Kreative Kue 218

Kreative Kue 217 asked for submissions based on this photograph:
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John W Howell is the author of the John Cannon trilogy of My GRL, His Revenge, Our Justice and Circumstances of Childhood, co-author of The Contract, and blogs at Fiction Favorites.

You and Me Babe by John W. Howell © 2019

“Mmm mafmum dros emufff.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said I think I’ve had enough.”

“Aw come on. You like my omelet.”

“Yes, but I have had an omelet every meal for the past five weeks.”

“Yes and look at you. A big bird.”

“I know, and I’m thankful for your care.”

“Yeah, you were a mess. You were naked and cold on the ground.”

“I don’t know how I got there. I can’t imagine my mama tossing me out.”

“Sometimes when there are a lot of hatchlings the nest gets crowded. A couple of toss and turns and there you are.”

“S’wonder I didn’t break my neck.”

“I couldn’t put you back in the nest. It was too high. Anyway, you are healthy now.”

“I would say so. You have done a nice job.”

“Aw. Thanks. So back to the omelet.”

“Well, I know you try to avoid meat. I, on the other hand, need meat.”

“Meat? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A stray worm, cricket, or spider would go well.”

“OMG. The thought makes me gag.”

“Yeah and the thought makes me dream of sinking my beak into one of those wiggly ones.”

“I guess I could go into the garden and try to find a worm. Would that be okay?”

“It would be heaven. One more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“A nice Chianti and some fava beans would go well with that.”

“I named you Hannibal, but you don’t have to get carried away.”

“It was fun though, wasn’t it? Clarice”


My effort was

Feed me!

If I was at home wiv me mum
She’d put insects and worms in me tum
But what I’ve got here
I ain’t got no idea
If you ask me, it’s all a bit rum.

Trust me to fall out of the nest
You’d think I’d have stuck wiv wot’s best
But I fell in the grass
Got a bruise on me ***
And you can imagine the rest

As if that pain wasn’t enough
I heard a small dog going, “Ruff!”
I wound up in its mouth,
It was all going south
Till a man picked him up by the scruff.

He looked at the dog and said, “Drop,”
I fell on the ground with a plop
To save me more hustle
With his flippin’ Jack Russell
He wrapped me up snug in his top.

I suppose you could say it’s absurd
To feed doggy food to a bird,
But this clever old bloke
Gave it first a good soak
(Though it’s still not wot I’d have preferred).

The result of the story, you see
Is it turned out to be good for me
I stayed a bit longer,
Got bigger and stronger,
And when fit enough, was set free!


Activity Day 007a
On to this week’s challenge: Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithchanning@gmail.com before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here.

Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries next Monday.

Sunday serialisation – Knight after Knight, 4.4

Knight after Knight250

In Knight & Deigh, Hannice Knight suffered a back injury that left him without the use of his legs. Sophie Deigh, physiotherapist and recent widow, devoted herself to supporting him.

As Hannice’s body recovered, he became ever closer to Sophie, and soon they found themselves in a relationship they had neither anticipated nor intended, and for which neither was fully prepared.

A bump in the Knight followed Hannice as he juggled business, hedonism, marriage and ultimately parenthood.

Knight after Knight is the third and final part of the Hannice Knight story. Starting after the marriage of Hannice and Sophie’s only son, David to Jess, the only child of Jason and Noelani Reeves of Hawaii, it traces the Knight family’s progression through the generations.


Knight after Knight. Chapter four, part four.

Lindy updated me on the progress of Knight Investments (Africa) and Holy Island Services. We also spoke about the progress being made by Knight Global Investments in India. Although he wasn’t directly involved in that operation, they had retained him as a consultant. Sadly, from his point of view, his interactions with them were by phone, so he hadn’t yet enjoyed a trip to India.

Whilst we were in the midst of that conversation, his phone rang.

“May I?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said. It was his office, after all, and the call would doubtless be something to do with the business – all of which put money in my pocket.

“Knight Trading, LJ Aldredge speaking,” he answered, “one second, please.” He handed me the phone and mouthed ‘David’.

“Hi, David,” I said, “how are you doing?”

“Okay,” he said, “but I could do with a bit of advice. Well, more a decision than advice, really.”

“What’s up?”

“Your man Pepu…”

“What about him?”

“He took the limo for its MOT test yesterday…”

“And it failed?”

“Yes. There’s a list of faults. Pepu says the garage don’t think it’s worth doing all the work needed.”

“Have you spoken to the garage?”

“Not yet. I’ve looked at the fail sheet and it’s going to be expensive to get it up to scratch.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“I’m not sure, Dad. It seems a shame to throw away a perfectly good car.”

“I can’t see how it’s perfectly good if it can’t get through its MOT without spending a fortune on it.”

“So what should I do?”

“David. Before I left, I said you have the helm. If the biggest decision you have to make is whether to replace an ageing limo, you’ll have had a very cushy ride.”

“I know, but…”

“You decide what you want to do, then do it.”

“Do you want me to call you to tell you what I’ve decided?”

“No. Call me and tell me what you’ve done. After you’ve done it.” I replaced the receiver.

“Bit harsh, Boss?” Lindy asked.

“Maybe, but sometimes you have to take the safety net away. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“What if he buys a car that you think is totally unsuitable?”

“I’ll make it his, then buy one that I like. The old limo has done thirty years service. It’s been held together with gaffer-tape, so to speak, for five or six years. It’s had its day and is overdue for replacement. I’m rather looking forward to having a new one, either long-range electric or hybrid, with all the latest gadgets and driving aids. God, these new ones practically drive themselves.”

“Some of them do, Boss.”

“What?”

“Drive themselves.”

“I’m not ready for that yet,” I said, laughing, “are you?”

“Boss, you know what driving in Dar is like. Can you seriously see a driverless car surviving on these streets without at least needing the automotive equivalent of therapy?”

“Agreed. But AI is constantly advancing, and the day will come when the majority of vehicles on the road will be driverless. Having said that, I’m as glad as hell that I won’t be around to experience it!”

“Say you don’t know, boss.”

Laughter in the corridor indicated that the ladies had returned from their lunch.

“What’s the joke?” I asked as I left Lindy’s office.

“Our little group has a name,” Sophie said, tears streaming down her face, “tell him, Kanene.”

“Wanawake ambao chakula cha mchana,” Kanene said, laughing.

Max looked at me and said, “I think we’ll stick with ‘Ladies who lunch’!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GTI 9.3

Waist of Space, part one of the Unlikelihood series, followed Commanders Tarquin Stuart-Lane and Meredith Winstanley; hapless heroes of the Royal Space Regiment; who were sent on a mission to the Moon from which they were not expected to return. There they met with a group of aliens who had forged a living under the surface of the moon, and whose forebears were testing a new kind of spacecraft.

In part two, FLATUS, our dynamic duo help the aliens (and the RSR) build their own multi-locatable craft. Will the ships be built and if so, will the drives work? What are the possible effects of having three such craft in space at one time? FLATUS — Fantastically Large Assembly for Travel at Unbelievable Speeds. The most unlikely spacecraft never built?

Part three follows the preparation and development of the Gap Travel Initiative (code named GTI) and the developing relationships among and between species, races and genders. Will humankind achieve the nirvana of limitless travel and if so, at what cost. Stick with Tarquin and Meredith as they navigate their route through an uncertain future.


GTI. Chapter nine, scene three.

“Can you really see those two as double-agents?” Patsy asked.

“I can’t, but it’ll be an awful lot of fun watching them try. Are they likely to be amenable to your special talents?”

“Do they need it? Forbes is a politician – he’s trained to lie and everyone expects it. As for the other guy, he has such a strong tell, there’s no point in him lying.”

“I’d like him to be able to.”

“Well, I don’t want to do that.”

“Why ever not?”

“Firstly because he will act as a foil to His Lordship, and secondly because his inability to lie is so… well, charming. I find it very attractive.”

“Let’s compromise, shall we? Can you just fix him so he won’t blush, fidget or stammer when Forbes lies?”

“I can do that.”

Meredith pressed the speak button on her intercom “Swann? Put out an announcement, please. I want the Earl of Arblington and Dr Robertson back in my office. Stat.”

Meredith’s PA made the announcement. Three minutes later, Forbes and Finlay were back in her office.

“What is it this time, Meredith?” Forbes asked tetchily, “I thought you wanted to be rid of us until you had something to say.”

“Maybe I have something to say now,” she replied, all sweetness and light, “Sit down here, please. Finlay, can you go over to Patsy in the far corner?”

Finlay walked to the corner where Patsy was seated. Patsy moved the two chairs so both she and he were facing the corner.

“Whilst the Admiral is explaining the new situation to His Lordship, I’d like to offer you some stratagems to help you deal with those times when what His Lordship is telling the people from CNUT is, shall we say, not necessarily the full, unvarnished truth.”

“You mean when he’s lying?”

“You may very well think that, Doctor, I couldn’t possibly comment.”

“How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Lie without lying?”

“That’s what I’m going to teach you, Doctor.”

“Please, call me Finlay. So, what do I do?”

“Just sit back and relax. We’ll start with a gentle, relaxing back and shoulder massage.”

Finlay did as he was told, and Patsy did what Patsy does. Some minutes later, Finlay awoke and asked, “Have you started? Did I miss it?”

“Finlay,” Patsy said in her most reassuring manner, “I’ve finished. You missed nothing.”

“But I don’t remember anything.”

“That’s right.”

“You used hypnotism?”

“Not exactly, but something like. Wanna test it?”

Finlay agreed, and Patsy made a pre-arranged signal towards Meredith. She and Forbes approached Finlay.

“Forbes,” Meredith said, “have you had dealings with a woman called Niamh Newton?”

“Name doesn’t ring a bell,” Forbes replied, matter-of-factly, “can’t say I’ve ever heard of the dear lady.”

“What say you, Finlay?” Meredith asked.

“If Forbes says he doesn’t know her, then it cannot be otherwise,” he replied with, to his own surprise, no trace of a blush, a fidget or a stammer, “it is universally acknowledged that Lord Arblington is an honourable man.”

“A Right Honourable one,” Patsy suggested.

“Quite,” Finlay agreed.

“Very well,” Meredith said, “you have your brief, Forbes. Go get ‘em.”

“Come on, Fin,” Forbes said, “we have work to do. Ta-ta old gal.”

Forbes and Finlay left the building.