Author: Sisyphus47

Rift #writephoto

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Thursday photo prompt

 

cracked

 

“Once the ice was covering this ground, smooth, unchanging. Then the boulders were round still, and the humans nowhere to be seen. The world was young.”

You were reading my mind, but know better. You walked here, often, you and your tribe. Then there was no human eye to see you. Even now, I know you’re here, but only your voice reassures me that it is not a dream.

But I see you as you once were. Proud, agile, attuned to the ice, the rocks, the flying creatures in the air, the growing trees.

Now, you are waiting. The rift will pass, the ice will return. And we, unscrupulous hooligans, will go.

 

Insomnia #3TC

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Three Things Challenge: PL36

SFS_mile_high_lemon_meringue_pie-14-CROPPED

insomnia – meringue – basement

She knew what he liked, what he liked about her, his favourite drink, his taste for violence and meringue. She knew he would ask her to run a hot bath, prepare his Jack Dianel’s on rocks, attend to his needs in his insomnia.

Down, in the basement, she had hidden the short Tanaka, a present from Myriam, her everlasting love. Myriam the wise, Myriam her tender and strong lover.

She would have the bath ready, his whisky just so, the ice still melting. His hand would tease, feel, hit, caress. His bulk would lie in the very hot bath. She would massage his shoulders, serve the meringue. In her hands, silent, lethal, the Tanaka would slice his neck.

Then Myriam would arrive, and take care of everything. Myriam too knew what she liked.

Picture: Mile-High Lemon Meringue Pie

On the rocks #3TC

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Three Things Challenge: PL 30

 

Bing_Gleichdruckvergaser_1973

 

rocks, oregano, carburetor

She remembered the place well: the towers, the kids in the stairs, the smell of pizza and oregano he loved to bake in the kitchen.

In her dream she could see the glass of Jack Daniels, on the rocks, his favourite drink. And the day the kids stole the carburettor of his bike, parked down below, in the courtyard.

Those were the days.

Picture: Bing-Gleichdruckvergaser an einer BMW Strich-Fünf, ca. 1973. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license. Author: Johannes Maximilian

 

img_4078-19

Sign #writephoto

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Thursday photo prompt

 

sign

 

She read the legend under the picture: “the image shows a clouded sky beneath a full moon. There is a wordless sign showing only a pointed hat, of the kind often worn by wizards…”

How strange she thought, how and when had they managed to take this shot? The full moon was there alright, and the sign. But the clouds? There was none in this quiet corner of the Universe. She’d made sure of that. There was rain too, but, as visitors sometime said, it came from nowhere. She was proud of her work, the careful terraforming, the ever blue sky, the manicured landscapes, the small lakes… and, of course, the popular little village, with the delightful green, and the wizard cottage… The picture must have been doctored, edited as the saying went. Still, “they” hadn’t shown much respect, whoever “they” were.

Perhaps she should be more careful now when allowing those space transports to disgorge tourists on her planet. She should set rules, like “no editing of pictures!” Here there was no cloud, and the moon was always full. So she had ordained.

 

writephoto

Tranquil #writephoto

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Thursday photo prompt

tranquil

 

“What am I for you?”

I heard the question, almost a whisper, but I thought I was alone. I knew this corner of the lake well, a favourite for poets and lovers in the summer. I looked around, quietness and tranquillity, the surface of the water reflected the foliage…

“I know you heard me, don’t pretend!”

The voice was clear, a little high pitched, the voice, I imagined, of a mermaid, or perhaps of the Lorelei. But for sure that of a woman. It was getting warm, I fancied the coolness of the lake. I dropped my running shoes, shorts and top, no-one would object to nudity at this time in the morning. The sand was warm, the shallow water delicious on my skin. I knew there was a sharp decline and depth in front of me, hundred yards or so from the edge.

Once the water reached my shoulders I swam, it was a delight. I would get closer to the centre of the lake, then turn round. I had set out to run for another hour.

“I love to see you getting closer…”

Indeed this time the voice was close, I thought next to me. So sweet. I could almost see her, her reflection perhaps from an older dream?

“So, tell me now, what am I for you?”

I could not answer her question. The depth of the lake attracted me. I felt as one with the water, the light, her voice. So deep was the lake, so enticing her words…

Depleted #3TC

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Three Things Challenge: PL19

m1a1-wiki_c45-0-705-385_s885x516

 

uranium moss dancer

It was getting late. Slowly the officer laid the photo on the table. “Do you recognise what those are?” she asked me with a smile.

On the stage the one dancer started circling the pole. I looked down, and knew. “Hardened tank shells, probably depleted uranium. Fallujah?” I asked. She smiled again, “a little further West I suggest.”

“There is a say…” I replied: “Rolling stones don’t gather moss.”

“Thought not” she replied.

Image source: M1 Abrams battle tank, Wikimedia

Taco for breakfast #3TC

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Three Things Challenge: PL17

osma 002

Today’s prompt: kangaroo, light bulb, taco

It was one of these mornings! But don’t ask me why… The kitchen light bulb popped out, the crazy poster of the kangaroo seducing the dormouse fell on the floor… and she, who must be obeyed, got up in a foul mood…

Hence me, writing this nonsense, drinking beer, and avoiding low-flying bombers tacos!

 

Keepsake #3TC

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Three Things Challenge PL16

maxresdefault-2

Today’s prompt: filter, keepsake, salad

The apartment is so empty, the sky so low, the morning so quiet. Near the coffee machine, behind the filter box, I have hidden a keepsake of her presence, here, one summer night.

I look at that bit of silk, black, introvert, provocative. Tender was that night, and I made her such a lovely salad!

Winter is not over, still plenty of time to dream…

Image: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_wzBJE0rOk

 

Invitation #writephoto

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Thursday photo prompt

portal

 

Letter found at the gate, pinned on a mysterious (dead) body…

Dear Miss Marples, I wish to let you know of circumstances that, hopefully, may attract your attention. You should know first of all that I am the sole successor of a once extremely wealthy Yorkshire family. My ancestors were land owners, industrialists, sea captains, officers, and our roots go back, at least, to the War of the Roses. My parents died of a tragic accident at sea when I was still in infancy. I was educated by my aunt, the last owner of the family manor called “The Invitation”. Indeed the property was the last asset left in the family after a succession of poor investments. After my aunt’s departure from this world, a few decades back, The Invitation  was left closed and unoccupied for some time, and I was recently astonished to receive a letter from a very old notary in Skipton, asking me to contact him for a matter of extreme importance related to the said property.

It turned out that some unknown and apparently extremely rich foreigner had enquired about the property owners, and wished to make an offer for it. To tell you the truth I never considered the property of being of particular interest to me personally, as my business is mainly conducted overseas, and I have only rare opportunities to visit the beautiful county. Still the notary insisted in letting me know the particulars of the query, since I was, am, the only inheritor of the family’s once great fortune. To be precise, and according to the notary, The Invitation’s value is probably close to ten million Sterling, due to the extent of the land adjacent to the manor, and, I was told, the surprisingly  good conditions of the manor itself. And here is a mystery. The notary told me that the opening offer from the rich foreigner, was about ten times as much, which for him did  not make sense. He had very little other information, but had a postal box address in Hong Kong for contacting the said foreigner. I hesitated but finally made up my mind, and wrote to the man (assuming it is a man) suggesting a meeting to discuss the business. To be honest this was as much  motivated by curiosity, than by appetite for profit. I am myself reasonably wealthy now, having gained from various speculative activities over the years.

I heard nothing for nearly two months, then I received a proposal from the would-be buyer, to meet me at the gate of The Invitation. Hence this letter to you. I have attached a computer file containing all the information communicated by the notary, and what I have drawn from my own research. I am somewhat concerned about the identity of the would be buyer and the reasons for the interest shown. The proposed meeting is in three weeks time, in the evening. I must say that the would be buyer has warned me, as you can see for the recent communication, not to contact anyone about a deal, including the Skipton notary, who denies any personal knowledge. Can you please advise me on what to do. The secrecy surrounding this worries me, but I cannot find any reason why it should.

Yours faithfully…

The Yorkshire police is still trying to identify the victim, and has engaged Miss Marples’ services to assist them.