MOVING ON

September's prompt is MOVING ON.  FLASH FICTION, POETRY, NON-FICTION, PLAYSCRIPTS, ARTWORKS, PHOTOGRAPHY...all welcome! Treat the prompt as you wish!

1. SUBMIT your name to the Inlinkz list below NOW if you wish to participate
2. CREATE your entry according to the monthly theme - September - MOVING ON. 
3. EDIT your entry until it sparkles
4. POST your entry on your blog on the date shown - Check out the clock on WEP which is set to Brisbane, Australian time. Post on September 20 your time. Remember to state feedback preferences (full critique to general comments) and whether your work is copyrighted - © 
5. READ other entries, giving feedback as requested

Open to all genres - Fiction works can be - Adult, YA, MG. All entries maximum 1,000 words.

HERE IS MY FLASH FICTION:

MOVING ON

Roslyn shook out a tablet in to her hand.   She regarded the single white pill and added another.  A pair of innocuous looking tablets nestled inside her palm, inbetween her heart line, head line and life line.  She tipped the bottle once more, another four tablets spilled out of the bottle.  She clenched her fist shut, her manicured nails dug in to her palms.  She took a deep breath and reached for the glass of red wine sitting on her dining room table.

With her free hand she gulped down the red liquid, felt it burn as it travelled down her throat and reached her stomach.  She emptied the bottle on to the table, the whiteness of the pills strikingly brilliant against the dark wood grain.  She stared and stared at the mountain of round tablets, she reached for one, she reached for two, her hand shook as she raised it to her mouth.

Angrily she swiped the tablets off the table on to the floor and poured the last remnants of the bottle of wine into her glass.  She glanced again at her silent mobile phone as she sipped her drink pondering on how near she came tonight to ending it all.  

Roslyn’s tears began to flow down her cheeks; she started snuffling, she moved towards her bedroom and flung herself down on to her bed as sobs racked her body.   She gulped air trying to draw breath, hugging her painful ribs to her sides trying to regain control of her emotions.

Minutes or hours must have passed, it all seemed the same to her.  She must have dozed off at some point because she awoke with a pounding head as the sunlight filtered through her bedroom curtains.

Her eyes were sore and swollen, her ribs ached, piles of crumpled paper tissues were strewn all over her bed spilling over into a mess on the carpet.  She grabbed her phone from the bedside table, still no messages, no missed calls, no voice mail.  She flung it against the headboard in frustration. 

What was it with her and men?  Why couldn't she keep a relationship going?  Her friends trotted out the well worn clichés, you can do better, his loss etc. etc.  That was all very well but they were securely ensconced in their relationships and marriages.  They didn't understand how she felt.

Her phone pinged and she ran back to her bedroom.  Disappointment flooded through her body, it was a text from her best friend to go with the others she’d been ignoring for days.  She was possibly the only one that would stand by her, even after the stupid thing she had nearly done last night.

Roslyn smiled, Sarah always said the right thing at the right time.   Roslyn squared her shoulders, took a breath in and texted back.

Sarah opened her door and Roslyn fell in to the biggest hug ever.  Her friend was cuddly these days but happy, no longer a svelte size, she’d survived a failed marriage and was now enjoying love a second time around.  If only Roslyn could find that first husband she’d be more than happy.

Sarah’s husband poured out the mugs of tea and then discreetly disappeared in to the kitchen where they could hear him pottering about with pots and pans.  Very soon the tantalising smell of roasting chicken started to permeate through to the lounge.

Roslyn saw Sarah’s face turn pale as she described the events of the previous evening. 

‘Why on earth didn’t you ring me?’ demanded Sarah.  ‘You know I would have come and got you.’

Roslyn explained the depths of despair she was feeling.

 ‘Oh Roz!’

The tears threatened to spill over again as Sarah put her arms around her friend again. 

‘You do know what you are doing to yourself, don’t you,’ chided Sarah as gently as she could.  ‘You are an attractive, intelligent woman, a professional who holds down a fantastic job that you excel at.  You work hard all week and then let yourself down emotionally.’

Roslyn nodded in shame, dabbed her eyes with a tissue and blew her nose. 

‘Crying isn’t very ladylike is it?  I must look a right mess.’

Dan, Sarah’s husband peeped into the lounge and quickly scuttled back to the kitchen.  He’d let his wife deal with tears.  He didn't do tears very well, especially somebody else’s tears.  He’d peel more potatoes and vegetables because he could see this wasn't go to be a quick visit.

Sarah was firm. ‘So, your next step, Roz, is to get some help.  I don’t know what to do to help you.’

Roslyn nodded in agreement and vowed she would get professional help when she got to work on Monday.

The trio sat down to a wonderful meal, the first proper food Roslyn had eaten in over a week, a few more glasses of wine were consumed, then Dan and Sarah waved goodnight to Roz much later in the evening.

Three weeks and many text messages later a very different Roslyn turned up for coffee at Sarah’s house.   The first tentative steps to recovery were being taken and, as Roz explained to Sarah, there were deeper issues to resolve than just this broken relationship.

Her main priority would be working on not being somebody else’s victim.   She had to work on her self esteem, her own self worth and not fall in to the trap of using her past to cloud her judgement of herself.  She couldn’t change the past but she would no longer allow those events to define her life.

Sarah’s words came back to her time and time again, ‘your head knows what you have to do; you just have to wait for your heart to catch it up.’

So, come on heart please, for goodness sake, catch up with my head and let me move on.

 Word count: 983

THE NEWS

Picture: Nicole Pyles

Words: letter, Velcro, planet, fever, shopping

Here are the rules of how this all works:

1) Use the photo and the 5 words provided in your story
2) Keep your word count 500 words or less.
3) You have until next Tuesday to link up your post.
4) Link up with your blog hostess (Nicole, Carrie, Tena or Leanne)

5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow.

THE NEWS

Maree picked up the letter opener by its ornate handle and quickly sliced the envelope open.  She scanned the contents holding in her excitement as she read each paragraph.  She placed a hand on the worktop to steady herself, she took a deep breath and reached for the phone.

Maree eventually got through to her husband and with a quavering voice that reached fever pitch told him she’d been accepted for the Yellow Submarine Challenge to be held in a month’s time.

Her husband whooped with delight, he said the news was out of this world; in fact it was so awesome it belonged on another planet.  He would take her on a trip out of town this weekend where they could plan everything that she would need to get.   He would take her on a shopping spree she would never forget.

Mark was going to tell everybody he knew and he would stay by her side and support her throughout the challenge.  In fact he would stick to her like a piece of Velcro, it wouldn’t be easy but together they would make sure she could finish the course.

Maree put the phone down, poured herself a cup of coffee and added some sugar to it, for the shock, she told herself.  Mark’s reaction wasn’t what she wanted.  She needed to do this on her own.  Yes, she was pleased at how supportive he was but he didn't allow the achievement to be hers and hers alone, he had to be involved. 

She knew Mark would be boasting about her prowess to anybody in the office who would listen, in fact she’d better check Facebook because she was sure he would have posted about it already.

Sure enough there it was congratulating her but somehow making it seem that he was the one who had engineered her success.   Somehow he was taking the credit for all her hard work, those long, long nights of studying while he was enjoying social evenings in the pub, playing billiards or darts or whatever else he was up to.

Maree actually wondered sometimes if he was always with his male friends, she could have sworn she heard female laughter in the background but of course that could just be other customers in the pub, yeah right, said a niggling little thought in the back of her head.

The red letter day dawned bright and clear, perfect weather for going to sea.  Mark was fussing around her, checking her bag, checking she had all the navigational aids she would need, even down to some actual cash in one of her pockets. 

Mark and Maree set off in plenty of time and arrived as other participants did.  Maree kissed Mark as she got out of the car.  She looked back for the last time at her controlling husband, felt the inside pocket of her jacket reassuring herself that her passport was still secreted within. 

Maree looked forward and knew she was never coming back.

Word count: 499

MORE THAN JUST A KISS BLOGFEST

“A kiss, when all is said, what is it? 'Tis a secret told to the mouth instead of to the ear.” ~ Edmond Rostand 

The wonderful Cecilia Robert and Christine Rains would like to invite you to the MORE THAN JUST A KISS blogfest!

Sweet, sizzling, fiery, awkward, mind-blowing. We want to read your kissing scenes.

The rules are simple:

1. Sign up on the linky list and post the badge on your blog.

2. On one of the days of the week of September 9th, post a kissing scene on your blog. It can be either fiction or non-fiction.

3. Please do not exceed 250 words.

4. This is a blogfest, so visit the other participants and have fun!

But wait! This is more than a blogfest.

We're offering prizes!

The scenes will be judged by these amazing romance authors: Cecilia Robert, Laurelin Paige, Kyra Lennon, and Christine Rains. We will choose three posts to win these awesome prizes.

Prize 1 - A critique of a kissing/intimate scene from your WIP (not exceeding ten pages). Critiques will be done by Cecilia Robert, Kyra Lennon, and Christine Rains..

Prize 2 - A critique of a kissing/intimate scene from your WIP (not exceeding five pages). This critique will be done by Laurelin Paige and Christine Rains.

Prize 3 - A critique of a kissing/intimate scene from your WIP (not exceeding one page). This critique will be done by Cecilia and Christine.

BONUS PRIZES:
Cecilia, Kyra, Laurelin, and Christine Rains. will each choose one of our favorites to give out some fantastic ebooks.
Cecilia – TRULY MADLY DEEPLY YOU and REAPER'S NOVICE.
Kyra - IF I LET YOU GO
Laurelin - FIXED ON YOU
Christine – All six volumes of the 13th Floor series.

Sign up here!

Here is my 'kiss.'

He looked so handsome, suave and sophisticated, diplomatic and brave

Her heart skipped several beats; her tummy somersaulted as she smelt his aftershave

He espied her, smiled, stepped forward, catching her eye, she was frozen, a statue

Forgotten feelings, emotions assailed her, as she recognised Andrew.

He took her hand, pulled her into his body, cheek against cheek

She remembered, she felt, she forgave, felt free, felt so weak

There was nothing she could do as she returned his tight embrace

She whispered to him, her voice filled with love, lightness and grace.

The steps came back to her automatically as he held her firmly

His hand in the middle of her back, fingers splayed lightly

She turned her head, first this way and then opposite

Bubbling tentacles of joy reaching up from her heart

He guided her gently towards the open French doors

The strains of the orchestra dimming as they left the dance floor

The moonlight sparkled over the veranda traversing the lake

They stopped, caught their breath, did a double take

She started to say something he hushed her with his finger tips

The lightest of touches, brushing her scarlet painted lips

She gazed into his bright blue eyes, crinkling at the edges

Again she inhaled his cologne, a sexy, masculine fragrance

Their lips joined, melded together, sweet like nectar

He’d waited so long to taste her, wanted to savour

This moment in time was theirs alone

He held her tight, releasing a guttural groan.

Word Count: 248

WRITING HOLIDAY

5^th September 2013

The Photo by +Kristoffer Sorensen:

Bench, Reindeer, Court, Teddy Bear, Leader

The Rules:

 1) Use the photo and the 5 words provided in your story
 2) Keep your word count 500 words or less.
 3) You have until next Tuesday to link up your post.
 4) Link up with your blog hostess (Nicole, Carrie, Tena or Leanne)

 5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow.

WRITING HOLIDAY

White butterflies fluttered in the gentle breeze, criss-crossing the glade in time with their more brightly coloured cousins.  In this utopian land there was no jealousy, envy was not allowed, every living organism was beholden to get along with each other.  There was no other way to live.  The trees harboured safe shelter for a myriad of animals from the tiniest woodlouse to the largest squirrel bounding from branch to branch, running up and down tree trunks in joyful exuberance.

The sun glinted through the trees, shadows danced and dappled on the enclosed ground dotted with daisies and buttercups, the occasional dandelion considered to be the only bad boy in this land of hope and .......

‘Daniel, come and get your lunch,’ called Tracy, ‘it’s on the table getting cold.’

Daniel looked at the clock on the wall.  Where did the time go?  He had been lost in his ‘other world’ all morning.

He slid on to the colourful bench seat, enjoying the sounds of the sea at their holiday cottage as his two year old daughter munched on some sticks of carrots and cucumber.   Lulu beamed back at him, picking up her teddy bear as she kept her parents enthralled by holding court and scolding her naughty bear for making a mess.

‘Her imagination is as bad, sorry darling, it’s as good as yours is,’ chuckled Emma.

Daniel’s wry smile didn't quite cover his discomfort as his wife’s misunderstanding of how much his writing meant to him seemed to come to the fore most days with her thinly veiled barbs.  He finished his sandwich, thanked Emma and disappeared back to his writing.  His wife’s loud sigh was audible as he turned his back.

After a few minutes of some breathing exercises to relax his mind and get back in the mood he picked up his pen and started scribbling again.

The late afternoon shadows developed into evening twilight as the glade began to come alive, animals scurried around doing their business, foraging for food, the mice and shrews kept out of the way of the rabbits who were so busy that they didn't look where they were going half the time.

As the moonlight took the place of daylight the glade took on a different atmosphere but tonight was going to be different.   This night was all about choosing a new leader to take them through the transition of the long summer evenings to the shorter autumnal and winter nights.

The barn owl started calling the proceedings to order.  As the voting began, anxiety could be felt in the trembling of the leaves, sibilant whispers sashayed through the wind.  The voting was over, the time was nigh, the announcement was made.

Reindeer.  Congratulations were whispered then became louder as a strong new leader would protect this small enclave .........

The shrillness of Lulu’s laughter shattered Daniel’s thought processes as she splashed and played in the bath.  Ah, family life, thought Daniel wryly.  He wouldn't change a thing.

Word count: 502 with title

THE JOURNEY

Here is this week's picture prompt with five random words

Neurosis
 Dogie (yes that is spelled right - NOT Doggy)
 Put
 Forgather
 Mule

Some Quick Reminders:

 1) Use the photo and the 5 words provided in your story
 2) Keep your word count 500 words or less.
 3) You have until next Tuesday to link up your post.
 4) Link up with your blog hostess (Nicole, Carrie, Tena or Leanne) 

5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow.

THE JOURNEY

Diane picked up her mother’s suitcase and put it in the boot of her car.  Her husband, Tony, was sitting patiently in the driver’s seat waiting for everybody to get settled.  She knew he wasn't looking forward to the long drive to her grandmother’s place of residence for this annual forgather of the Scottish clan. 

Tony knew the stories almost as well as she did and he was determined not to let the female family neurosis get to him this year.  His Kindle was secreted inside his jacket pocket along with his chewing gum and his secret stash of rolling tobacco, papers, tips and lighter.  He remembered last year’s trip when Diane’s father had insisted on taking a turn on driving up the motorway when everybody was scared to death by his lack of motoring skills.  Stan was a grumpy old man who was well known for being as stubborn as a mule.  This year Stan had insisted he couldn’t get the time off work, to everybody’s relief.

The weary travellers arrived at the Croft Hotel and booked in to their respective rooms before wandering down to the bar to indulge in a few drinks before dinner.  Their table was reserved in the restaurant waiting for other family members to arrive during the evening.

Greetings were called out, cheeks were kissed, stories of children and work, the trials and tribulations of the economic situation that affected everybody, all the cacophonous words clamouring for attention in amongst the waiters and waitresses desperately trying to serve dinner but somehow everybody had their turn and all the current information was duly exchanged within a few short hours.

The next day dawned bright but cold.  Moira looked out of the window of her small bungalow and saw the convoy of cars crawling slowly up her street.  She could see her relations plastering false smiles on their faces as soon as they realised she was watching them.   

She had laid the dining room table with her best tablecloth and her favourite flowered napkins pushed through the silver holders that she kept for special occasions.  She had baked for two days, cream horns, coconut cakes, madeleines, jam tarts and iced buns.

She knew they were waiting for the legendary story of the rescue of the dogie that had changed the family fortunes and she wouldn't disappoint them. 

She giggled to herself at the surprise she was about to announce.  She would wait until the cakes had been consumed, copious amounts of tea and coffee and then she would drop her bombshell.

If anybody dared to say she was too old at a mere 83 years of age to have a book published for the first time then they could go and take a running jump.   She couldn’t sit down and do nothing all day and just because physically her body was letting her down it didn't mean her brain cells had stopped working.   She was in print at long last.

Word Count: 496 with title

THE CEPHALOPOD COFFEE HOUSE

AUGUST MEETING 2013

The Cephalopod Coffeehouse is an online gathering of bloggers who love books. 

The idea is simple: on the last Friday of each month, post about the best book you've finished over the past month while visiting other bloggers doing the same.  In this way, we'll all have the opportunity to share our thoughts with other enthusiastic readers. 

This is my first outing at the Cephalopod Coffeehouse and I know I’m in good company and look forward to being introduced to other books and authors.

During August I read nine books including one anthology of short stories.  Four authors were already known to me and three were new authors.  One new author I liked so much that I read a second book by her this month.

My favourite book this month was Up Close by Henriette Gyland

The book is set in Norfolk in England in a small, rural community with all that entails in nosiness and everybody knowing everybody else’s business.  Lia’s grandmother suffers a fatal heart attack and it falls on Lia to return from the US where she is working as a doctor in ER to put her grandmother’s affairs in order.  

This is a gripping tale, suspenseful with several twists and turns.  What I particularly like about Henriette’s writing is that all her characters (even the minor ones) have enough depth to them to make you want to know more about them whether you like their characters or not. 

There are ordinary details in this book that are described so well that they are never boring or tedious to read, for example, a wayward heating system, a clapped out car and of course, Jack the dog.

I read this book every minute I could spare because although I worked out ‘who’ was responsible I still didn’t know ‘how’ until the very end. 

It could be classed as romantic suspense or chick lit but either way I found it a very enjoyable book to read.

Demolition

Mandatory words:

corporation

bulldozer

ceiling

uniform

tartan

Here are the reminders of how the blog hop works. If you have never joined in, please do! Invite a friend, too.

1) Use the photo and the 5 words provided in your story
2) Keep your word count 500 words or less.
3) You have until next Tuesday to link up your post.
4) Link up with your blog hostess (Nicole, Carrie, </ a>Tena or Leanne)
5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow.

HERE IS MY STORY FOR THIS WEEK'S BLOG HOP

DEMOLITON

Alison was fed up.   The bulldozer moving the heaped soil from one side of the demolition site to the other was getting on her nerves.   The noise was endless, humdrum, oscillating in and out of rhythm.   There was a brief respite when the driver stopped to eat his lunch.  She secretly observed him from the small window in her flat in the last anonymous tenement block, due its own demolition later on in the year.

A young man descended backwards from the cab.  As he jumped the last foot down to the ground she could see a splash of colour in his otherwise serviceable working uniform of dark blue hard-wearing trousers and T-shirt of the same bland material.  She peered harder through the small casement window and, yes, looped around the tabs on his trousers was a tartan corded belt.

She watched as he strode purposefully over to a pile of rocks and picked up a backpack and retrieved his lunch box from inside.   He put his earphones in and fiddled with his MP3 player.  She wondered what he was listening to, probably some heavy metal rock band unlike the sweet tones of Vivaldi that she would listen to when all the construction crews had gone home. 

So many days had gone past that she had lost count of the last time she had donned her business suit, made her face up and spent an hour teasing her hair into a more business like style that the financial sector seemed to like.  The large investment banking corporation she worked for had decided that there was nowhere for her to go and consequently dismissed her with a month’s notice and a redundancy package.

The official line had used all the modern buzz words, blue sky thinking, glass ceiling, to name just a couple but with the recession she had lost her home, became divorced and now sat in her solitary sitting room trying to conjure up the energy to force herself out of her prison like cell that her home had become.

A movement caught her eye and she waved back at the stranger who acknowledged her watching him with a slight nod of his head.  He started his engine up, caterpillar treads rolling forward, the bucket pushing the granite rocks and debris in front to join the piles already waiting on the side.

At five o’clock the noise ceased, Alison breathed a sigh of relief as the workmen downed their tools and locked up their beasts of machines.  She filled the kettle with water and waited for it to boil as she leant against the stainless steel sink.  

A gentle knock on the window pane that was set in to her front door startled her as she wondered who on earth had come to call.  Leaning languidly against the door jamb was the bulldozer driver who awkwardly thrust a posy of wildflowers into her hands with a slight, sexy smile on his face.

Word count:  494