A PINCH OF PURPOSE

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FRIDAY 16th OCTOBER 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 PINCH OF PURPOSE

October Writing Prompts

A PINCH OF PURPOSE

by John Yeo

   Magwich, Megan and Mary had been friends for years. They’d all met up at Professor Merlin’s magical college in the depths of a root encrusted, mysterious, haunted wood. No one who graduated from this academy had any illusions about their future careers. They left as fully qualified witches. 

  Magwich was a tall slim attractive blonde, with blue sparkling eyes that had a habit of involuntary fluttering whenever she was concentrating. She wore her traditional black pointed hat at a jaunty angle that betrayed something of an impish sense of humour. Her parents were successful industrialists who hadn’t done much research when they’d sent her away to school. They were just happy to have her education completed at a school where she would be well looked after.

   As a total contrast, Megan was born to be a witch, her parents were both steeped thoroughly in the magical arts and they knew exactly what they wanted for their only child. Her father was a practical working wizard who had enjoyed great success in curing people through his use of magical spells. He had been somewhat disappointed when he discovered he’d fathered a daughter, although he was genuinely proud of her. His wife Miranda thought the world of her bright, dark eyed daughter, with her long flowing black locks that hung freely down her shoulders. Megan was somewhat short and quite dumpy, which was a direct result of her mother spoiling her and over feeding her with tasty titbits from the family cauldron.

    Mary, our third and most remarkable member of this trio of spellbinding witches was an individual character in her own right . She had bright reddish auburn hair and a fiery temper to match. Mary was an orphan. No one knew what had become of her parents, or indeed if she had ever bothered to be born to conventional parents. The story went that she was the offspring of an egg laying large black tabby cat and a red feral feline wanderer. Apparently they were shapeshifters who had been originally born in the shape of humans and were able to take the feline form at will.

  Professor Merlin was seemingly an easygoing wizard who had educated many students over the centuries and inoculated them all with a sense of purpose. It wasn’t until you looked into his eyes that you realised there was a streak of steel running through his educational purpose.

  Graduation day had arrived and Magwich, Megan and Mary were destined to become a coven in a far off nation, where they were to reside until they received further orders from the Professor. 

Mary acted as a natural leader and she bluntly said. 

    ‘Listen here you two, we haven’t been informed what this elusive sense of purpose is. I’m certain it’s not going to be pleasant for certain people and I need you both to be loyal and obedient to our coven. We are going to live in a place in the Black Forest in a country far away from here.’

    Magwich flicked her blonde hair to one side, fluttered her right eye and spat on the floor. ‘Look Mary, I don’t take your orders but I respect your judgment. If we have to live together indefinitely I will do my best to tolerate you and your insolence but don’t push us too far.’

   Megan scowled and nodded at these remarks and aggressively responded. ‘My Dad is an important practising wizard and he knows what this sense of purpose is. I have been shown the universal sign of a magical sense of purpose.’

    With that she turned to Mary and administered a sharp pinch on her face that resulted in a scream of agony. Mary instantly retaliated and viciously pinched Megan back. Mary then savagely pinched Magwich and soon all three young witches were rolling all over the place pinching each other wildly, on the buttocks, in the face, literally everywhere.

   Suddenly there was a loud shout as the Professor arrived and waved his magic wand and some sort of peace was restored.

    ‘I’m happy to see you have all administered  several pinches of purpose to each other. Bear in mind you are all equal and I’m equally proud of you all. There aren’t any leaders among you. You will all work together or I will see you are reminded with some further unpleasant pinches of purpose. These will be stronger and more hurtful. Now go in peace and work together for the benefit of your coven.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

CALL THE MIDWIFE

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THURSDAY 15th OCTOBER 2020 BLOG POST

CALL THE MIDWIFE 

by John Yeo

   Margaret and I enjoyed an interesting day trip by coach to Chatham dockyard, where we visited the sets and the background for the extremely popular ‘Call The Midwife’ TV series. We were both amazed at the ingenuity of the filmmakers and TV producers in turning a naval dockyard into a fairly convincing reproduction of the East end of London. We had an informative tour, presented by a guide who was appropriately dressed in the uniform of a 50’s NHS midwife. 

   We met up with our tour guide; a bubbly, smiling middle aged lady with striking yellow blonde hair, dressed in an authentic midwives uniform. She was exceptionally well informed and illustrated every area we visited by referring to a large book of photographs. We were astonished as she pointed out the various areas that were used as a background to several of the scenes in the series. It took some really creative imagination to construct a series about London’s east end and to film this in a naval dockyard.

The tour concluded with a visit to an interesting garden where several of the romantic scenes in the series were filmed.

  After this interesting tour we went on to visit some of the ships and the naval artefacts that are the actual reality of Chatham dockyard. We wandered around a  large comprehensive display of historic retired lifeboats, in a large hangar-like building. This was adjoining another large area that displayed some huge shipbuilding and repairing machinery.

  We then made our way to our coach for the journey home.

© Written by John Yeo 

COMMUNICATION

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 TUESDAY 13th OCTOBER 2020 ~ FLASH FICTION 

PROMPT ~ Write about why you write.

COMMUNICATION 

by John Yeo

 Why do I write?

  The answer to this question goes back many years to the dim and distant past to my school days. In the days when pens were dipping pens that scratched on exercise books using an inkwell that transferred thoughts to paper. I remember I was always in my element in the English class where my imagination was allowed to run riot as we were all encouraged to write short stories and poetry. My fingers would become stained blue and sometimes the blots of ink would reach my face as I bit the end of the pen in absent-minded concentration. Sometimes the teacher would read out loud one or two particularly interesting pieces of work for the benefit of the rest of the class. 

  I remember one young lad who wrote about his life at home and the bruises his Mum and him would sometimes receive on a Friday night when his Dad returned from the local pub full of drink and frustrated anger. This was a story that wasn’t read out loud to the class but involved the headmaster and the police getting involved to stop this violence happening.

  It was then I first began to realise the importance of writing and the changes writing could effect in our lives.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

ELEVEN HOURS

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MONDAY 12th OCTOBER 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..

October Writing Prompts

PROMPT ~ Eleven Hours

ELEVEN HOURS

by John Yeo

The feeling came through like a bolt from the blue

The first hour passed quickly, the idea was exciting 

My mind resonated with love through and through.

~

During the second hour I decided to approach you

I hesitated for the third hour, your love was inviting

The feeling came through like a bolt from the blue.

~

The long fourth hour my feelings hard to construe 

As the fifth hour arrived and left like lightning 

My mind resonated with love through and through.

~

Then came the sixth hour with my thoughts askew

Melding into the seventh the idea so enticing

The feeling came through like a bolt from the blue.

~

Hour eight I stopped thinking yet the time still flew

On the ninth hour with the fires of my feelings ignited

My mind resonated with love through and through.

~

Hour ten and my confidence just grew and grew

At the eleventh hour I knelt down and asked you

Your reply came through like a bolt from the blue

My feelings resonated with love through and through.

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

GRANDAD’S STAMPS

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 PROMPT  ~ You have a billion dollars in your bank account. How did you make it?

GRANDAD’S STAMPS

by John Yeo

   I was fourteen years old when the seeds were sown for my fortunes beginning to arrive by the lorry load. My name is Sebastian Large, I am a self made billionaire and I put all my large fortune down to a combination of luck and hard work.

   It was shortly after my fourteenth birthday when my Grandfather Albert died. This made me feel terrible and I remember crying myself to sleep, every night for a whole week. 

   Grandad was always a good friend to me and we used to laugh with each other whenever Mum and Dad took me to his house for a visit, which was usually about twice a week. Grandad was a tall man, slightly stooped in his shoulders with a shock of grey hair that was always unruly and usually in need of a visit to the barbers. He had bushy eyebrows and pale blue eyes that seemed to pierce through you to your heart. He was an ex-naval man, having spent over twenty years in the merchant navy on cargo ships. Grandad had been around the world many times over and he had a fund of tales and stories that he would relate to me almost from the day I was born. I loved hearing these wonderful tales of life onboard the trade vessels and the descriptions of the crews and sailors he had worked alongside. 

  Grandad was also a keen stamp collector and he had a roomful of stamp albums and stamped envelopes that he’d picked up during his travels. I remember looking through them with him many times, admiring the colourful square pictorial stamps from all around the world. Grandad would tell me many tales of the countries where these stamps originated from and how they came into his possession.

 One day we were going through an album of old English stamps when Grandad suddenly turned to me and said,

      ‘Seb. When I take my leave of this world, I intend to make sure you receive my entire stamp collection. Take real good care of them and they will someday take good care of you.’

I laughed nervously and replied. 

   ‘Grandad you will never die, I would miss you too much if you ever left us.’

   Sadly a year later, Grandad died and I inherited thousands of stamps all neatly pasted into stamp albums and on many different sized envelopes. I kept them in one of the rooms in the house where they simply began to gather dust and spiders webs.

   I left university with huge debts and a degree in creative writing and I soon discovered that budding writers weren’t paid much money. I suddenly had the bright idea to have my inherited stamp collection valued and perhaps they would raise enough money to pay my debts and start me off in business.

  The day of the valuation arrived and I asked a couple of auctioneers to value the collection. Imagine my surprise when I was informed, Grandads stamps were worth hundreds of thousands of pounds at a conservative estimate. I was delighted when they were finally sold for close to a million pounds as there were some rare oriental stamps among the collection printed in gold leaf paint and some extremely early valuable English stamps.

  This was my springboard to making me a billionaire. I invested much of this money in technology and oil shares and soon my fortunes rapidly increased.

 However this wasn’t anything to do with the main income that led me to amassing my billion pounds. 

  No! I wrote down many of my Grandads stories and sold millions of books, some became films and plays and then several television series. 

   I became a considerably wealthy famous author and I bought and sold many mansions and even two private Carribean islands.

  Yes I have a billion dollars in the bank, thanks in many, many ways to my hard working, seafaring Grandad. 

© Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

(I picked up this prompt from a site on the internet called freewrite.com I was at a loss as to where to find my subject for the day. I think this response turned out pretty well and I wrote the above piece in about an hour. The words just seemed to flow once I got started and I’m extremely pleased with the result.I intend to publish it on my WordPress site and expand the story later.)

(761 WORDS)

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SATURDAY 10th OCTOBER 2017 ~ FLASH FICTION

Weekend Writing Prompt #178 – Asinine

ASININE

by John Yeo

An Ass is either a male or a female donkey,

Either sex behaving in a selfish, ignorant manner would be

described as asinine,

However when humans behave donkeyish 

they are exhibiting asinine behaviour.

When the leader of the herd indulges in stubborn, narcissistic, asinine behaviour, anything can happen.

Divisions in the herd can swiftly appear and factions will split.

The herd instinct is particularly noticeable among the followers of an asinine donkey.

Bray away!

(74 Words)

PROFOUND MUTTERINGS

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SATURDAY 10th OCTOBER 2017

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 ~ PROFOUND MUTTERINGS

October Writing Prompts

PROFOUND MUTTERINGS

by John Yeo

Death, resurrection, heaven, forgiveness, love,

Birth, hope, faith, philosophy unfathomable,

The priest was waxing esoteric deep thought.

~

Enigmatic, obscure, perplexing, incalculable,

Endless death, endless existence, endless love.

The prophet was preaching esoteric deep thought.

~

Belief, trust, charity, studying intense perplexity,

Abstract, philosophical, subtle, intentionally deep,

Knowledge comes slowly with profound mutterings.

~

© Written by John Yeo

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

ON A TYPICAL TUESDAY MORNING

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WEDNESDAY 7th OCTOBER 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 ~ ON A TYPICAL TUESDAY MORNING 

October Writing Prompts

ON A TYPICAL TUESDAY MORNING 

by John Yeo

Monday was depressing with a weekend hangover 

Today is certain to be a typical Tuesday morning

I feel this weekend will take some getting over.

~

I never will never get used to handling the changeover 

A typical Tuesday is guaranteed to get me yawning

Monday was depressing with a weekend hangover.

~

Wednesday brought news of the loss of my lover

With our thoughts on fire and our emotions storming 

I feel this weekend will take some getting over.

~

On a typical Tuesday morning with a dramatic spillover 

From a depressing start that was rapidly deforming

Monday was depressing with a weekend hangover.

~

Typical Tuesday feelings are beginning to recover

My equanimity returns when I take the warning

I feel this weekend will take some getting over.

~

Saturday and Sunday with a headstrong rollover 

On a typical Tuesday morning I’m slowly realising 

Monday was depressing with a weekend hangover.

I feel this weekend will take some getting over.

© Written by John Yeo