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..
Mount Etna erupted on 17th February 2021 with no injuries or damage caused.
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The Italian volcano Mount Etna has erupted for the first time this year 2021.
The volcano which is located on the island of Sicily, erupted on Tuesday, sending jets of lava into the sky.
Pictures shared on social media showed a plume of smoke rising from the mountain and ash raining down on buildings.
A nearby airport in Catania, was forced to close temporarily due to ash in the air making it unsafe to fly but there have been no reports of injuries or damage from the eruption.
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..
I find whenever I’m writing a story or piece of poetry, it’s inevitable that my characters will start out completely faceless.
My job is certainly to word my description in such a way as to gently suggest the characteristics that would build the type of person I’m introducing.
My favourite author, Charles Dickens was adept at this, cleverly introducing characteristics that helped the reader form a picture of a person from a faceless face.
One way is to concentrate on the five senses when thinking of how to construct a character’s face.
Sight~ Eyes, colour, cold blue etc , shape, deformities
Sound~Ears, pointed, flat etc, sharp hearing, loss of hearing.
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..
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.
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..
Joe Young was 18, the second youngest in his family, his elder sister was at university studying to become a nurse. Joe was a budding painter keen to take up an art course in college. The postman had delivered an invitation to attend an interview and he was excited. He quickly dialled up his friend Betty to find out if she had received her invitation.
‘Hey Betty!’
‘Joe! I tried to get you earlier, but your phone was busy. Good news! My interview is next Wednesday at 09;00, in London.’
‘Wow! My interview is at midday! Maybe we can go together if you like.’
‘OK Joe! Are you worried about your recent experience when the local police caught you writing slogans with a spray can about global warming and big business?’
‘Not really Betty, they gave me an unofficial warning as they caught me decorating a derelict building. I won’t even bother to mention it.’
‘That’s great! I’ll meet you at the station on Wednesday, Joe.’
The week dragged along slowly with both Joe and Betty on tenterhooks. They both called each other almost every day, rehearsing their responses to the questions they were likely to face during their interviews.
Joe actually contacted the local police station to enquire if he should raise the worrying issue and he was assured there wasn’t any problem.
In spite of this they both arrived late at the railway station. They were soon running down the platform at top speed as the train had been sitting in the station for several minutes before they arrived.
“C’mon Betty! Keep up, we mustn’t miss the train, I’ve been waiting so long to get this interview over with. Means a lot to both of us.” Joe said, literally tugging her along.
‘Alright Joe, I’m coming! Please don’t pull my sleeve like that. You will ruin my new coat, I bought it especially for this college interview. It will be great to go to the same Art college.’
‘Wait, please wait!’ shouted Joe to the Guard who stood on the platform with a flag and his whistle, which he raised to his lips ready to set the train in motion. He smiled as the young couple dashed up and jumped into the nearest carriage.
‘Phew, that was close!’ Joe went on, as Betty collapsed in the nearest seat to the door. The train soon pulled away from the station into the leafy countryside speeding through the rural beauty of England on the way from their hometown of Ware to the city of London. It was then that they took notice of the other two passengers in the carriage, an elderly gentleman with a smartly dressed young lady, both were politely smiling, as Joe and Betty settled back into their seats.
‘Look at that wonderful view Joe,’ said Betty. ‘Beautiful farms and country houses set in acres of rolling countryside.’
Joe grunted in reply, as he put his head down studying his iPhone intently. The closer they got to the city, the more derelict and decrepit the buildings looked as large blocks of flats and terraced houses became views of factories and industrial units. The buildings were covered in graffiti; an amazing variety of shapes and patterns and pictures that seemed to accentuate the general state of urban decay.
Betty was shocked at this change of scene. ‘Joe, that’s disgraceful, look at that shocking rubbish and abandoned litter, piled around the buildings and the graffiti all over the walls!’
Joe looked up from his device and said, ‘Betty, I hate the rubbish and the piles of junk all over the place but I think some of the graffiti is good and actually has the effect of brightening up the urban landscape.’
Betty then replied, ‘Joe, that graffiti is mostly rubbish and has no meaning, just block initials and hearts and zigzags.’
There was a polite cough as the elderly gentleman in the opposite corner of the carriage broke in. ‘I beg to differ, young lady, graffiti is an example not only of urban decay it reveals the underlying artistic decay of the population. This is an example of youth expressing themselves in the nearest they can get to pure art.’
Joe then looked closely at their traveling companion and gasped, ‘You are Sir Larry the television artist, who has made money from urban art! We are off to college to be interviewed for our places.’
The young lady then smiled and said, ‘Sir Larry will be on the selection panel!’
Betty said, ‘I hope I haven’t put my foot in it by what I said.’
The gentleman smiled and said, ‘I am sure you will get a place; both of you, I am a prime example of artistic decay, I was a graffiti artist once a long time ago.’
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..
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..
Time is moving inexorably, passing almost unnoticeably fast, catching up with us all, unaware of the passing years. It seems just a short while ago I was a young man with a head full of dreams, breaking away from my roots and embarking on my life as a confident, independent young man.
Yet somehow, it seems like centuries ago, and I wonder where all the years went. I have certainly lived through them all. I have memories of how it was and of all my hopes and dreams for the future.
It seems as if the winter of my life has stealthily arrived catching me by surprise.
How did it arrive so fast? Where did the years go and when did my young man’s dreams disappear?
I remember meeting older people through the years and thinking that those people were years older than me and that the later years of my life were so far away I couldn’t understand or fully imagine what it would be like.
Looking back over the various chapters of my life, I realize that as I’ve matured my later years have been a kaleidoscope of contentment. It has been almost two decades since I met and married Margaret. During these 17 contented, love-filled years, we have both matured and gracefully aged together.
Yet here it is! As I enter and accept another season of my life, I’m prepared for all the aches and pains and the loss of strength and ability to go and do things that I wish I had done but I never did! At least I know that my winter has arrived; I’m not sure how long it will last. I accept that when life is over; it’s over.
I certainly have regrets. There are things I wish I’d done. and things I should have done and there are so many things I’m happy to have done. It all goes to living a lifetime. A final reminder if you’re not in your winter yet, let me remind you, that it will be here faster than you think. So, whatever you would like to accomplish in life. Do not wait for tomorrow it may never come.
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..
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..
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..
Restivo was an urban rat; the leader of a large rat pack that inhabited the maze of London sewers. Life had been comfortable for everyone in the pack, with the families enjoying gourmet meals, scavenged from numerous restaurant bins and the discarded remains of takeaway meals carelessly dumped on the city streets.
Things began to get strangely difficult when their food supply suddenly dried up. Restivo made enquiries among all the senior members.
It was Bertram, an aggressive fearless brown rat who provided the first clue.
‘The two-legged giants seem to have disappeared overnight and there’s been no food scraps available. Our food-sources are dark and locked up, with nothing to eat anywhere.’
Lady Belle, a handsome brown rat said, ‘How am I going to feed the family? Without the giants we will starve. It’s bad enough losing my friends to vicious poisoning.’
‘Don’t forget it’s the giants who are poisoning us. Now they are staying indoors, locked down so there will be no poison.’ remarked Bertram.
‘Yes; but we will all starve in the city without the two-legged giants,’ cried Lady Belle.
Within a week, food was becoming scarcer and scarcer, during the disappearance of the locked-down two-legged giants. No-one was eating in their restaurants and discarded food was becoming scarcer. Restivo, the leader of the pack, called the rats to a mass meeting.
‘Listen friends, we’re moving out to the green fields of the farms with huge grain stores, and mounds of food growing everywhere. There are vegetables and fruit freely available, growing in orchards. Beautiful wheat-fields with gentle summer breezes and crops of waving winter wheat, ready to be harvested by our families.’
There was a chorus of agreement, then Roberta Rat shouted.
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johnandmargaret1607 