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Mysterious Island (5)

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I am taking part in Mondays Finish the Story 05/01/2015, which is a challenge that provides a photo prompt and the opening sentence to your story. The rules indicate that the story you come up with must be between 100-150 words.

The link below takes you to Part Four

https://johnandmargaret1607.wordpress.com/2014/12/30/mysterious-island-4/

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Image supplied and credited by Monday’s finish the story.

MYSTERIOUS ISLAND (5)

by John Yeo

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Silently as the people watched, the black hawk helicopter lifted into the air
The detonation of a rocket laid waste to one of the outhouses. Under attack and in danger, Marg and the team were quickly whisked away through a door leading to a flight of stairs down to a concrete bunker in the basement. Ripples of shock visibly ran through everyone as they raced down the stairs through a maze of tunnels emerging an hour later in a farmhouse, about a mile away. Marg managed to hitch a ride to the airport where she was soon safely on a flight back to England.
Later, Marg heard the sad news, several members of the Don’s family had been killed in the surprise raid. The plans laid at the meeting were to be put into action as revenge for this insult was now a matter of urgency. Marg was expected to report to the mysterious Island for training. The Brigadier was hopping mad~

(149 words) ~ To be continued ~

The link below takes you to Part Four

Mysterious Island (4)

mondays-finish-the-story-2https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/01/05/mondays-finish-the-story-jan-5th-2015/

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

Death Chimes ~ Velvet Verbosity ~100 word challenge

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Velvet Verbosity is a 100 word challenge. Today’s word is CHIMES

http://www.velvetverbosity.com

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DEATH CHIMES

by John Yeo

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The family had heard the chimes, chiming for them six times.

Mary and her family lived in fear of the death chimes.

Many neighbours and friends were dying and it was very difficult to avoid leaving the house for food.

People were fleeing fast, moving away from the area, spreading the plague.

There were robbers, looters and killers, very few police were alive.

The biggest fear of everyone was to hear the bell on the death cart.

The bodies were piled high on the death cart as the loaded cart left for mass graves.

The bell may chime for thee!

(100 words)

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Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

HAPPY NEW YEAR

PICTURE IT AND WRITE~SINISTER SANATORIUM

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This is the latest Picture it and Write prompt from Ermilia’s blog.
https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2014/12/21/__picture-it-write-97/

Sinister Sanatorium

As always the image is provided and credited by Ermilia.

SINISTER SANATORIUM

by John Yeo

The year was 1903. We lived in the heart of the City of London. I was quite a prosperous businessman and my wife who had a nursing background followed her own interests. We lived comfortably and shared much together.

I had been struck down with a persistent cough for several weeks. When I started coughing up blood, the doctor made his diagnosis and recommended I stay in a sanatorium. We visited several institutions and finally selected a well recommended hospital on the windy Cornish coastline. Fresh air was thought to be an essential part of the treatment. The isolated imposing building was perched on a cliff with the raging boiling sea stretching out in the front and very large grounds at the rear. Consumption was rife all over the country and the sanatoriums were full of people taking the cure with rest, exercise and fresh air for recuperation. Sadly many people died of the illness and were buried in a private cemetery in the grounds.

One day a body was discovered in suspicious circumstances in the gardens. The police were loathe to call and investigate and as it was thought death was imminent due to the nature of the illness, the death was almost hushed up. The patient was a Lord Raven, a very wealthy man and his relatives were very keen to get answers. They called in a private investigator, Marg, a very astute tough lady sleuth, who after completing her enquiries decided it was undoubtedly an inside job. Some days later when Lord Raven’s will was read, it became clear that her suspicions were correct as he had left all of his substantial wealth to the directors of the sanatorium. The police arrested the entire board of directors, and after many enquiries it was discovered this was a much larger operation, and past patients had donated millions to these crooks before their deaths in the remote sanatorium. It became clear there was a mysterious Mr Big in control, who lived across the Atlantic in Colorado.

Lord Raven’s family hired Marg to investigate and the chase goes on ~~~

( to be continued)

 

Copyright ©  Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

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Picture it and write ~~ His Best Friend

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This is the latest Picture it and Write prompt from Ermilia’s blog.
https://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2014/12/14/picture-it-write-48/
As always the image is provided and credited by Ermilia

petals on a bench

HIS BEST FRIEND
by John Yeo

 He sat on a bench in the orchard, savouring the beauty of a magical spring. The blossom from the tree above drifted down on him as his thoughts drifted over the sad news that had hit him like a sledge-hammer. 
 He smiled inwardly as he contrasted the gentle brush of the falling petals on his skin with the thought of a brutal sledge-hammer. The news had been devastating, ripping through his mind and tearing his world apart. He knew life would never, could never, be the same again. Less than a year, the specialist had said, he could not suppress a tear, then he was suddenly sobbing uncontrollably. 
 Why? They had been inseparable, never seen apart, very good friends from day one. Then his trusty four-legged friend slowly hobbled towards him and gently placed his paws on his knees. Looking up at him with soulful eyes, he licked his masters hand as if to say: Good-bye is never really Good-bye. Suppressing the tears, he patted and smoothed his faithful friend’s fur, then stroked the old dogs head. The petals continued to fall, covering the bench and the ground below the seat as living tears.

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Friday fictioneers ~ Water wars

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Friday Fictioneers is a weekly blog link-up based on a photo prompt. The Challenge – write a one hundred word story inspired by the picture that has a beginning, middle, and end. (No one will be ostracized for going a few words over the count.) The Key – make every word count. Up to the challenge? Join in!

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Image provided and credited by Friday Fictioneers

WATER WARS 

by John Yeo  ©

The river became a stream when the water was diverted to the factory farm. The local smallholders were up in arms as the water supply began to dry up. War was declared on the rich family who owned the huge farm. When a massive explosion blew the dam to smithereens, a body was discovered floating face down among the detritus revealed by the low water and the residue of the explosion. When police were summoned by the farmer to investigate the crime, the farmer was arrested for constructing an illegal dam and causing death by negligence. Water wars began again. 

THE LEGACY

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This is the latest “Picture it and Write” prompt from Ermilia’s blog

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2014/10/26/__picture-it-write-93/

Ermilia's Tattooed Hand

As usual the image is supplied and credited by Ermilia

THE LEGACY
by John Yeo

I am a story that is still in the telling. I entered the family profession as a boy in India. My life as a mahout started very early, when I was assigned Dattiji, a very young elephant. My training began, and my elephant and I grew up together.
I used my hook and trained Dattiji to trust me alone, Dattiji used his natural friendliness and loyalty to train me. We became very close, I slept with my elephant ate my food with my elephant, we spent our lives together.
One night, I was awoken very early in the morning to frightening screams of agony from Dattiji. I then realised that Ganesh, the Indian god of elephants had arrived to take Dattiji to heaven. I was heartbroken at the loss of my elephant.
I designed an image of the eternal elephant spirit, decorated with a spiritual headdress.  A very good friend, a skilled artist, tattooed my creation on my hand. I now have a permanent memory to carry wherever I go, of my elephant friend Dattiji.
Many people ask me about this unusual design and I now take commissions to design and create unique works of art.
I could never go back to my first profession as a mahout, I know I will never find another friend like Dattiji.
Ermilia's Tattooed Hand
Copyright © Written by John Yeo, All rights reserved.

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PICTURE IT AND WRITE~ THE SEEDS OF RELEASE

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This is the latest Picture it and Write prompt from Ermilia’s blog.

__picture it & write


As always the image is provided and credited  by Ermilia

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Photograph by Steve Rosset titled ‘Nature’s Surprise’

The Seeds of Release

by John Yeo

 My very good friend Peter is a Botanist, we spent 5 years in college at the same time where we became very close friends. I studied Medicine and Natural Sciences. We were both keenly interested in Botany and the undiscovered plants hidden deep in the Brazilian rainforest. My father is an industrialist and decided to fund an expedition to allow Peter and I to follow our dreams, for a share of any profits.
 We arrived in Brazil, where we met a man named Luiz, who we took to, immediately. He was a native from the rainforest and he offered to be our guide and expedition leader, and help us get the expedition together. In the name of Science, we made the trip into the depths of the rainforest to search for medicinal plants.
 Luiz was an expert on the rainforest folk lore and we trekked for miles through the almost impenetrable jungle. We reached a distant village, that looked like a permanent camp-site, after many days of onerous travelling. We met with much danger on our travels and survived.
 As we approached the village a poisonous snake suddenly pounced from the trees above and bit one of our bearers in the face. The shaman from the tribe, was summoned, and quickly arrived and produced an unusual hairy pod full of shiny seeds, he quickly ordered the bearer to swallow one of the seeds. Following this the injured man lay very still. We were enthralled.
 “These are the seeds of despair”, he proffered the strange hairy pod open and full of round shiny seeds.
 “The seeds of despair, whenever the mind is sad or in a black abyss, these seeds will chase the illness away”.
 We were overcome with joy, here was a cure for depression. The black dog that affects so many people in the Western world.
 The wise old shaman then went on to say these wonderful seeds would cure the effects of memory loss and the slow deterioration of the old and aged people.
 We could not believe the implications of taking home a cure for Alzheimers disease.
The learned shaman then began to speak of another world where happiness reigns and sickness and death no longer matter.
These magical seeds bring instant transportation, and a very quick passage to heaven, where the cure is complete.

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Copyright © Written by John Yeo, All rights reserved.

Picture it and Write~THE FOLLY

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This is the latest “Picture it and Write” prompt from Ermilia’s blog

__picture it & write


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The Picture is provided and credited by Ermilia

THE FOLLY 
by John Yeo

Mrs Green was odd, she lived alone without any human companionship, just her canary and some goldfish.
The cottage that was her home was a very small cottage with a thatched roof. China ducks flew on the wall, visible through the front room window, behind an aspidistra plant on the window sill.
Mrs Green was very aged, some said she was in her nineties, nobody knew for sure, she always kept herself to herself. We had never seen any visitors to her home except for the doctor or a nurse if ever she was taken poorly, or tradesmen delivering milk, bread or groceries.
Then came the fire that suddenly erupted in the kitchen and burnt the cottage to the ground, Mrs Green, sadly was consumed in the flames and passed away.
The cottage stood derelict for some years until it was explored, with a view to building on the land. There was a brick-built folly in the garden, that looked crumbling and derelict, but somehow had remained intact over the years. When the door was broken down and entry gained a treasure trove of clues to the background and lifestyle of the eminent scientist and author, Felicity Green was revealed. There were many books lining the walls, and piled in heaps on the floor. Many hand-written books of scientific remedies for curing warts to a revolutionary new cure for some forms of cancer. There were notebooks full of her copper-plate handwriting and poetical works with pressed flowers.
On a very dusty ornate antique desk, littered with articles for her work and many dried herbs, lay a handwritten volume of the most beautiful poetry I have ever read.
We preserved her wonderful folly as a permanent memorial to Felicity Green. Many millions of pounds in revenue have been accumulated from her scientific discoveries, and her amazing poetical works will live forever alongside, William Shakespeare and many talented writers down through the ages.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo, All rights reserved

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First 50 Words~Birthday Cake

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A VERY SWEET WAY TO DIE

The funeral was a very solemn occasion. The Coroner had recorded, Death by Misadventure. Grandad had died on his 90th birthday, at his birthday party. The whole family were present when they wheeled in a huge iced birthday cake with 90 years old written on it in blue marzipan. Grandad’s face lit up as he quickly tasted a huge piece of icing. Suddenly he gasped and collapsed choking, then he lay very still.

Written by John Yeo ©

BE STRONG~A LIFE HAS GONE

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This is the latest Picture, from the picture it and write series from Ermilia’s blog

__picture it & write

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silent dying by laura makabresku on Flickr

BE STRONG~
By John Yeo

The peace of the moment.
Reflected in Stillness and Silence,
The shroud tries to conceal
The awful tragic truth.
A young life lived, so short,
So sweet and full of laughter.
The curse of the cancer that eats away,
The frailty of our human defences.

Many a care you faced in a life,
Shrugged away with the ease of youth.
You lived a life in an enquiring way,
Never realising the awful truth.
Many tears have now drowned the moment,
Your short life has sadly expired.
The cancer sapped your strong free will
Until the fight for life back-fired.

Now you lie here, at peace,
We all find it so hard to bear,
Our frailty shows in the tears we shed,
As we say goodbye with a prayer.
Life is a passage from here to somewhere,
A stage in the eternal journey.
A short sweet life has left today
Thanks for the life-long memory.

Copyright (c). Written by John Yeo. All rights reserved.