#FiveSentenceFiction: Spoiled (or a day in Paradise)

DSC_0346We walk along the high brick wall, the road side covered with snowdrops and daffodils, soon to see the old castle, perched on the hill, surrounded by meadows, ochre stones on blue sky.

Few trees are yet in bloom: this is the time of year when Spring is lurking, not yet triumphant, but already more than a promise.

Soon, we take the narrow lane, bordered with hedges full of busy birds, I am following you, my eyes taking in the beauty of the morning and your supple steps, your curves and the sloping hills in one exalted breath.

Among the crocuses and the primroses we sense hints of more wealth to explore, perhaps a little later, the air is still cold…

In the middle of this landscape I am thinking of all the other places in the world, unhappy, and ravaged by cruelty and greed: what made us so fortunate?

#DailyPrompt: Buyers, Beware?

Dora Maar, Double Portrait, 1930I saw her eyes probing the object, a black square with no apparent feature. Behind the long eyelashes the green globes turned to me:

– “And may I ask what the content of this thing might be, if any?”

– “I cannot be absolutely sure… You see, like so many, I died in 2084, a while back…” smiling at the very beautiful young goddess in front of me… “and I lost track of all this. But what I can tell you is what it contained back then, before the fall…”

Hesitantly she said, as I remained silent: “and so… what was it, if this is not intruding?”

“Not at all, this old technology held millions of pictures, everything I could catch, wherever I went, in the days I could still roam this world… Pictures of people, trees, buildings, animals, objects…”

– “This must be worth a fortune… How can I be sure that those pictures are still there though?”

– “Well, this might be pricey, you see no-one is left today who really understands how this sort of thing works. I’d need to search for other items, cables, power boxes, that sort of thing…”

But I knew this was meaningless to her. The amazons had only very primitive technology, and their main weapons were all psychic. Still she was so attractive, for an old fleshless ghost like me.

– “I’ll tell you what. I propose a deal: I get this working and open the content for you, if you allow me in your village. How does that sound?”

I could see she hesitated, deep in thoughts. Of course she would have to consult with her coven. But I had plenty of time.

After a few hours of silence, she finally said: “We have a deal, I had to take responsibility for you… Will you find the other things you need?”

– “Sure,” I replied, “in my days I would have climbed mountains for you…”

Image: Dora Maar, Double Portrait, 1930

Weird Paris: Saints and Sinners

Secrets of a most secretive city…

Paris: People, Places and Bling

Whilst traipsing through the Jardin des Tuileries, watch-out for “Le Petit Homme Rouge” ("Spring" by sculptor François Barois, Photographs by Theadora Brack) Whilst traipsing through the Jardin des Tuileries, watch-out for “Le Petit Homme Rouge” (“Spring” by sculptor François Barois, Photographs by Theadora Brack)

Now, let’s go raise some spirits! (La Nuit, T. Brack’s archives)

By Theadora Brack

Calling all saints and sinners: Snuggle tight because it is time to crack open my slim, spellbound volume of spirited adventures in Paris for another retelling. For tricks, I’ve added a few new tales and photographs. I’ve also got the flashlights, pillows, and blankets, along with the marshmallows and bubbly for toasting. Here are eleven of my favorite spooky grounds.

Now, let’s go raise some spirits!

1. The Unknown Celebrity of the Seine

Among the artsy clutter that once adorned nearly every artist’s lair was a plaster face with a mysterious smile. These were cast from a famous death mask called “L’inconnue de la Seine,” made from an unknown 16-year-old who washed up on…

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#FiveSentenceFiction: Fearless

Carpenter ant (from Wikipedia)

Image: © Muhammad Mahdi Karim, www.micro2macro.net

The small creature stood still, as frozen in time, as the landscape around her shook in convulsions.

Far, far away in her ancestral memories, buried deep in her cells, she knew: the great meteorite, the explosions that killed the giants, leaving huge craters on the surface of Gaia.

She, and her species, knew the value of sacrifice: they too had enemies, but for them the survival of the species was the only goal.

Around her the megatons rained, killing off the remnants of mankind, and the follies of man.

Gaia would wake again, cleansed of the parasites, the polluters, the usurpers, the greedy assassins, and the small ant would resume her never-ending work.

 

#FiveSentenceFiction: Rain

RainOn the small balcony he looked at the slow traffic down on the street: the city was near silent, in a thin mist of rain.

He would take a picture of the buildings, at the junction, this time on a high enough aperture to see the drops falling, and the dream-like quality of the scenery.

But now, he felt her presence behind him: and soon her hand on his shoulder, her angel voice whispering in his ear.

She was back, the slim shoulders, the firm thighs, strong hands to handle a strong man.

And the wonderful sex that would follow, as the rain fell on Faust’s city.

VisDare 52: Ingenious

Ingenious

We were at the bottom of our garden, just at the fence that separated it from the fields: for us, the wild country.  You’d climbed over the wooden fence, and held forth against the barbarians (that was me), daring me to give the assault.

So I thought  I would call upon my chief engineer, who knew how to build amazing siege machines, boat bridges, and all sorts of military marvels. He (that’s me) imagined complicated stuff, then decided for a frontal assault: straight to the centre of the enemy’s fortress…

We looked for, and found the long plank, strong enough to support the cavalry charge and its heavy horse (me). Then the assault was given, at the slow rhythm of the war drums: the path was steep, and constantly we were bombarded by arrows and boiling lead, thrown at us by the enemy.

When I got to the top, peace was signed, and we shared an apple.

Daily Prompt: Time After Time: #Coffee #Ritual

Traditions: we’ve all got ‘em. They might be family dinners on special occasions, or having a particular kind of cake on your birthday (Jeanne Cake, natch), or popcorn at the movies, or meeting your friend for a 5k run in the park, rain or shine, every Sunday morning. What are your favorite traditions, large and small? What is it about your traditions that keep them going strong for you?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us RITUAL.

Morning Morning: feeble light through the room’s curtains, stretching, listening to the city waking up…

Kitchen: fresh water, fill the machine, check the beans!

Ah… the beans… glorious scent – time to grind, grinding, celestial smelll of freshly ground coffee, antique grinder…

Check the filter, equalize the lovely, soft ground beans… Turn on…

Now firing the Mac, curtains drawn back, dawn sunlight filtering through the still naked trees, time to start working… soft keys… sublime aroma from the kitchen: bliss!

#VisDare 51: Carefree #WritersWednesday

Carefree It was a cold day, the small airfield was deserted. We talked about our trip, our flight to freedom and safety.

Your smile – the Marilyn smile as we used to say – was all over the landscape, our craft, the long landing strip… and the old bike, near the shed, in the corner.

We had ten more minutes to wait and the aircraft would be ready. You took the bike and said: “I too can do acrobatics!” And you did, and how beautiful you were, letting me forget the reasons for our escape.

You did several tricks, feet on the frame, feet on the bar, your hair flying in the light wind.  Then we had to go. Turning the page of our life there, and flying off to a new world.