MEMORIES

FRIDAY 6th NOVEMBER 2020 ~ FLASH FICTION

PROMPT~ What do you like the least about your father?

MEMORIES


by John Yeo


  This is a very tricky question for me as I don’t remember anything much about my father at all. This account will have to be made up of dribs and drabs of second hand information. I was born towards the end of the second world war when things were absolutely hair-raising. Enemy aircraft were in the throes of non-stop bombing raids on England. I was born in spite of this and I was living with my parents on a Canadian air force base in the depths of rural Surrey. From second hand accounts, I learned later I was wrapped in a shawl or blankets and deposited in a cupboard under the stairs during the aforementioned bombing raids. I can’t begin to imagine the effects of the continuous crash, bang, wallop, on the senses of a tiny baby lying in a cot in darkness under the stairs. 

 My younger brother arrived and the family were obviously surviving in spite of the rigours of living with the continuous uncertainty of war. 

 It will be obvious to anyone who has read this far that my Father doesn’t feature in this account at all. He was obviously a Canadian service-man based in the United Kingdom.

 From all other vague inferences and information that have reached me over the years I’ve discovered my Father returned to Canada at the end of the war leaving my Mother with two children and possibly another child on the way. The family were obviously no longer entitled to stay in military accommodation and in the upheaval following the war, accommodation was scarce. Rooms were finally obtained with a widow with three daughters, and things were overcrowded, with two women and five children in a three bedroom house. Adding to the problems of this overcrowding, was the fact that my Mother was pregnant and would be adding another baby to the household shortly.

  A solution to the overcrowding was arrived at through the intervention of the social services and it was arranged that my brother and I would be sent away to a residential home for children. I have always referred to this as a boarding school, as we were fed, educated and taken care of under the auspices of the charitable organization who ran the establishment.

. This was the beginning where the seeds of dislike for my Father were planted and this feeling simply grew from a vague feeling in later years.

   What I dislike immensely about my Father is his total disregard of the children he abandoned and his complete inability to find the time or the inclination to trace them, I have since discovered he married again and had at least one more child from this union. I can understand his needing to start a new chapter in his life on his return to Canada, but this will never justify his closing down all previous chapters and shutting the book.

©️ Written by John Yeo

SECOND FLOOR FIASCO

WEDNESDAY 4th NOVEMBER 2020


SECOND FLOOR FIASCO


by John Yeo

  The apartment block was an Edwardian house set in the centre of a row of rundown properties that were once well-to-do dwellings for the upper middle classes. We rented a two-roomed furnished apartment on the second floor. The wallpaper featured male peacocks with their tails in full courting display. A mud-coloured threadbare worn carpet graced the floor. Our bed was a double sized mattress on the floor with four grubby pillows and a heap of assorted coats and blankets for warmth. There were a couple of battered wooden dining chairs with clothes piled on them to take the place of a non-existent wardrobe.

   We had neighbours, Sarah and Josh on the same landing, who also rented a couple of rooms. When I say that we had neighbours; that was before the explosion that sadly took their lives.
Apparently it was a case of the huge number of electronic devices connected to an illegal supply of electricity. The fire was caused by a short circuited electrical device that blew up. Fortunately it was a minor local explosion.


©️ Written by John Yeo

HISTRIONICS

Weekend Writing Prompt #181 – Histrionics

SUNDAY 1st NOVEMBER 2020 ~ FLASH FICTION



HISTRIONICS


by John Yeo

Mary always dressed in strange clothes that were designed to attract attention.
With her scarlet hair, her purple hat, she was dressed to cause a sensation.

Mary talked Incredibly loud, laughing hysterically to deliberately flout convention.

Flirting outrageously, with tears of tension, histrionics were her pathway to stardom.

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SIGNED, SEALED AND DELIVERED

THURSDAY 29th OCTOBER 2020 ~ FLASH FICTION 

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..

PROMPT ~ SIGNED, SEALED AND DELIVERED

SIGNED, SEALED AND DELIVERED

by John Yeo

 The duel was to be fought at dawn between a celebrated army officer and a mysterious, anonymous man in black. Both men had professed love for the Lady Svetlana, a desirable Russian beauty who seemed to have deliberately played one man up against the other.

 Captain Lewenski pointed the pistol and pulled the trigger. Everyone gasped as the man in black turned to the assembled witnesses and fell to the floor mortally wounded.

  ‘I leave without questioning?’  gasped the man as he lay dying. 

At that point another shot rang out from a coppice nearby, and the Captain fell dead without a murmur.

   The seconds shook hands as Lady Svetlana walked out accompanied by a retinue of attendants and minders.

   ‘At last we have cleansed ourselves of both these nasty double agents who have been responsible for so many deaths.’

  ‘They were duelling over your affections, my lady.’ said the taller of the two seconds, who had represented the Captain.

‘My affections lie with my country. This duel was fought for our survival. The order for the execution of the victor, was signed, sealed and delivered to me.’

 Two further shots broke the silence of the cold morning light and both seconds fell dead.

 ‘Cleanse the remains!’ Lady Svetlana ordered coldly and an ox cart was loaded with  four corpses.

©️ Written by John Yeo

MUDDLED MEMORY

RANDOM WRITING PROMPT
TUESDAY 27th OCTOBER 2020 ~ FLASH FICTION 

   You bought a memory foam pillow at a garage sale. Little did you know that it wasn’t an ordinary pillow. The pillow gave whoever was lying on it the memory of its previous users. 

~~~~~~

THE MUDDLED MEMORY 

by John Yeo

    I’m a single man, living in a sparsely-furnished bedsit in a densely populated area of the city. It was pushing the bounds of reason to describe this place as furnished when I first rented it and I had bought many items to make things a little more comfortable from local charity shops and garage sales.

 It was Sunday night when I started to feel odd. I remember suddenly waking with an urgent desire to visit the bathroom. I was feeling quite muddle-headed and I had to blindly force myself to remember where the bathroom actually was. I simply put this down to the result of a heavy-headed sleep and I got back into bed and tried to sleep. 

  I lay awake for a while and my mind began to drift over some odd subjects. I began to worry about getting caught and arrested by the police for my crimes. The criminal offences I was ruminating over were connected with money-laundering and extortion. I remember thinking they were just a series of ultra-realistic dreams. I brought to the surface of my mind a whole sequence of events and places where I apparently had lived and images of the people who were also involved in these criminal activities. Eventually I drifted off into a deep sleep until the alarm clock shrilled out and it was time to get up.

  I dressed for work and stopped in a small local cafe for breakfast. The weird dreamlike experiences from the night suddenly came to mind as I sat and ate and I thought I recognised the area where I was supposed to have lived and committed my crimes. The house was much like a large detached place where I had stopped to buy some items for my flat from a nice lady who was having a garage sale to clear some unwanted effects.

  I didn’t think anything else about the dream when I got to work as I was far too busy working on some intricate accounts.

  I was shattered at the end of the day as I hadn’t slept too well the night before and I went to bed early, where I immediately fell into a deep sleep. I woke a couple of hours later and visited the bathroom, again I was unsure where the bathroom actually was and I seemed to be unfamiliar with the way things were situated. I returned to the bed and tried to sleep again, without much success. 

  My pillow was uncomfortable and I turned it over and over trying to get the memory foam to fit my posture. Then I remembered I was married to a lady named Jean and we had been wed for three years. My brother and sister were also living in our house temporarily but they had both recently left the house. Jean had cleared everything out from their rooms, dumped some junk and had a garage sale with some other items, in aid of a local charity.

 I was heavily involved in a betting business where I made high profits from money-laundering and much besides.

  The next day everything faded into the background when I woke and I dragged myself to work and over my lunch break I confided in my friend Shirley.

  We decided to visit the house I remembered from my dream, on some pretext and check out the lie of the land. When we got there we found the house empty and shuttered up, the neighbour next door informed us they had moved overnight.

   When we arrived at the office there was a message for me from my neighbour at home to let me know there had been a fire in my house and the whole two flats, including mine, had been destroyed.

  Shirley and her husband immediately offered me the benefit of their spare room for a while until I was able to find somewhere to live.

   Strangely, I never, ever, experienced those strange dream-like feelings again.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

IF ONLY WE COULD

SUNDAY 18th OCTOBER 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..

IF ONLY WE COULD

by John Yeo

If only we could…

Stay fit and healthy forever without the need for medical attention, ever.

If only we could…

Defeat the aging process allowing our minds and souls to enjoy cerebral pleasure.

If only we could…

Discover everything we need to know without the need of study to be eternally clever.

If only we could…

See beneath the surface of our minds and to just love and care for one another.

If only we could…

Amalgamate our beliefs and live happily together following a single dream forever.

If only we could…

Learn to live without fighting or warfare and we were happy to live peacefully together.

If only we could…

Share our resources and grow sufficient food in this world without starvation wherever.

If only we could…

Find that special soulmate and live happily with the love of a life spent together. 

If only we could… If only!!

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

DAMION

SATURDAY 17th OCTOBER 2020 ~ FLASH FICTION 

PROMPT ~ Three words: Long lost brother.

DAMION

by John Yeo

   I was curious to find an unexpected visitor on my doorstep when I returned from work today. I encountered a man who looked about ten years older than me leaning up against the doorpost. He had long fair hair, with striking green eyes. His eyes were noticeable as he had a permanent squint and he wore a pair of rather large plastic spectacles. He was over six feet tall and towered above me as he gave an impudent grin and said, ‘Hi! Pleased to meet you. I’m Damion, your long lost step-brother.’

 These words were delivered with a broad West Country accent. I was taken aback and I looked up at him and replied, ‘Are you mad? I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Get out of here before I call the police and have you removed.’

   ‘Hear me out and I will explain, I promise you we’re brothers, we have the same father, George Alexander. I was born in Somerset, where our father had set up a second home with my mother. I was the product of that relationship.’  This was said with the same impertinent grin.

    I responded angrily, ‘You’re obviously mistaken Damion! You look nothing like me and I don’t believe a word of your story. Now get out of here before I call the police.’

  He nonchalantly grinned and pulled a large envelope from his pocket and withdrew some photographs.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

A PINCH OF PURPOSE

FRIDAY 16th OCTOBER 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..

Today’s prompt ~ A PINCH OF PURPOSE

A PINCH OF PURPOSE

by John Yeo

   Magwich, Megan and Mary had been friends for years. They’d all met up at Professor Merlin’s magical college in the depths of a root encrusted, mysterious, haunted wood. No one who graduated from this academy had any illusions about their future careers. They left as fully qualified witches. 

  Magwich was a tall slim attractive blonde, with blue sparkling eyes that had a habit of involuntary fluttering whenever she was concentrating. She wore her traditional black pointed hat at a jaunty angle that betrayed something of an impish sense of humour. Her parents were successful industrialists who hadn’t done much research when they’d sent her away to school. They were just happy to have her education completed at a school where she would be well looked after.

   As a total contrast, Megan was born to be a witch, her parents were both steeped thoroughly in the magical arts and they knew exactly what they wanted for their only child. Her father was a practical working wizard who had enjoyed great success in curing people through his use of magical spells. He had been somewhat disappointed when he discovered he’d fathered a daughter, although he was genuinely proud of her. His wife Miranda thought the world of her bright, dark eyed daughter, with her long flowing black locks that hung freely down her shoulders. Megan was somewhat short and quite dumpy, which was a direct result of her mother spoiling her and over feeding her with tasty titbits from the family cauldron.

    Mary, our third and most remarkable member of this trio of spellbinding witches was an individual character in her own right . She had bright reddish auburn hair and a fiery temper to match. Mary was an orphan. No one knew what had become of her parents, or indeed if she had ever bothered to be born to conventional parents. The story went that she was the offspring of an egg laying large black tabby cat and a red feral feline wanderer. Apparently they were shapeshifters who had been originally born in the shape of humans and were able to take the feline form at will.

  Professor Merlin was seemingly an easygoing wizard who had educated many students over the centuries and inoculated them all with a sense of purpose. It wasn’t until you looked into his eyes that you realised there was a streak of steel running through his educational purpose.

  Graduation day had arrived and Magwich, Megan and Mary were destined to become a coven in a far off nation, where they were to reside until they received further orders from the Professor. 

Mary acted as a natural leader and she bluntly said. 

    ‘Listen here you two, we haven’t been informed what this elusive sense of purpose is. I’m certain it’s not going to be pleasant for certain people and I need you both to be loyal and obedient to our coven. We are going to live in a place in the Black Forest in a country far away from here.’

    Magwich flicked her blonde hair to one side, fluttered her right eye and spat on the floor. ‘Look Mary, I don’t take your orders but I respect your judgment. If we have to live together indefinitely I will do my best to tolerate you and your insolence but don’t push us too far.’

   Megan scowled and nodded at these remarks and aggressively responded. ‘My Dad is an important practising wizard and he knows what this sense of purpose is. I have been shown the universal sign of a magical sense of purpose.’

    With that she turned to Mary and administered a sharp pinch on her face that resulted in a scream of agony. Mary instantly retaliated and viciously pinched Megan back. Mary then savagely pinched Magwich and soon all three young witches were rolling all over the place pinching each other wildly, on the buttocks, in the face, literally everywhere.

   Suddenly there was a loud shout as the Professor arrived and waved his magic wand and some sort of peace was restored.

    ‘I’m happy to see you have all administered  several pinches of purpose to each other. Bear in mind you are all equal and I’m equally proud of you all. There aren’t any leaders among you. You will all work together or I will see you are reminded with some further unpleasant pinches of purpose. These will be stronger and more hurtful. Now go in peace and work together for the benefit of your coven.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

COMMUNICATION

 TUESDAY 13th OCTOBER 2020 ~ FLASH FICTION 

PROMPT ~ Write about why you write.

COMMUNICATION 

by John Yeo

 Why do I write?

  The answer to this question goes back many years to the dim and distant past to my school days. In the days when pens were dipping pens that scratched on exercise books using an inkwell that transferred thoughts to paper. I remember I was always in my element in the English class where my imagination was allowed to run riot as we were all encouraged to write short stories and poetry. My fingers would become stained blue and sometimes the blots of ink would reach my face as I bit the end of the pen in absent-minded concentration. Sometimes the teacher would read out loud one or two particularly interesting pieces of work for the benefit of the rest of the class. 

  I remember one young lad who wrote about his life at home and the bruises his Mum and him would sometimes receive on a Friday night when his Dad returned from the local pub full of drink and frustrated anger. This was a story that wasn’t read out loud to the class but involved the headmaster and the police getting involved to stop this violence happening.

  It was then I first began to realise the importance of writing and the changes writing could effect in our lives.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

GRANDAD’S STAMPS


 PROMPT  ~ You have a billion dollars in your bank account. How did you make it?

GRANDAD’S STAMPS

by John Yeo

   I was fourteen years old when the seeds were sown for my fortunes beginning to arrive by the lorry load. My name is Sebastian Large, I am a self made billionaire and I put all my large fortune down to a combination of luck and hard work.

   It was shortly after my fourteenth birthday when my Grandfather Albert died. This made me feel terrible and I remember crying myself to sleep, every night for a whole week. 

   Grandad was always a good friend to me and we used to laugh with each other whenever Mum and Dad took me to his house for a visit, which was usually about twice a week. Grandad was a tall man, slightly stooped in his shoulders with a shock of grey hair that was always unruly and usually in need of a visit to the barbers. He had bushy eyebrows and pale blue eyes that seemed to pierce through you to your heart. He was an ex-naval man, having spent over twenty years in the merchant navy on cargo ships. Grandad had been around the world many times over and he had a fund of tales and stories that he would relate to me almost from the day I was born. I loved hearing these wonderful tales of life onboard the trade vessels and the descriptions of the crews and sailors he had worked alongside. 

  Grandad was also a keen stamp collector and he had a roomful of stamp albums and stamped envelopes that he’d picked up during his travels. I remember looking through them with him many times, admiring the colourful square pictorial stamps from all around the world. Grandad would tell me many tales of the countries where these stamps originated from and how they came into his possession.

 One day we were going through an album of old English stamps when Grandad suddenly turned to me and said,

      ‘Seb. When I take my leave of this world, I intend to make sure you receive my entire stamp collection. Take real good care of them and they will someday take good care of you.’

I laughed nervously and replied. 

   ‘Grandad you will never die, I would miss you too much if you ever left us.’

   Sadly a year later, Grandad died and I inherited thousands of stamps all neatly pasted into stamp albums and on many different sized envelopes. I kept them in one of the rooms in the house where they simply began to gather dust and spiders webs.

   I left university with huge debts and a degree in creative writing and I soon discovered that budding writers weren’t paid much money. I suddenly had the bright idea to have my inherited stamp collection valued and perhaps they would raise enough money to pay my debts and start me off in business.

  The day of the valuation arrived and I asked a couple of auctioneers to value the collection. Imagine my surprise when I was informed, Grandads stamps were worth hundreds of thousands of pounds at a conservative estimate. I was delighted when they were finally sold for close to a million pounds as there were some rare oriental stamps among the collection printed in gold leaf paint and some extremely early valuable English stamps.

  This was my springboard to making me a billionaire. I invested much of this money in technology and oil shares and soon my fortunes rapidly increased.

 However this wasn’t anything to do with the main income that led me to amassing my billion pounds. 

  No! I wrote down many of my Grandads stories and sold millions of books, some became films and plays and then several television series. 

   I became a considerably wealthy famous author and I bought and sold many mansions and even two private Carribean islands.

  Yes I have a billion dollars in the bank, thanks in many, many ways to my hard working, seafaring Grandad. 

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

(I picked up this prompt from a site on the internet called freewrite.com I was at a loss as to where to find my subject for the day. I think this response turned out pretty well and I wrote the above piece in about an hour. The words just seemed to flow once I got started and I’m extremely pleased with the result.I intend to publish it on my WordPress site and expand the story later.)

(761 WORDS)