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NOISE MIRAGE

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: NOISE MIRAGE

http://bekindrewrite.com

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NOISE MIRAGE

by John Yeo

    “Mr, Eagleton, I am afraid your hearing is well below par and deteriorating rapidly. My advice to you is to take advantage of one of our superior hearing aids, and enjoy what little hearing you have left.”
  The Consultant looked grave as he uttered these words solemnly. “I understand you are a professional musician and your hearing is extremely important to you. Sadly I have to inform you of the fact that you will be profoundly deaf within months.”

  Charles sat stunned in the surgery, unable to move, replaying the words over and over again in his mind. Like the sounds of a funeral dirge, marking the end of his career and his livelihood.

     “Is there no hope of any form of treatment that will counteract the diagnosis? Anything at all, I would even consider a double ear transplant. Please, Doctor; I will pay anything for the chance of a cure.”

     “I’m sorry Mr. Eagleton, there is nothing to be done. My advice is to enjoy every sound you hear as if it is the last sound you will ever hear. Sadly anything you seem to hear in future will be chords and musical passages from your lifetime of musical memories. Something of a noise mirage. Memories of music replaying in your consciousness forever.”

  Charles Eagleton allowed this news to penetrate to the centre of his very being.

     “May I use your toilet please Doctor?”

   “Of course Mr. Eagleton, you know which door by now.” replied the Audiologist, smiling.

    Charles Eagleton locked the door of the large well-fitted disabled toilet and morosely sat on the seat cover. ‘There’s no point in going on; I can’t forever rely on music by mirage! I had a feeling this would happen, good job I thought things through. Vincent Van Gogh was right. What good are ears if you can’t hear anything, I might as well cut the useless appendages off. Maybe I will be able to get some hearing on the other side.’

  He pulled a large sharp kitchen knife from his attaché case and stood before the bathroom mirror poised to cut his ears off and perhaps he thought, ‘I may die of the pain and loss of blood.

   Suddenly the beautiful melodic sound of Beethoven’s seventh symphony resounded through his consciousness, filling his mind with the power of the music.
‘Of course, Beethoven was profoundly deaf at the end, yet he still produced such beautiful music. Perhaps there is something in the theory of a noise mirage, taking the form of beautiful music.’

 He quickly replaced the knife in his briefcase and walked into the consulting room.
   “Thanks Doctor for being so frank; I can see I will have to make some life-altering plans now.”

   “Of course Mr. Eagleton; we will be here to help in every possible way. Make another appointment with my secretary, and we will work together. Goodbye!”

“Thanks, Doctor, I will. Goodbye,”

 

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserveddu

HIDDEN STRINGS ATTACHED

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Puppet Army

http://bekindrewrite.com

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PUPPRT ARMY ~ Image courtesy of pixabay.com

 

HIDDEN STRINGS ATTACHED

by John Yeo

    General Waters controlled the forces at his disposal with a great deal of enthusiasm. The enemy were scattered, spread out in the hills, difficult to attack using conventional methods.

    “I want all available troops to be arrayed in an attack formation.” The General announced to his staff. There were murmurs of surprise and a shocked reaction to this plan.

  The second in command, Captain Myers stepped in and quieted the murmurs of dissent.
   “Hold fast there the next sound will result in a court martial! Is that clear?”

 There was an instant moment of quiet in the ranks as the men obediently did as they were instructed.

 Then suddenly a shot rang out as a sniper took out a man in the ranks.

     “Take cover! Fire at will!” Came the order, and every man dived for the floor, some of them loosing off shots and firing as they took cover.

    “CUT!” Shouted the director from the stalls “I’m not ready for total wipeout yet; I want to see more of a build up before the enemy opens fire. Perhaps we can have that General killed by the sniper’s bullet, then chaos reigns before the Captain takes command and starts pulling the strings.”

   “Well Mr. Solomon I didn’t write the script and you didn’t write the script. Perhaps we ought to seek advice from the author. We have an army of people behind the scenes.” Came the retort from the assistant of the assistant producer.

    “Who the hell are you?” Yelled the exasperated director.

   “I am an advisor. I represent the advertising moguls who control the finances for the movie. I will have to consult the money men before we can go any further.” Replied the young bespectacled whizz kid.

   The wise old producer coughed and spluttered a reply. “What part of this invisible army pulls the strings on my movie. I refuse to be treated as puppet of some mysterious entity who happens to have money.”

   The Great Puppet-master sighed as he arrayed his planets in synchronised formation. “When will they ever learn it is I who pulls the strings around here.”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

SHOWDOWN

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Prompt response to this image supplied by ~ creativewritingink.co.uk

SHOWDOWN

by John Yeo

    Dust swirled everywhere, intense scorching heat blasted the sparse vegetation, frizzling the foliage, rapidly turning any suggestion of moisture into nothing. There wasn’t a vehicle to be seen for miles. The only sign of life was death, in the form of dead creatures along the roadside; roadkill by vehicles or a harsh death by thirst or starvation. Buzzards attracted by the chance of a free meal, always circling, quickly landing, squabbling over the carcass.   

Death attracting life, as the natural cycle dictated.

    Wild Wolf, accelerated, pushing the Harley to the limit the speedo registered 180 mph and his speed was climbing. Mary his girlfriend clung tighter and tighter to him as they powered along the highway.

   Wolf was a long-term member of the Hell’s Angels. Mary, his lady went everywhere with him, she was besotted with this tall biker, Wolf had shoulder length matted black hair with a beard and mustache that covered his face. Not much was known about Wolf, he was a drifter who moved from place to place as the whim took him.

   Another motorcycle was roaring along in Wolf’s slipstream, his good friend Fearless Fox together with Molly his long-suffering lady, were having little difficulty in keeping up.

 Wolf felt a nudge and shouted, “Yeah, whaddya want?”  The noise of the Harley roaring along the road made any form of conversation difficult, niceties were impossible.

  “I’m bloody hungry and I need the loo! ” Mary yelled in reply.

“What? I can’t hear you! What’s the matter?”

“STOP at the next building or I’ll be wetting myself and you!”

 No reply came from Wolf that Mary could hear, she suspected it would have been a stream of curses and unintelligible diatribe.

  A building loomed up in the distance and Wolf signaled right to alert Fox who was close behind of his intention to pull in. The bike began to slow as he reduced speed and pulled into the forecourt of a rundown looking business, followed by Fox.

  “Hey, man!” Fox called to Wolf,

Mary and Molly rushed straight into the building obviously looking for the relief of the bathroom.

   “Hey you Foxy! We’re making a good time, shall we step inside and ask if there is food here for sale. I imagine the lady of the house will soon rustle something up, Mary is starving and I could do with a bite to eat myself,”

    “Sure man, but the place looks deserted. There’s no sign of any vehicles around and that seems strange to me, in an out of the way place like this,” said Foxy,

  Then with a sudden realization, the two men rushed into the establishment following after Molly and Mary.

Three men were seated at a table playing poker as the two bikers rushed in. They looked up startled as the door burst open and Fox and Wolf barged in.

  An overweight man with his shirt hanging out got up from the table in surprise. “What the hell? Who do you think you two are? storming in here without knocking.”

The other two younger men got up looking menacing and stood by the older man. It was at that moment that Wolf realized they were both holding guns that were pointed straight at them.

  “Now hold on, there is no need for guns. We are looking for the two ladies that ran in here just a few minutes ago. Where are they?” Asked Wolf angrily.  “We are part of a large chapter of the Hells Angels and twenty more bikers will be here within the next few minutes. If they get here before we leave;  your establishment will be ransacked and destroyed.”

  The older man scratched his head and motioned the two young men, who were obviously his sons to put their guns down.

 “They’re in the kitchen out back, rustling up some grub. They asked if we would like to eat, as Ma and the girls have taken the trucks and gone shopping. We offered to give them the food free if they cooked some for us as well. It will be hours before the women get back.”

  Fox and Wolf both breathed a joint sigh of relief, they burst out laughing, soon all five men were seated around the table.

   “Can we deal you in?” asked one of the younger men, grinning broadly.

 

After a few hands of cards, Mary and Molly appeared with steaming hot plates of food. The whole group were soon laughing and eating together and swapping yarns.

  There followed a screeching of brakes as a dozen farm vehicles appeared and disgorged twenty men and boys looking for trouble.  

  “Sorry!” said Clem, the older man, “I radioed for some help from the back room after you told me about your Chapter of bikers arriving.

 Moments later there was a roaring of motorcycles and a screeching of brakes as the Hells Angels rode in and sat menacingly waiting.

There was a facedown that just needed a spark to ignite a war.

 To everyone’s surprise, three pickup trucks loaded with food signaled the arrival of the women.

 A portly woman carrying a rolled-up umbrella dashed out of the leading vehicle, yelling; “Clem! What’s going on? Stop this at once or I will beat every man jack of you myself.”

 There was a shocked silence at first, then a muffled giggle, smiles became laughs quickly becoming guffaws and soon the whole gathering was in fits of laughter.

 Well, they say laughter is a cure for everything and soon there was a hoedown, with the Bikers and the Country boys having one hell of a party.

  Peace reigned when later that day the bikers roared off and normality returned to the Service station.  

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

TIME AND THE DEVIL’S TRIANGLE

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 A prompt response to the image below supplied by THE DARK ROOM

http://ourwriteside.com/out-of-sight/

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Image supplied by the Dark Room

TIME AND THE DEVIL’S TRIANGLE

By John Yeo

     The sea was calm and the crew were in a state of mild intoxication, after celebrating a successful mission, looking for leave to land and spend their ill-gotten gains. They had been tied up alongside a large island when the order to sail away came from the bridge.

  Suddenly a black cloud seemed to descend from the skies and bodily lift the whole ship and crew upwards into pure pitch black darkness. There was a great deal of shaking and shuddering of the timbers and mast. The crew seemed to be entranced almost as if they had traveled through time, which indeed they had.

  When consciousness returned they were confronted with a massive concrete structure that seemed to stretch across the ocean to infinity.

  Shock and dismay were mirrored on the faces of the seamen who had never encountered anything quite like this before. A tremulous fear swept through everyone as a strange fast small vessel raced up towards them.

  The Captain ordered the gunners to man the ship’s cannon as a loudhailer sounded loud, abrasively insulting the eardrums. An action that led the first mate to shout, “This is the work of the devil!”

    “Stand to for her Majesty’s excise officers! Stand fast we are coming  aboard.” Came the message.

    “What language is this Sir?”  Asked the First mate.

    “Open fire,” ordered the Captain and they watched helplessly as their Cannon balls dropped harmlessly into the sea.

   A large flying machine with spinning blades suddenly approached from the concrete structure and blew the ship out of the water.

     There were many deaths among the crew and some were swimming in the ocean, or desperately clinging to timbers from the wreckage. Captain West and his officers were killed instantly as a missile exploded on the bridge.

    The five men who survived the attack were hospitalised, but they were unable to communicate as they spoke the language of another dimension. The seamen were incarcerated in an institution for the criminally insane and rapidly forgotten.

~

     It had been five years since they had left Plymouth Harbour in England on a gray wet windy day.

    207 swarthy cutthroats and desperadoes were the crew aboard the five-masted sailing vessel, the Lady Jane.

  Captain Rudolph West kept a harsh regime of discipline aboard; at the first sign of mutiny, the ringleaders would have their throats cut. Then their heads would be hung up on a yardarm for all to see as a warning. The Captain was broad shouldered, well over six feet tall; towering over everybody else aboard. He sported a full set of graying whiskers and a permanent black scowl that inspired fear in the toughest of the rogues who sailed aboard the good ship Lady Jane.

   The first mate Joey Jones was average height, stocky and hard as nails, a ruthless man who was rumored to have killed a man in a bar fight in Tiger Bay and was permanently on the run from the law.

   The Lady Jane had sailed for many months around the West Indies, boarding and sacking every ship that sailed on their horizon. They would murder most of the crews and loose the survivors in rowing boats without supplies onto the stormy, unruly, shark-infested seas.

  One day the Captain addressed all the senior officers in the wardroom.

   “We have had a successful voyage so far and our ships holds are stuffed full of valuables. I have decided to head for a small island in the North Atlantic where we will secrete our treasure. We will pay off the crew and every man jack of them will receive a huge bonus.”

   “Aye aye, Captain! How will we manage to hide the loot without the thieving crew knowing the location and returning to steal it?” asked First Mate Jones.

   “Ah! I have thought of that me hearties, I intend to land on a different island and I will take three trusted crew members with me. After loading ten chests of gold and jewels onto a boat, we will row around the island to another smaller island that is located five miles further on. It is one of three islands and the chosen location will be known only to myself and my three trusted companions,  Angelo, Luigi, and Carmelo.” the Captain  continued, “Any questions?”

  “Yes, Sir!” Interrupted the Bosun, Harry Glass, “How far away is this island? How near is it to the Devil’s Triangle, where many vessels have gone missing? My mate was one of the crew on a tea clipper that went missing there.”

  “Don’t worry man! Our ship is well armed and soundly built, we can withstand any threat that comes our way.” said the Captain derisively. “The island is just days away and given fair weather we will have buried the treasure and we’ll be on our way again.”

   Everything went according to plan and the crew were allowed ashore onto the larger island to drink much grog, and sample the delights of the native women. Fights had broken out and the drunken corsairs were cursing and squabbling among themselves.

  Meanwhile, the Captain and his three trusted helpers were secreting the Captain’s treasure in a small cave on a tiny palm tree covered island.

   The Captain returned to the ship alone the next day, There was a great deal of speculation among the crew as to the whereabouts of Angelo, Carmelo, and Luigi. No one dared ask the Captain, but a story went around that he had remarked to the Bosun, the three crew members had decided to stay and guard the treasure. Alive or dead was the fearsome question on everybody’s lips.

Several days after they had left the island the freak weather conditions surrounded the ship and lifted the vessel into the unknown.

Little did any of the crew realise that the treasure would never be found and their existence would soon be a thing of the past.

 The Devil’s Triangle had claimed another victim to join the many unexplained mysteries of the perilous seas of time and timeless tales of folklore.

Copyright ©  Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

(1006 WORDS)

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CHARGE AND RECHARGE

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Prompt response based on the word of the day ~6th January 2016 ~ CHARGE

http://daily.wordreference.com/2017/01/06/intermediate-word-of-the-day-charge/

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CHARGE and RECHARGE

by John Yeo

    “Well Sir! I’m pleased to say there will be no charge for your meal. The manager has decided that in view of the extenuating circumstances, your meal will be free of charge. On the house!” said the waiter respectfully.

    “Call the manager here at once; it is not good enough to waive the charge. I think you have recognised me as an undercover inspector charged with rooting out unhygienic premises and publicly highlighting the dangers.” replied the man in the grey suit.

“Certainly Sir.”

    Almost immediately a breathless manager charged up to the guests table, looking extraordinarily flustered.

      “Can I help you Sir, I’m sorry for the delay, I was remonstrating with a member of staff who was trying to charge his mobile device using a power point in the kitchen that is needed for other purposes.”

    “Are you the manager here man? Are you supposed to be in charge of these premises? I am here to evaluate this restaurant after reports have been filed of unhygienic practices. I find the the charges absolutely sound and I intend to report back to my employers who will now file criminal charges. In my opinion your establishment is a danger to the public and should be closed down.”

The unsatisfied diner seemed to be enjoying the effect he

was having and was now smiling gleefully.

At that moment another diner interrupted the conversation and addressed the manager directly.

    “If I were you Sir, I would ask to see this man’s credentials, I am an undercover police officer, we have been following this fraudulent person around for months. He gets a free meal under false pretences and then laughs, he seems to get a charge out of his behaviour. I’ll take charge of the situation from here.”

 Turning to the the diner the police officer said, “What have you got to say for yourself?”

    “I think there has been some mistake. Charge my meal to this card please: I have an urgent appointment. Take an extra £50 to cover this unfortunate situation and I will be on my way.” the man spluttered, clearly flustered at this turn of events.

    The manager quickly accepted the card and charged the meal.
The manager smiled and returned the card to the diner. Grinning broadly he said to him.

   “You should have asked to see my brother’s credentials. Have a nice day Sir. And don’t come back here again ever! Goodbye!”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved
 

WINKER ON THE CASE

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A prompt response to ~  http://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

No.361. Detective: Write about a detective searching for clues or solving a mystery.

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Image courtesy of pixabay.com

WINKER ON THE CASE

by John Yeo

  There they were!….. Dangling from the streetlamp a pair of the most frilly outrageous bloodstained knickers that PC Everard Dickens had ever seen. After the initial shockwave and the rush of blood to the head had worn off, the erstwhile Constable, called his superior officer; Detective Sergeant Winker.
“It looks like we have the first clue to this gruesome case here Sir!”

“OK! Stand aside Dickens we need a ladder and the usual equipment for recovering clues to avoid contamination.”
  DS Winker stood there pondering over the situation as it had unfurled from the time of the anonymous phone call that had led to the gruesome discovery of the two victims.
  ‘I wonder how they got up there, or indeed if they are connected to this case at all. We have the battered and broken bodies of two pensioners discovered, with their arms tied around each other. The forensic scientists are combing the entire area for clues, something doesn’t seem to add up here. My initial feeling is the garment in question is the wrong size for the deceased; now if they were a pair of outsized bloomers hanging up there logical connections could be made.’

   “Dickens!” He called loudly. “I am sure this is an amateurish sort of a red herring to lead us off the trail onto an illogical tangent. Get the garment off to the lab without delay.”

   “Yes Sir!”

   “Dickens; I want this whole area of scrubland around this path combed for clues.”

   At that moment an officer arrived with the news that a large quantity of ladies underwear had been found secreted in the bedroom of the apartment where the badly beaten man and woman had been discovered.

   “Underwear? Ladies underwear!” DS Winker exclaimed.

 “Yes Sir; in a wide variety of sizes and colours Sir!” replied PC Smithers.

    “Wow! This puts an entirely different light on the matter. I put this down as a revenge slaughter, Dickens. Someone found out the old pervert was nicking knickers off washing lines and took their revenge. I wager when that pair of soiled pants comes back from the lab the DNA in the blood will point the finger at the spouse of the culprit. Sadly we are unable to verify this without the evidence of matching DNA. Most people are averse to randomly surrendering their DNA, for any reason at all, particularly to rule them out of a murder inquiry.”

“Yes Sir this will probably finish up in the cold case file.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

 

CHASING A FEELING

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Chasing a Feeling

http://bekindrewrite.com

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CHASING A FEELING

by John Yeo

  That split second the day the world stopped turning and stars seemed to be exploding and bursting all around.

An explosive mixture of sensuous sparks bursting through the brain cells igniting unknown, unused, pure pathways of pleasure. Blood racing through every venous pathway of the body unlocking previously unknown levels of the heights of pleasure. Love had arrived, unannounced and unintended in the shape of this anonymous lady of the night.

Then before he had time to react, she was gone leaving a physical wreck of a man.

James knew he had just experienced something irretrievable. The moment was gone forever, nothing would ever come close to recapturing that magical moment of unique fantastic coming together of nerve cells stimulating nerve cells culminating in a peak of plasmatic perfection.

James became a social butterfly flitting from flower to flower desperately trying to recapture the perfection of a moment that had gone forever.

I am Dr. Eva Swanson, a practicing Hypnotherapist, James was fast becoming a nervous wreck, out of touch with reality, when his GP doctor referred him to me.

 I examined the young man standing before me closely. I looked into blank, black eyes; eyes that revealed a tortured soul looking out. Eyes that refused to connect, I can only compare them to a pair of moths that refused to settle on an incoming gaze.

“Hello James;”

  “Hi!” Came a monosyllabic reply, in a voice that seemed to have been dragged under a steamroller and flattened.

  “I have studied your records and I have come to the conclusion that I can help. I have a  revolutionary new therapy. “Hypnoempathy.”   I regress your mind and your experience to the point of the disturbance and we mentally share the feelings together and work through this extreme disturbance empathically.”

“OK!” Came the flat monosyllabic response.

“I will see you again in a week’s time James; I would like you to see my secretary on your way out and she will make an appointment and give you the date.”

“OK!” Was James flat reply.

One week later  I welcomed James to the consulting room with Nurse Maria present. And we started the first of ten empathic preparatory sessions. We were using the new untested hypnotic drugs for maximum effect.

On the eleventh week, my patient and I were ready to experience and perhaps counteract the effect of the original experience.

The nurse retired from the consulting room and the empathic regression began.

Sparks flew as our two minds regressed to the point of the heights of an astonishing level of sensuousness as our joint feelings exploded into an orgasmic physical frenzy. I have never experienced the purity of these deep sensuous feelings before.

At the end of the hours, consultation the nurse arrived and the regressive experience was over.

My patient was a new man after this treatment, but I felt there was room for improvement and I asked him to make a twice weekly appointment until further notice to cement his new personality.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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EDIBLE PORTAL

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Edible Portal

http://bekindrewrite.com

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Image courtesy of pixabay.com

EDIBLE PORTAL

by John Yeo

  The two minuscule friends, from the rodent  “Mus musculus” family, scurried across a floral patterned carpet on the cottage parlour floor.  They were members of a nocturnal family of uninvited residents who lived in the thatched roof of the period cottage in the centre of the village. There was a new large colourful structure in the corner of the parlour.

  “Oh! Look at this wonderful new house in the corner here, this is just right for the children; the doors are locked, though!”   said Minnie excitedly.

    There was a loud snore from the bedroom and a grunt as Colonel Travers, the occupant and owner of the cottage turned over in his sleep restlessly. The two friends dived for cover. In the process, Micky knocked a lamp down that crashed to the floor. That sound brought a figure wearing a nightshirt and a floppy nightcap rushing from the adjoining bedroom carrying a shotgun. Stomping around the house the Colonel,  searched high and low looking for intruders.

  Cursing loudly he picked up the lamp and headed straight back to bed.

  “Oh, that was close Minnie! Let’s try and get inside this house and have a look around. The door is pretty solid but my word it does taste good; I think if we bring the whole family in we should eat our way inside and have a good look round.”

  “OK! Micky, I’ll call everyone together and we can have a feast.”

    The whole family were soon eating their way into the gingerbread house.

There was a knock on the door the next morning that got the Colonel out of bed early.

“Hallo!” Called Mrs Manners “Are you home?”

“Of course I’m bloody home, where else would I go?” came an almost inaudible reply. “Coming!” Came a louder response and the Colonel opened the door still wearing his floppy nightcap.

“Hello Colonel, I’ve come to finish the gingerbread house, how’s it looking?” said Mrs Manners, as she bustled into the cottage.

“Oh Wow; judging by the look of it, a whole nest of mice must have visited.”

“Good lord!” said the Colonel and raised his eyebrows. “You will have to demolish the house now, I will set some traps to catch the mice.”

“Sorry Colonel, I will get the ladies together to construct another house for you in time for your great grandchildren’s arrival. Merry  Christmas!”

“Thanks; Merry Christmas, Mrs Manners.”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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EVERYONE ELSE WAS LAUGHING

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A writing prompt from Grammar About..

http://grammar.about.com/od/topicsuggestions/a/50Prompts.htm

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Image courtesy of pixabay.com

 

EVERYONE ELSE WAS LAUGHING

by John Yeo

   The show was billed as a top-notch experience, not just a comedy, an amusing experience; one that would cheer everyone up. It struck Gino’s nerves to the core when the lights finally went down. He knew then that this embarrassment would never make him laugh. There he was with his trousers in his hand being chased out of a farmer’s field by a fierce bull with long sharp horns. His face was hidden, but his bottom was clearly on display as he desperately tried to outrun the fierce bull. He knew very well whose rear that was; he had a clear recollection of the course of events leading to this unfortunate incident.

  Gino and Alex were out filming and photographing wild birds with the local photography club.

  “Look Alex! That’s a rare Egret on the banks of the brook running through that field: Let’s climb over the gate and try to get some photographs.”

  “Should we?” Alex cautiously asked. “Surely it’s private property. I’ll come with you to the gate but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

   The rest of the group also declined to enter the field and waited with Alex watching and filming the Egret from a distance. Gino quietly crept up on the unsuspecting bird and secreted himself in some bushes on the bank and began filming. Suddenly Nature of a different variety intervened and he thought, ‘It’s a good job I’m under cover. That curry I had last night is having a devastating effect. I will squat here behind these bushes.’

 There was heard a bellowing roar and the sound of galloping hooves as a huge 2000 lb bull arrived and charged towards him.Gino grabbed his trousers and ran hard for the gate where his friends from the group were waiting and filming his escape, curled up with hysterical laughter.

  Now one week later the group were sharing their birdwatching experiences!  ☮

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

HEY!

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Image from the net

A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: Man’s First Word

http://bekindrewrite.com

HEY!

by John Yeo

   There was silence in the outer hemispheres of the galaxy for millennia. The elder trolls were unique in the areas of communication throughout the exo-galactic panoply of extraordinary people. Their way of communicating by nonverbal means had been raised to new heights.

  On an extraordinary blue planet, life was formed and developed. Asteroids had collided and re-collided. Comets visited;  bringing chemicals to permeate a life-giving mix of chemicals giving rise to unique life-forms. Exoplasm mingled and re-mingled again in the hands of the entity that was controlling the flow of matter.

  The life forms mixed and remixed, soon a survivor in the likeness of the controller emerged. “Hey!” Thought the controller; “I am almost there!”

 Then to his delight, he heard the word. “Hey!” Repeated back to him.

 Shocked he silently strained his ultrasonic hearing to the limits.

  Then the silence was broken by the familiar sound of his Mother’s voice resonating around the galaxy.

  “God! put your toys away! It’s late!”

“Oh; Mother! Please; Can’t I just have another couple of eons?”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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