Tagged: challenge

Kreative Kue 224

Kreative Kue 223 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.

Our Day by John W. Howell © 2019

“So when do you think she’ll be here?”

“I thought she would have been here by now.”

“Could it be we missed her?”

“How is that possible? All these people have been waiting, and they would have seen her.”

“Did you ask anyone.”

“Heavens no. I’m embarrassed enough as it is without making a scene. Besides. Look at them. They are all looking down the driveway.”

“Maybe there is another arrival they are looking to see.”

“Please. This is the only thing going on here today.”

“Well, I think it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Enough. Do I need any more humiliation?”

“Suit yourself. One last question.”

“Please get whatever it is off your chest. Ask away.”

“Do you recognize any of these folks?”

“Now that I look I can say I don’t.”

“Don’t you think that a bit odd?”

“Put that way, I guess I do.”

“Do you have the invitation?”

“Yes, it is right here.”

“What is the name and address of the church?”

“This is silly. I know where the church is. We had a rehearsal here last week.”

“Humor me.”

“All Saints Church. 39 Pastoral Way.”

“Do you see the name on that sign?”

“Yes. All Saints Chape—Yikes. This is the wrong church. What. . . I put the address in the GPS system.”

“Does the invitation give a time of the service.”

“Y-yes. Two o’clock.”

“Three minutes to go ten miles. Better reprogram the GPS and start moving. You may not live this one down.”

“There’s no one I can call.”

“And admit you went to the wrong church? You might want to hit a tree on the way over there. Maybe it’s your only out.”

“You joking?”

“Maybe a little. Let’s go.”


This week, from The Dark Netizen, a very short tale.

Ten Word Story: Reunion

“School Reunions Are More Fun, When Your Classmate’s A Don…”


Peer Minza, who blogs at peerzadihome.wordpress.com, said “I am sending a little poem inspired by the photo”. Here it is:

In a crowd, I wait alone without a clue
Life tinged with sadness, no hope, no hue
Dreaming in the shades of mystique blue
Eyes can’t believe but heart says it’s true
It’s destined our special moment is due
In that moment, even time stops with you
I’m counting on that rendezvous; are you too??


My effort was

Who?

I don’t know why I still do this job. It’s certainly not what I signed up for – at least, not what I believed I’d signed up for. Okay, I get the dark suit, white shirt, neat haircut and all that garbage, but that’s not enough, is it?

Have I ever been asked to run beside the car as it goes through the city streets? I have not. Not that I’d want to for a Volvo. Roller, Bentley, Daimler, maybe even a big Jag. But a Volvo?

Another thing. Have I ever been asked whether I’d take a bullet for whoever it is I’m supposed to be looking after? I have not. Mind you, perhaps that’s as well. I’m not sure I could honestly say I would. It’s not as though I’m guarding senior royals or even senior politicians. In fairness, though, which of that lot – the politicians, not the royals, is actually worth risking your life for? It’s not as if any of them would even risk their job for the likes of you and me who put them there and pay them, is it?

No. I’m guarding what is laughingly called a celebrity. Usually, it’s a singer who can hardly get a note out without electronics, or someone who plays a game, like football or even, these days, bloody computer games. Things we all did as kids for fun, now they get stupid money and fame for doing it.

Of course, I’m bitter. I could have done something like that; we all could. It’s just being in the right place at the right time and probably having a big enough sob story to tell. Trouble is, most of us can’t do that, can we? Most of us lead ordinary lives; no major bad stuff and no major good stuff, either. Ordinary. Not that there’s anything wrong with ordinary. Without masses of ordinary people, there’d be no celebrities, would there? Who’d buy their stuff?

And how many of these people get honours and knighthoods, basically for doing tolerably well the job they’re being grossly overpaid to do in the first place.

No, this isn’t the job I expected it to be; nothing like.

And, while we’re at it, how come I don’t get a wiggly wire thing in my ear and a cufflink I can talk to?


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.

No Kreative Kue this week – moving house country. Back again next week (all being well).

Who?

IM000301a

I don’t know why I still do this job. It’s certainly not what I signed up for – at least, not what I believed I’d signed up for. Okay, I get the dark suit, white shirt, neat haircut and all that garbage, but that’s not enough, is it?

Have I ever been asked to run beside the car as it goes through the city streets? I have not. Not that I’d want to for a Volvo. Roller, Bentley, Daimler, maybe even a big Jag. But a Volvo?

Another thing. Have I ever been asked whether I’d take a bullet for whoever it is I’m supposed to be looking after? I have not. Mind you, perhaps that’s as well. I’m not sure I could honestly say I would. It’s not as though I’m guarding senior royals or even senior politicians. In fairness, though, which of that lot – the politicians, not the royals, is actually worth risking your life for? It’s not as if any of them would even risk their job for the likes of you and me who put them there and pay them, is it?

No. I’m guarding what is laughingly called a celebrity. Usually, it’s a singer who can hardly get a note out without electronics, or someone who plays a game, like football or even, these days, bloody computer games. Things we all did as kids for fun, now they get stupid money and fame for doing it.

Of course, I’m bitter. I could have done something like that; we all could. It’s just being in the right place at the right time and probably having a big enough sob story to tell. Trouble is, most of us can’t do that, can we? Most of us lead ordinary lives; no major bad stuff and no major good stuff, either. Ordinary. Not that there’s anything wrong with ordinary. Without masses of ordinary people, there’d be no celebrities, would there? Who’d buy their stuff?

And how many of these people get honours and knighthoods, basically for doing tolerably well the job they’re being grossly overpaid to do in the first place.

No, this isn’t the job I expected it to be; nothing like.

And, while we’re at it, how come I don’t get a wiggly wire thing in my ear and a cufflink I can talk to?


This was written in response to Kreative Kue 223 published on this site.

Kreative Kue 223

Kreative Kue 222 asked for submissions based on this photograph:
P1040523a
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.

In Three by John W. Howell © 2019

“Yeah, I think we are good to go.”

“I’m sorry I can’t understand you.”

“What do you mean you can’t understand me?”

“Just what I said.”

“Do I need to speak up cause if I do I don’t want anyone to overhear.”

“No, I hear you fine. I just have a problem with what you mean by ‘good to go.”‘

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

“It means I have planted the explosives and we are ready to execute in three minutes.”

“Execute? My gosh are you sure you have the right number?”

“Is this 210-555-5555?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Black Operations?”

“Black what?”

“Black Operations?”

“My heavens no. This is Birdies Gift Shop.”

“Birdies gift sh— What the hell? This burner phone is preprogrammed. How did I get you?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, but there is no need to raise our voice, young man.”

“Raise my voice? I’m going to be forced to do a little more than that. Where are you?”

“In front of the shop.”

“No, I mean the address.”

“For some reason, I don’t think I should tell you.”

“Aw come on. I just want to say hello and maybe buy some gifts.”

“I’m sorry whoever you are. We don’t carry explosives. I’m hanging up now.”

“What is it, young man?”
“Can we forget this conversation?”
“Why should I do that? You want me to file the assignment report, don’t you?”
“For heaven’s sake. Is that you, Jenkins?”
“Had you going, huh?”
“You have a warped sense of humor, you know that?”
“Tell me when the building is dust.”
“Will do. Lance out. By the way. I’m going to get you for this.”
“Can’t wait for you to try double o eight.”

My effort was

Why?

Yes, Laura; I’m on my way home now.

Where am I? I’m walking across the car park, the one in front of the old Mairie – you know, the building that lost a great chunk of its render in the riots last Michaelmas.

That’s the one.

I know it’s a long way off. I’ll be as quick as I can, but it’s going to take the best part of an hour, depending on the traffic.

You’d think, wouldn’t you? Trouble is, everything they do seems to make it worse, not better. Anyway, why did you want me to call? You know what time I’m expected.

Really?

I didn’t know you had an appointment this evening; there’s nothing in our shared calendar.

Okay. What time do you expect to be back? Do I need to walk and feed the dogs?

Fine, I’ll do that. You didn’t say what time you’d be back.

What do you mean, you won’t?

You’re leaving me?

Is it something I’ve done? Something I’ve said?

Then, why?

Are you still there? Laura? Hello… hello…


IM000301a
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.