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HE WAS A WHISTLING WONDER

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THURSDAY 20th FEBRUARY 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

August writing prompts

HE WAS A WHISTLING WONDER

by John Yeo

  In July 2015, Margaret and I visited La Gomera, a small island in the Canary Islands. This tiny island is extremely mountainous with narrow winding roads leading from valley to valley. The journey from one small village to another could take hours along the narrow, winding roads. 

 In the days before mobile phones arrived, the quickest and most reliable form of communication between the rugged valleys would be a whistling language. This is a historical form of communication the early settlers developed, to pass messages from one high ravine to another. Sadly redundant, in these days of mobile phones, the authorities are trying to preserve this whistling language, through compulsory lessons at school

   Pedro Hernandez was an expert whistler and managed to communicate with the surrounding villages by using this unique whistling language. This was similar to the famous jungle drumbeat form of communication, but this was developed by using the power of breath and the human lips and lungs. Given that whistles can travel much further than normal speech – as far as 8km (5 miles) in open conditions – they are most commonly found in the mountains, where they help shepherds and farmers to pass messages down the valleys. 

  One day a lorry had collided with a car and pushed the car off the road into a deep ravine.

Pedro raised the alarm by whistling the recognised SOS whistle. This was picked up by a farmer in the next valley and passed on to the nearest rescue centre and a rescue helicopter was soon on the way.

Pedro’s whistling abilities were in demand when he was recruited to pass them on to the children in the village schools.

© Written by John Yeo

MANGY MAX

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WEDNESDAY 19th AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

August writing prompts

MANGY MAX

by John Yeo

The family pet, went by the name of Mangy Max 

An aloof, predatory thoroughbred cat

A furry feline rebel who preferred to relax.

Sleeping on his cushions eating tasty snacks.

Purring and preening on his favourite mat.

The family pet, went by the name of Mangy Max.

~

At night he would prowl out on hunting attacks

Chasing mice and his enemy the wild black rat

Max, a furry, feline rebel who preferred to relax.

Wild rats usually run together in packs

When meeting a mouse, he hissed and spat.

The family pet, went by the name of Mangy Max.

~

He ruled his territory leaving scent in his tracks

Then arrived home following his nocturnal combat

Max, a furry, feline rebel who preferred to relax.

Max left his calling card next door with a splat

The neighbour rushed out shouting ‘Scat!

Do your business elsewhere you pesky cat.’

~

Dawn arrived with the sun and the preening acts

To procure peace away from the hate-word scat

The family pet, went by the name of Mangy Max.

A furry feline rebel who preferred to relax.

© Written by John Yeo

RAW CAKE REALITIES

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 TUESDAY 18th AUGUST 2020 

This was written in response to a writing prompt from ‘M’ on WordPress. Which can be found by following the link below

August writing prompts
image courtesy of pixabay.com

RAW CAKE REALITIES 

by John Yeo

   Well, the reality is extraordinarily simple. I had never heard about raw cake until today. I mean what is the definition of raw if it’s not uncooked? Every cake I’ve ever eaten in the past has been thoroughly cooked. I was about to call the whole thing off and write about cake in general. Particularly creamy, delicious, high-fat, dangerous to the waistline, gooey, tasty, cream-filled cake. In dietary terminology, ‘forbidden fruit’. 

  Suddenly I had the inspiration to enter raw cake into the Google search engine. 

 ‘What is a raw cake? Often described as “conscious desserts”, raw cakes are free from wheat, gluten, egg, dairy, soy and refined sugar.’ 

 I mean is there anything left? Probably a handful of currants.

I then typed in

Are raw cakes healthy?

 ‘They may look gorgeous and contain healthy ingredients such as fruit and nuts, and may be higher in fibre, vitamins and minerals than more orthodox sweets, but because they are usually made with a lot of dried fruit, nuts and seeds (often with a hefty swig of coconut oil) they are very high in calories.’

Then my search engine put me off raw cake altogether. When it came up with this.

  ‘EATING raw cake mixture, dough or batter could land you with a nasty bout of food poisoning, experts have warned. But while you may worry raw eggs are to blame, you would be wrong! … But don’t worry, your cake and cookies are perfectly fine to eat once they are cooked as the cooking process kills the bacteria.’

© Written by John Yeo

SHADOW MONSTERS

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MONDAY 17th AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

August writing prompts

SHADOW MONSTERS 

by John Yeo

    Elaine was late coming home after a wonderful evening out with her new friend Robert. They had danced the night away at a local youth club and the time had just flown by. Elaine’s dad was a stickler for timekeeping and she really didn’t want to be late and get grounded. Robert had left her after the youth club had closed, when his Mum arrived to pick him up. They had offered Elaine a lift but she had declined in favour of walking home. In reality she wasn’t ready for her Dad to find out where she had spent the evening.  However there was just one way of getting home on time before her Dad’s deadline time and that was to take a shortcut through the local cemetery. 

    The gate was always open, day and night, no one ever bothered to lock the gates at nighttime for obvious reasons.

 The gate squeaked eerily when she pushed it open. Elaine shuddered to think of the short walk past the rows of headstones. An Owl hooted from the top of an Oak tree. Elaine’s heart was in her mouth as she broke into a run along the pathway.  A sharp wind blew and the trees alongside the pathway were bending and leaning towards her as she quickly ran past. There was a shape lying on one of the benches in the shadows that seemed to be a body. Elaine ran faster and faster until she raced through the gates at the other end and was soon at home knocking on the front door.

    ‘Hello Elaine, you are out of breath! Have you been running? You look all pale as if you’d seen a ghost. Come inside in the warm.’ exclaimed her Dad as he closed the door behind her.

   ‘Thanks Dad, I didn’t want to be late home so I ran.’

    ‘Silly girl, we wouldn’t have worried if you were a few minutes late.’

© Written by John Yeo

DIFFICULT DAYS

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SUNDAY 16th AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

August writing prompts

Image courtesy of pixabay.com

DIFFICULT DAYS

by John Yeo

Charlotte was despairing of work on Mondays

It always too busy at her waitress station 

Mondays were always her most difficult days.

~

Yet the diners were satisfied and full of praise

Of her efficiency and always careful attention 

Charlotte was despairing of work on Mondays.

~

Charlotte started the week in a dreadful malaise

Then gradually got over her initial frustration 

Mondays were always her most difficult days.

~

Work was always a joy during her happy phase

Everyone was impressed by her dedication 

Charlotte was despairing of work on Mondays.

~

Her contrasting demeanour never ceased to amaze

She happily worked hard without compunction

But Mondays were always her most difficult days.

~

Management decided her work to appraise 

Ordering a four day week as the only solution 

Charlotte was despairing of work on Mondays

Mondays were always her most difficult days.

© Written by John Yeo

.

HE WORE A YELLOW BANDANA

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SATURDAY 15th AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction writing prompt by M on WordPress. Which can be found by follow the link below.

August writing prompts

Yellow bandana

HE WORE A YELLOW BANDANA

by John Yeo

  The leader of the Harley crew was Gizmo Green, a man who worshipped his gleaming mean machine. He always wore his trademark yellow bandana over his mouth.This branch of the Hells Angels were devoted to doing as much good in the world as they possibly could. Their fearsome appearance in their leather motorcycle outfits was enough to put people off. Leave alone their long hair and unkempt beards which were enough to instantly breed suspicion in the minds of the police. 

 On the day of a horrendous accident on a major motorway the Hells Angels chapter were on their way to the coast to generally have a good time and raise hell. A train had been derailed from a line alongside the motorway. One carriage had landed upside down on the motorway blocking all three lanes. Scores of people were injured. The Hells Angels were able to get through the blocked lanes on their motorcycles and offer their help. The police and the emergency services were taken aback and the Angels were soon recruited to carry messages and ferry people away from the motorway. When things settled down the Hells Angels chapter roared off on their way to the coast.

  Some time later when the story got around everyone seemed to be searching for the wild man on a motorcycle wearing a yellow bandana. 

 © Written by John Yeo

THE APOSTLE OF JOSTLE

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SATURDAY 15th AUGUST 2020

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/author/sammicoxwriter/

THE APOSTLE OF JOSTLE

by John Yeo

The leader of the pickpocket gang was Throstle,

the Apostle of Jostle.

 He would act docile,

 Bump into some random old fossil,

 While the other members of the gang would complete the hustle.

Until one fearless old fossil 

struck Throstle back, hard.

(42 WORDS)

THE RED DRAGON INN

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FRIDAY 14th AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

August writing prompts

THE RED DRAGON INN

by John Yeo

    Grandma Dragon owned the Red Dragon Inn, a busy dockside bar in Tiger Bay. It was said that she had inherited the bar through a family inheritance. Grandma was a tough cookie who didn’t stand any nonsense from any of the drunken sea salts who frequented her bar. In fact behind her back she was known to one and all by the shortened title of the Dragon. The lady in question had four sons who were mostly at sea, following dubious seafaring professions. There were six grandchildren constantly visiting Granny Dragon and keeping her busy.

    Widowed three times it was rumoured that her last husband had married her on the spur of the moment after a few drunken nights, then he’d absconded to sea and he’d never been seen again. The upshot of this short union was young Mary, who at sixteen years of age, was every bit as tough as her Mother. 

   Trouble broke out in the bar one evening when there was a vicious fight between two quiz teams who disputed the result of the bar quiz that featured every Wednesday evening.

   Apparently the Captain of a visiting team had sneaked a look at the answers. 

  Mayhem erupted, chairs were broken, heads were broken, the police were called and everyone except for the severely wounded disappeared. 

 Young Mary was the heroine of the evening as she bandaged up the wounded with towels until the ambulance arrived.  It was rumoured that most of the broken heads were the result of Grandma Dragon’s furious attempt to break up the fight using an old fashioned rolling pin from the kitchen.

© Written by John Yeo 

RAINDROPS NEVER LIE

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THURSDAY 13th AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

August writing prompts

RAINDROPS NEVER LIE

by John Yeo

To a blind person, senses speak louder than words.

The heat from the sun could be the heat from a fire,

The touch of quivering jelly could be bubbling mud.

The shadows of light could be moonlight or torchlight

But the touch of a rainshower falling from the sky

To a blind person seeking truth, raindrops never lie.

Blindness needs feelings to experience the truth,

The sound of thunder could mean gunfire and warfare.

The birds in the trees compete with insects and bees

With a cacophony of nature that is unique and pure

The waves of water battering the rocky seashore,

The feel of a million raindrops cascading from the sky

Gently caressing the eye means raindrops never lie.

© Written by John Yeo

PERFECTLY PEDICURED

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WEDNESDAY 12th AUGUST 2020

This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’.
Which can be found by following the link below..

August writing prompts

PERFECTLY PEDICURED 

by John Yeo

   Chao Lin was the daughter of a rich Chinese businessman. Just approaching marital age, she was betrothed and her wedding was arranged to take place within the next few days. Lee Wen-lin, was the lucky man to be betrothed to Chao Lin, he was fascinated with her tiny feet. It had been a centuries old Chinese custom to bind a woman’s feet to enhance their beauty. This painful process often resulted in deformity and difficulty in walking. Yet Chao Lin showed no signs of difficulty in gracefully getting around on her tiny feet.

  The day before the wedding, the young couple stole away for a few moments together and Lee Wen-lin, who was besotted with his wife-to-be said, ‘Chao Lin, I love to look at your beautiful feet, was it not painful to go through the binding to encourage them to grow so beautiful.’

   Chao Lin, who was equally very much in love with him, replied,

‘No my tiny feet are naturally small and petite my love. Let me show you.’

 She removed her tiny slippers to reveal two beautifully formed, perfectly pedicured tiny feet.

© Written by John Yeo