Wet and Aggressive Corella challenges Magpie

Wet and Aggressive Corella challenges Magpie

Wednesday, 24 February 2016

Words for Wednesday

The lovely Delores at Under the Porch Light had been running this meme for a considerable period of time, week after week.   Computer issues led her to bow out for a while and I took over.  When Delores' absence looked like being more permanent I begged and cajoled for other volunteers to share providing the prompts, and Words for Wednesday became a moveable feast.  Sadly Delores has (temporarily I hope) discontinued her blog.


Last month Jacqueline at Randomosity tested our mettle.  She tricked us and retired Randomosity and can now be found here at Cranky Bar.  
This month it is my turn.

Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.  Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or an image.   What we do with those prompts is up to us:  a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...  We can use some or all of the prompts.

Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog.  I would really like it if as many people as possible joined into this fun meme.  If you are posting on your own blog - let me know so that I, and other participants, can come along and applaud.


First some words:

  1. emergency 
  2. tragic  
  3. ashes 
  4. fabric  
  5. analysis 
  6. early

and/or

  1. fumbling 
  2. useless  
  3. forearm  
  4. grasp 
  5. double  
  6. antidemocratic
Then a couple of images.


Have fun.

Next month the prompts will again be here - but they will be provided by Margaret Adamson and her friend Sue Fulton.

94 comments:

  1. Oh, I can see these words and images leading to some fascinating stories.

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    1. Mason Canyon: It is a fun game, and there are always some fascinating tales developed.

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  2. Interesting indeed, warmest greetings!

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    1. Blogoratti: Thank you. Are you going to join us?

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    1. Martin Kloess: Some day you will join in...

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  4. The tragic incident with the scattering of the ashes left everyone in deep and guilt-ridden analysis. An early emergency call, we reckoned, would have cut through the fabric of incompetence and saved the day.

    Greetings from London.

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    1. A Cuban in London: Brilliant. Precise, and sadly often true.

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    2. Brilliantly incisive; applause!

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    3. Makes me want to know more of the story!

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  5. That's funny, the man with a red nose, ha ha ha.

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    1. Bob Bushell: He was in a park in Buenos Aires. His accordion playing was amazing.

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  6. This is a good one...it certainly got my old brain cells working!!!

    "She wondered how on earth Santiago managed to put on the false red rubber nose, let alone how he was able to play an accordion; and play it so well. With his USELESS FOREARM caused by an unfortunate accident incurred during his EARLY childhood he’d be FUMBLING all over the place trying to GRASP the fake nose let alone hold and play a piano accordion which must have felt unstable against the slipperiness of the smooth satin FABRIC of his colourful outfit. Every day, without fail, he was there to entertain the passing parade of tourists and locals alike.

    Santiago’s TRAGIC accident had been a DOUBLE EMERGENCY. It had caused much consternation and discussion at the time. After weeks of in depth ANALYSIS and discussions amended laws were introduced disallowing small children to attend protests.

    His father, Federico, regularly attended ANTIDEMOCRATIC demonstrations. He was always one of the most vocal amongst the protesters.

    Like a lemming, Federico followed and mimicked the crowd who gathered weekly to demonstrate in front of the beautiful old building that honoured the late Domingo Faustino Sarmiento whose belief in democratic principles and civil liberties and his opposition to dictatorial regimes in any form helped build a new Argentina in the late 1800s.

    Federico really had no idea what he was sprouting forth about. He got caught up in the adrenaline flow. Why he chose to take his little boy along with him that day, no one understood or knew.

    After the bomb exploded Federico’s body was found amongst the ASHES and his two year old son, Santiago, stood beside him crying, his bloodied left arm hanging limply at his side."

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    1. Lee: Such a sad story. I hope that Santiago gets as much pleasure from his nose, costume and accordion as he gives.

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    2. Sad story indeed. I often wonder at the presence of children at protests and rallies that have the potential to turn violent.

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    3. Oh, what a heartbreaking ending!

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  7. I always enjoy reading the stories that sprout from the words each week. I will mull them over and hopefully come back and write something. :)
    ~Jess

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    1. DMS ~ Jess: I hope you can. I really look forward to seeing where the words (and/or images) take you.

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  8. Early scientific analysis dictates we need to take emergency action now or else this tragic anomaly will resurrect Draculas ashes frozen beyond the fabric of mortality

    Its amazing what a few words can do...

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    1. Spacerguy: Truly amazing. And I shudder to think about draculas ashes resurrected.

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    2. Wow! I saw a movie once where Dracula's ashes were resurrected, or maybe it was just his body with the stake still through the heart. It was quite far-fetched. Someone walking over Drac's grave, dripped a little blood from a cut or something and that one drop made its way through the earth to land on Dracula, thus reviving him.

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    3. So many B or even C/D movies on this theme! You and I must have been watching them in the same years. Great short but to the point writing.

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    4. I agree with Susan - short and to the point, and great use of the words.

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  9. I love words:) My favorite art supplies:)
    Pretty cool how you guys inspire and riff off of
    each other with your writing prompts.
    Really stirs my fingers to write more.
    Thank you that:)
    -Jennifer

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    1. Jennifer Richardson: It is a fun game. A weekly game which never palls.

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  10. Early in the morning the sirens shrieked. An emergency that would no doubt be another tragic situation for an unsuspecting family. The fabric of their lives ripped apart, their home in ashes, with nothing left to salvage after the insurance company’s cold-blooded analysis.

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    1. Sandra Cox: No-one can love an insurance company can they? I love this. And I hate that it is almost certainly someone's truth today.

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    2. Succinct and great use of the prompts.

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  11. What will you word wizards come up with?

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    1. Cloudia: Already the prompts are leading in a myriad of directions...

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  12. Hardworking, Ben Williams is an emergency care physician. His shift starts at six, just when other people are leaving work, and continues through the night. He sees the ashes of other people's dreams, shattered by tragic miscalculations. Some he can patch and mend. The cracks will always be there, but they will function. After a fashion. He doesn't smile. He doesn't laugh. His colleague's analysis is that he is as damaged as the people he works on so diligently.
    What would they know?
    At the end of his shift Ben the sober, Ben the sombre, Ben the sad is washed down the shower along with the antiseptic hospital stench. He walks through the doors into the early morning and Bobo the Bozo spends a happy hour or two, playing bad accordion music, singing out of tune and making children laugh as he trips over his oversized toes. A cycle of healing. Bobo heals Ben, who can go back to heal many. And the nose, the face paint, and the accordion are easily contained in his hospital locker.

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    1. I love this! Bobo seems like the perfect solution for Ben, a complete switch enabling him to turn off from the night's traumas and recharge ready for the next night's shift.

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    2. What a great story, and bet Dr. Ben survives the harsh reality of the ER having an alternate fun persona.

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    3. Strayer: Dr. Ben does better than many of his colleagues who turn to booze to get by.

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    4. And I bet a lot of them do.

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  13. This one is from Margaret Adamson, who is too busy to get here herself:

    True story


    I had a fantastic time in Costa Rica seeing over 300 species of birds however on the 3 days we spent at Arenal , it rained and the wind was horrific. Our hotel was in view of the famous Arenal volcano but not only did we never see ASHES from the volcano, we barely saw the mountain at all. So although I took thousands of photographs on the trip, I have none of this volcano.



    I had just arrived home and one morning I started looking at my bird photographs when my laptop decided to stop working. Now a TRAGIC thought entered my head. All my photographs could be lost. I had just been going to put them on my back up hard drive.


    I phoned my computer man, told him of the EMERGENCY and he asked me to bring over my laptop EARLY the next morning.


    I popped it into my FABRIC laptop bag and left it into his home.


    Later he phoned to say he had got it working again and all my files were safe including my photographs however he wanted to do more ANALYSIS on it to find out why it had happened.


    I am waiting to hear the result as I write.

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    1. The nightmare of nightmares, when the computer screen goes dead and files are not backed up. Happened to me yesterday, was accessing a cat file, and found no files listed. Fortunately, on the pull down menu, for file type, was.jpg, not "all files" and once I switched to "all files", they re appeared.

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  14. That's the same type of piano/button accordion my dad used to play, dad's was black.
    antidemocratic? Hmmm.

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    1. River: I don't think I have ever known anyone who played a piano accordion. Watching that clown in a park in Buenos Aires I was fascinated.
      I think antidemocratic came (indirectly) from all the descriptions of people/behaviours as 'unorstrayan'.

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  15. I've enjoyed the stories using the words.

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    1. Margaret-whiteangel: I am glad. There are some stunners already aren't there?

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  16. I confess to a double life. I am not what you call macho. I never was. I wear thick glasses and never sprouted much of a beard as I grew into adulthood. I failed to thrive, one might say, or even I might say.

    I found my place, however. We all must find a niche to call our own, even if its in our parents basement, which is, sadly, the space I call home. I sleep on a couch they said was too sprung for TV watching comfort. I like it fine.

    I rarely see them and when I speak to them, like when I go up to gulp milk from the carton in the fridge, if I must speak it's one or, max, two words. Then I'm back down in the hole, my home.

    My double exists online, in chat rooms, in comments, in fake ID's that give me life anew all over the world in the 0's and 1's of the WWW. Sometimes I play video games with ten or more others for 48 hours straight, swigging Mt. Dew to keep hyper enough to stay on it. I don't know who the other players are. They're hiding out too.

    My computer generated DOUBLE is everything I am not---macho, in control, controlling, critical, knowledgeable about everything, berating, worldly, wildly erotic and highly political. My parents cannot GRASP the simplest concepts of the web or its vast possibilities. They think I'm a FUMBLING, bumbling USELESS embarrassing moron.

    I think they were about to commit me. I'm sure they thought I'd be the next school shooter. My dad grabbed my FOREARM, one morning, when I happened into him, coming out of the bathroom. He was gritting his teeth, face turning red as was my arm where he gripped me. Ma came up and said one word, his name, "Harold" in a way that made him turn loose of me. I didn't say a word and quickly retreated down the stairs.

    But that all changed one day. Someone knocked, loudly, one evening. Ma answered then just took about ten steps backwards. Five men in black suits were at the door. No guns drawn. In fact, they seemed happy. "Is Theodore in?" one asked. Ma stared, vacant at first, then said, "Yes, I will get him," and came running down into MY domain demanding I get upstairs now, that I was in big trouble. But I wasn't. The FBI regional director and his managers were there to give me a fat check and tell me thanks for solving another cyber case, putting away the enemies of freedom, the ANTI DEMOCRATIC agents of evil turning their ways in the hideouts of the world wide web. I just smiled, took the check, noted the amount, and padded back down into my parents basement. My dad was just staring, mouth open after me.

    See, I really do have a double life. After that, my parents were quick to move out of my way if I wanted first in the bathroom or that last gulp of milk nearing expiration.

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    1. Strayer: Love it. Revenge of the computer nerds is so very sweet.

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    1. Granny Annie: Not now. It is Thursday here. Early, but Thursday.

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  18. Hi EC:

    He was a great beast of a man now not at his best … his forearm hung loose, a useless limb, flapping and fumbling around with no ability to do anything sensible.

    He’d always been undemocratic, but certainly hadn’t intended to come to blows with the young prize fighter who was able to grasp his arm bending it double behind his back.

    The beast rued that day for the rest of his life …

    Cheers Hilary

    PS I need to be back to read the other stories ...

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    1. Guess he learned a good lesson.

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    2. Hilary Melton-Butcher: Love it. I can just see it. And his chagrin at being outclassed.

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  19. It's always such a fun party here!! You have great "party" themes and great guests.

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    1. Sonya Ann: It is a wonderful meme that Delores developed, and you are right. The guests are great. And very, very talented.

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  20. This is so much fun! I love the creations above! Wow! I sent it to the boys teachers, Mrs. Pitheau and Ms. Gross!

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    1. Nicky HW: It is a heap of fun. I hope you will play sometime too. And that the boys have fun if their teachers take it up.

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  21. Pulsating lights cast eerie waves along a sleeping street as emergency sirens pierced the early morning calm with alarm. The crisis was over, but she waved the crew in the back door anyway, so they could see for themselves. Curious neighbors in colorful cotton robes shuffled across the lawn to view the tragic event as the fire captain shifted through the ashes in the pan on her stove. She fingered the charred fabric of her own robe nervously as Pixy glared from beneath the kitchen table. Would he ever forgive her for burning his breakfast? The little dog sighed heavily and rolled his eyes when the captain announced his analysis “Dog toys should never be fried on the stove”.

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    1. diedre Knight: Big smiles. I loved the change in direction at the end - and would agree with the captain. And poor Pixy.

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  22. The thing that throws me off is that you put Wednesday and it is still Tuesday here...It should be a good thing, I know.

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    1. Lisa: It is Thursday here now. But yes, because the meme crosses hemispheres it can be confusing. The words go up too early - or too late.

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  23. People have used the words, and the images, so well.

    These are wonderful exercises for one's brain and imagination. I enjoy doing them, and I enjoy reading what others write.

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  24. My story will appear on my blog tomorrow, Friday 26th.

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    1. River: I am, as always, looking forward to it.

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  25. Hi Sue,

    Apologies for my perhaps notable absence. Although I can barely string a sentence together, evidently, sentences can involve strings, I do appreciate the efforts shown within the comments.

    Have a peaceful day, my kind friend.

    Gary

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    1. klahanie: Dear Gary, it is always nice to see you, whenever you stop in. I hope that you and your four legged companion are looking after each other well.

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  26. Can't wait to read the stories with those prompts.

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    1. Lux G.: There have already been some stunners...

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    1. DeniseinVA: They are. I hope you will join us sometime.

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    1. ladyfi: He looked to be enjoying himself as well - which was lovely.

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  29. After another tragic night in the ER I was in need of a shower and serious rest before my next shift. The sun was just coming up and the early morning shifts were starting to come in. Just as I was about to leave for home another bizarre emergency came in by ambulance. A burn victim, unconscious, was wheeled through the door. The polyester fabric was melted to his leg and the ashes from the fire were still in his badly singed beard. A quick analysis of the situation was what we did. There was no room for error or the patient would be in the morgue in a few hours.

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    1. Jono: I suspect this, and similar stories, play out too often in the ER. Thank you for playing. Loved this - and the badly singed beard is such a visual image.

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    2. Great imagery. Being a trauma nurse or doctor is a calling, not a job.

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    3. I missed this the first time through, Jono. It's a vivid description of this patient and the urgency of the situation.

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  30. Lena peered over the balcony of ancient stones built long ago, yet still remained. Early days of World War 2 burned into her eyes and ears at this place, this balcony where Lena had hidden.

    Emergency! Emergency! was screamed as people, some of them her family, ran in terror. Cinders and flaming ashes floated up to her balcony, sending her dress fabric up in flames.

    Lena tore her dress off, scarring her hands and feet.

    Now, 70 years later, Lena ran events through her mind, seeking an analysis of days and years that followed. Only tiny shreds of memories lay buried in her 76 year old brain: War is evil. Those who wage war are evil.

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    1. Susan Kane: Welcome back. Lena would get no arguments from me. Or, I suspect, from many who have been to war.

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    2. It is good to be back. Slow going, tho. Settling one's estate and handling precious items is so difficult.

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    3. Susan Kane: Very, very difficult. And sometimes heartbreaking. Be gentle to yourself.

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  31. This is completely off the top of my head:

    It was tragic, they said. One minute alive and celebrating, the next on their way to the emergency room. Now there were only ashes and black fabric. It was too early.

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  32. I was having trouble with "antidemocratic" but the rest of the words were pushing me forward. This story describes what my father lived through the last eight years of his life, and as for other medical issues, far too many of our loved ones know about those.
    ------

    Imagine being paralyzed on one side of your body. This is what can happen to a person who has a severe stroke. A leg that used to work with its mate to carry its owner for miles becomes useless. A once-dexterous hand loses its ability to grasp. The remaining hand must work solo to do things that are simple with two good hands, and ends up fumbling in frustration with toothpaste caps and shoelaces and eyeglasses. When the good arm suffers an itch, it can be scratched only with one's chin, and only if the problem spot is located on the forearm - any higher and one must suffer until a sympathetic passerby can help. The double loss of both arm and leg means one must use a wheelchair for life.

    It's not fair ... but health problems are notoriously antidemocratic.

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    1. jenny_o: I really don't know whether it is worse to watch someone who was previously agile and dextrous condemned to become a fumbler or to be that person.
      Both are cruel.
      This is such a skilled, and sad, use of the words. Thank you.

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    2. While it was heartbreaking to see my father unable to do so many of the things a healthy person does without thinking, I don't think there's any question that it was harder for him. I saw his despair and frustration and anger and sad resignation. I was also awed and inspired by his optimism and cheer and kindness to others. As I am by others in similar circumstances.

      Thank you for your kind words.

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    3. jenny_o: Hugs. The 'unfairness' of it all really gets to me when the people affected do so with grace and dignity.

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    4. jenny_o, Have I ever said thank you to you?

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  33. Thanks for keeping us updated on blog changes - I will head over and check out Cranky Bar, after I am finished catching up on your posts here.

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    1. Susan F.: Thank you for backtracking. Not necessary - but very much appreciated.

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