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HEALING NUMBERS
A prompt response to ~ http://thinkwritten.com/category/creative-writing-prompts/
No. 293. Get Well: Write a poem that will help someone who is sick feel better quick
Free image from Pixabay.com
HEALING NUMBERS
by John Yeo
I understand your feelings
You’re under the weather
Below your normal par,
Not yourself at all.
The doctor says you will recover
Get back to normality soon.
~
I bring news that will make you smile,
I can’t guarantee you’ll be pain-free
No miracle’s on the cards.
Listen to the mystery of numbers,
A sequence of fortunate figures
That have healing power built in.
~
I know I’m not making things clear,
Your puzzled look is a good sign.
This news will set you on your way
This ticket has healing power;
The power to make your life easy
Lead you along a path to recovery.
~
Your life will change for the better now
You have won a fortune on the Lottery.
~
Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.
~~~~~
This is in the nature of a practice run before I decide whether to take part in Poetic Asides November challenge.
http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/2016-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-guidelines
TECH SUPPORT
A prompt response to ~ http://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/
- Tech Support: Use computers or a conversation with tech support you’ve had as inspiration.
Image from Pixabay.com
TECH SUPPORT
By John Yeo
“Hello!”
“Hello! This is the tech department speaking, All,our engineers are taking calls at the moment, your call is important to us; please continue to hold, all calls will be recorded and may be used for training purposes. Meanwhile enjoy some tinny, robotic, royalty free music.”
🎶🎵 🎶🎵 🎶🎵
“Hello, this is tech support here, what is the nature of the problem? We can help in most areas of computer science at affordable rates.” Said a robotic, tinny sort of voice at the other end of the line.
“I have a problem with my emails, the inbox is up to 5000 unread items and still they are flooding in. How can I stop this interminable flow of junk mail?” I asked.
“This is the tech department speaking, in the tech department. Please provide your credit card details, we will sign you up for our five-star service treatment, where we take full control of your emails and delete the junk from the important day-to-day effluence. We will then charge you a small fee every month to keep the unwanted flow down. I can assure you of our best possible five-star service in the future.” continued the robotic voice at the other end of the line.
“Oh! I just need some advice at present, thanks. What can I do?
“Stand on your head and count to ten, then eat porridge for breakfast, easy on the sugar, it can be deadly.” replied the robotic voice.
“What? Are you serious? How the heck can that help to stop the flow of junk mail?” I. asked.
“Well Sir, it’s all about the quality of the oats, they are capable of producing the necessary flatulence that can stem the abominable flow of excreted matter.” replied the tinny voice.
“Look here!” I responded aggressively. “I am becoming somewhat miffed at your insolence. I am asking for help here not for your unwanted nonsensical comments.”
“Please calm down Sir! Try frying your eggs sunny-side up when you next eat breakfast. Works wonders when it’s raining.”
“Are you joking? You stupid inconsequential idiot! What’s your name? I intend to report this to your head office!” I shouted now getting madder than ever.
“May I suggest you do the splits on a live rail at the nearest tube station Sir.” carried on the voice at the other end of the line. “My name is Tobor, I am in charge of communication at the moment, all my superiors are either in a meeting or at lunch at the moment. Kindly provide your credit card details and all your computer passwords to enable any repairs to go ahead.”
“Right I’m hanging up this phone now Tobor. Your superiors will be hearing from me!”
“Thank you, Sir, your call is important, we look forward to hearing from you again soon. Have a nice day!”
Copyright © Written by John Yeo~ All rights reserved
THE MIRACLE
A prompt response to ~ http://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/
261. Rocks and Gems: Write about a rock or gemstone meaning.
RESEARCH
“For example, the light that reflects through a gemstone crystal, or energy emanating from it is thought to facilitate healing when the gemstone is placed on vital parts of the body. This use of gemstones and minerals for healing is called lithotherapy, and this field is gaining popularity throughout the world of alternative therapy.”
(from the net)
THE MIRACLE
by John Yeo
Marquita was crying, sobbing loudly. The family was gathered around a pile of rugs and blankets in the corner of the room. One had to look closely to discern a thin emaciated child wrapped up in this grubby pile of bedding. Her breath was laboured and her chest shuddered from the effects of a hacking cough, that seemed to come from deep within her very soul. The wise old Shaman had visited and with a tear in the corner of his crinkled eye, he just shook his head and left.
“She is dying Jose!” cried Marquita, “Our little child Conchita, is going to our forefathers before her time. Is there nothing we can do?”
Jose just cried aloud, pleading, sobbing tears. “No Marquita, there is nothing.”
At that point a familiar figure entered the room, Jose’s brother, Pietro made an announcement.
“My family, I bring hope, a slender hope. An elder of our neighbouring family, talks of a cavern inside the hill, carved from solid rock. This cavern contains a huge crystal gemstone, shaped into a perfect square, shaped over generations by water dripping from within, from the very walls and the ceiling. The light from the entrance to this cavern reflects through the dead centre of the crystal gemstone, facilitating healing, and bringing recovery to the afflicted. We must transport Marquita there at once, during the current cycle of midsummer sun reflection.”
Almost immediately the mood lightened as hope spread from person to person in a tidal wave. Conchita was quickly placed on a stretcher and lifted high in the air by four strong, young men, and a woeful procession began through the valley to the mysterious hill beyond.
The cave was hidden behind a dense thicket, and the members of the procession physically pulled back the branches to enter a large clearing at the entrance.
There was a stunned silence as the huge four-sided, shining, crystalline gemstone became clearly visible as the sun sparkled, warmly.
Conchita was lifted from the stretcher onto the huge gemstone to bathe in the healing power emanating from the beautiful blue crystal light.
The silence, punctuated with hope, was broken as Conchita suddenly sat up on the hard exterior of the stone. “Mama!”
There were grateful, gracious, tears replacing the woeful weeping as she was placed back on the stretcher, with the ghost of a smile on her face.
Over the next few weeks, Conchita just got stronger and stronger, leading to a full recovery.
The magical crystalline gemstone disappeared when an earthquake struck the island shortly afterward. Many searches have been made for this miraculous marvel, to no avail, some say it has gone forever.
(443 WORDS)
Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.
WHISTLE CODE
A prompt response for ~Inspiration Monday: Whistle Code
Images © Copyright ~ John And Margaret
WHISTLE CODE
by John Yeo
Pinto was a farmer, he grew fruit and vegetables in a fertile valley on the island of Vesta. Hidden among a group of larger islands in the Caribbean Sea, not many visitors arrived to break the monotony of the hard, day-to-day fight for survival. Steep rocky mountains engulfed the island, sheltering fertile valleys, where a hardy people who had lived and survived on the rocky, isolated, island, for centuries, scraped a living by exporting their produce to the mainland.
Communication between neighbouring valleys was almost impossible before the dawn of the electronic age; to drive on the steep, rough and ready roads, from one valley to another could take a whole day.
A whistling language developed over the years, from one valley to another, sharp, long and short, drawn-out whistles, would warn the people of danger or impending changes in the erratic winter weather conditions.
The council of the island decreed that all the island’s children must be taught to communicate by whistling to keep this valuable ancient form of communication going.
Pinto’s eldest son Paulo, resented this but reluctantly did as he was told and absorbed the skills.
Mr. Zen, the whistling schoolteacher would drum the calls of alarm into the children….
“Two long whistles and one short for an urgent request for help. One continuous long drawn out whistle for a helicopter rescue. Three short sharp whistles for a threatening stranger.”
One memorable day, Paulo was working hard in the rock-strewn fields, when he vaguely heard an unusual whistle message from the neighbouring valley. It took a while for the realization that someone was in trouble to sink in, and he was quickly on the radio to the authorities who dispatched two helicopters immediately.
“It looks like someone is lying prone at the bottom of that ravine there!” shouted the pilot to the two paramedics. “The police helicopter is landing on a flat space a mile away, leaving that flat area clear for us!” The helicopter landed to find a young girl in a state of shock, frantically whistling the well-taught distress call.
“Don’t move, just tell us what happened?” enquired one of the medics.
“I came here with my boyfriend, but he tried to rape me: When I resisted he pushed me off the rock above and I landed here. My leg hurts, and I think I have twisted my neck.” the distraught young girl blurted out.
“Lie still now, the police will catch up with him. I will have to take you to the hospital on the mainland, we will just lift you gently on to the stretcher and we will be off.”
The police were informed of the situation by radio, and the other helicopter arrested a suspect, who was later charged with assault.
Paulo was soon commended for his swift response to the distress whistle.
He related the whole thing to Pinto, his Dad, and they both agreed that the whistle code was a very valuable language to pass on, and keep alive.
Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved
FOOLS GOLD
This is a piece of flash fiction based on a couple of pictures from our backlog of old photographs
FOOLS GOLD
by John Yeo
Bill threw the rope over the sides of the rocky cliffs. There were very slender trees growing on the face of the rocky escarpment, much vegetation had taken root in the sediment that was regularly deposited from the rain and by the amazing variety of birds that were constantly flying over the cliffs.
“We will search here first! I am sure we are on the right track. My instincts tell me that somewhere around this area the valuables were deposited after the galleon came to grief on these treacherous rocks, all those years ago.” said Bill
“OK!” replied Chloe. “There must be an entrance to a hidden cave somewhere around here. That gigantic storm yesterday, really did shake the rocks, the skipper of the fishing boat, “Seagull” was certain a cave appeared and disappeared, before his very eyes. Legend has it that the crew of a wrecked Spanish galleon transferred a huge stash of treasure into a cave here, before a storm and a landslide sealed them in with the booty, never to be seen again. The empty wreckage of the abandoned galleon was discovered by rescuers the next morning.”
“I am hopeful we may have stumbled onto the legendary cave of Spanish gold!” Bill buckled himself to the climbing rope and began the slow descent of the steep cliff, pushing his feet against the hard rock surface frantically searching for clues. The slightest crack or crevice that would be a clue to the riches sealed underground, undisturbed for centuries.
Chloe took a risky decision and threw a rope over to join Bill in his search, guiding herself down the sharp rocks, searching hard for the slightest clue that may make them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams.
The clouds gathered above the harbour as they began their search. Suddenly Bill gave a shout of delight as he discovered an opening in the cliff face. At that moment there was a huge clap of thunder a sudden storm started to shake the rocky surface to the foundations. Lightning forked and flashed, huge raindrops started to pour over them with soaking sheets of water that swiftly gathered into rivulets pouring down the gulleys and crevices of the rocky formation on the cliff-front. They both took cover in the opening Bill had discovered, that turned out to be a small empty cave. There was an ominous rumble as the raging winds and torrential rain continued unabated and rocks began to move in a sudden awful landslide that closed the entrance to the cave.
Bill and Chloe were not reported missing for three days and it was a whole week before the story of their search for treasure became public. Search parties were sent scouring the rough rocky terrain on and around the cliffs, sadly without success.
A memorial was placed on the top of the cliffs where it was thought the two young lovers had perished,
People still search for the mysterious hoard of Spanish gold.
Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.
PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ A VERY FINE BALANCE
This is the latest Picture it and Write Prompt from Ermilia’s page.
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”
“The Future” ~ Image © Copyright John and Margaret
A prompt response for INSPIRATION MONDAY ~ “DYNASTIC PRESSURE”
http://bekindrewrite.com
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.
Peace
WRITNG PRACTICE ~ TORN JEANS
Image from the Net
Writing Practice from a prompt by The Write Practice
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
This is a latest Picture it and Write prompt from Emilia’s blog ~23rd February
https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com
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.
Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All Rights Reserved.
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