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DEAD AND ALIVE

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  PROMPT  ~ You and your ghost best friend are an infamous crime-solving team.

Image courtesy of the internet

DEAD AND ALIVE 

by John Yeo

   It was 3 o’clock in the morning when my mobile phone shrilled into life by my bedside. I came to consciousness rapidly, still in the throes of a wild dream, where we had solved a huge case for a fantastic reward. 

  I’m Case Cassidy, a private investigator attached to the Mutual London Insurance Company. I have been called in to privately investigate some large life insurance claims where murder has been suspected.

 Little does anyone know that I have a partner, I like to think of him as a sleeping partner. He doesn’t answer to a first name, just his well known name when he was alive which began with the letter ‘C’. He was a famous detective during his lifetime and I must say I’m glad to have him around.

‘You’d better get that.’ came the familiar Italian/American voice clearly in my mind.

 ‘O.K! O.K!’ I replied, ‘Keep your mackintosh on!’

I punched the button on the mobile ‘Hello!  Yeah!’

   ‘Hey Case!  This is the Insurance fraud controller. There’s been some new evidence on the Johnson case that we paid out on last week. We’ve had a tipoff that the beneficiary is at the airport now fleeing the country with some ill gotten gains. Try to get to the airport before he leaves and tail him until the police arrive to arrest him.’

‘I’m on my way!’  I replied and slammed my finger hard on the disconnect button.

   C’s voice came into my head instantly. ‘I remember we met the suspect a month ago, I remember him vividly. A smarmy sort of a guy who spoke with a cut glass public school accent. I’ll fly over to the airport now and keep tabs on him while you jump in your beat up Peugeot car and negotiate the traffic.’

    ‘O.K, but haunt him with all manner of three dimensional interventions until I get there.’ I found then; I was talking to thin air.

    The six mile journey to the airport was fast and smooth at that time of the morning. I was lucky not to encounter any police patrol cars on the way. I got through to a noisy, crowded terminal one when C’s voice came clearly into my head,

    ‘He’s in the first class lounge on terminal three. He is drinking champagne and looks quite pleased with himself,’

  I headed straight over there and produced my ID card to the airport security man and approached the suspect.

  ‘Hi Mr Johnson! Fancy meeting you here, I remember you from a few days ago when you were in our office in Holborn. How are you? Are you off on a trip?’

 C’s voice broke into my mind and said, ‘Tell him he’s under arrest for grand larceny and fraud.’

 Johnson looked somewhat shaken as he replied, ‘No, I’m off to visit family in Spain.’

Meantime in my mind C was growling, ‘Cuff him until the police arrive.’

 I replied to C in my head, ‘Look you know I’m not a policeman!’

I replied to Mr Johnson. ‘Nice, what part of Spain?’

C was aggravating my composure with his comments when I suddenly said to Johnson.

‘Oh one more thing! I’m making a citizen’s arrest and you are under my custody until the police arrive.’

Johnson tried to run but the airport security guard stopped him at the door.

 The police arrived and took him away. C and I were arguing for ages over the way this case turned out.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved 

RUNAWAY

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 Prompt  ~. Tell a story from your favorite era.

THE RUNAWAY 

by John Yeo

     I woke up in a haystack at the side of a large field near the village of Sparkwell. I’d run away from our home near Dartmoor after a pedlar had visited our village with the news that the Spanish were on their way to Plymouth with a huge armada. 

  My name is Jim Wilson, I’m 15 years old and I can hardly wait to get there and join the navy. My Dad and Mum wouldn’t let me volunteer so I’ve run away to join up. Oh! I think I may be in luck, here comes a hay wagon.

     ‘Hey stop! I need a lift. Stop!’

The driver slowed and turned his weather-beaten face towards me. He was wearing a worn black outfit that most farmers and their vassals who followed the Puritan religion wore.

     ‘Hop on the cart son; I’m only going about two miles along this road. Where are you headed?’

 I started to climb onto the back of the cart but the driver signalled to me to sit beside him on the front. I answered his question with the single word Plymouth.

     ‘Plymouth! that’s about ten miles from here. Why are you heading that way?

      ‘Have you heard the latest news? The Spanish are on the way and I want to join the navy to help with the fight.’ I responded.

      ‘No! I didn’t know they were nearly here. I had heard they were on the way to invade England and King Philip wanted to inflict the Catholic religion on us. I’m sure the Queen has organised a fleet to meet them, but I know we’re heavily outnumbered by the Spaniards.’

  I introduced myself and explained that I had left home and had spent the night in a haystack.’

    ‘Probably the one in the field where I stopped to give you a lift. I’m Farmer Frank, Have you eaten anything today? No, I didn’t think so. Why don’t you come to our farmhouse and share breakfast with my family. My wife will look after you and we can see if we can find someone who is heading towards Plymouth Hoe. That’s where you are certain to find the English fleet. I believe Sir Francis Drake is in command of the fleet.’

    I was so grateful for his help, I couldn’t help smiling broadly, I thanked him by offering to do some jobs around the farm for him. He readily agreed to this and we were soon pulling up outside some ramshackle barns and outhouses where Farmer Frank unhitched the horses and I was shown where the fresh hay was. I filled the feeding trough and poured some buckets of water into the water trough. I enjoyed a substantial breakfast and met the Farmer’s wife Sarah and their two strapping sons Terry and Robin. I was then asked to clean out the pig sty and the stables to pass the time while Farmer Frank went to make some enquiries among his neighbours. 

  I set to work willingly and cleaning and clearing up after the animals while Terry and Robin went off to work in the fields. Farmer Frank was visiting several people in the neighbouring farms and didn’t return until late. I must admit I was feeling dead tired when it was time for our evening meal. Sarah the farmer’s wife had fed me a lunch of cheese and apple with a huge chunk of rough bread earlier in the day.

  Farmer Frank said,  ‘Jim, not good news I’m afraid; nobody is going towards Plymouth for a while, but you’re welcome to stay for a few days and earn some money working on the farm. You can sleep in the small barn’

 I reluctantly agreed to this and I made my way there and settled in the corner on some warm hay. I was so tired, but you can imagine how much sleep I got when I heard the sound of bolts on the outside of the door getting drawn and I realised I was locked in and a prisoner.

  I tried the doors but they were firmly shut and I desperately searched for an exit to enable me to escape. I found a boarded up window high in the barn and began to physically break the rotten wood that comprised the window frame. A barn owl had made a hole and I smashed my way out through this, to the consternation of the owls that were screeching loudly as I broke out. As I jumped through the hole and landed on a pile of straw ten feet below, the farmyard dogs began barking loudly. A lantern was alight inside the farmhouse as I hobbled away, having twisted my ankle when I landed. I hid in a huge water-filled wooden barrel and escaped across the fields before dawn.

   I was fortunate to be picked up along the road by a pedlar who was heading into Plymouth. This man was a tinker who made a living selling and repairing pots and pans. A large red-faced friendly travelling man who was jovial and glad of my company. He introduced himself as Peter Potter. He was shocked when I described my recent experience with Farmer Frank and said he would spread the word everywhere he went for people to be on their guard.

 We were both surprised to find Sir Francis Drake calmly playing bowls when we arrived. Apparently the Spanish were defeated by the weather. I joined up anyway and soon became a cabin boy on the good ship, VIctory.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

VELVET EXPERIENCE

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Writing Prompt ~~~ Your dream is to open a restaurant and be a top chef, but how can you do that when you were born without taste buds?

THE VELVET EXPERIENCE 

by John Yeo

 ‘My name is Peter; I am 20 years of age. I was born in the leafy suburb of Hampstead in central London. Mum and Dad owned The Velvet Experience, a large Michelin starred restaurant and we lived in a roomy flat above the business. All my early life I was surrounded and suffused with the aromas and the excitement of growing up and working with my parents. It wasn’t until I was eight years old that I realised I had been born differently to everyone else. One day I was working alongside Mum in the large kitchen when she thrust a large silver spoon into my hand and said, 

  ‘Taste this Peter. What do you think of this curry, is it too hot?’

    I dipped the spoon into the tureen that was bubbling away on the stove, I could smell the aroma of what looked like a delicious curry. Then I realised, I couldn’t actually taste the curry. I could smell the beautiful aroma and feel the temperature on the inside of my mouth but I had no sensation of the taste.

 Mum was puzzled, this wasn’t the first time she had noticed my inability to taste things and she’d usually put it down to my suffering from a cold which was interfering with my taste buds. Dad was horrified and immediately decided with Mums approval that I should see the family Doctor as soon as possible. The Doctor sent me off to see a specialist who consulted with another specialist and after numerous tests it was discovered that I’d been born without taste buds. 

 Although Mum and Dad were both upset and disappointed with this result, they were still quite happy to allow me to help and study them at work in the kitchen. I studied the menus, the food people enjoyed and the aromas as the food was being prepared in the kitchen. My sense of smell took over the sensations that would have been recognised by my nonexistent taste buds.

 I went to catering college to obtain my culinary qualifications where I successfully got by, using my highly developed faculties I passed the exams with flying colours.

 Sadly, while I was finishing my studies, Dad had a stroke and became paralysed on his right side. Of course this put an end to his cooking in the restaurant and he would supervise Mum and the employees from the safety of his wheelchair.

 I went straight to work after I’d left college and took over the kitchen from my Mum who was beginning to show signs of the worries of both working and taking care of Dad.

 I had a good team working with me, Jose and Ali, both excellent would be chefs who had been trained by Dad.

 I became adept at judging how our dishes would taste, by the aromas and the quantity of the ingredients backed up by the satisfied looks on our diners faces.

 One day unbeknown to me or the staff, we had a visit from a Michelin star assessor. I prepared the speciality of the house myself and it was no surprise when I received compliments from a well dressed portly gentleman.

 A few weeks later we were surprised and delighted to receive another Michelin star for our restaurant. This made a certain chef who was born without taste buds and his aged parents extremely proud indeed.’

 © Copyright ~ Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

PRETTY PLACES

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TUESDAY 29th SEPTEMBER 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 ~ PRETTY PLACES

September Writing Prompts

PRETTY PLACES

by John Yeo

The bay was picturesque and sombre at the same time. A pretty cove surrounded by rocky cliffs, where the surf gently rippled into rock pools on the sandy shore in the Summer months. Artists and photographers would flock to this location to record the beauty both in the Summer and the dramatic Winter months. Birds were nesting high among the rocky escarpment, flying high in the blue cloud-flecked sky. An odd thing about the higher rocks was the filmy gooey layer of a white substance that was almost ingrained in some of the higher rocks. Sun worshippers and artists alike would be warily dodging a frequent continuous shower of flying guano bombs. There were also frequent dog walkers parading up and down the shoreline. Almost every breed of dog known to man was featured in this constant parade, leaving mounds piled on the immaculate sandy shore. Each of these mounds represented a hastily piled heap of sand that hid the inevitable leavings of our well-fed modern canine population.

The Winter months were equally beautiful, but in total contrast to the serene peaceful splendour of Summer. Dramatic high white-flecked waves pounded the shore. Artists and photographers were still drawn here to record the beauty. Grey skies and heavy rain forewarned fierce storms and hurricane force winds. As huge waves battered the shore they washed in tons of plastic accompanied by much other detritus of varying description. There was a long continuous mound of assorted rubbish that had piled up slowly over the Autumn and Winter Months.

Spring arrived with new growth of the salt-loving plants and shrubs along the shoreline around the bay. The birds returned to the cliffs to breed again, and a few concerned people began to clear away the washed up rubbish along the beach.

News broke that an oil tanker had overturned in the ocean offshore and it wasn’t long before a black tarry substance began to be washed up on the sandy beach. The seabirds were badly affected and the yellow sand quickly turned to a deep excreta-shaded brown. The pretty beach was quickly closed to the public to enable a cleanup to take place.

The good news was there were several more unspoilt pretty places just along the coast for the enjoyment of everyone.

© Written by John Yeo

TRYING DAYS, MYSTICAL NIGHTS

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SUNDAY 27th SEPTEMBER 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 ~ TRYING DAYS, MYSTICAL NIGHTS 

September Writing Prompts

TRYING DAYS, MYSTICAL NIGHTS 

by John Yeo

   The two friends were excited as they were making their plans for an exciting trip. Edward and Fiona were both students at  the School of Oriental and African studies at the University of London. The plan was to travel to Africa and explore as many Ancient religious sites as possible during the Summer break. 

  Edward, who was the son of an army, cavalry officer, was a six foot tall athletic young man, with long red hair and sparkling brown eyes that lit up when he grinned, which was quite often. His rather long nose was somewhat camouflaged by a bushy moustache. A pair of thick plastic spectacles balanced on the end of the said nose, completed his facial adornments.

  Fiona, his friend and would-be travelling companion, was the daughter of a wealthy industrialist with a large manor house in Hampshire. Fiona was a bubbly brunette with medium length, curly hair and deep set dark brown eyes. 

   The expedition was soon set up and the two friends were introduced to Mustafa, their tour guide and his team of six bearers who were to accompany them on the jungle trek. He was a thin man, with short, tightly curled hair and a face covered in the pock marks of an early dose of chickenpox. His eyes were bright and reflected a friendly, quick intelligence.

  They began to make their way through the dense jungle, following overgrown trails little known to anyone except the natives. The jungle became more and more overgrown and Edward and Fiona were slashing their way along the trails wielding sharp machetes. This was extremely hard work and tempers became frayed and everyone was feeling the pressure of the task ahead; to reach the first temple.

  They arrived at a rock-strewn valley with a gentle river running through. They cleared away vegetation from a glade and set up camp for the night. The first temple on their schedule was just a few hours away.

  That evening around their camp fire, Mustafa and his team entertained the two friends with mystical tales of the religious ceremonies and ritual events that took place in the temple they would be visiting. Fiona and Edward tasted a special brew of leaves that gently calmed them and allowed them to imagine the magical mysterious life of the temple priests.

 The next day’s journey proved even more trying than ever, as the jungle became  denser as they drew nearer to the first temple.

Fiona and Edward were showing the effects of the hard onerous work required to clear their way and started bickering at each other.

  ‘I wasn’t aware this trip would be quite as tough as this.’ grumbled Fiona, ‘I’m not used to this laborious hacking away through a jungle. How come we have to go through this sort of hard work?’

     ‘Don’t blame me!’ retorted Edward. ‘Surely you realised the jungle wouldn’t be easy. I can always arrange for us to be picked up by helicopter when we reach the upcoming temple.’

    ‘How can we pay for that?  Without wiring our parents for funds and risking their reactions to us flunking out of the trip.’ asked Fiona.

    ‘Oh! Let’s just get there, we can decide what to do when we arrive at the temple.’

     An hour later they had reached the temple and were introduced to a number of the temple priests who lived with their families in a small village. The rigours of their journey were quickly forgotten as excitement took over. The structure of the age-old rocks that comprised the walls, with strange carvings and statues everywhere accentuating Mustafa’s mystical tales of the night before.

 The two friends spent the evening participating in the ceremonies and spent hours writing, photographing and recording the mystical temple night.

 The next day they had to come to a decision?

© ~ Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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SUNDAY 27th SEPTEMBER 2020 ~ FLASH FICTION

Weekend Writing Prompt #176 – Zany

INZANEINESS

by John Yeo

   The doorbell chimed as the family gathered.

A large scruffily-dressed man was revealed on the doorstep wearing a monocle. 

An enormous black bow tie was roughly tied around his neck.

His grey hair, hung down beneath a battered top hat.

‘I’m here for my funeral.’

‘Get out of here!’  was the reaction.

‘I will when you bury me.’  came the zany reply.

(62 WORDS)

SHE TOLD THE STORY WITH HER EYES

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THURSDAY 24th SEPTEMBER 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 ~ SHE TOLD THE STORY WITH HER EYES

September Writing Prompts
Image courtesy of kellysoccasions.co.uk

SHE TOLD THE STORY WITH HER EYES

    Five year old Jenny’s eyes stood out like saucers as the chocolatier got to work. The melted gorgeous river of chocolate rippled down the largest chocolate fountain she’d ever seen. 

     Beneath the river of chocolate that swirled down the fountain ceaselessly, there was an array of things to dip in the delicious chocolatey stream. pretzels, butter shortcake biscuits, strawberries, cherries, pineapple and bananas.

   Jenny’s eyes crinkled and smiled and laughed as she dipped a strawberry in the stream and allowed her fingers to get covered by smooth silky chocolate.

     She suddenly had chocolate all over her face as she began to eat. Her blue eyes stood out like two blue sapphires in a sea of chocolate. 

   ‘Thanks, Mummy and Daddy; I’ve had the best birthday ever.’

   There was a tear in the corner of her Mother’s eyes as she proceeded to kiss the chocolate from around the blue eyes that told the story of a happy little birthday girl.

© Written by John Yeo 

FEELING WEIRDLY CONFIDENT

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WEDNESDAY 23rd SEPTEMBER 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 ~FEELING WEIRDLY CONFIDENT

September Writing Prompts

FEELING WEIRDLY CONFIDENT (1)

by John Yeo

    I’ve had a coughing fit lately and my temperature’s gone through the roof.

   The advice is to frequently wash my hands and self-isolate for two whole weeks.

   I’ve taken a Coronavirus test and sent it to the laboratories by first class post.

   The world has gone crazy lately. I’ve become more reclusive than a hermit.

   Although I’m bombarded with information from electronic devices and other sources.

   My life will never be the way it used to be, yet I’m feeling weirdly confident.

~

   My cough disappeared along with the pollen; dispersed by flowers and oil seed rape.

   My high temperature disappeared with the heatwave that we had suffered for several days.

   The results from my Coronavirus test came back negative to my huge relief and delight.

    My house has become like an island that is perfect for self-preservation.

    The news gets more depressing as the pandemic spreads around the world.

     Although our lives will never be the same again I can’t help feeling weirdly confident.

© Written by John Yeo 

FEELING WEIRDLY CONFIDENT (2)

by John Yeo

    I’ve had a coughing fit lately and my temperature’s gone through the roof. The advice is to frequently wash my hands and self-isolate for two whole weeks. I’ve taken a Coronavirus test and sent it to the laboratories by first class post. The world has gone crazy lately. I’ve become more reclusive than a hermit. Although I’m bombarded with information from electronic devices and other sources. My life will never be the way it used to be, yet I’m feeling weirdly confident.

    My cough disappeared along with the pollen; dispersed by flowers and oil seed rape. My high temperature disappeared with the heatwave that we had suffered for several days. The results from my Coronavirus test came back negative to my huge relief and delight. My house has become like an island that is perfect for self-preservation. The news gets more depressing as the pandemic spreads around the world. Although our lives will never be the same again I can’t help feeling weirdly confident.

© Written by John Yeo 

THE WEIGHT OF HIS AFFECTIONS

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SUNDAY 20th SEPTEMBER 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 ~THE WEIGHT OF HIS AFFECTIONS

September Writing Prompts

THE WEIGHT OF HIS AFFECTIONS

by John Yeo

Her heart was overwhelmed by his obvious attractions,

Tenderly she loved him and tried hard to understand.

Slowly she was adjusting to the weight of his affections.

~

Realising the depth of her strong romantic reactions,

She did her best to unravel them strand by strand.

Her heart was overwhelmed by his obvious attractions.

~

Her feelings were ignited and inflamed her connections 

Though she slowly began to understand his demand

Slowly she was adjusting to the weight of his affections.

~

She felt dizzy, submerged, moving in many directions 

As if she were permanently living in a dreamland.

Her heart was overwhelmed by his obvious attractions.

~

Her mind desperately searched for obvious distractions 

These strange reactions could have never been planned,

Slowly she was adjusting to the weight of his affections.

~

Her greatest fear that these were simply overreactions

On both sides of the relationship the flames had been fanned.

Her heart was overwhelmed by his obvious attractions.

Slowly she was adjusting to the weight of his affections.

© Written by John Yeo

A FRACTION OF A FORTUNE

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SATURDAY 19th SEPTEMBER 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 FRACTION OF A FORTUNE 

September Writing Prompts

A FRACTION OF A FORTUNE 

by John Yeo

‘You see buddy this is the California gold rush.

People are travelling vast distances across America 

To reach the diggings or pan the rivers for gold.

They say you just put a pan in a stream for a minute

Then separate pure gold dust from the oozing mud.

~

Yup! This California gold rush has made people rich.

I can show you something that will help you decide.

Something sitting right here in the palm of my hand

A shiny yellow nugget of pure untarnished gold.

Sell up your possessions and join the wagon train.

~

It will cost just a fraction of your future fortune.

Then you will never have to work ever again.

The diggings have huge veins of precious rock.

Like this tiny nugget of pure untarnished gold

That represents just a fraction of a fortune.’

~

I closely inspected the precious nugget of freedom,

My mind spotted the impurities lodged in the rock.

It had the feel of riches and promised wealth untold.

Buddy, I hesitate to give you an unwarranted shock

This fool’s gold will always be a fraction of your fortune.

© Written by John Yeo