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PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ A VERY FINE BALANCE

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This is the latest Picture it and Write Prompt from Ermilia’s page.

Picture it & Write

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As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia.

A VERY FINE BALANCE

by John Yeo

He sees the world with unique eyes.

The eyes of youth, full of his personal view,

selfish to the point of careless.  

He is aware of his own perspective 

on the events in this uniquely individual world. 

Everything seems fine, no matter what, 

he always seem to survive.

Tomorrow is another day!

A day that never arrives they say.

~~~~~

Reality reflects a different view.

 A view from the outside looking in

Although he casts a long straight shadow

The stairs leading up shape another view.

Teetering on the brink of a downward fall.

 A fall that will certainly come 

~~~~~~~

A very fine balance indeed!

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

A prompt response for INSPIRATION MONDAY ~ “ DYNASTIC PRESSURE”

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“The Future” ~ Image © Copyright John and Margaret

A prompt response for INSPIRATION MONDAY ~ “DYNASTIC PRESSURE”
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  I am still very busy working on my book, and I am up to Chapter Eighteen now. I am happy to say Marg is well and thriving.

   This flash fiction prompt came up from, “Inspiration Monday,” and I thought it might be a good idea to base my response around some of the characters who feature in my novel.

  • Don Francisco
  • His two sons, Angelo and Giuseppe} ~Twin Brothers
  • Bella ~ their Sister.

I have to point out now, that the two men are not brothers in my novel and Bella is not their sister. However for the purposes of the thrust of my story in response to this prompt, I have used a little poetic license here.

DYNASTIC PRESSURE

by John Yeo

      There were not just ripples of unease spreading throughout  the family. Storm clouds were on the horizon and building up, it seemed a tremendous family storm was brewing and the various strands of the family were coming together for a very crucial meeting.

       Don Francisco held the members of the Vicente family in a grip of steel, his father and his grandfather and their forefathers had kept the family together for generations. In a word he was the Godfather. The leader of a thriving dynasty.

     News of a shocking diagnosis had spread, Don Francisco was dying of cancer and was not expected to survive for very long. Don Francisco had twin sons, one of whom was expected to take control of the family business. Angelo was present at the bedside of his father and Bella their sister was comforting her mother, Maria. Giuseppe was supposedly on the way but there had been no news, then Maria came rushing into the room in a distressed state.

     “Papa, Papa, I have shocking news! Giuseppe is dead, he was killed by a suicide bomber, who blew himself up and killed twelve people. He just happened to be on a train, in the wrong place at the wrong time!”

     Don Francisco went white with shock, speechless with horror. “Leave me please, I want to be alone with my grief.”

     Bella and Angelo withdrew. Bella then turned to Angelo and said. “You will now soon be The Godfather, as Papa is dying and you are next in line. He was about to pass on the title to Giuseppe who was second-in-command, while you were away at university, studying. You will control everything now!”

     “No! That is not possible Bella.” shouted Angelo, “I have been studying to become a priest,  I want nothing more to do with the family business!”

      “Angelo! This will destroy him, you must not tell him, what you have just told me. You must pretend to accept, and allow him to die peacefully. I will secretly take charge, to keep the family dynasty together. You will become a godfather in name only. It will be seen as a sign of weakness if we announce that our family is run by a woman. A godmother, who will be ridiculed and cursed with malice in a male controlled world.”

     “So be it, my sister, for the sake of my father, I will live this lie. How will you manage?”

     “Angelo, I have spent my life close to my father and I have learnt much. I have been involved in missions for my father. I have made many friends, and I expect to get married some day and my fiancée  who will then be my husband will take over with your blessing, my brother. The godfather will arise from within our family and the dynasty will continue unbroken.”

    ‘Thank you Bella, I will love you forever my sister!”

 

Copyright   © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

  • This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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WRITNG PRACTICE ~ TORN JEANS

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Image from the Net

Writing Practice from a prompt by The Write Practice

http://thewritepractice.com

The Prompt

Let’s twist things up. You show up to Mrs. White’s Tudor style mansion to meet with your writing critique group, as you do every week. You expect to have a fun time talking about writing and getting feedback, not to find one member of the group murdered in the drawing room. First, describe how you find the murder victim. Then, after the police lock you in a room with the rest of the guests, write about your suspicions of who-dun it as you look around the room at your fellow writers. (Set your timer for thirty minutes.)

~~~~~~~

TORN JEANS

by John Yeo

   It’s Tuesday evening once again, My favourite evening of the week. We are off to take part in our evening of literary congeniality together, at Madeleine White’s mansion at the top of the hill, overlooking the village. Gilbert White is a wealthy industrialist who likes to play at being a Lord of the manor.

 The drive up the steep hill is very pretty, with the estate farm and fields spreading out into the distant horizon. The huge ornamental gates with a statue of a horse’s head on each gatepost, are always left open on Tuesday to welcome the writing group.

   Mrs White opens the door herself, in response to the chimes of the doorbell that resounds hollowly through the rooms of the mansion. The butler is off-duty on Tuesdays. We always receive a welcome from our lady hostess. There are just six of us in the group at present. Annie, Dorothy, Jill, Richard, Margaret and I.

  We usually meet in the impressive library, where there are many leather bound books from floor to ceiling, and many comfortable chairs and tables. Tonight is no exception and we get ourselves comfortable as we wait for Jill, who has gone to fix her torn jeans in the drawing room full length mirror.

   We wait a good ten minutes before we begin to work, we all leave one after another to get drinks in the drawing room, and visit the toilets situated there. Jill still hasn’t got back after another five minutes, and Mrs White leaves us to find her. Suddenly there is a frightening high scream from the drawing room. We all rush in there at once to find a shocked Mrs White and the prone figure of Jill on the floor of the drawing room. There is a pool of blood seeping over the carpet under her body. “She’s dead,” gasps Mrs White. somebody call the police.”

   Soon after the police arrive to investigate and to the horror of everyone, we are all locked up in the library by the police.

  Looking around at our fellow writers, I try to work out who is capable of the killing and why? Presumably we are locked up here because the police suspect one of us.

  I immediately rule out Margaret and myself. This leaves Annie, Dorothy, and Richard and of course Mrs White. I think my suspicions lie with Dorothy, she has always held a competitive grudge against Jill.

   Sometime later we are all interviewed by the investigating officer, who is still without a suspect, not a single clue has been revealed during the questioning.

   Then after a search of the pantry, a man with blood on his clothes, found hiding there, is led out handcuffed by the police. Mrs White is in a state of shock as she identifies her butler.

    The sensational twist in the tale  occurred a week later when Madeleine White was arrested for the murder of Jill Dyson who was blackmailing her, for an alleged affair she had with her father. Jill claimed Mrs White was her Mother who had abandoned her to marry Gilbert White.

   The butler was released after admitting smearing himself with blood to protect Mrs White.

   Gilbert White is moving away soon. Sadly our literary group is no more.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

 

PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ AUTHENTIC ARGUMENT

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This is a latest Picture it and Write prompt from Emilia’s blog ~23rd February 

https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com

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As usual the image is supplied and credited by Emilia

Today I thought I would combine my blog Post with an exercise in Writing Practice from here

http://thewritepractice.com/conditional-sentences

 

Conditional Sentences


“A conditional sentence is a sentence that describes a hypothetical situation, like an action or event, and the result of that situation.

Confused? Here’s an easy way to think about it: a conditional sentence can usually use the words “if” and “then.”

 

Here’s an example: from me based on my Prompt response to follow

IF modern makeup is used in a Shakespeare play, THEN it can’t be called an authentic performance.

AUTHENTIC ARGUMENT

by John Yeo

 

A letter received by a would-be Hamlet.

 

THE AUTHENTIC SHAKESPEARE COMPANY

Stratford-Upon-Avon.

 

Dear Sir.

 We are pleased to inform you that your application to play Hamlet in our current production has been successful. In view of your extensive past experience of playing this role, and the excellent performance you treated us to at the interview. Please report to the director at the theatre next Wednesday morning, where you will meet the rest of the cast.

Yours faithfully,

 

Wednesday at the Authentic theatre

“Hello Luvvies, wonderful to meet you all, I am here to replace your leading man, I hear he is not very well, I’m sorry to hear that. I’m William! I understand if we have a successful informal rehearsal first, then we can have a full dress rehearsal this afternoon.”

 “That’s right William, Grab a stool and start following the lines when we begin, you were very impressive during the interview, everyone was amazed at the way you read your lines from memory.”

 

    Later in the pub, the talk is all about the wonderful, trouble free rehearsal of the morning and the full dress rehearsal to follow, this afternoon.

 “William have another good home brewed stout! Sorry they don’t serve sack here, perhaps if we ask them to order some especially for you, then you can enjoy it while you are working here!”

  “Fine thanks! I won’t have another drink now. If I drink too much then I will be heady this afternoon.” Replied William.

 Back at the theatre, William is shown to the star’s dressing room. “Here are your costumes they are made to an authentic Elizabethan design. Good job you are the same build as our previous leading man. The makeup artiste will be along shortly.”

    “WHAT! I was under the impression this was an authentic production. Shakespeare would never have applied modern day makeup. I am not a circus clown man!  I would like to see the Director.” Shouted William irritably. “Get him at once!”

  “Yes Sir!” Said the stage hand.

 The Director arrived and was stunned to hear about this turn of events.

William shouted at him, before he could open his mouth.  “IF I am expected to have this muck applied to my face, THEN I refuse to play the part.

 I will refer this non-authenticity to the trades description department of the Lord Chancellor’s Office.

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Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All Rights Reserved.

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A prompt response for INSPIRATION MONDAY ~ “QUIET LIGHT”

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Image Copyright John and Margaret

A prompt response for INSPIRATION MONDAY ~ “QUIET LIGHT”
Posted on February 13th, 2016 by John Yeo
A prompt response for Inspiration Monday

Inspiration Monday: Quiet Light

STARLIGHT

by John Yeo

I always relish the night shift at the hospital. The administration have all gone home, that leaves the professionals to fully take over and we can do our jobs without too much interference from the budget boys. Too many fingers in the pie if you ask me!
I remember once when a patient was in pain and there was some argument over whether we should use the latest methods to ease the pain. The poor patient was pumped full of morphine, while three admin men discussed whether the hospital could afford the very latest miracle light rays that have just been introduced.
This is a brilliant, bright new starlight, that mimics the rays of starlight that have streamed unused and ignored by scientists until a very powerful computer picked up the almost silent sound of the starlight rays bouncing of the Earth’s surface. Professor Modesty then hooked the starlight to a machine that generates a beam of fantastic intensity, that has proved to be the most powerful painkiller ever known. One gentle bathe in the purifying quiet starlight and pain is instantly a memory that allows time for the medical specialists to identify and cure the causes.
This wonderful new technique is very expensive to use as it is difficult to generate starlight in the daylight hours.
Now on the night-shift we are able to freely use this pain killer, without any interference or repercussions from these admin ignoramuses. The quiet light eases the pain of the patients and ensures a drug free, pain free night.
What these budget conscious, penny pinching idiots don’t seem to realise is that the stars come out at night and the quiet starlight is free to use without the necessity of expensive machines.
I do love the night shift.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

Mythopoeia

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A trip through the poetic landscape of timeless words

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To one who said that myths were lies and therefore worthless, even though “breathed through silver”

Philomythus to Misomythus
(myth-lover to myth-hater)
by J. R. R. Tolkien, to C. S. Lewis

You look at trees and label them just so,

(For trees are ‘trees’, and growing is ‘to grow’);

You walk the earth and tread with solemn pace

One of the many minor globes of Space:

A star’s a star, some matter in a ball

Compelled to courses mathematical

Amid the regimented, cold, inane,

Where destined atoms are each moment slain.

 

At bidding of a Will, to which we bend

(And must), but only dimly apprehend,

Great processes march on, as Time unrolls

From dark beginnings to uncertain goals;

And as on page o’erwritten without clue,

With script and limning packed of various hue,

An endless multitude of forms appear,

Some grim, some frail, some beautiful, some queer,

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WEIGHTLESSNESS

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Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers ~ Writing challenge.

https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com

Hosted by Priceless Joy.

The goal is to write a story between 100-150 words (give or take 25 words) based on the provided photo.

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This week’s photo prompt is provided by Pixabay.com

WEIGHTLESSNESS

by John Yeo

 “Ferdinand, I have to go to Weight-Watchers this morning, I have a weigh-in.  Last week I came out two pounds over my recommended body-weight. I keep telling that gruesome coordinator that I am heavy boned, and the more calcium I ingest the heavier I become. I think I will have to consider some elementary changes to decrease my bone-density. I was far heavier when I wore flesh, l needed a lot of food-intake to keep the whole apparatus alive.”

   “Yes Esmeralda my dear.” Thought Ferdinand, breaking into the interminable flow of thoughts.
   “Have you seen my robes? I will need to cover up if I am to leave the crypt, I am sure they are around somewhere. Last time I wore them was on Halloween night when we went out haunting together. I do resent having to go all the way to a public crypt to a Weight Watchers session. The rattle of all those dangling bones would be unbearable if we had any ears to hear with.”
 “Yes Esmeralda my dear.” Ferdinand replied.

(174 WORDS)

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

WORD PRESS ~ DAILY PROMPT. 13th DECEMBER 2015 ~ MY IRRATIONAL TASTE-BUDS ~

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Hate to Love

 

Daily prompt on WordPress ~13th December 2015 ~ Hate to Love.

Tell us about a guilty pleasure that you hate to love.

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MY IRRATIONAL TASTE-BUDS

by John Yeo

      I wish I could stop eating my friends!

 

     Many years ago, for purely altruistic reasons I decided to give up eating red meat. I decided to forego the debatable pleasures of eating Pork, Beef, Lamb, Venison, and all the associated concoctions that are devised by clever chefs and marketing men, made from the slaughtered bodies of these animals. No more thick juicy red steaks, no more shoulder of spring lamb, joints of pork, or beef; in future I vowed to eat a diet of just fish or fowl.

    Nowadays my tastes have changed completely and I stick rigidly to my diet of Fish or Fowl. I absolutely adore the succulent taste of slices of a well-roasted Turkey or Duck or a highly flavoured Chicken, cooked in a hot peri-peri sauce. Another delight for my taste buds is the Fish element of my diet, there is nothing quite like a well cooked and well flavoured fish dish. I love the taste of a whole grilled Sea Bass, a tasty Kipper, or freshly grilled Sardines served on toast with butter drizzled all over the top.

         Lately I am beginning to have many reservations and second thoughts about the Fowl element of my diet. I am a confirmed bird lover: All my life I have been fascinated with birds, of all shapes and sizes. I love birdwatching, and my garden has many bird feeders, that I keep topped up with sunflower seeds and fat-balls and I love to watch the birds as they feed. I also have several nest-boxes in the garden to encourage wild birds to breed and produce eggs, that eventually will hatch and grow into chicks.
  I am an inveterate bird-lover, I love everything about them, their beautiful plumage, their graceful flight and most of all the sound of their beautiful birdsong.

      Then Why? Why? Why, do I also love to eat my friends?
Eggs, cooked in a variety of ways are a mainstay of my daily diet. These are baby birds in a shell.

        I often rationalise to myself that the quality of life for farmed chickens is not worth living and they are probably very unhappy; raised in the intolerable circumstances they endure before they reach my table. In fact we always buy free-range eggs and free-range fowl whenever we possibly can.

      I hate the thought of beautiful game birds, raised and shot in the thousands simply for sport, yet we think nothing of buying and consuming a brace of pheasants from our local butchers shop, during the season.

     This is an indulgent pleasure that I will always be extraordinarily guilty about, as it is the total opposite to my inner feelings, to the point of becoming an irrational pleasure. I have come very close to stop eating fowl many times over the last few years, without success.

I really do wish I could stop eating my friends!

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

 

     

 

 

A prompt response for “INSPIRATION MONDAY:” ~DEPARTMENT OF SILENCE

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Image © Copyright John and Margaret

A prompt response for Inspiration Monday ~ Department of Silence

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DEPARTMENT OF SILENCE

by John Yeo

      Jim and Bill worked in the post room of St Mary’s a huge General Hospital. This was a busy challenging place to work, before the advent of computers. Ken on the post van would throw six sacks of mail on the loading bay, three times a day.
        “There you are boys! Another load to stop you two dropping off.”
  Laughing his head off as he drove away fast.
      “Thanks for nothing!” Jim shouted back with a grin.
 Then there was the internal mail coming in thick and fast, at all times of the day. Sometimes there would be a huge pile of unsorted mail, sitting on the bench, and both men would quickly get to work, clearing the backlog in no time.
     Bill was the detective of the two, there wasn’t a scrawling, squiggly example of a young busy Doctors handwriting, that could defeat him. Bill always found a home for the most obscurely addressed letter.

   One day there was an unusual package addressed to the head of the “Department of Silence.” Jim picked it up first and said to Bill.
         “This is certainly one for you to work out! There’s no such department here that I know of!”
        “Ah! Hmm!” murmured Bill, “I can think of several places this could be destined for. Either the Sleep Clinic, the Acoustics lab, The Audiology and Hearing loss department, the Chapel, or in my opinion, this is meant to send us to the silence of the hospital Mortuary.”
          “Wow!” Jim exclaimed. “I had better call security to get the bomb squad in. Let’s get out of here!”
 Soon the hospital was drowned in the combined sirens of the emergency services.
   After a total evacuation of the building, an army officer removed the package and ordered a controlled explosion in the hospital grounds.
           The officer in charge congratulated Bill and Jim on a quick thinking response. “Well done! How did you guess that was a suspicious package?”

           “It was the address that gave it away,” said Bill quietly. “Silence is not only golden, it is virtually impossible to achieve in a busy hospital.
I thought at first they meant department of Science, but that’s all over the place in here.”

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

 

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WORD PRESS ~ DAILY PROMPT ~7th DECEMBER 2015 ~ SORRY, I’M BUSY

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Sorry, I’m Busy

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Image © Copyright John and Margaret

SORRY, I’M BUSY

by John Yeo

They were locked in the kitchen of a remote farmhouse in the hills. A farm in the deepest valley, where the crystal clear water ran down the hills into a lake.
The food supplies were finished and the pains were gnawing at his stomach. Jodie, his little sister, kept passing out in a dead faint, she would come round with tears in her soulful eyes and look appealingly at him. There was nothing he could do, since their Mum and Dad had been killed, no-one had been to the house. The bodies were still lying on the floor where the robbers had left them. He had tried to get a line out on the phone only to find the robbers had ripped the wires away and disconnected the telephone. Then, he discovered a mobile phone next to his parents bed, he hadn’t noticed it lying there before and he pressed a button that dialled his Uncles number. The ringing tone was answered by a recorded voice that kept repeating, “Sorry, I’m busy, right now. Please leave your message and I will get back to you later!” “Sorry, I’m busy, right now…………

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved