grew into a young man. 

Then Joe came to them one day, as they were sitting down to their main meal of the day and told them his audacious plan.  He was going to enlist and represent his country.  Fred was proud and stood up to pump his hand, glowing with pride he looked to Mary-Beth and saw the tears in her eyes. 

She was worried that her baby boy would get himself into trouble, the kind that they wouldn't be able to help him through, the kind that they would have no control over, the kind that would make her have panic attacks every time she thought of the danger he was placing himself in. 

Fred mentally shook his thoughts away.  Joe was a brave hero, along with his unit; they thought they were doing the right thing far away from home in another country with a different culture and a different religion.  The letters he sent home were kept in a beautiful box, his memory lived on through them and through the next generations who remembered all who gave their lives in the name of freedom. 

Fred remembered. 

Word count: 412






Tuesday, 11 November 2014

HELEN'S DECISION

RULES FOR THE HOP:

•Use the photo(s) and prompt provided to write a 500-word story; all elements of the prompt must be a feature in the brief story you create. We aren’t counting, but for the fairness of the readers please, no 1000+ word entries.

•If it is a two-photo prompt, the two photos must be visible in your story. If it’s the 1 photo/5 words prompt, the photo and 5 words MUST be clearly referenced in your story. Variations on a word are allowed within reason (for example: adding s, ed, ing to the word to be grammatically correct); but creating a new, unrelated, word is not. (To see an example of a “1 photo/5 word” story see Faith, Hope, Love, and Pink by one of our hostesses, Debb Stanton.)

•Photos are the property of the hostess for the week, unless otherwise mentioned. Please Do Not share photos and/or prompt words as your own.

•In order to honor the community-purpose of the blog hop, we ask that you please reference the blog hop (not one of the hostesses) in your post so your blog audience and the blog hop community may all be connected.

•Link your story through the blue froggy at the bottom by the following Tuesday (direct link to story, not your whole blog, please).

http://new.inlinkz.com/luwpview.php?id=463278









Without further delay, here are the new prompts:

 
 HERE IS MY STORY:

HELEN'S DECISION
 


Sleep was eluding Helen yet again.  She looked at her radio alarm clock, the digital display was reading 4.00 a.m.  She had tossed and turned for the last few nights, yes she had things on her mind, she had decisions to make, huge, life changing decisions that would make or break her.

She looked at the restful sleeping body beside her.  Nothing ever seemed to bother Ron, he was snoring gently, his chest rising and falling steadily, oblivious to her cares, to her woes and was a typical male (in her mind) who was able to compartmentalise things.  So he would put something in a drawer, close it and file it away to be dealt with at the appropriate time. 

It was no good; she would have to get up.  As gently and quietly as she could Helen rose from the bed, although she did wonder why she bothered to be quiet, Ron could and did sleep through hurricanes, nothing would wake him until he had had his normal sleep cycle.  Even 30 years ago no babies screaming their heads off in the middle of the night would awaken him.  He always rose fresh and able to tackle a day’s work. 

She let herself quietly out of the door and wrapped her thick woolly cardigan around her and trudged down to the road and slowly jogged to the beach.  She sat on a boulder and waited for the sun to rise.


She was always amazed at the sight she saw, the sun rising over the horizon, the colours imbuing the sky and sea and land with so much hope that she always felt invigorated and revitalised making all her night time worries melt away into insignificant petty nuisances.
Sitting there enjoying these moments Helen realised that she had made her decision and now all she had to do was to tell Ron and see what his reaction was.

Back in the shelter of her cosy kitchen she made the tea and put a couple of slices of bread into the toaster.   Buttering her warm slices she ate slowly while she pondered on the best way to break the news to her husband.

Helen entered the bedroom with a cup of tea for Ron and one for herself just as the alarm went off.  Ron stirred and she turned off the intrusive beeping of the alarm.  She passed him his cup of tea and straightened the heirloom quilted cover over the bed. 

She stroked the material feeling every loving stitch her grandmother had sewn and started to speak.  Ron put his hand over hers and smiled at her encouragingly.   She told him she would go into the hospice when the time came.  She didn't want to be a burden to him or to their children. 

Ron nodded and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, he whispered those three words she always longed to hear that he usually found so difficult to say.  ‘I love you.’

Word count: 496