HEART CONTROL

Posted on Oct 5, 2016 by John Yeo | 2 Comments

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A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: HEART CONTROL

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HEART CONTROL

by John Yeo

He lay there dying, The bandits had left him for dead when they ransacked the wagon train, slaughtering everyone. We had been explorers, pioneers and settlers, peacefully penetrating this new land, he thought, dreamily semi conscious, drifting in and out of sleep.
It was the deafening silence of the central interior of this vast deserted continent that got to him most. Mile after mile of sandy, fly-infested silence. The buzzing sounds of the wings of a multitude of flies, going about the business of survival, cannibalising and feasting on the detritus of millions of dead flies and other tiny creatures that had briefly lived and died here was the only sound that permeated the deathly silence. A cacophony of orchestrated wings, creating a symphony that quickly became drowned in the overwhelming background silence, Lost to the momentary awareness that consciousness allowed his limited human senses to suffer. Thrust into the background to be drowned in the interminable silence.
He listened intently, there was another sound that seemed to be continually drumming in the background. A noise he was familiar with, a sound that was so close to him, he couldn’t pin it down.
The more he listened and tried to identify this alien but seemingly familiar sound, the louder it got. Always there, it resounded louder and louder to his annoyance, however hard he tried to ignore this persistent beat it soon became a crashing thump. The concentrated awareness of this beating sound began to play tricks on him.
What was it? This crashing beat that seemed so close to him that he was totally unable to resist paying attention to it.
Sleep began to overtake him and dreamily he realised although the noisy beat was still banging away, the thumps were gradually getting softer, more irregular. Soon he could hardly hear them they sounded so weak and irregular.
Slowly a black cloud of unconscious sleep descended on his conscious mind and the beating thump was no more.

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DREAMTIME

Posted on Sep 27, 2016 by John Yeo | 2 Comments

Image©John and Margaret

A prompt response for ~ Inspiration Monday: FUTURE VETERAN

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DREAMTIME

by John Yeo

Whenever I went to the village store on errands. Old Moses would always be there, sitting on his customary chair, delighting one and all with tales of the old days before the coming of the strangers from over the water. Tales of tribal practices and survival of the fittest in these vast, arid, dry lands. My all-time favourite stories would involve the running fights between his people and the heavily armed, over-laden, in-comers, as they traipsed through the bush, carving up the tribal lands into sections for themselves. Moses and his family were pushed further and further inland to take up residence in the harsh deserted hot dry interior of this huge land.

The storekeeper, who was of mixed heritage, being the product of a union between a native woman and one of the incomers, would continually refill Moses’s glass with an endless supply of grog to encourage him and to loosen his tongue. Meanwhile the stores customers would sit in a circle on various upturned crates and other unconventional seating and listen avidly to tales of a wondrous life before the incomers arrived.

Moses, tugged on his long matted hair and began to relay his latest tale. “One fateful day.” he began, “I was just a youth sitting around the bush campfire with the rest of my family, when there was a crashing and crunching of brush underfoot and a whole group of strangely attired newcomers appeared, brandishing some of their weaponry. Using sign language they roughly demanded food and water. The women of the tribe proceeded to fill some leaves with food and the strangers began to greedily eat the concoctions that were placed in front of them. Unknown to them we had eaten some bush tucker earlier and maggots were on the menu.
The strangers were directed towards the river bank to collect water from the river where they sat on a long log. I will never forget that day! The log came to life, and a huge alligator dragged one of them into the swamp, never to be seen again. They fired again and again into the water, emptying their weapons; we quickly overpowered the incomers then and left them by the river. I am old now, a veteran of many close shaves and wars. You and your children are the peaceful future of this wonderful land. Future veterans of your own lives and experiences.”

“Moses have another cup of grog,” said the storekeeper bustling out of the door with a heap of supplies for some people in a truck that had pulled up.
Moses nodded his thanks and swallowed down the dregs of his first cup, handing his empty stained mug over to a young man, who helped around the store.

“Moses,” I said interestedly, “You mentioned you were a veteran of your own experience and we are the future veterans. Where are the veterans of the past? “

“Gone to the Dreamtime to be with many generations of once future, now long gone veterans.”

I was forced to think about this.

MISSISSIPPI MYSTERY

Posted on Jul 31, 2016 by John Yeo | Leave a comment

A Prompt Response for Flasher Friday

This is my response to a prompt from Our Write Side to their Friday Flasher prompt. A short story in no more than 500 Words using four elements

Place: on a boat
Character: a US Senator
Object: a 60% off coupon
Smell: roasted peanuts

American Queen Steamboat

Image courtesy of American Queen Steamboat Company, New Orleans

MISSISSIPPI MYSTERY

by John Yeo

Let me introduce you to Captain Hiram Henburger, a tolerant well liked man, Master of SS Maybelline, a steamboat that carries wealthy passengers on luxurious cruises up and down the Mississippi River.

Captain Henburger has a wealth of experience of cruising the Mississippi River, there is nothing he doesn’t know about these impressive boats that are authentic models of craft that have sailed this historic river for years.

Today was day one of a 23-day cruise from Minneapolis (Red Wing) to New Orleans, the Master of the vessel was on the bridge as one of his senior officers welcomed each and every passenger aboard. A young couple boarded the vessel, waved off by several family members.

“Welcome aboard Sir, I seem to recognise you from your pictures in the news. Of course, you are Senator Planter; I’m pleased to meet you. The Captain sends his apologies, he has an urgent matter to deal with and asks if you would care to join him in the wardroom in an hour.”

“Of course, my wife Betsy here is dying to meet the Captain, aren’t you darling. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

Betsy nodded, smiling as the young officer replied, “I’m Staff Captain Stephen Danvers, Sir. Just follow the crew member here and he will show you to your cabin.”

Exactly an hour later the Captain and Senator Planter with Mrs. Planter were enjoying afternoon refreshments in the wardroom as the steamboat sailed along through the impressive scenery on either side of the Mississippi River.

Surprisingly the Senator revealed he was the fortunate recipient of a 60% off coupon, that had arrived through the post to one of his family. The Captain smiled affably and said, “There are some reasonable cabins in the economy section, I expect you managed to get an upgrade, though.”

“No! The ship is full with no upgrades available.”

“Oh dear,” said the Captain; “We will see you enjoy your voyage, Senator.”

Mrs. Planter was concerned that her dietary information had been received by the catering department. “Under no circumstances must I ever eat nuts, as I have a strong nut allergy that could be dangerous.”

The Captain assured her that he would make the Restaurant and the Catering department aware of this at once. “I will personally inform the Maitre D, and the Head Chef,” he assured her. “Have a wonderful voyage!”

The next morning at dawn the ship’s alarm bells were sounded as the ship was boarded by uniformed police. Mrs. Planter had been found dead in her cabin and the Senator was helping police with their enquiries. The cabin steward who found her body had noticed a strong smell of roasted peanuts. The Senator had been stopped from jumping overboard in an intoxicated condition. The ship’s medical officer suspects Mrs. Planter has suffered an anaphylactic shock due to an extreme reaction to roasted peanuts.

There will be a postmortem.

(485 WORDS)

Friday Flasher

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ROUGH DIAMOND

Posted on Jul 25, 2016 by John Yeo | 1 Comment

A Prompt Response for Flasher Friday

This is my response to a prompt from Our Write Side to their Friday Flasher prompt. A short story in no more than 500 Words using four elements

Place: Paris, France
Character: a coal miner
Object: red and blue markers
Smell: baby powder

Follow this link To comment: Join in and have fun

http://ourwriteside.com/category/prompts/friday-fiction/

ROUGH DIAMOND

by John Yeo

After their parents had died in an automobile accident, the family home was sold, leaving Jean-Pierre and his brother, Francois, homeless.

Both coal miners, they had worked together since leaving school. They shared digs together; Jean-Pierre the elder of the two brothers was in love with Marie, the landlady’s daughter. They planned to get married when they had saved enough money.

The brothers worked in the same pit in Noeux, Northern France. One busy shift, the Foreman, a nasty piece of garbage, who answered to the name of Schotter, had been particularly rough on both brothers, sending them to work the coal face in the most dangerous area of the mine. Jean-Pierre suspected he was also in love with Marie, and bitterly seeking revenge for her spurning him, and his advances.

That memorable day when Jean-Pierre struck the rugged coal face, an unusual round stone came tumbling down between his feet.

“What do you make of this Francois?” Jean-Paul asked his brother. Francois gasped when he saw the stone.

At that precise moment, there was a low rumble that became a slide and the roof collapsed trapping both brothers. Almost buried alive Jean-Pierre was dragged out with two broken legs, no one noticed the egg-shaped stone he clutched tightly in his hand. Francois died, buried alive in the tunnel.

There was an internal investigation, a manager questioned everyone and made copious notes and drawings on a whiteboard using red and blue markers. The conclusion was that Schotter had been negligent by ordering the brothers to work in an unsafe area. He was arrested and jailed for manslaughter.

It took a while to work out what he had found in the depths of the coal mine. Jean-Pierre always carried the rough stone in a pouch.

He made a slow recovery from his injuries, but he was forced to walk with a limp, and forget about his life as a miner. Marie stood by him when they decided to get married and move to Paris. Marie-Celeste was born, and their rented apartment was soon filled with, the gurgles of a newborn baby together with wondrous smells, of baby powder everywhere.

“Marie, we are soon going to move to a new house here in Paris. I have a very valuable item that I have been working on, a lucky relic from my days as a miner.”

After a famous pink diamond was sold on the open market in Paris, for millions. It was a mystery buyer who purchased the diamond from a mystery seller, both sides of the transaction were handled by agents.

Jean Pierre and Marie lived in comfort, financially sound for the rest of their lives.

It was Marie’s idea to visit the old mine, the scene of Francois sad death.

When they came to the site, Jean-Pierre the miner stopped, stunned. Two French Swans were swimming on a lake where the overgrown mine shaft was. Swimming over coals that contained the last remains of his brother.

(496 WORDS)

Friday Flasher

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PAIN THIEF

Posted on Jun 1, 2016 by John Yeo | Leave a comment

A Prompt Response for Inspiration Monday

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Image © Copyright John and Margaret

A Prompt response for Inspiration Monday

PAIN THIEF

by John Yeo

It came upon Old Fred slowly, without any warning, just a gradual seepage of the atrocious, mind blowing pain he had learned to live with all his life. Fred was disturbed about this development,

He looked down at his gnarled bent fingers and hands, ‘No change’ he thought. ‘I don’t like this, ‘I’m usually suffering sharp pains at this time of day. I think I’ll have to see the Doctor. These new drugs he has prescribed are actually making a difference.

The next day, found Fred in the Doctor’s surgery waiting room, sitting next to a smartly dressed lady who couldn’t stop coughing all over the place.

‘Hmm’ thought Fred, ‘I hope I don’t catch anything nasty whilst I am sitting here!’

Fred turned to the lady, smiled, and said; “Can I offer you one of my special large soft tissues?”

“Oh! Thanks so much, I have just run out.” She replied, returning Fred’s smile,

Then she suddenly began moving and walking as if she had cramp in her legs.

“Are you alright?” Asked Fred in a concerned voice.

“Yes thanks! Ouch! I seem to have been struck with very sharp pains in my legs.” She replied.

‘That’s odd,” thought Fred, ‘my pains have virtually left me now.’

Fred’s name was the next to be flashed up on the screen and he walked straight in to see the Doctor. He suddenly realised he had left his stick behind, Fred had never walked without a stick for years.

“Hallo Mr Jones, how can I help you? Oh dear, excuse me, I have a terrible pain in my arm. Sorry Mr Jones. What seems to be the trouble.”

“Well Doctor, as you know, from my records I have suffered pain all my life! I have learned to live with it. Now it seems to be going fast, I miss the feelings of agony as the pain shoots through me.

Are you alright Doctor? I thought I recognised the effects of a spasm in you just now! Anyway, I think I am a victim of pain theft, your tablets have stolen a part of my life away.”

“Yes! I’m fine now thanks. I can’t imagine where that pain came from. Let me get this straight, Mr Jones, you are here because you no longer have your pains. I find that unusual behaviour, I can’t help you get the pains back, I’m afraid. I am going to make an appointment for you to…

Ouch! There’s, that strange pain again!…Sorry Mr Jones I want you to see our Practice Nurse, she is a pain specialist, who will assess your pain Then, if you think you are the victim of a pain thief, I will make an appointment for you to see a Psychologist. Ow! That was painful! I will just ring for the Nurse to take a look at you straight away.”

Nurse Joseph’s knocked on the door and bustled into the consulting room.

“Ouch! Would you take a look at Mr Jones, for me please and assess his pain levels?”

“Certainly Doctor. Oh my God!” She exclaimed, rubbing her shoulder vigorously. “Come this way Mr Jones, Ouch! Excuse me, I have sudden shooting pains in my arms and shoulders.”

They left the Doctor’s consulting room together.

The Doctor suddenly drew an astonishing unbelievable conclusion. In all his career he had never encountered anything quite like what he was considering. His previous patient had come in with a severe cold, and suddenly developed painful legs. He had never had spasms of pain in his life before today, then Nurse Joseph’s mysterious pains began as soon as she entered his office.

Sometime later the Doctor called in a Neurologist and after confiding his astonishing suspicions to the Neurologist, he ordered Mr Jones to be placed in an isolation ward with barrier nursing.

The irate Mr Jones asked for the Police to be called to investigate the mysterious theft of his pain.

A Psychologist arrived and was soon doubled up in severe pain, when he was introduced to Mr Jones.

That settled the diagnosis of Infectious Pain Syndrome.

Fred was placed in an isolation unit, where he sadly died three days later, having decided everyone he had come into contact with, was a pain thief, making his life nothing but a miserable pain-free existence.

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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.

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.

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”
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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

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JOHN PLUMMER ~ A WORKHOUSE TALE

Posted on Feb 27, 2016 by John Yeo | 8 Comments

This is one of the stories I put together on a Creative Writing Day at Gressenhall Farm and Workhouse in Norfolk.

OBJECTS AND INMATES

I concentrated on JOHN PLUMMER, Writing from this brief introduction.

“John Plummer decided he wanted to. Become a tramp when he turned 16 in 1938. The Guardians didn’t want John to do this as he would be dependant on the workhouse system. This would cost taxpayers’ money. They found John a job but he ran away. He was brought back to the workhouse and sent to Wallingford Farm Training School.”

JOHN PLUMMER ~ THE INHALER

by John Yeo

I have been forcibly returned here to take part in a training course at Wallingford Farm Training School.

I was on the road for a while before they caught up with me, at least I will be working in the open air. I couldn’t stand working in that bloody factory any more! I ran away. I have developed this chesty cough now and I have to regularly attend the sickbay. The nurse says I have to use this strange china thing whenever I get clogged up with mucus. Apparently it is filled with hot water and I breathe it in before I go to bed at night or in the morning, before I go to work. I slept rough for the time I was on the road and the Matron thinks that is where I became ill, from the damp and cold. I spoke to the Doctor when he visited last.

“What happened to me?” I asked.

“You are a victim of your own stupidity.” Replied the Doctor.

“Me stupid? Never. At least I got free from the chemicals that were swirling around that factory.”

“You will have to continue to use the inhaler morning and night in future. The fresh air working on the farm will do you good. I will see you again in a month.”

I like working outside but I do have this chesty cough that keeps me awake at night, I have to take the inhaler to bed now. The man in the next bed didn’t wake up today. They took him away and he disappeared. I think he died of TB, someone said it is a curse of the age.

It is my birthday next week. I will be seventeen.

PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ NEW PERSPECTIVES

Posted on Jan 11, 2016 by John Yeo | 1 Comment

This is a latest Picture it and Write prompt from Emilia’s blog ~10th January 2016

Picture it & Write

Belle and Fleur

As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia

NEW PERSPECTIVES

by John Yeo

Fleur and her sister Belle were both clever and pretty, always standing out from the rough and ready tough flowers that surrounded them in the garden. They were not really sisters however, although they were always together, always supporting each other from the outside unruliness that surrounded them. They lived in an unreal protected environment, built up over many months into a smooth comfortable fertile border.

One day they were picked out from the mass of relentless, thrusting weather-beaten flowers, and placed in an impressive vase by the lady of the house. Water was provided, plant food was drip-fed into the vase, leaving nothing for our pretty captives to strive for.

These were no ordinary flowers, and the pressure of this unreal existence began to build inside their stamens, and the energy began to boil up the water. Then one fateful day the stress cracked the vase and water gushed out from the shards of the broken vase, taking the life forces of Belle and Fleur into a new environment leaving the husks of their previous existence behind to be cleared away with the rubbish.

The lady of the house blamed the cat.

Belle and Fleur mingled with the water to be re-circulated into the environment in their new existence.

If two well balanced young people were picked to be removed from the rough and tumble of life, into a stress-free environment. The chances are they would break down the walls of the cushioned life and develop their existence with different characteristics.

	John Yeo on Spring Flowers
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