And as the Sea gave, shall the Sea take away

Out in the straits, ships sail on in grey smoke: some with decks empty, some with men checking ropes, and one with a milling crowd taking their last glimpses. Each passing bow wave, rolling over a grey sea flecked with white, sighs on pebbles ,stretched out to muddy patches of harsh grass held back by a rock wall. Overhead, a seagull screeches, falling behind me towards the wooden framed house, where a lit window beckons in the early morning gloom. Five ships have drawn by and away since I rose to sit in the cold wind and remember a child not of mine, but one I loved. As always too soon he becomes a man, losing all innocence except hope. On birthday mornings. I would wake him with a tray made of sea-shore wood piled with a plate of scrambled eggs and the tea in a cracked bull mug. On a full moon, laughing together, it would be thrown high over the beach into the sea. In the mornings, alone on the shore, I would search for another year or to learn if the sea called. When he stirred, I would straighten the eiderdown and then sit on the nearby bench, moving aside his clothes. Sitting up, he would smile and reach for the tray. He always ate quickly before slowly sipping his tea, in silence. When ready we talked according to the mood of the sea: slow some days, others with stories taller then a mast. All the time I ignored the paintings and drawings; some of sailors weeping, others of ships, some with oars, some with sails, breaking apart in wild waves, and others of women like bleached bones on the beach looking out to sea. Some were by him but most were by the others who had rested here. Once they told my future but it was my past that betrayed. A husband dead, a sister dust - both mere words - when once one a chesty laugh and the smell of wood smoke and the other a giggle over secrets and gossip. And I had no child to comfort me. I prayed to the Gods, bled the Bull, and threw doves to the wind. Then on the day of storms, the sea gave me a son, his skin water soft and his breath of mist. I asked not the price. Then when my skin grew to wood bark, my teeth fall as autumn seeds and breasts became bloated baskets, the sea came for me. And my grandchildren found only the sea-spray of a hot summer’s day. Since then, many have seen my eyes and felt my embrace and learnt that no lamp window waits. Yet I keep some safe for women wearing the water of a child. Those children find me. At last the sun breaks away clouds and the light in my window dims. The cup with bull fresh and bold is taken out of my coat and I throw it up and over muddy grass and the sighing pebbles. It soars over the sea that is turning blue and falls towards the distant ships ready for its return.

When a Banshee sings, a prince finds peace, when she screams the devil licks his lips

It was dark, the blackness of a closed coffin, eyes struggling to see.  Outside of the farm cottage walls he heard horses clipping over cobbles, bridles jangling and wheels creaking as a wild wind rustled leaves like a dress pulled off by a lover.  Suddenly he could see, through a window, clouds scurried from the moon like mice away from a cat.  And he was standing trying to open the kitchen door. The black cast iron bolts were too high for his stretched out fingers and the hooves drummed ever louder and shook the ground making him fall down, ever down into the silvery light.

Cormac jolted awake, the dustmen were making their usual Tuesday morning racket with bottles and cans being sorted and thrown into the hatches of the revving recycling van. He could see his breath misting in the cold of the room, it was that bloody dream again. He shouted out to the pokey dirty-grey room, with its thick green curtains hanging up with string and cobwebs,

‘Not yet, I’ve still breath.’

Sighing, he reluctantly threw aside the three duvets, the old dog blankets and the odd curtain and before putting on his woollen hat - heating cost money, more bedclothes didn’t.  Bending down carefully, he pulled on furry slippers over thick purple artic frost-frighteners, and threw on a wool blanket with a hole cut through for his head before tying bale string around his barrel stomach and layers of long johns and vests. To his mirrored reflection he said, 

‘I might look like a sack of spuds but I'm as warm as a bag of chips.’ 

Once out of the bedroom, he shuffled carefully down the bare wooden stairs and corridors – the carpet along with most of the future had gone to pay her bills as the loan shark banks were too impatient to wait for his death.  

Opening the larder door and sniffing the milk, he suddenly caught the scent of heather on a warm autumn day and heard horses pull a carriage to a door, the wheels creaking but no neighs or the shouting of whoa as the slap of leather reins pulled in silence. Then the rumble of traffic burst back in. He shook his head, he wasn’t ready. 

Walking over to the greasy, rusty stove, he picked up the dented kettle and went to the only working tap to drum in water. Back at the stove he battled with matches and banged hobs to get the gas hissing into two horned misshapen flames.  He shook out the mug’s dregs and then popped in yesterday’s tea bags, dried and ready to be pressed into service. Pouring in the water, and cursing from the sting of the hot handle, he left them to brew, as he switched on the radio that burst into the room with chants like sunbeams that after cold winter rain summoned rainbows. He shouted, 

‘Wait,’ 

and the news of floods and indiscretion in high places shouted back.

Grabbing his mug, he stumped upstairs, got back into bed and pulled the bedclothes around him shouting,

‘This wasn’t the dream; this isn’t the life I danced every night for.’

Knocking the tea back, he sat up and threw the mug over to the dusty shelf of leaden cups and medals, knocking over fading pictures of ball-room dancers, the men like splendid waiters and the women in swirly lace and thick make-up.  Looking up and around the room, he raised his arm and wagged his finger saying,

‘I was the all-county champion once, and Sean’s friend’s sister had sworn I was made for a TV programme they planning. But she never came back to me.  They did for her of course, she got on. Always was the better dancer and only left me for the all -England champion because it got her on TV. I’ve still got the VHS Tapes even if the video went wonky.’

He fall back in to the bed before whispering,

‘She loved me enough to leave the house for her debts.’ 

Perhaps, he fall asleep, this time the door was open and he looked out to see a black carriage, and four headless horses stamping their feet.  From the carriage’s open door hundreds of white hands fluttered out like summer cabbage butterflies all clapping. Then a woman of sunlight curves and moon beam eyes stepped out with a diamond-glass bowl of warm blood and floated over to him singing of Princes who stole the land of gods so people could dance with fairies. The bowl rose from her hands and rose higher and nearer his head as he said,

‘So this dance is over.’

Soon he would be anointed and his fathers arise to greet him. He turned to a window that looked out into a summer morning of the old country, the boys running naked to the wooded pond, diving and throwing water at each other from a broken metal pail, each screaming and giving as good as they got - a time when dreams were fun.

what we do

It was too good

to be true

they said of the Angel

as feathers

fell down

so they took it

and cut it

until only the smile

remained.

Random Word: Too Good

---

What they didn’t say

 

 

riddle a fiddle said old man diddle

as the moon swallowed a cow

whilst the cat said bow-wow

and spoony and knify forked

 

 

 

Random Word: bow-bow

---

I’ll be back

Image Maker: R.G. Daniel

 

 

 

It was getting chilly, sighing, he stubbed out his cigarette.

‘Always the same, he gets attitude and it falls to bits. If it ain’t floods, it’s fire and rapture. Now I can’t see a thing.’

Pointing at the darkest spot, he said, ‘Let there be light…it’s my turn now.  

 

 

 

Random word: Life After

---

if you want to listen, click on below

Listen and you will see

Image Maker: Amanda Roberts

 

on such a night

when the moon is silver

does she dance

with golden crown

and silken wings 

 

 

Random Word: Golden

---

You never know

Image maker: Sean Hickin

Bert, bored selling organic veg, was suddenly poked.

‘Why you not pray?

Looking up, he saw an old lady dressed in black, spluttering, he said, ‘P-p-pardon?’

‘You pray.’

‘But, but I’m a greengroce–‘

‘Look, you minister.’

As he said from the pulpit most Sundays, ‘God, moves in mysterious ways, like.’

Random Word: Eating Organic

---

if you want to listen, click on below

Look behind you

Click for Image Source

---

Even in the smallness of the night, shall I love you

The far dot of daylight shifted to grey then black.

Gradually though her tears, May saw a star twinkling, making a small hole like an eye. Over the night, it became a face that smiled and reassured her that all would be well.

In the morning, the rescuers found her cold and lifeless but smiling.

Random Word: Life after

Visit Mr.Knowitall to post your own Friday Flash Fifty-Five Fiction!

---

if you want to listen, click on below

To dine out, fine but at home, sublime

Image Maker: Luca Strambi

  The door knocked. Tracy moaned, ‘He’s such a dork. His mum’s a pagan wiki or something.

Al was too distracted to listen.

Outside, a kid’s voice said, ‘I’m bored.’

Tracy, shouted back, ‘Draw something.’

So he drew one of Mummy’s patterns on the door.

Aži Dahāka just thought, these self-service snacks are such hard work.

Random Word: Eat Out 

Visit Mr.Knowitall to post your own Friday Flash Fifty-Five Fiction!

---

if you want to listen, click on below

How art thou fallen from heaven

 

when a demon dies

slither and slide the body

for it’s angel face

Random Word: Slide

---

Come and reminisce with the Class of 1980

Visit Mr.Knowitall to post your own Friday Flash 55 word story or poem!

‘You're one of those Piffle thingies.’

‘No, I'm Hufflepuffle and proud of it.’

'Whatever.'

It was the class of 80 reunion and naturally, if not distracted, old feuds resurfaced. Having already lost two masters and a tower, the principal rushed to distract them but in vain as a flash and an annoyed, ‘Woof’ greeted him.

Random Word: Piffle

---

if you want to listen, click on below

Find your business opportunities

 

Our Nan exploded and then plip-plopped back together, hourly. 

The doctors said it wasn't possible until the surgery blew up. The police just said keep her home. So we fixed it so she only explodes once a day. 

Now we rent her out as an alarm clock for heavy sleepers.

 

Random Word: Fragments

---

if you want to listen, click on below

Facts are the enemy of truth.

Visit Mr.Knowitall to post your own Friday Flash 55 word story or poem!

Don Quixote was flabbergibbeted

‘Pay!  Sirrah, thou with the countenance of bibulous water, stand out from yon metal horse. I swear by the fair Dulcinea, my hands shall beat thee respect.’

Sancho sighed to the taxi-driver, ‘Tis ever, a mistake to time voyage.’

The driver was just thankful, it wasn’t that Terminator again.

 

 

Random Word: A good chance

---

if you want to listen, click on below

Zombies have rights too

 

 

Igor was a paid-up Greenpeace zombie opposed to the better known midnight snackers. But he needed a livelihood so to speak. His solution was to set up Urban Scarecrows ® with its slogan, ‘You looking at me?’. This cut crime and developed a recycled foodline. Well, a guy has to eat.  

 

 

 

 

Random Word: The Guests  

---

if you want to listen, click on below

From a dream I fall

 

 

Piter was very rich, if he wanted sunshine, he flew there, if he wanted women, they rang him. Piter liked this version of his life.

 

 

 

Random Word: Plausible

 

 

---

Run Rabbit Run

I saw this yowza furry babe swimming in distress. It was a new garden but for some bunny-honey I’d dive in. The traps were for saps so at the pool, I called and dived, ready for some sugar. So how was I to know that the Robertson's cooked al fresco.

Random Word: Rabbit

---

if you want to listen, click on below

A calling calls

  Image creator: Luis Montemayor

Funerals made Mike’s head throb whilst weddings made him puke. And as for touching water…So the street Angel saying be a priest was a worry.

Random Word: Steadfast

---

The spell of landmarks

 

Mrs Shorthouse asked, ‘Do you sell dreams? I’m in urgent need of one on onions for a nightmare recipe.’

‘S'il vous plaît  Madame  répétez.’

She fished out her spell book but, unfortunately, it was the silent edition.

‘Madame?’

Annoyed, she turned him into a tower. I believe it’s still there.

 

Random Word: Red onions

---

if you want to listen, click on below

Leadership is more then the rewards of office

 

 

‘Sire, the Vampires will forgo the blood fee for sea access.’

The Duke distracted with bosoms, said,‘So be it.’

‘Sire, what of the Harvest ships,’

The Duke weary of responsibility dismissed him.

The Minister’s solution was a personal sea voyage with a letter that offered the Duke as blood fee.

 

 

 

Random Word: Harvest

---

If you want to listen, click on below