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MONDAY 23rd NOVEMBER 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 ~ THE FUTURELESS FUTURE .

November Writing Prompts

THE FUTURELESS FUTURE 

by John Yeo

  A mysterious man entered the marketplace in the town of Northchester carrying an ornate, richly decorated chest.

       ‘Gather round folks I would like to reveal an instrument that could transport your innermost soul to places you could never dream of. I bring an instrument that is capable of changing your life forever.’

 Then with a flourish, he pulled off the lid to reveal the contents of the box:

 An ordinary antique black plastic telephone. A scratched, battered, extremely well used, old fashioned telephone.

 The telephone suddenly rang! 

    The mystery man said.  ‘This proves this is not just any old telephone, this is a special telephone.

A line to the timeline of history revealing the twists and turns of the life of the planet since time began.

To travel through the timeline one just needs to dial the year one wants to visit. No kidding! Past, Present or hopefully the Future.’

  The worrying thing was when you dialed the future there was no response. 

‘Why was this?’  You questioned the powers in authority.

 Mr. Optimist replied. ‘There is no reply as the future hasn’t happened yet.’

    Mr. Pessimist said. ‘There is no reply because there is no future. A bomb has wiped out the entire planet. There is no future!’

   There was a third person present. An old man who shrugged and said. ‘Hang up the phone; it is written.’

 The wise old sage in the company then addressed the mysterious stranger.

     ‘Sir! Excuse me please. I don’t think there could ever be such a thing as physical time-travel. The end result would never be the same. People would surely travel backward and forwards in time to undo or change an unfortunate action or to rectify a mistake. Surely one person’s mistake is another person’s gain.

Some of us may not actually exist. How many times have people admitted their child sadly was the product of an unfortunate mistake?

 The past surely should be left in the past. The future is surely best left in the empty mists of time.’

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

A WALK IN THE PARK

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FRIDAY 20th NOVEMBER 2020 ~ BLOG POST

A WALK IN THE PARK

by John Yeo 

The afternoon was cold without the strong winds we’ve been becoming accustomed to lately. Margaret and I decided to take a good long walk through Sheringham Park. This is a National Trust (NT), property, comprising a large wooded area surrounding Sheringham Hall. The woodland walks are carefully maintained by NT employees and are extremely pleasant to visit. There are many mature trees with Rhododendrons, Azaleas with several species of Magnolia.

A striking young tree, resplendent in its Autumnal golden yellow foliage is the first colourful image that strikes the eye, giving a flavour of the season. Many crunchy, brown Oak and Beech leaves were covering the ground along the way. I couldn’t help imagining a fine tilth of leaf mould all over our allotment if only I could solve the logistical problem of transportation.

We continued to wander along the woodland trail and next encountered this wonderful pink Azalea tree at the edge of the pathway. This was the only shrub  in bloom at this time of the year, although many shrubs were covered in plump strong buds which promises well for a gorgeous display of blooms in the Spring.

Margaret came prepared with a walking cane to aid her balance on the uneven terrain. We passed a few people also enjoying the solitude of a woodland afternoon stroll, mainly couples walking the family pooch. Everyone we encountered strictly observed the social distance recommendations and cheerfully said Good Afternoon to us as we passed.

I was examining some rich green ferns, almost ankle-deep in Oak tree leaves here. The tangled branches in the background sadly feature a good number of branches that had been torn off the trees in a recent terrific storm.

We were just in time to see a Squirrel dashing  up the trunk of a large Beech tree and I noticed the ground was covered with the empty husks of Beechnuts. Obviously there is a secreted hibernation larder nearby.

The normally prolific birdlife was either roosting or away on migration. However we did notice a Magpie, a Crow and a few smaller birds darting around. At the end of the afternoon we had walked two miles in about 50 minutes. A good healthy lockdown exercise experience for both of us.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

The cruel decline of a brilliant husband of a poet.

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THURSDAY 19th NOVEMBER 2020 ~ POETRY ~ BLOG POST

The cruel decline of a brilliant husband of a poet

(A fictional tale of a fictional meeting)

by John Yeo

Quite a good bus service here in Huddersfield,

The bus station was busy but empty,

It was a chilly day in town with a sharp wind. 

I sat waiting next to a gent in a raincoat, 

He puffed on his pipe and looked content.

Suddenly he turned to me and said,

“I was a boy in this area, it’s changed”.

I murmured a response and nodded.

~

 The wind picked up, then I asked my friend,

“What time is the next bus due to arrive?”

“I’m not too sure, Mary will know,” he replied.

“There was a huge gasometer down the road,

Near the grammar school that I attended.

My name is James, they called me Jim at school”

The cruel wind was blowing mercilessly,

A bus arrived, already full, so Jim and I sat still.

~

A kindly lady bustled along, “There you are Harold!

I’ve looked everywhere for you, the driver is waiting, 

The car is here”, She looked at me and smiled.

“I hope he has not been any trouble, I’m Mary”.

My friend looked at me, “Thank you for listening”

Pulled his raincoat collar up against the cruel wind.

~~Of change~~ “Mary I’m coming love,

I was Prime Minister, once you know”.

~

I sat stunned as realisation dawned,

My mind raced over the conversation

I would like to have had before his resignation

And cruel mental decline from Alzheimer’s disease.

How he kept us out of the Vietnam war,

Awarded The Beatles an MBE

During a very long week in politics

Foreseeing the “white heat of technology”.

My companion had been none other than,

James Harold Wilson, Baron Wilson of Rielvaux.

~

©️ Written by John Yeo~ All rights reserved.

This is a poem I wrote several years ago based on a real life Prime Minister of the UK from 1964 to 1970. 1974 and 1976

He sensationally resigned shortly after his 60th birthday. It has been suggested he was in the early stages of Altzheimers disease when he resigned and some recent tests seem to bear this out.

He died in 1995 aged 79 of colon cancer and Altzheimers disease.

He was buried in St Mary’s in the  Isles of Scilly.

His wife Mary Wilson was an accomplished published poet.

Mary Wilson’s poem on Harold’s death….

My love you have stumbled slowly

On the quiet way to death

And you lie where the wind blows strongly

With a salty spray on its breath.

For this men of the island bore you

Down paths where the branches meet

And the only sounds were the crunching grind

Of the gravel beneath their feet

And the sighing slide of the ebbing tide

On the beach where the breakers meet

Lady Mary Wilson lived to be 102 passing away on 7th June 2018 in London and her ashes are buried in St Mary’s in the Isle of Scilly.

EMPTY REFLECTIONS

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MONDAY 16th 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 ~ EMPTY REFLECTIONS 

November Writing Prompts

EMPTY REFLECTIONS 

by John Yeo

  Jason Spriggs was a third year psychology student at Welchester University. He was 20 years old, 5’ tall, with a shaved head and deep set brown eyes. He was a hard worker and was no stranger to burning the midnight oil. Most of his friends considered him to be good fun and he was a bit of a party animal. He had a habit of burning the candle at both ends.

  It was the weekend and although he had had little sleep Jason woke early in the morning: Suddenly. He vaguely remembered being part of a horrible scenario in his dream. It was difficult to remember exactly what he’d been dreaming about. There was just this terrible feeling of latent fear connected to his actual sense of self. Try as hard as he might, he hardly remembered a single thing that had contributed to this feeling of abject fear. He stumbled out of bed and rushed into the bathroom to answer an urgent call of nature. While he was washing his hands he glanced into the bathroom cabinet mirror. To his horror there was nothing there, just the wall behind him opposite the mirror. He shouted Help! at the top of his voice and Mary and Peter his fellow college housemates came running.

   ‘What’s up Jase?’ enquired Mary in a panic. ‘Why are you screaming?’

   ‘Calm down Jason or you will be arrested for breaching the peace and exceeding the allowable noise levels,’ quipped Peter, ‘They’re extremely hot on noise pollution in this area.’

   Mary tutted and pushed Peter to one side. ‘Don’t be cruel Pete. What’s the problem Jason?’

   Jason rubbed his eyes and looked at them. ‘Am I here? I must be visible to you, but I have lost my reflection. I just looked in the mirror and there’s nothing there. No reflection at all. I had a terrible frightening dream and I just got an empty reflection when I looked in the mirror.’ 

 Peter grinned and reminded him of his consumption of alcohol the night before. ‘Maybe you’re still suffering the effects of the wine and booze you put away yesterday. Have another drink and take another look in the mirror. The hair of the dog technique; never fails to reset the mind. As psychology students we are all aware of the tricks of perception.’

  Mary nodded and rushed off to empty the dregs of several wine bottles that were lying around the house. ‘Here Jase, drink this and look in the mirror again.’ They both knew this was another piece of psychological treatment using the power of suggestion.

 Jason quickly swallowed the contents of the proffered glass and looked in the mirror again.

 At first the glass was cloudy but he was soon relieved to see his reflection slowly appear where there had recently been an empty reflection.

  Peter grinned and said. ‘Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?’

  They all collapsed together, curled up into fits of laughter.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved 

PRISONERS OF GEOGRAPHY

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SUNDAY 15th NOVEMBER 2020

BOOK REVIEW

PRISONERS OF GEOGRAPHY


by Tim Marshall

  This is a book that is extremely well written with the use of some incredibly well researched information. The way the facts are brought together and presented with such wonderful clarity is certain to inform and educate.  

  The book takes an in-depth study of the huge reliance the past and the present world leaders have been forced to place on their geographical locations.

From Russia, through China, the USA, Latin America, the Middle East, Africa, India and Pakistan, Europe, Japan and Korea, to the Arctic.

  The reasons for many political decisions on World peace and prosperity are explained here. The information forecast, sometimes drifts from the reality of recent events but the forecast for the future prosperity and development of the individual nations is fascinating.

I would thoroughly recommend this book as a great learning experience.

© Written by John Yeo

SHOCK LIFESTYLE CHANGE

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TUESDAY 10th OCTOBER 2020 ~ FLASH FICTION

FIRST LINE PROMPT ~ Bacon sandwiches always reminded her….

SHOCK LIFESTYLE CHANGE


by John Yeo

  Bacon sandwiches always reminded her of the time she spent visiting a smallholding in the depths of rural Wales. Philip Jones was a hard worker on his land and managed to come close to self sufficiency in food. 

   My college roommate Patsy, his only daughter, would always extend an invitation to spend time with her family on this beautiful smallholding. Patsy was a tall girl, with long red hair and freckles all over her face and arms. We have always been inseparable friends.

     Patsy stopped me in the quad one beautiful spring day.           ‘Are you coming to stay with us again this year again Belle? you know you are always welcome. Dad always appreciates your help and we can enjoy ourselves in the village again. They still hold the Saturday dance in the village hall.’ 

Patsy had a habit of shortening my name from Annabelle

   “Yes please! I can hardly wait.’

  During the History lecture that afternoon my mind drifted over the coming visit. I was looking forward to playing with the farm animals again, feeding the chickens, walking the dogs and mucking out the pig sty. I had grown quite fond of the friendly  single family pig, I always had time for Priscilla, I swear she was extremely intelligent and I would converse with her while I was in the sty.

   The last two weeks at college passed in a blur, and we were soon on a passenger train speeding through the beautiful green hills and valleys that famously go to make up Wales. We were met at the village railway station by Mr Jones who shook my hand. 

     ‘Hi Annabelle lovely to see you again.’

  He gave his daughter a huge hug and smiling broadly

       ‘Hello Freckles! climb aboard both of you.’ Patsy frowned at this old nickname.

  In contrast to Patsy, Mr Jones was a short, stocky, well muscled man, with an unruly mop of brown hair that he kept in place with a fashionable Barbour hat. He loaded our bags onto the vehicle and we were soon on our way.

   We arrived at the smallholding where we were greeted by Mrs Jones, with a large pot of tea, a huge plateful of bacon sandwiches and buttered scones. Mrs Jones was a beautiful lady, tall with long red hair; it was obvious which side of the family the freckled skin came from.

 The bacon sandwiches were delicious and I couldn’t help enquiring after my friend Priscilla the family pig.

 There was an embarrassed silence as Mr Jones pushed the plate of bacon sandwiches towards me and offered me another sandwich. 

  ‘Such is the reality of life on a self sufficient smallholding.’

It was from that precise moment I became a life-long vegetarian.

©️ Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

UNEXPECTED CONVERSION

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MONDAY 9th OCTOBER 2020 ~ FLASH FICTION
 
PROMPT ~ Describe ways in which your character does or doesn’t show piety.

UNEXPECTED CONVERSION


by John Yeo


  An introduction is called for here. Allow me to introduce the obnoxious Dr. Ferdinand Dickus. A cold-hearted, uncaring scientist without piety of any description whatsoever. The Doctor was a firm believer in the Darwinian Theory of evolution, survival of the fittest. As far as the religious belief in any form of afterlife was concerned, there was no such thing. Dickus was an unbeliever. According to the logical scientific evidence, we were born on this earth with nothing and we would ultimately leave thIs earth with nothing. According to him the object of life on Earth is getting as much out of life on earth and to lIve as comfortably as possible in the process. Therefore he had no charitable inclinations at all.
In total contrast, his Mother, Lady Esmeralda Dickus was a devout Christian who worshipped In the local church and was extremely well regarded by the local community for her charity donations

 One foggy winter morning, he stepped out of his private helicopter onto the helipad located on the roof of his laboratory.

    ‘Good morning Sir!’ said his secretary, who immediately fell into step with him as they headed towards the entrance to the building. 

    ‘Hello Dorinda! What’s new? Is anything pressing?’

    ‘Well Sir, there’s an urgent message for you to contact your Mother as quickly as possible.’

    ‘Thanks Dorinda!’


Minutes  later Doctor Dickus got through to his home phone number which strangely, was answered by the familiar voice of the family doctor.

      ‘Bad news I’m afraid Sir. Your Mother has had a serious stroke and a massive heart attack, she’s extremely close to death. I’m afraid there’s little conventional medicine can do now. Your Mother’s living on borrowed time. Your daughter is present I’ll put her on the line.’

     ‘Thank you!’


    ‘Daddy, I’m scared, please come home. They say the only hope is prayer. We are all desperately on our knees begging for a miracle. Please hurry!’

A few hours later the helicopter landed on the lawn at the family home. Doctor Dickus raced to his Mother’s bedside to discover she had made a miraculous recovery.
Later everyone, including the Doctor, proclaimed her recovery was unexplainable. Most said it was certainly the work of God in answer to the prayers of the family.
  Afterwards in the fullness of time, Doctor Ferdinand Dickus became a devout believer.

©️ Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

MR PEACOCK’S POSSESSIONS

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SUNDAY 8th NOVEMBER 2020 ~ BOOK REVIEW 

MR PEACOCK’S POSSESSIONS


by LYDIA SYSON

  Mr Peacock and his wife run a medium sized Inn located in a seaport in New Zealand. The growing family are just about getting by on the profits of the Inn and their six children are in danger of going hungry.
  Along comes a speculator who paints a wonderful picture of a fertile tropical island which he can lay claim to and settle on with the family. Life would be so easy, they would be self-sufficient and he would own the island. In return he would find a buyer for the Inn and Mr Peacock would be able to buy supplies and fund the passage for the family.
  Excitement grows and the family finally arrive, on Monday Island. The stark reality of the sheer rocky cliffs and lack of anything except basics adds to the feeling of dread. Mr Peacock finds he has been cheated when he has opened the bags and boxes of supplies he purchased from the ship’s Captain and finds rotten foodstuffs and flour.

  The family slowly settles in and begIns to overcome these initial setbacks Trading vessels were few and far between, due to the location of the island and the landing difficulties.
  The ship that had dropped them off returned with six South sea islanders to help with the work. At this time Albert, their oldest son disappears. This disappearance and the mystery of the missing  Albert runs right through the book.
The six islanders work hard, settle and begin to slowly integrate. Much suspense and suggestions of racism and slavery run throughout the background of the story.
There Is a vivid description of the birth of the Peacock families seventh child, 

 There is a wonderful amalgamation of Biblical religion and the Mythic mysterious Islanders beliefs. There Is a rich vein of suspense running through the final chapters which makes this book unputdownable 
The culmination of the story is the solution to the mystery of the missing Albert. This leads to a shocking revelation with the finale to a brilliant well written story.


Written by John Yeo

(365 WORDS)

JACKPOT

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SATURDAY 7th NOVEMBER 2020 ~ FLASH FICTION

Weekend Writing Prompt #182 – Bequeath

JACKPOT


by John Yeo


  The Grimm family were seated around a table in the offices of Paul Dregson, the family solicitor, to hear a reading of the will of Garston Grimm. 

 His two children and their mother were surprised to see the attractive blonde-headed secretary of Garston Grimm’s pickle factory. 

 The lawyer began.

‘I leave my entire debt-ridden estate to my secretary, Betsy Carpenter, except for the enclosed envelope the contents of which I bequeath to my wife and children.’

 The envelope contained a single winning jackpot lottery ticket.

(85 WORDS)