Sunday Photo Fiction – The Language of the Birds

February 3, 2016 / Penny L Howe / 11 Comments

This week’s Sunday Photo Fiction challenge is a sweet photo of a mother and her ducklings (Thanks Al), my offering follows. For more information about either participating or reading other writers entries click here.

photo copyright Alastair Forbes, 2016

The Language of the Birds

As I walk along the water, mind in a meditative state, I feel most peaceful viewing the sweet scenic image of a mother duck keeping cautious eye on her brood of ducklings paddling nearby in the fresh water pond. Colorful array of small fish and pebbles just beneath the shallow rippling waters create a pleasant visual sensation of harmony and tranquility, life and renewal.

I admit to being moved by this comforting view of reality, even with the realization of knowing that we all live in a consciousness hologram, set in linear time for the experience and subsequent recording of related emotions. Such is the nature of the great human ‘bio-genetic Earth experiment’ of which I was, until recently an unknowing participant.

Of course now that I am aware, the worldwide pattern recognition reoccurring in all areas of life seem obvious to me. Layers of past, present and future (“the all-time” as I like to think of it) linking together as one. I hope my human experiences are therefore not compromised (as a result of this knowledge) in my memory banks.

However I find it most synchronous, even intriguing to be strolling past this pastoral scene of life and birds, whilst also finding myself in the middle of deciphering a mystical and mysterious book “The Language of the Birds”. An ancient manuscript purported to be about our true human beginnings, mailed to me by an anonymous source. Clearly the language the ducks are speaking here is not of what the book is referencing … but then again, perhaps …

***

Thanks for stopping by, hoping the remainder of your week is a positive and creative one.

With affection,

~ Penny

A Warmth Against Her Skin – Sunday Photo Fiction

January 26, 2016January 26, 2016 / Penny L Howe / 10 Comments

Hi Al and thank you for providing this wonderful weekly writers challenge (200 words or less) based on a photo. I love your city photo below, beautiful! For more information on how to enter Sunday Photo Fiction’s writers challenge (or to sample the other authors creative work) click here

My offering follows:

Photo Credit and copyright Alastair Forbes 2016

A Warmth Against Her Skin

Walking briskly along the street, she listened to early morning sounds of the waking city. Although warmly dressed, chilly air still managed to permeate the several layers of thick winter clothing. She hugged herself feeling an intense need for warmth against her skin.

Continuing her morning walk, she passed street vendors, inhaling the enticing aromas of breakfast fare being served to waiting customers. Recognizing her, a few vendors waved hello, welcoming smiles spread upon their friendly faces.

“Nancy,” one of the vendors called, volume of his voice raised so she’d be sure to hear him. “How about a hot cup of coffee and pastry to warm you up this morning? And say …” he added, noticing she was alone, “where’s your walking companion today?”

She shook her head, smiling a sad little smile back, hugging herself even more fiercely against the cold.

“I’m solo now,” She responded, an involuntary shiver to her movements, realization finally setting in that it wasn’t warmth against her skin that was missing, it was a warmth so desperately needed to stop the cold dark emptiness pouring out of her broken heart.

Thank you for stopping by, I hope your week is a great one filled to overflowing with warmth – in both your heart and your life!

♡

With much affection,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction – A Beaker of Magic Passion!

January 3, 2016 / Penny L Howe / 26 Comments

Too too long since I have written flash fiction for Al’s wonderful Sunday Photo Fiction, click here for more information on how to enter your own short short story based on the photo (around 200 words) or to read some of the other delightful entries. Thanks Al.

To me the object in the photo looked like a beaker, the lights at the bottom a little bit like magic, so I wrote accordingly:

A Beaker of Magic Passion

“As you can see,” she whispered seductively, “I hold in my hand a beaker of passionate magic. It is up to you to decide what’s to be done with it.”

He scoffed. “More likely a beaker filled with your overactive imagination.”

“Perhaps, as you say, it is a beaker of imagination. Yet I have found imagination to be closely related to the nature of passions in one’s life!” She responded with a sweet smile.

“You speak nonsense.” He said.

The smile remained on her face although there was a strained quality to it. “It is nonsense only in this reality that you currently endorse as your life. But there are many realities and in mine, the beaker I have is filled with passionate magic. What do you wish me to do with it?”

His caustic laughter most unpleasant and dismissive with intent. “Do with it as you wish, my love. As you wish. I care not for your silliness. I shall go about my day doing precisely as I desire – without need for any mythological magic.”

Removing the stopper from it’s container, her smile became sad as she spoke. “I will do as you have requested. I wish for my own passionate love of you to be transferred to someone who loves and respects me believing that all things are possible if you believe they are.”

A moment later she vanished. He never saw her again, but over the years in his loneliness he often thought he could hear her gentle happy laughter echoing in the reality of the empty chambers of his heart.

But of course he knew it was only his imagination!

Thanks for stopping by, hope you enjoyed. Have an excellent new week ahead.

With affection,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction – Maze of corridors or it’s all about directions!

December 19, 2014 / Penny L Howe / 15 Comments

photograph © Alastair Forbes

View of one of the outbuildings from the roof of Dover Castle

It’s not that I don’t read directions when I receive them (okay I don’t, at least not very well) but who knew a castle could have so many corridors. Well actually I did, still, I have a map and directions too, but I figured I could just follow the map. Looked simply enough. Right turn here, left turn there and so on until I should have ended up in the dining room.

It was nice to be invited for the festive holiday weekend, but between the cold drafty bedroom, poorly lit hallways, well let’s just say I’d be glad when it was time to go.

Now it appeared, instead of freezing, I’d starve to death before finding my way to the dining room.

Finally I looked at the directions again squinting in the poor light to make out the clearly printed words at the bottom of the sheet of paper.

What I found there, that I should have read in the beginning said, “When you think you’ve gotten enough exercise, use your cell phone and call this number. We’ll come and get you for dinner.”

Proving the point you should read ALL the directions first!

For more information about Sunday Photo Fiction and how you can enter click here for the details. your very talented host, Alastair, will guide you through the steps. And, while there, be sure to click on the little blue guy for more short stories by some great writers!

Thanks for stopping by, hope you enjoyed,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction – There’s A Dragon on my Bedpost!

December 8, 2014December 11, 2014 / Penny L Howe / 24 Comments

Photo Prompt for This weeks Writer’s Challenge:

photograph © Alastair Forbes

My Entry:

Dragon On My Bed Post

Briefly opening my eyes, I rolled over on my side and considered staying in bed longer. After all it was Sunday. Dozing off, I heard a loud cough and a caustic voice which had me reopening my eyes and sitting up in bed with pounding heart.

“Would you mind, terribly, waking up, I’m getting bored sitting here.” The creature attached to the voice said.

There at the foot of my bed, sitting atop one of the bedposts was a miniature dragon, a surly look on his face.

I stared, rubbed my eyes and stared again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m real.” He responded to my obvious expression of disbelief.

“Um, you’re a dragon.” I said incredulously.

“He speaks and has some intelligence,” was the dragons reply.

“Wh … what are you doing here … are you real?” I asked.

“Hmm, I spoke too soon,” the dragon added. “Yes I-am-real, you’re talking to me aren’t you? And I’m here doing penance for something I shouldn’t have done, so I have to stay with a human for twenty four hours. My punishment.”

“Staying with me is a punishment?” I asked.

“You have no idea,” he said. A great deal of derision in his voice.

“Why me?” I asked.

“Why not?” He answered with a smirk.

“Why Earth, then?” I said, continuing to ask what I thought were fair questions upon finding a dragon in your bedroom.

“Because this is the worst place the Committee for Criminal Offenses could come up with on short notice.”

“Earth the worst place, ah, come on now,” I said, preparing to defend my home planet.

“Gee let me see …” He held up one of his claws and ticked off each point he made. “Well, you not only kill each other out of hatred and greed, but you consume far more than you should and are systematically killing off other life forms on your planet and…”

“Okay, okay,” I sighed. “You’ve made you’re point.” Changing the subject I said, “So you have to stay here for 24 hours?”

“Yeah, 24 lousy hours. Say you don’t happen to have a cigarette on you … well not on you but… do you smoke?” He asked, looking hopefully around the room.

“No, you can get lung cancer from smoking,” I answered.

“Dragons can’t.”

“Oh okay, and no I don’t have any cigarettes. So why are you in trouble?”

“For smoking.” He replied.

“That’s a criminal offense?” I said.

“Yeah, just one cig. and my fire breathing capabilities go out the window. I become useless in the defense of my lair, not enough flame left to even light a cigarette.”

“Well I can see where that would be bad. So do you have a name?” I asked.

“Yes, yes I have a name. You have a name don’t you? Of course I have a name!” He was back to being rude and surly again.

“I’m called Puff, I’m Puff the magic dragon and don’t say a word about that stupid song. I’m still living that one down … frolicking? FROLICKING? Dragons don’t friggin’ frolick.”

He let out an irritated sound with a blast of steam and said, “The next time I sneak a smoke …” He paused but I could see he was really worked up so I kept my silence as he finished with …“I’ll make gosh darn sure no one can see me. Oh, just go back to sleep.”

“Earthlings!” He muttered, sticking his head under his wing, steam seeping out.

For more information about Sunday Photo Fiction and how you can enter click here for the details. Alastair, the host with the most will take you through the steps. And, while there, be sure to click on the little blue guy for more short stories by some great writers!

Thanks for stopping by, hope you enjoyed,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction: Troubled Waters Bridge!

November 30, 2014 / Penny L Howe / 25 Comments

photograph © Alastair Forbes

Photo prompt of a bridge going over a small river:

Not my usual gig.

I’m a detective. Wat (pronounced watt, short for ‘Waters’) Allen Bridge, my name. ‘Wat’ a nickname I got as a kid who loved being in the water more than anything else.

Anyway, I would have turned this gig or job down, except the money was too good, I was down to my last sawbuck and then there were the usual enticements; gorgeous sexy broad in fear for her life, hidden stash of cash, mob involvement … yada yada yada.

Like I said, all the usual we P.I.’s get our kicks out of … with one exception. The fish bowl.

Lily, that’s the broad’s name, came in carrying a fish bowl with obligatory goldfish, mermaid, fake sea grass and a closed miniature treasure chest sitting on some gravel inside. The water swishing along with the dame as she walked over and set the bowl on my desk.

‘What’s with the fish bowl, doll?” I asked.

She explained. According to his will, inside the closed treasure chest were a portion of the remains of her deceased husband. Not missing a trick I said, “Yeah if his remains are in there, he’s definitely deceased!” She wasn’t amused. She told me that inside the remains, inside the treasure chest was a key. A key to the location of a million dollars.

The problem was she couldn’t bring herself to open the miniature chest and dig through her husband’s remains to get the key. Which I could understand being a sensitive guy, but a million smackers is still a million smackers and for what I was being paid, no prob. I could get my fingers wet and open the sucker… or so I thought.

But the more I thought about it, well it kinda’ started to bother me too. Putting my fingers inside his remains just seemed, well, weird.

So here we sit staring at the fishbowl. I am troubled.

Hope I made you smile, at least a little bit!

For more information about Sunday Photo Fiction click here for the details. Alastair will be your capable and caring guide. And, while there, be sure to click on the little blue guy for more short stories by some great writers!

Thanks for stopping by, have a great Sunday and week ahead,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction – A Scary World Out There (in your head)!

November 23, 2014November 23, 2014 / Penny L Howe / 12 Comments

photograph © Alastair Forbes

Trapped in A Vortex of Negativity

“Hey, I tell you it’s a scary world out there.” Jerry said.

“I think it’s all in your head.” His best friend replied. The two were sitting in the warm den near the fireplace, mugs of coffee in their hands.

Paul waved toward the window. “Just look outside into the forest. It’s frightening. Weird sounds and I’ve heard people are going missing. Bad things are happening everywhere.”

“You’ve heard, yes. but has anyone actually been lost in our forest?” Paul held his fearful friend’s gaze with his own level one, waiting for the response and then he motioned to the window and the beautiful forest scene unfolding outside. “The sun is coming up, it’s going to be another great day. Enjoy the day Jerry, enough with this negative crap, already. There are always bad things going on somewhere, but no more so than at any time in history, maybe less.”

“Yes but they say…” As Jerry stopped for another drink of his coffee Paul interrupted him.

“They say, they say … it’s all in their heads too. You know what Jerry, I’m sick of all this.” He stood up banging his cup down on the table. “You all need to come to your senses. I’m going home.”

Jerry watched as his friend headed for the door calling out to him “It’s dangerous out there Paul, would you like me to walk with you to your house?”

Paul snorted, shaking his head sadly as he looked back at his friend before heading to the doorway, derisively adding “Jerry, I just live next door.”

Paul could be heard to mutter to himself as he slowly opened and then closed the door behind him. “An emotional epidemic, that’s what this is and it’s contagious, everyone thinking, saying and writing all these negative things. When will they see it’s all in their heads. Thoughts are things and they’ve created this condition with their thoughts. They’re trapping themselves in a vortex of negativity.”

***

For more information about Sunday Photo Fiction where the photograph is the prompt to your imagination, click here for the details. Alastair will be your guide. And, while there, be sure to click on the little blue guy for more short stories by some great writers!

Thanks for stopping by, have a great Sunday and week to come,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction: Formation of stars – fantasy style

November 16, 2014 / Penny L Howe / 16 Comments

He gazed at the formation of icicles. The first two stars were shaping up nicely but the third one, he was having some problems with that one. Well great! This meant another trip. Another one of those long and lengthy and wearisome trips. Sighing, he grumbled, Ah well, best be on my way.

Retreating back inside his remote mountainside cabin, he grabbed a few essentials, placing them carefully into his knapsack, all the while figuring in his head how long the trip would be and what to take. He thrust ancient arms into a thick overcoat, hung his loaded knapsack over his shoulder and then pulled on heavily padded gloves. He was ready for his trek down the mountain.

Another sigh as he started on his way. Just a few feet from the cabin a soft whine to his left stopped him in his tracks. He smiled, turning towards the sound. “Hey Prince, my friend, in my hurry I almost forgot you fella.” The wolf smiled, a wolfish type of grin on his dark muzzle and trotted up beside him.

“You up for a trip?” The wolf cocked his head and stared directly back at him.

“Yeah, me neither, best get this over with though. I need that third star. You know what time of the year it is?” As if in agreement the wolf headed off down the mountain.

The two made good time together, stopping only for quick bites of dried food and brief resting spells before moving on. At last they came to the city.

The wolf left him just at the edge of the forest clearing. He continued on into the city. It was night time so fewer people to notice the stranger, but around him an extra shroud of darkness, assuring no one did. Making his way to the outside of a high-rise apartment building, in a very run down section of the city, he climbed the fire escape until reaching the forth floor. Peering inside the dirty cracked window he saw a mother singing a lullaby to a small child. He waited patiently for her to finish.

When her song was over she kissed the sleeping child gently and closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer that all would be well. The essence of her pure and loving thoughts made its way across the room, passing through the window crack and into the small container he held carefully in his hands. Once the vapor was inside, he stoppered the bottle, placed it back inside his rucksack, and then climbed down the stairs, walked through the city and out into the forest where the wolf waited. The wolf looked expectantly at him.

“Yes,” I’ve got it.” He said to the wolf. “So easy to find. Just follow the trail of goodness and honest caring.” They made their trip home and upon arrival he carried the vessel, filled with the essence of love, over to the icicles.

As he poured the vapor over the third icicle, the ends of the icicle formed into a third star. “Yup that oughta do it.” He said to the wolf. “They’ll be up in the sky in no time, glowing brightly.”

“With so much open space in the heavens …” he said later that evening to his friend the wolf, as they sat gazing up at the star lit sky in contemplation of life, “… it’s a good thing love is still to be had. I don’t know how we’d make our new stars without it.”

Yes, another longer short story (that sounds silly doesn’t it). Hope a few of you enjoyed, however! Sorry it isn’t scary, or horrifying or sad, or depressing or in any other way negative. I figure real life seems to have a pretty good lock on that one right now, for many, so I went to a different place.

If you’d like to try your hand at writing a story for Sunday Photo Fiction where the photograph is the prompt for your imagination, click here for the details. Alastair will guide you along your way. And, while there, be sure to click on the little blue guy for more short stories by some great writers!

Have a great week ahead,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction – Leave the Light Off.

November 9, 2014 / Penny L Howe / 22 Comments

In folklore, telling someone you’d leave the light on for them was a friendly way of saying you looked forward to their visit. But that was in another time, another place and as far as John was concerned a completely other existence from his current one.

Hiding out in the decrepit old mansion he was pleased there was no electricity. He looked forward to the safety of darkness soon to envelop the estate with the coming night. He felt safer in the dark.

Which was rather amusing in light of things, he thought, giving out a harsh bark of laughter. And then repeating to himself, “In light of things. Too funny, I made a pun.” No pleasure in his laughter, though.

It was a truthful pun. As a child he’d been deathly afraid of the dark and always had a night light on to feel okay before he’d sleep.

Now, a light on meant someone would know he was here. He glanced up at the silently mocking chandelier. Life did work in mysterious ways. He sighed a weary sigh, and settled in to wait for the safety of the lightless night.

***

To take part in this writer’s challenge, just check in here at Sunday Photo Fiction Your host, Alastair, will guide you through the process. To read other entries (fun and well written), click on the little blue link box, while there.

Hope your enjoyed, thanks for stopping by,

With a little bit of whimsy relating to light, does anyone remember where the following humorous phrase originated from: “Put the candle BACK!” (I just love this movie by the way, tons and tons!)

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction – The Mysterious Map!

November 2, 2014 / Penny L Howe / 20 Comments

This week’s Sunday Photo Fiction (photo prompt) challenge. More information and details below!

Rushing waters have a melodious sound. Often, depending on the intensity, you begin to hear it at a distance. There is a soothing naturalness about it. Of course, as preoccupied as I was I didn’t waste any creative thinking regarding the sound of the water; I was just glad I could hear it.

Nearing the end of my quest. Finally. The last clue on the confusing map my friend, now deceased, had scrawled with her remaining strength before she died.

There should be a large odd shaped rock near the cascading water. There it was. Brushing aside wet shrubs and tall grass, I made my way to the rock. What would I find? What had been so important she left me a map to find it. A treasure map? A clue to her killer? I myself had no clues as to what any of this was about. But I was determined to find out.

As I neared the misshapen rock I could see a bit of an overhang towards the backside. It was necessary to get on my knees and scramble behind. The dirt was softer here, as if recently moved. I began digging with my hands, hoping what I was searching for wouldn’t be hidden too deeply. My fingers hit something solid. I brushed the remaining surface dirt from a small container and pulled it out of the ground. Holding the metal box in one hand I carefully removed the lid and stared in total disbelief at the contents. No one was going to believe this. It was …

(Oops too many words for flash fiction, I’d better stop writing now!) If you think you know, leave me a comment telling me what she found in the metal box! Something truly mysterious and exciting of course!

All of you who would like to take part in this writer’s challenge, just check in here at Sunday Photo Fiction Sir Alastair, the Intrepid, will be your guide. To read the other entries, click on the little blue link box, while there.

Hope you enjoyed,

~ Penny