Inspiration Monday: CUPCAKE STEALTH / GLORIOUS MONOTONY.

Posted on May 21, 2016 by John Yeo | 3 Comments

A Prompt Response for Inspiration Monday

Inspiration Monday: Glorious Monotony

Inspiration Monday: Cupcake Stealth / Glorious Monotony.

Like it or loathe it, I put two prompts together here. Some will say I should separate them~Stealthily subtract the Glorious Monotony from all Cupcake relations?

GLORIOUS MONOTONY

NANCY

by John Yeo

Nancy was a city slicker, a stock marketeer who bought and sold stock on the open worldwide market. The excitement of closing deals and making bids, sent her adrenaline levels through the roof.

Nancy’s lifestyle was an incredible whirlwind of rubbing shoulders with the immensely rich and privileged people who frequented the social hotspots in many parts of the world.

Everything went according to a well drawn, well perceived plan. Nancy had a personal portfolio that showed her to be a millionaire several times over on paper

Many of the super rich trusted her judgement implicitly and she soon became the fashionable broker to deal with.

Before the stock market crash exploded and ripped the guts from the market, her world seemed indestructible.

Nancy began to have palpitations as realisation started to set in. Smelling the smoke before the fire took hold, Nancy collapsed in writhing pain.

“Call an ambulance urgently!” was the cry from the floor of the exchange.

“A very important broker has collapsed in pain!” Shouted a bystander nervously.

“CPR is being applied, by a trained, in-house, first-aider!” Screamed an employee into the phone.

An ambulance magically appeared, almost before the call had finished. Nancy was taken aboard, hooked to machines, reviving gas and injections with medication applied.

Nancy was rushed away fast. The ambulance siren cleared the way, all the way to a private airfield.

Nancy was pushed into an aircraft that raced away to parts unknown.

When the Market crashed later that day, many millions were lost. Curiously one portfolio survived the crash, through judicious clearing of stock.

Nancy had disappeared! Never to return to her desk. Questions were asked in many quarters

How did she know? Instinct was the obvious reply.

Where had she gone? Most importantly: Why?

Two years later a wedding took place on an exclusive privately owned Island.

In the glorious monotony of a sun-soaked lifestyle, one day looks exactly the same as the last.

The bride had a very familiar smile! A high society marriage without any fuss. Just a few close associates, the groom was of Royal descent and insisted the wedding was kept hush-hush. A celebration without any fuss.

His lovely wife smiled and directed the celebrations. In her own words to her loving husband, enjoying the glorious monotony of her clever shrewd brain. The new Bride said…..

“I have to laugh at the preparations, I will own up to how it all began.”

Her husband smiled indulgently.

CUPCAKE STEALTH

NANCY’S TALE

by John Yeo

“I promised the chef we wouldn’t sample them.

Displayed on a four-tier cake-stand.

Iced delights in succulent splendour,

Red, and Blue icing with white runny cream.

The celebration was scheduled for ten.

The occasion was set to be frightfully grand.

Full of pomp and glamorous grandeur,

Covered with napkins frightfully clean.

We retired, sipping cocktails together, when

The afternoon didn’t quite go as planned

The chef, returning to view with wonder,

Suddenly startled us with a piercing scream.

A bundle of black and white fur left the kitchen

Followed by a chef, with rolling-pin in hand

Seeking restitution for a feline blunder

A clumsy kitten had destroyed the dream.

A pitiful pile of cupcakes half bitten,

Lay in a heap looking far from grand.

The chef screaming with a face of thunder.

Cursing, swearing, venting his spleen.

As a supermarket helicopter stealthily arrived

Delivering factory-made cupcakes.”

The royal couple watched the sunset, in a glorious dreamy monotonous haze, neither Bride or Groom desired the cupcakes.

http://bekindrewrite.com

INDOCTRINATION

Posted on May 15, 2016 by John Yeo | 3 Comments

This article was written for “QUINTET,” our Parish magazine, requesting submissions on the theme of Culture.

INDOCTRINATION

by John Yeo

Saul awoke with a throbbing headache, amid the noise of tortured screams, and agonised terrifying cries for help. Everywhere was pitch dark, as he became aware of the iron chains that cut into his wrists, he frantically pulled and tugged in a vain attempt to get free.

Then his memory began to relay the events of the past few hours, before he was cruelly beaten over the head, and he had lost consciousness. A ship had approached the shore and as his tribal family began to sing and dance in welcome, a cruel merciless attack began. Many of the elderly and infirm were shot as the invaders began to surround everyone, and force march them to the ship. Saul attempted to protect his infirm Father and was viciously beaten around the head, he was never to see his Father alive again.

After days of darkness and squalor, with a little food thrown and scattered through a trapdoor, a light became visible and the many occupants of this overcrowded hell hole were allowed to emerge. Some weakened and dispirited from the experience. There were a few who never made it, and sadly died during the passage. Saul stumbled up a narrow ladder into daylight, leaving the stench and putrid decaying flesh behind.

The survivors were hosed down naked on the dockside, and dressed in cheap cotton clothing.

“You savage cannibals will now be sold in the slave market and quickly become civilised and put to work!” Announced a stranger in a loud cruel voice, sadly nobody could understand a word he was saying. Everyone was given food and water and soon separated and individually transported to their new homes and places of hard relentless work.

Saul was transported with some other men to a cotton plantation, and integrated with around sixty other slaves. The charge hands were also bonded slaves and they carried out the orders of a white foreman, implicitly, he would come down hard on troublemakers.

Saul was a hard worker, intelligent and quick-witted, he could do little else but immerse himself in the work and begin to adjust to this alien culture he had unwillingly become a part of.

After some months, the slaves were learning the language and a basic form of communication between everyone gradually developed. Saul began to learn the language with the help of Father Leon, a priest, who had been a bonded slave but was now a free man. This man spent his time visiting the workers, wherever he was allowed, offering them comfort, spiritual guidance and help in every way he was able. Saul quickly learned to communicate and to absorb the message of faith that Father Leon prescribed.

One day he asked his friend the Father, “There is a question I would like to ask, if you have an answer for me please.”

“Of course,” replied Father Leon, “Ask away if I can help you I will.”

“Father, Who are the savages? What did they mean by, ’You savage cannibals will now be sold in the slave market and quickly become civilised and put to work!’ I memorised those words, without understanding? How does your culture reconcile the wonderful promise of love and eternal life, with the way we were torn from our homes and lifestyles, and cruelly put to work?” asked Saul.

“These basic cultural rituals are collective activities, ways of reaching desired objectives, and considered as socially essential. They are therefore carried out most of the time for their own sake. These men are a part of a greater whole who have never known anything else but their dominance. Greed is an evil motivator and certainly not condoned by our faith, Saul,” replied Father Leon.

THE SOUR HONEY

Posted on May 11, 2016 by John Yeo | Leave a comment

I wrote the following piece of Flash Fiction on a whim, without any prompt whatsoever, and I will have to find a picture that will fit.

Image © Copyright John and Margaret

THE SOUR HONEY

by John Yeo

“Hi!-ram! Hi! everyone, welcome to the hive!” Jazzy fluttered her wings and buzzed in approval as the Bees settled in the crevices of the inner sanctum of the hive. They had deposited the stores of pollen they had collected and were relaxing, waiting for the entertainment to begin.

Let me introduce you to Jazzy, the life and soul of the party. A social whizzing, buzzing, busy little Bee, flitting and fluttering, from flower to flower, full of twisty tricks and manipulative ploys.

The worker Bee, in a position of trust. A situation that requires a high degree of self assurance and quick thinking. This is an ingrained state of mind that has been polished and honed over many years. The fields always full of the flowers of opportunity, stretched out for miles in every direction, full of the beautiful colours and attractive perfumes that advertise the nectar stored within their petals.

Jazzy was competent and well liked by all the Under-Bees in her specialist department of the hive. A heaving, hustling, haven, providing the pleasures and pastimes to keep the shifting population of workers and the coterie of the inner sanctum happy.

The hive choir sprang into a joyful refrain of gloriously tuneful assorted buzzes as Jazzy introduced herself. “Welcome to the show, all those who have laboured to gain entrance here to the hive. Welcome, my name is Jazzy, we are here to have a good time and allow everyone to relax and have some fun, before work recommences tomorrow. Dust the pollen off your fur, sit on your stings, relax and enjoy the entertainment, I have some wonderful hummers and aerial artistes to set before you, to excite the senses and satiate the appetites of all you hard workers. Enjoy! Taste the nectar and pay homage to the Queen Bee who resides in the inner sanctum.

It was then Jazzy noticed a couple of returning Bees in the audience, who she had taken a distinct dislike to in the distant past. Her reaction was a stinging public, unthoughtful remark, preceded by the sting in her tail rising to the occasion.

“I have just seen some buzzy Bees, that I will be avoiding like the plague of the dreaded mildew of the wing, that has infected millions of our fellow Bees recently!” Jazzy hardly realised she had made a serious error of judgement at this moment, this was supposed to be a warm welcome to the hive. Such unbelievable arrogance had accumulated over many successful welcome to the hive parties.

The Queen Bee was furious and requested her secretary to arrange an interview at the earliest opportunity.

There was a sting in the tail of this unfortunate affair as Jazzy’s wings were clipped back severely after this incident.

THE PASSIVE STABILITY OF THE PERFECT LOCK

Posted on May 9, 2016 by John Yeo | Leave a comment

Image © Copyright John and Margaret

This is a piece of Flash Fiction based on and inspired by the above photograph

THE PASSIVE STABILITY OF THE PERFECT LOCK

by John Yeo

An amorphous fog was the general state of mind, as far as the future was concerned for Jack, as his life suddenly underwent an incredible change.

The consulting-room in Harley Street, London, was a plush well furnished suite of rooms.

“Good morning Sir! How can I help you?” enquired a tall smartly dressed, pretty young woman, in a soft cultured, reassuring voice.

‘Wow! Thought Jack, she is obviously a well educated secretary, probably a daughter of wealthy Caribbean parents.

“Wwwell!” he stammered awkwardly, “I have an appointment to see Dr Green, my name is Mathews, Jack Mathews.”

“Just a moment Sir. Ah yes! I will let him know you are here. Please take a seat in the waiting room.”

Jack sat down in the luxurious surroundings and took in the incredible array of reading material that was strategically placed on various antique coffee tables. ‘I don’t feel like reading’ he thought. His eyes roamed over the walls, he was soon overwhelmed by the gallery of beautiful paintings displayed.

One particular picture caught his eye. The artist had painted a figure of a man running in abject terror, with his hands covering his face. ‘Obviously based on the famous picture by Edvard Munch,’ he thought. ‘What is that doing here?”

Then incredibly the image changed to a picture of his life before the bonds of his perfect marriage changed everything. He had been running away from life, until Meg became a part of him. Love had been overwhelming and beautiful, a strong relationship developed, marriage had followed a year later. Bonded, never apart, each day sweeter than the last,

Many deliriously happy years later the suspicions began to set in. Many differing tests followed; each one pointing more directly to the terminal diagnosis.

‘I must do something to tempt the Lord of chance to smile on me. The diagnosis will not come as a terrible shock’ he thought as he went over the last few years in his mind.

“Doctor Green will see you now, Mr Mathews.” the secretary smiled as she said these words.

Jack entered the Doctor’s office nervously with a large lump in his throat, his heart was racing.

Then he became aware that the doctor was actually smiling. Jack was taken aback as the Doctor went on to say. “I am pleased to say you are totally clear of the symptoms of the cancer you have displayed and you should be clear of fears for the future. Your marriage is the key to a long and a happy life. Congratulations!”

“There is no cure for this! However can you tell if the perfect lock is secure if you have no keys?” asked Jack

“Love is the cure! The answer will be the happiness in the face that looks back at you from any mirror in the world,” was the reply.

“My secretary will see you on your way out to settle up once and for all. You will require no further appointments.”

Image © Copyright John and Margaret

PHANTOM LIBRARY

Posted on May 5, 2016 by John Yeo | 5 Comments

Inspiration Monday: Phantom Library

This is a prompt response for Inspiration Monday

Inspiration Monday: Phantom Library

PHANTOM LIBRARY

by John Yeo

Walter was a learned man, a man of many parts, who followed the spiritual uplifting occupation of haunting the words of eloquent spirits from heavenly dreaming spires. The universal leading fount of all that was known to be or not to be. He was interested in many things. In the olden days of books that burnt, Walter set the world on fire amanuensis was the key. Snotter was a drip feeder of the key facts that were daily spewed forth by the great man’s pen. Walter and Snotter were jolly good friends a team that would attempt to access the formidable phantom libraries of the believable, and approach the unbelievable with utmost caution. Walter one day approached the inner sanctum of the brotherhood of phantasmagorical imagination and asked for access to the innermost shelf of forbidden fruitfulness.

“I have come here absolutely denatured, demanding access to the temple of garish ghostliness combined with glorious ghastliness, to study in the mystical mire of spiritual desire. I have paid the price of panicky fearfulness to extract the phantasmagorical from the fantastical mire of the Phantom Library.” He demanded, in a voice that betrayed nothing short of minor irritation, to the almost nonexistent invisible moronic entity at the portals of a cloudy cavernous Phantom Library.
Eerily empty shelves of phantom knowledge, loomed up menacingly in reply. Snotter attempted to gain entrance from the rear, however a fearsome wind blew him backwards.
A message flashed fearsomely on a crystalline screen. Sign in with your password or sign up with your phantom facts to gain access to the glugger search spook and the phantoms will access the knowledge from the phantasmagorical phantomime library. Glugger ghoulish ghostliness is here to pave the way forward.
Walter and Snotter were on the way to gain access to the magical mystical world of the fantastical Glugger search engine. The incredible effluence located in the glorious Glugger phantom library, brought amazing dot.com affluence to Walter and Snotter.

Image © Copyright John and Margaret

HEARING VOICES

Posted on Apr 30, 2016 by John Yeo | Leave a comment

This piece of Flash Fiction is a story I conjured up based on this photograph of an interesting sculpture from among my illustrated souvenirs.

HEARING VOICES

by John Yeo

Ted Smith, was a renowned seer and futurologist, a man, they say, who could predict the future with incredible accuracy. Ted’s history was one of the checkered variety that made historians and members of the medical profession choke on their morning coffee.

Ted had left school at fourteen, shunned by the teaching staff and his fellow pupils alike for his insistence that he could hear voices coming from below the ground. Voices that actually spoke to him and tried to warn him about events that were about to happen. Everyone laughed when he warned about wildfires, floods, and acts of chance that promised to kill many people in countries far away from where he lived, on the other side of the globe.

Ted had been in and out of mental hospitals and psychiatric institutions for most of his life, subjected to some of the most incredible cures for the insane that were ever invented, including electric shock, and aversion therapy, before anyone really took any notice of what the voices he professed to hear actually said to him.

A renowned psychologist, Madeline Gentle began to listen and subjected him to some tests, simple at first.

Jokingly, one day before the famous horse race, the Grand National, Madeline said to him.

“Write down in the correct order the first three horses that will pass the winning post tomorrow”

“Easy!” Ted replied and put his head to the ground then handed her back the piece of paper with the horses names listed. “There will also be a shocking flood in Bengal that will kill thousands.” He added.

“OK! Now write down the name of the top three companies that will be most successful on the stock market tomorrow please.” Requested the doctor amiably.

“Certainly!” Ted put his head to the ground and wrote three names on a piece of paper. “There will also be a wildfire in Australia that will cause much damage.”

Sensationally every prophetic word came true. Ted was then feted and swiftly became renowned for his abilities. Much money was made from his forecasting abilities and the world began to take notice of his every utterance as many devastating phenomena were stopped before they began.

Ted began to relay much scientific information from the voices, including the incredibly simple free energy that was to become a boon to the world. Along with many new cures for a variety of cursed illnesses that had scythed down many of the finest minds that mankind had ever produced.

One very sad but remarkable day after having placed his head to the ground, Ted announced, “I have to say goodbye to this world as I am about to die!” There was a ripple of shock among his followers and the huge audience, he had attracted to his daily forecasting sessions.

A man in the front row of the audience pulled out a gun and shot him dead.

“Death to the difference!” The man shouted as he pulled the trigger, before turning the gun on himself and pulling the trigger.

A Saint was born at that split second and St. Ted is worshipped and venerated in many corners of the globe to this day.

FOOLS GOLD

Posted on Apr 28, 2016 by John Yeo | Leave a comment

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.

PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ A VERY FINE BALANCE

Posted on Apr 25, 2016 by John Yeo | Leave a comment

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

Picture it & Write

img_9648-1

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!

A prompt response for INSPIRATION MONDAY ~ “ DYNASTIC PRESSURE”

Posted on Apr 21, 2016 by John Yeo | 2 Comments

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!”

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

http://bekindrewrite.com

A prompt response for INSPIRATION MONDAY ~ “FLOWER GRAFFITI”

Posted on Apr 12, 2016 by John Yeo | Leave a comment

A prompt response for INSPIRATION MONDAY ~ “FLOWER GRAFFITI”
http://bekindrewrite.com

FLOWER GRAFFITI

by John Yeo

Annabelle was a creative, artistic sensitive young woman. At art college she fell heavily in love with Dominic a fellow student who seemed to be on the same wavelength in all things. They became inseparable, and it was certain they would get through the exams together with flying colours.

They were indeed colourful, extrovert and prepared to go to any lengths to express their natural artistic talents. Dominic would draw lightning sketches of passers-by in the city centre for money, a form of busking that helped to pay the bills. Annabelle also painted and was developing a market for portraits, from among her friends and family.

Annabelle had a younger brother, Toby, a mischievous youngster who was struggling with his, A-level exams and running around with a crowd of young daredevils who would stop at nothing to get some thrills from life.

Toby, like his sister, was also artistic, but sadly he expressed his talent in a different way. Toby was a graffiti artist, specialising in painting on high office blocks and skyscrapers.

One day the group dared him to paint a huge red poppy on the twenty-seventh floor of a large office block in the city centre. A building that was the headquarters of a major European bank.

“No! I could never do that without the right equipment. I would need a window cleaning cradle and you would all have to be there to manhandle the hoist.”

“We have thought of that, we have a hoist secreted at the back of the building and we are ready to go. Tomorrow is poppy day and your art will make the front page of every national daily paper in the country! You will be famous when the truth comes out.”

Toby outrightly refused to have anything to do with this plan and later that day he confided in Dominic.

The next morning every newspaper in the country carried banner headlines that described four huge red poppies painted on the fourth floor walls of a major city office block to remember the dead in two world wars.

Dominic, Annabelle and Toby all smiled knowingly at each other, and admired their poppies from below.

Dominic laughed at Toby and said. “Height is not important. In Art it is the statement that counts!”

Peace

http://bekindrewrite.com

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