A Remade Studebaker – Friday Fictioneers – November 7, 2014

PHOTO PROMPT - Copyright - Jean L. Hays

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Jean L. Hays

She hates growing old.

She’s wearing high heels and red tights under her Japanese-like white silk kimono. Large sequined sunglasses rest on her nose. Her hair should be white but it’s raven black, you can see a white halo around her scalp.

She changes her ‘mise’ at least three times a day, then goes for a walk around town, strutting like a peacock.  Everybody recognizes her but no one ever talks to her.

She’s a remade 1950s Studebaker trying to look like a Mercedes-Benz sports car.

guising from herself
hiding from her fear of life
in mummer’s rags

(c) G.s.k. ’14

Linked to Friday Fictioneers

The Unmailed letter

A postal box back amongst a hedge. The G.R. is for George Regina – King George VI, predecessor to Queen Elizabeth II. …….. The white area is the collection times. Mon-Fri – 6.00pm Saturday 11.30am. Silver square at the top is the day of the next collection, in this case – TUE

It’d taken her two hours to write the letter:   rough draft, corrections, a rewording here a cancellation there.  She’d decided this time she was really through with him.  She was tired of his rages.  She’d decided that writing him she wouldn’t have to face a third degree … and worse his anger.

The door bell rang.  She looked through the video on the house phone.  It was him.  Her eye strayed to the mirror by the doorway.  Eye, because one was swollen shut where he’d hit her just the night before in one of his drunken fits.

She thought she’d just ignore him.  Maybe he’d just leave.  But no, he began to pound on her door.

“I know you’re in there, putana! Let me in!” he yelled drunkenly slurring his words.

Shaking, she took out her cell phone and dialed 113.

“Pronto, Carabinieri.  Can I help you?” a smiling voice came over the phone.

“Yes please come quickly, there’s a man at my door, he wants to kill me.”

“Presto … give me your address.” He urged her in a calm precise voice.

Too late, the door caved in.

They found her following the phone’s gps … there laid the letter, unmailed, by her body.


Sunday Photo Fiction – June 22, 2014

spfIt’s been awhile since I wrote for Sunday Photo Fiction … a great photo, why not give it a whirl!

Reflections: Defeat

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Youth had its way
somehow true, that back then, each day
was longer, more complete,
and I never thought about defeat.

Years passed days grew shorter
then my mind contemplated
the meanings of fear and experience
and I began to have thoughts of defeat.

Ah! To be a child of wonder again,
to look upon the world with new eyes,
that knew no answers and indeed had no questions…
but now, half my day slips by in memory of defeat

When once my coffin is prepared,
will my days of eternal silence be shorter still:
no questions, no answers no fears will I know
and defeat will have been just an illusion.

 

I’ve been reading Gary’s poems of the past two days…from wizard training to Deliverance…so inspiring.

WDBWP Monday Prompt (late)

Monday Poetry Prompt #27 was about fear!  I’m writing it anyway and posting it on the results page!

the clockLoop Poem

Fear

The hands go ’round the clock
Clock, that ticks away my hours
Hours spent in useless conflict
Conflict of what’s best for me

Me, that is myself not you
You who would be my father
Father was not my perfect model
Model of how to live my life

Life passes by and soon it’s gone
Gone to never be replaced
Replaced by aught but a memory
Memory of who I was

Was this then my greatest fear
Fear of being forgotten
Forgotten in the streams of time
Time that passes on the clocks

Clocks measure my passing hours
Hours that are gone forever
Forever is just so very long
Long…as in eternal.

Thanks Shainbird my friend, you’re an ace!

We Drink Poetry Prompt #13: Weakness

Papi  at We Drink has given us a fine prompt:  Weakness. I will let you off easily this week with the form of your choice.

@)–>–>—

a weakness

a weakness

a failing in your knees
fumbling for excuses
to justify
or dignify
the fear
that

lies within…

a weakness
a failing in the spirit
pretending
that
courage is your virtue

by

using violence
to
project
onto
others
the weakness that you fear…

a weakness
hidden from yourself
which others plainly see…

but

the lies

 you tell yourself
keeps you inside
your prison
and alone.

Just A Note: The Dark Side of Cyberspace

Today, I received a mail from one of my favorite bloggers…she informed me that she was being trolled because she commented on a lovely blog I followed! She also informed me that he, one of my favorite bloggers had taken down his post because he was being harassed and threatened on his blog.

Oh sure, it’s not just a WordPress problem…it happens on the Facebook, it happens on Amazon or Goodreads…it happens where people are doing their thing and some troll needs a victim.

This is not the first time it has come to my attention that there is in fact a dark side to blogging and cyberspace in general.  All too often, some of us are spammed, hacked, threatened, ranted at and generally accused of the most atrocious acts of cyber vandalism or plagiarism or being trolls!

I’ve seen people suddenly disappear, one in particular was a great blog I followed when I began blogging, he posted other people’s photos…he went down, changed his name, generally re-structured his blog and when he came back on-line refused comments for months, so maybe he wasn’t threatened…or maybe yes he was, unless he says something, we’ll never know.  I’ve even seen people stalk other people and then accuse innocent by-standers of being the oppressors!  Many people get trolled and just never say a word…they take what action they feel will make them less vunerable…maybe they just leave.

I’ve read of bloggers dumping on other people’s posts, insisting to be acknowledged and followed, whether or not they have liked or followed the post their threatening…this has happened to me, in fact this morning:

“Mind follow me?? Or …. =)”

Maybe that wasn’t a threat, just pure bad manners!

A few months ago, after reading a big time blogger…a Freshly Pressed blog no less, I looked around his blog to see if maybe I’d like to follow him…and there it was again: people dumping and spamming…seems that here they were worried about the problem of sudden big increases in their reader’s stats and off the wall comments etc.  The gist of the comments were, that once you get a certain amount of followers, you become fair game for the vultures.

Then there’s the crazy e-mail messages that start popping up…the stalkers and general weirdos, or maybe just the lonely legit people who want to make friends, but one never knows.  I got a mail the other day like this…the person said I didn’t know who that person was, but would like to be friends and exchange photos…one presumes it was a woman, I’m not sure…there was no indication to whom this person even was or where she/he popped up from…obviously, my address was copied from my Gravatar…but as the person indicated no blog…I marked it as spam and will every single time.  I don’t accept gifts from strangers or rides either for that matter, part of my up-bringing.

Outside of trashing molesting requests…marking as spam unrequested solicitations, and of course writing a post like this, I must say, there is very little it would seem that a blogger can do to protect his or herself.  Thrice fellow bloggers have written to me because I’ve commented on their blogs favorably (it’s what I do…a lot 😉 ) and since they’d been trolled were worried about me getting some backlash.

If people disappear suddenly, now I wonder, have they been somehow mistreated, has some troll threatened them, have they been stalked, has someone just for the fun of it hit that button “Report This Content” and rather than go through the hassle of defending themselves just given up?

Blogging is a wonderful experience for the most part…and it’s hard work.  I’m a daily blogger and part of a great team collaboration to boot.  I spend hours preparing my posts and reading other people’s posts as well as commenting  and responding to the notifications and messages I receive.  That in itself can be one hell of a good reason to drop out of blogging too.  You get tired, stressed and need to just sit back and relax.  Imagine then some hairy snotgreen-eyed invidious bit of troll stalking you too!

Not a happy reflection for a Sunday morning I know…by the way, my blogging friend didn’t write peppy sarcasm, poetry, stories or anything like that he wrote about Philosophy, in a very academic way, to some it would probably have been boring in the extreme, long complicated stuff, which probably took hours to research and write…but someone accused him of plagiarism and threatened him.  It was there to be read by all…but no longer Tongue Sandwich is gone…thanks to trolling, the dark side of blogging.  I’m very sad today.

Free Verse: A Ladder to the Sky

Leanne Cole in her post yesterday, had a delightful suggestion: “After my post last week quite a few suggested the idea of doing some fairy tales, or writing short stories to go with the images.  I am also open to the idea of poems as well.  I know that a lot of writers follow my blog, so how about you go through the photos that I have posted from the bluestone that belongs to Deaf Children Australia and write something in response to what you see?”

So I thought I’d have a go this morning with a short poem that came to mind when I saw this photograph…I hope you and she enjoy it!  (I’d like to try a story in the near future…these photos are really a treasure trove of inspiration!)

A ladder to the Sky

Once upon a dreary life

I walked among the forest deep

Not knowing what to seek

Not knowing where to look

Lost by the call of Lorelei…

Then came to me a dream of light

A ladder to the sky

And swelled then in my heart a thought

Of where I should have been.

So left I then the weary path

To seek a different view

Came then I upon a special day…

Of sun and brilliant yellow hue.

And found I there a ladder, but noted

A barrier there seemed to be

A hatch impossible to open

But then I found the key,  and the key was me.

Of sunny days and darkest night

All paths we travel differently

Each one to choose sometimes with delight

Sometimes with terror sometimes with fright.

No path is ever better

No path is ever perfect

Each child of Earth must wander

Each one of us must search

Until we find our intended goal

And what we should have learned.

Then, when we come to journey’s end

I wish that we might say with a happy sigh

I walked upon this Earth my friends

Oh what a delight it was.