Wet and Aggressive Corella challenges Magpie

Wet and Aggressive Corella challenges Magpie

Wednesday, 21 June 2017

Words For Wednesday


 

This meme was started by Delores a long time ago.  Computer issues led her to bow out for a while.  The meme was too much fun to let go, and now Words for Wednesday is provided by a number of people and has become a movable feast. 

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.


This month the prompts will be posted here but are being provided by Margaret Adamson and her friend Sue Fulton.  The prompts will include photographs taken by her Margaret's friend Bill

This week's prompts are both photographic (and what stunning photos they are).  The words will return next week.



And/or


Have fun.
 

149 comments:

  1. Swallows nested in the rafters and tarantulas scurried up the wall. Sunlight cast shadows on scuffed and creaking wood floors from missing shingles in the roof. Once a home in a bustling gold rush town, only worn out furnishings left behind could be found. And yet if one listened closely forgotten memories of the past and dreams of the future could be heard.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Linda Starr: I really like this. Long ago memories do leave their mark.

      Delete
    2. This was very evocative, Linda!
      Well done!

      Delete
    3. Thanks Linda. That was a "feel good" story.

      Delete
    4. Your description of the picture is as haunting as the picture itself. Great job!

      Delete
    5. Wow! Such a clear and perfect description. Loved it!
      ~Jess

      Delete
  2. Replies
    1. only slightly confused: Bill's photos are amazing aren't they?

      Delete
  3. Dear EC,
    In that barn long years before lived a man and his son, mourning loss. They pitched the hay and rode the wind and slept the night beneath the starry sky. In moaning wind and pelting rain, in glistening snow and frigid sleet they mourned their loss. When spring came again the barn homed a foal. Then it was that they shared new life born of pain and the promise of tomorrow. Peace.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dee: I love that spring and new life changed their focus. Thank you.

      Delete
    2. yes in time everything changes.

      Delete
    3. This made me feel their loss, Dee.
      Wonderful job.

      Delete
    4. Lovely. With new birth comes new hope.

      Delete
  4. Hi EC - love the first photo ... the 2nd one:

    I take the image ... my head creates an ecard ... the window is covered with Christmas baubles, the snow flickers with diamond-snow light, the trees turn green ... and out of the snow background comes a hymn for peace and light ... with angels singing ...

    click here to send to .....

    Cheers from a hot evening in England ... Hilary

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hilary Melton-Butcher: That image would make a perfect ecard, wouldn't it? And is a lovely cooling image on your hot evening...

      Delete
    2. I like this! It gives a sense of joy, beauty and peace.

      Delete
    3. Very enticing direction with your words.

      Delete
    4. You've missed your calling, Hilary. Obviously, you should be designing e-cards!

      Delete
    5. Thanks everyone ... appreciate your thoughts ... H

      Delete
  5. well here's a challenge! I'm pretty sure I can work the old school photo into Tom's story, but the other image, maybe not.
    I'll be spending more time looking for Angel anyway.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. River: See how you go. And I do hope (so much) that you find Angel soon.

      Delete
    2. If I could get there I would help you in your search.

      Delete
  6. I do really love, it was first one beautiful, shabby house. EC, excellent.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Bob Bushell: It is an amazing photo isn't it?

      Delete
  7. Here I am for this week...

    "The late afternoon light filtered through her window, lost in her thoughts, unconsciously she smiled as her memories of warm, summer days spent playing in the old shed across the way flooded her mind.

    Hour after hour, day after day, when she and her brother spent their school holidays at their grandparent’s farm, she and young Jimmy let their imagination run free, untethered like the wind that blew across the plains.

    After the passing of their grandparents, long years ago, she had inherited the farm.

    The old barn was looking a little worse for wear these days.

    Again, she smiled, as she muttered to herself, “So do I!”

    ReplyDelete
  8. School's Out

    Those weathered walls are crowded with memoires and the scent of chalk dust.
    Two students to a desk, the rhythm of the five times table, pull down wall maps, lunches in paper bags, consumed, swapped, shared...
    Sitting up straight, hands on head, the rap of the cane on a desk, rare and cherished stars on work well done.
    Authority. Routine. Kindness.
    Friends. Family.
    The bell tower is empty now, but when the wind is in the right quarter we still hear it.
    Will always hear it...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. This reminds me of Grade two in the Solomontown Primary school with Mrs Kinnear. The grade ones were babied along, then in grade two, Mrs Kinnear whipped them into shape. She was a great teacher.

      Delete
    2. You created delightful memories, EC:)
      Well done.

      Delete
    3. Very sweet memories, but then, I am of a certain age and remember all of that.

      Delete
    4. Yes your story brings back lots of memory thanks for hosting Sue.

      Delete
    5. Definitely gave me goose bumps. Loved it E.C.

      Delete
    6. Terrific! Old schoolday memories last long past the ringing of the last bell, and long after the building has been demolished by time and/or the wrecking ball. You captured those memories and emotions beautifully, Sue. Great job!

      Delete
  9. Loved the photographs - I've gone with the first one.

    She stood looking at the old building, a wistful look on her face.
    Thinking back to earlier days and years when she was young and the many happy times she had spent staying at the old homestead.

    With that awful argument it had all changed ...
    How she wished she had stayed in contact with the family, how silly not to have done so, and all because of an argument that got out of hand ...

    She should have come back much earlier, perhaps she would have been able to keep the building from such disrepair.

    She sighed ...and thought it was too late now.

    All the best Jan

    PS I've enjoyed reading all the comments and stories above, and will definitely visit again soon for a catch-up.
    Thanks to 'EC' for hosting and to everyone for commenting, reading or taking part.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Lowcarb team member ~Jan: I love your story. Arguments are dangerous aren't they, and if not addressed can wreak such a lot of damage.

      Delete
    2. It's all too common, too much time passes and it's too late to say sorry.

      Delete
    3. Jan, You certainly caught the feel of regret. It had me feeling bad right along with her.
      Kudos.

      Delete
    4. We rarely seriously regret our actions, but most of us regret strongly what we didn't correct when we had a chance.

      Delete
    5. Yes forgiveness is a killer leaving only bitterness and regret

      Delete
    6. Someday I hope my grandchildren will stand on our old place and be filled with happy memories. Good story Jan.

      Delete
    7. Well said. Too often, this is exactly what happens. Arguments cause a rift, and the passage of time only serves to deepen it, even past the point of remembering what the original argument was about.

      Delete
  10. The small schoolhouse sat in the late-afternoon sun remembering her former splendor. Streaks of light filtered through the gaps in her roof, forming a kaleidoscope on the bare ground where children once sat dutifully learning their daily lessons.

    How she longed for those days! The scratch of the stylus on slate boards; the rustle of pages; the scraping of little feet; the murmur of young voices reciting to the teacher – these were the auditory ghosts of children long since grown. The may have forgotten her, but she remembered each and every face that climbed her steps and occupied her desks. She was the center of learning until the new elementary school was built on the other side of town, some 50 years earlier.

    As the sun moved closer to the horizon, casting her side in shadow, she shivered. And another owl flew from its perch on her rafters to begin his evening adventure.


    EC, we definitely are kindred spirits. You posted your story while I was writing mine. :)

    Marty K (from Ron D.'s bird blog). :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Marty K: Welcome. I am so glad you joined us, and yes, it does seem that we are sharing a mind today. How I would love to see owls...

      Delete
    2. I have to confess I never thought about what the school would remember.

      Delete
    3. i likke the sngle you brought this story from.

      Delete
    4. This comment has been removed by the author.

      Delete
    5. You did a good job Marty K. Glad to have you here.

      Delete
    6. You brought an interesting point of view to the story. Great job!

      Delete
  11. A dream I had so very long ago
    To join the wind which helps life’s river flow
    To be a reason that the flowers grow
    A helping hand which hope will come to know

    I fell in love as other people do
    I got a job to see my household through
    I cared for wife and children as they grew
    And for this while this was that dream came true

    But in my sleep danced thoughts of long ago
    Of something that I never quite saw through
    Of something lost as other somethings grew
    Its truth my world right now refused to know

    And I grew old as other people do
    There’s comfort in my now so daily flow
    The dancing in my sleep with time would grow
    But who I had become denied it’s true

    Sorrow’s regret a friend I would know
    As flowers danced by so cold did I grow
    And I sat and watched as river did flow
    A dream I had so very long ago

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Martin Kloess: Wistful, powerful and beautiful.

      Delete
    2. I loved this poem

      All the best Jan

      Delete
    3. I enjoyed reading this aloud several times. It is lovely and very moving.

      Delete
    4. Such a powerful poem. Nice job! Reminds me of the old famous poem that laments about the saddest words being "what might have been."

      Delete
  12. I used both photos.
    Abandoned

    There is a tree growing
    in the gutter
    where once rain
    danced and gurgled
    on its way to the downspout.
    My roof has a sway
    like the back
    of a saddle sore old nag
    and the raccoons have
    ripped pieces of it away.
    They are now nesting
    with the mice and the squirrels
    in my attic.
    I remember
    like it was yesterday
    (perhaps it was yesterday, in house years)
    the sound of children's laughter,
    the playful antics
    of a kitten in the yard,
    a lush and blooming garden
    where now weeds are the only crop
    in a dank and sour soil.
    Only yesterday,
    I’m sure of it…
    I looked through
    lace covered window panes
    into a well manicured lawn.
    Only yesterday.
    Now I dream in the sunlight,
    shiver in the winter cold
    and live in my dreams
    when once I was called
    the sweetest name
    in the human language…
    home.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. only slightly confused: Poignant and beautiful.

      Delete
    2. This is a beautiful piece Delores, thank you.

      Delete
    3. A very long and beautiful poem.

      Delete
    4. A haunting and beautiful story

      Delete
    5. Wow!
      This is beautiful.

      All the best Jan

      Delete
    6. Be it ever so humble, there is no place like home. You awakened many memories for me.

      Delete
    7. Wow! Another terrific piece from the building's POV. You did a fabulous job with it, too. What can I say?
      You plucked my sentimental heartstrings like a a maestro playing a well-worn banjo. :)

      Delete
  13. Replies
    1. Cindi Summerlin: Looking forward to it.

      Delete
    2. http://lettingthewordsescape.blogspot.com/2017/06/if-picture-could-paint-1000-words.html

      Delete
    3. Cindi: This is a lovely, lovely piece.

      Delete
    4. thank you. i felt writing tonight as if my muse began to pick at the lock that has kept her chained in the darkness ...

      Delete
  14. Replies
    1. Bea: He is. Very talented and I am loving the stories his images have initiated.

      Delete
  15. Oh my gosh, of course I'll have to play along with this week too! This will be my post for tomorrow! Yep, I'm so EXCITED! Can you tell?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Karen S.: I am really looking foward to seeing where the prompts take you this week.

      Delete
  16. I'm playing this week. That first photo spoke to me. Loudly. Thank you, all you who host this creative exercise and provide the prompts.

    "He sits alone in a neglected corner of the field, feeling frail and old, and surrounded by reminders of better days. He recalls when the fence was strong and full of purpose, keeping the cattle together in safety; now only a few boards are left to lean on each other, as old friends do. The flower beds beside the front door had once held gladioli, pansies, and geraniums, but now he can't even see where the gardens end and the hillocks of dead grass begin. Times are hard; have been that way for years. All the surrounding farms have been empty for a long time. And all of them have an old house, leaning and sagging and sad, just like him. The old house sighs. He may be shaky, but he will stand tall as long as he can."


    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. jenny_o: Another truly beautiful piece. Those images tugged on our heart strings didn't they?

      Delete
    2. Those empty old houses just break your heart.

      Delete
    3. Yes sad but beautiuk wrien story

      Delete
    4. And won't we all stand tall as long as we can. Good job Jenny.

      Delete
    5. Another super post. These pictures really stirred everybody's creative juices this week.

      That last sentence is perfect. Kinda describes all of us, doesn't it?

      Delete
  17. I see Delores and I had similar thoughts! I wrote mine before I read anyone else's, so I wouldn't be influenced!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And now I've read them all, and am blown away by the response to these prompts. Very touching vignettes indeed.

      Delete
  18. The moonlight shone through the slats in the Venetian blinds while the breeze through the open window ruffled the white organza curtains. To most 7 year olds it might appear to look like fairies or the wings of an angel, but not to Luce. To her it only meant the beginning of her nightly watch to keep her home safe. She found out long ago if she would stay awake and watch for the night horrors, she could keep them at bay. She had been doing it every night for about 2 months and nothing bad had happened yet, so it had to be working. So she sat in the twin bed watching her sister in the other bed soundly sleep.
    She knew her younger sister, Cecelia, did not believe Luce needed to protect her much less the rest of the family. But it was her job and she would never voluntarily let her guard down, but at that moment the wind blew more and the leaves of the oak tree outside the window caused the shadows to change, the room to darken, and her dread and panic grew.
    Three and a half feet separated her bed from Ce's bed. During the daytime they jumped back and forth between the beds with ease, much to Mother's chagrin. But now during the dark hours when everyone was asleep those three and a half feet grew into an impossible chasm. And with the sudden increased darkness, who knew what or who had managed to enter their room. She knew she had to get to Ce's bed, but how? If she stepped on the floor creatures under the bed might grab her ankles and pull her into an unknown abyss. She couldn't stand and jump because she might be caught mid air and taken to the same unknown. Her only option was to stand on her headboard, step onto the night table with one foot then take one large step onto Ce's bed.
    With a super quick motion she managed to do the necessary acrobatics and landed safely in Cecilia's bed, waking her in the process.
    "What are you doing in my bed?"
    "Protecting you from the creatures"
    Cecelia sat up in the bed and looked out the window and whispered, "I see them, they are running and are going to jump through the window. I think they are going to land on you. Want to change places?"
    Luce quickly moved to the other side of the bed, which was against the wall beneath the window. Cecelia sat up slowly and peered out the window."Luce", she said quietly, "They stopped running and now they are creeping. I think they are going to crawl up the wall and slide in the
    window now. they are still going to get you first" Then she wrapped her arms around Luce.
    And then, in full terror Luce screamed as loud as her 7 year old voice would allow her, and kept screaming until her dad ran into the room turning the lights on and grabbing the hysterical Luce into his arms. "I'm here honey"
    he said as her mother came into the room also.
    The last thing Cecelia heard as they left the room taking Luce with them to sleep in their bed was Mother saying" The doctor calls them night terrors, but we have no idea what causes them. Hopefully they will end before too much longer."
    Cecilia smiled. Now she could really go to sleep instead of pretending to sleep and she could have the bed to herself. Scaredy Cats were so easy!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Anne in the kitchen: This is absolutely wonderful. I am not sure that I would want to be your sister though. Truly Machiavellian.

      Delete
    2. Brilliant story telling and I was nearly scared also

      Delete
    3. Thank you Anne. Now I know what my older sister was up to all those years. LOL

      Delete
    4. You've spun a captivating story. Cecelia will probably grow up to be a politician. :)

      Delete
  19. Fantastic photo.
    Once again the night was riding in,
    she sat at her window,
    no longer waiting,
    more out of habit.
    She knew he had a new home now,
    where the worries of the world-
    had long faded.
    Yet, when twilight came,
    she found herself as usual,
    in the chair by the window,
    waiting for him to come home.
    It was upon such a night,
    when she was weary of waiting,
    there came a rapping upon the window pane,
    a bright light shone all about
    and she knew that if only for the night,
    he had come to her -
    to tell her he loved her still.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Rasma Raisters: I don't know whether this is a happy tale - or a tragedy. I am leaning towards the latter...

      Delete
    2. Although sad I am hoping it is 'him'at the window

      Delete
    3. Very moving story especially for those awaiting a tap on the window.

      Delete
    4. How sad. No! I'm making this a happy ending in my head...

      Delete
    5. Oh my gosh, this brings tears to my eyes.

      Delete
  20. Both photos are good and maybe a spooky story of murder.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Margaret-whiteangel: Murder would work. Most of us seem to have gone down kinder routes this week though.

      Delete
  21. Both photos are intriguing. Enjoying the thoughts they inspire. Thanks for sharing.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Mason Canyon: There are (as always) some wonderful pieces this week aren't there?

      Delete
  22. Very good work. It makes me think of stuff that I find difficult to write about. I enjoy reading it though.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Treey Stynes: I hope it doesn't trigger too many unpleasant memories, and am glad to hear you like reading the responses.

      Delete
    2. Unpleasant memories are fine by me. I love to read them though.

      Delete
  23. My story for this week is posted on my blog Fools Rush In by Granny Annie. http://granan10.blogspot.com/2017/06/pictures-for-wednesday.html
    I will return later to read the stories of everyone else. Today is a busy day and I won't be back until evening. Can't wait to read the others.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Granny Annie: I have been - and loved your take.

      Delete
    2. I loved your story and am not surprised that it is nearly true.

      Delete
    3. I thought this was terrific! That is is based on truth is even better!

      Delete
  24. I like the picture idea. I did one for both photos:
    http://jannghi.blogspot.com/2017/06/words-for-wednesday_21.html

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Jamie Ghione: I really liked what you did with the prompts too.

      Delete
  25. Replies
    1. Cloudia: Thank you. I owe you and email. Tired puppy now, will write later tonight.

      Delete
  26. Wonderful theme for the week, and can't wait to see what everyone comes up with. Greetings to you and trust you are feeling good!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Blogoratti: Thank you. I have really enjoyed the places the prompts have taken us.

      Delete
  27. The old barn held many a secret, but bigger than the treasure than lied beneath its frame was the body that hung from rafters, oblivious to all travelers that passed.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Pat Hatt: Now there is an unexpected twist... Thank you so much for playing.

      Delete
    2. I love when someone goes really dark!

      Delete
    3. Ok Pat, you are my kind of person. LOL I always love a creepy turn of events.

      Delete
    4. Now, there's a darker take on the picture... and from such a sweet cat, too!

      Delete
  28. This is my story using the 2 photographs.

    As a child I used to be terrified yet intrigued by this house on the Moors. My 2 brothers and I used to play on the Moors and when we came anywhere near this house an old woman, bent over with a scarf round her head and a flowing black shirt would appear with her black cat, waving a huge stick at us. No matter how quietly we crept up and no matter what side if the house we appeared at, she always seem to know we were there. We called her the Black Witch.
    But at night it was different. The lights would be on and she never pulled her blinds or curtains so we could see what she was doing. She never seemed to know we were there and fortunately never came out to shoo us away. Some nights we would see her dancing round her room with the black cat as her partner while other nights she would have a big pot on the fire and was dropping things into it. One night we saw a head of a chicken going in after some red liquid, we thought it was blood then some cockle shells, eye of newt, crickets, crow feathers, mustard seeds and finally toadstools. She would stir and stir is in an anticlockwise fashion muttering words that we could not understand. Some nights, instead of using a chickens head, she would use a pig’s foot. We always had to leave before we knew what she did with all the stuff in the pot as Mummy was very strict on having us home promptly.
    That was 20 years ago and when I returned I went to see the witches house but found it empty and desolate. My main memories were of night time, looking through the lite window and although we were very afraid she would discover us there, something pulled us to this house.
    I discovered later from the landlord in the village pub, she had died a few years ago but no one had found her body in her house for several months as no one ever ventured near it like we children did when we were young. They did find hundreds of bottles of liquid which they poured out around the house and nothing ever was able to grow there again. No one wants to buy or live in the house as all say it is haunted and often strange noises are hear from it in the middle of the night. I have to say, I am inclined to agree with them that is could be haunted.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Margaret Adamson: I suspect that many a lonely old lady was tagged as a witch. I love your story, and mourn for the innocents wearing the label.

      Delete
    2. I remember a neighbor lady named Sadie. We were terrified to go near her home. One day my mother encouraged me to visit Sadie and not to be afraid. I did and that sweet lady became my good friend. Thanks for reminding me of her.

      Delete
    3. The saddest part is the poor old lady lying dead and undiscovered for so long.

      Delete
    4. Ooh, very spooky. Love it.

      Delete
  29. She was so pleased with that house – it had a small waterwheel just beside the front door which opened on to a canal, the water painted a shimmery colour that she could not quite name. The roof lifted off at the press of a button, the waterwheel started turning, and liquid quicksilver music, as if it was the canal itself burbling, rang out in a pretty rhythm. Under the roof’s mirrored surface a little ballerina pirouetted, her pale lilac tutu fluttering. Lara was spellbound.
    “Oh, Papa, it is lovely! But why is she alone?”
    “Great dancers often have to dance alone, my child,” he had said. “Don’t you like your gift, then?”
    “Oh yes, Papa, I love it! It’s so beautiful!”


    Lara limped across the room and peered at the music box - the silvery colour of the water had faded to a dull grey, but the roof still lifted off at the touch of her gnarled fingers. The music now played underpinned by its own creaky mechanism. Inside, the ballerina twirled a little jerkily with an odd sort of grace, still alone.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Nilanjana Bose: Sad - and beautiful. It seems that both the ballerina and Lara are limping now...

      Delete
    2. Good job Nilanjana Bose:-)

      Delete
    3. Thank you, EC and Granny Annie :-)

      Delete
    4. This is a lovely and imaginative interpretation. Nice job!

      Delete
    5. Thanks all! Appreciate your feedback.

      Delete
    6. What a great visual you provide with your writing!

      Delete
  30. Good morning, I hope all is well with you today! As I promised I (really enjoyed the photos) and I wrote my take on them and it an be read at think link http://twincitiesblather.blogspot.com/2017/06/words-for-wed-on-thurs-dont-leave-the.html

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Karen S.: I have been, I have marvelled. I am always so impressed at your positive attitude to life.

      Delete
    2. Loved reading what you can up with from the photos Karen.

      Delete
  31. The house stood there. Half-abandoned and doubly spooked. Its only inhabitants were a pair of magpies and a pigeon crew. The other tenants were two seasonal ghosts that appeared only during Halloween. The rest of the time they had to sign on. However, with Britain opting out of the EU, the ghosts knew their days were numbered. They originally hailed from Romania and had come to the UK to scare the locals only during horror season and at the occasional birthday party or barmitzvah. But now they knew they were going....

    Greetings from London.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. A Cuban in London: Another fascinating twist. Which made me think of Neil Gaiman's American Gods. I wonder whether transported ghosts - like gods can ever go home again...

      Delete
    2. Those poor displaced ghosts! Nice interpretation, Mario.

      Delete
  32. Thanks for all the comments.
    So good to read everyone's contribution.

    Thanks EC for 'hosting'

    All the best Jan

    ReplyDelete
  33. Those are good pics. The prompts are a fun way to keep the writing juices flowing. Even better in a group. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. mail4rosey: The group, and the very varied responses make it.

      Delete
  34. Can't use enough motivation.
    "Be stronger than your strongest excuse"
    "Surround yourself with those who challenge, motivate, and push you"

    Motivating post! May have to join in.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Harlynn: Welcome. I hope you will join us. The more the merrier.

      Delete
  35. Greetings, EC. I've been trying to read a few of these each day. The level of talent here is awesome.
    YOU have a great weekend.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sandra Cox: You are soooo right about the talent. I am going to head outside shortly (when it is light) and try and freeze bubbles. Have a great (and warmer) weekend your way.

      Delete