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Writing Prompt Wednesday


BOOKWORM – this is your starting point for a story…should be easy!

bookman

I have to confess I had an ulterior motive for volunteering to look after the book stall at the village fete. Not only would I have first pick of the books but it was nicely situated in a large tent so no matter what the weather conditions I would be protected.

As it happened we were lucky to have glorious sunshine on the day of the fete, it isn’t always so. Having the tent meant I had plenty of luscious shade. I’m not a sun worshiper at the best of times. After spending several hours organizing the books so that they were in categories, I sat back with a satisfying cup of tea.  I surveyed the mismatched tables filling the tent and felt proud of my efforts. With a couple of large cushions to pad out my deck chair I would endure the day. I knew it will be long and I like my comfort.

Settling into my chair to take a second look at my selections I quickly become engrossed in a tale of ancient Rome.  A shadow falls onto the page – my first customer of the day. Not wanting to seem too pushy, I continue to read, letting them browse unhindered. When I eventually look up I see a stick thin man dressed in a mac and hat with his nose literally inside a book. His spectacles have thick glass but obviously not thick enough. Upon closer inspection I notice he has mis-matched shoes, one black and one brown. Was he colour blind as well? 

“May I help you Sir?”

 “No thank you. I’m perfectly fine.”

 Remaining in my seat I observe this gentleman as he fills a wicker basket with books and precariously crams even more under his arm along with his umbrella. He is definitely not a local, I know most people in the village through my various committees. My curiosity must show as he nervously glances my way.

 “Have I done something wrong? Is there a limit to how many books I can purchase?”

 “Not at all – take as many as you like. I was just wondering where you lived as you are not familiar to me. Sorry if I was staring.”

 “Oh I see.”

 That was it, no explanation, no further conversation. He just continued rummaging through the hundreds of books without further comment. What a strange fellow.

The tent is filling up with other visitors anyway so I become distracted with purchases and questions for some time. A polite cough makes me turn and I am faced with the gentleman’s thin face peering over the top of his spectacles at me.

“May I pay for these books?”

“Yes of course. My, you have a real hoard there don’t you. Do you know how many?”

“Well I didn’t count them. Was I supposed to?”

“Not to worry. Shall we count together?”

“If you feel it’s necessary.”

Our count completed and the purchase made the man turns to leave laden down with thirty books.

“I hope you enjoy all your books.”

“Well of course I shall. I wouldn’t have bought them otherwise, now would I?”

I grit my teeth and smile, thinking some people are very odd but there’s no reason to be rude.  I turn to my next customer in line and exchange pleasantries with Miss Tooms. She is such a dear soul.

“Don’t take offense Muriel. Mr. Boekenworm has never been the social type even at school.”

“You know him Miss Tooms?”

 “Oh yes dear. We went to school together, here in the village actually, many moons ago of course. He was always teased about his name you see and it made him very insular.”

 “It’s a very novel name I must say.”

 “It means bookworm and he always has been. Lived up to his name you could say.”

 “That must have been very difficult as a child, I’m sure. Where does he live now?”

 “Not far, just over the hill in Clutton. He has his own second hand book store. I imagine it was fate.”

 “That would account for the amount of books he brought then. He really has lived up to his name. Good for him, I say.”

 “Yes I suppose you are right there. Well thank you Muriel. I shall enjoy these novels, helps pass the night hours, I don’t sleep like I used to, you know.”

I watch Miss. Tooms thread her way towards the tea tent. Another polite cough makes me turn. There he stands again with his umbrella and hat clutched to his chest.

“I want to apologize for being a bit brisk with you earlier. I tend to get very tense when buying books. Always worry someone else will find that exceptional book before me. Anyway sorry again for my rudeness.”

“Well thank you. Apology accepted. Miss Tooms was just telling me you have your own book store. May I visit one day?”

“Certainly it would be a pleasure.”

Such was my introduction to Samuel Boekenworm, my future employer.

Booksellers Library

Writing Prompt Wednesday


9781608636921

Prompt – Write about a Fairy

To be honest this was an easy prompt for me as the character written about, Petal Soft, is one from my children’s chapter book.

Petal Soft flew in and out of the long grass in the meadow, stopping occasionally to inspect a flower, one here, and one there. Her fairy wings glistened in the sunshine. She was looking for the perfect hat. The snowdrop hat she wore was tattered and worn now and it was time to replace it. With the warmth of spring sunshine and gentle showers the meadow grew lush. The green grass was dotted with all the colours of the rainbow by beautiful flowers opening their petals to the sky.
            Should she choose yellow, which was a bright cheerful colour or red to be more dramatic at the fairy dance? As she flew back and forth, Petal Soft considered each flower and its colour carefully. The dance was a special one not only to celebrate spring but also to mingle with fairies from far and wide. Petal wanted to meet a certain fairy whose magic was said to be more powerful than any other. If Petal could learn just one of those extraordinary spells she would be so happy.
            Along the edge of the meadow grazing contently stood three deer, they glanced up as Petal passed by but were not alarmed. She smiled and flew forward and gasped in surprise when she saw the most beautiful flower. It was a woodland orchid almost hidden in the shade of a birch tree. Its soft cream colour was splashed with bright pink it was perfect.
            Bowing low, Petal asked the flower if she could take it. A whisper of wind was the only answer needed. Plucking the flower from the stem, Petal turned the petals this way and that appreciating their beauty.
            On the night of the dance, Petal Soft adorned her head with the stunning orchid and wore a cream dress so as not to detract from its beauty. When she flew into the gathering place all heads turned to admire her hat.

         She met the elder that night and became her apprentice learning special spells all because her orchid hat was the most beautiful. 

Meet Petal again in Ockleberries to the Rescue. http://www.dreamwritepublishing.ca/products/ockleberries-rescue

Ockleberries cover

She also appears in a story in this newly released anthology.

https://www.amazon.ca/Fireflies-Fairy-Dust-Fantasy-Anthology-ebook/dp/B079KFLXZC

Fireflies & Fairy Dust

Try your hand at writing a story about a fairy. I would love to read it.

 

Writing Prompt Wednesday


9781608636921

List a few phobias you have. When and how did you discover you had these?

rhino

My ‘phobia’s’ are rather bizarre to say the least. Firstly, as a child I had a recurring nightmare, which was so vivid I would wake with terrible stomach and back pain. The source was a rhino’s horn penetrating my body! In the dream I was at a fancy ‘garden’ party with marquees, waiters, lavish tables, musicians – the works. I was still young and attended with my parents. The setting was Africa on the boundary of the wilderness. (I was born in South Africa).

A rhino thundered towards the garden party scattering the guests in all directions, it also pierced through me as it exited the scene. I could feel the horn through my body and the jarring as the animal ran across the savanna. I could hear screams behind me as the guests realized my predicament. This is the moment I would wake up.

Many, many years later, when my daughter, a born animal whisper wanted to visit the rhino house at Longleat Safari Park, UK, I tried to get her to go on her own. Up to that point I couldn’t even look at a rhino photo images on the TV. She was insistent I went with her to stroke the animal. As we entered the rhino house my fear grew. My daughter went up to the rhino, who was leaning against the massive metal bars and patted it’s hide. She held my hand as I did the same. It’s hide is incredibly solid and rough and I was amazed at how it felt. This encounter lessened my childhood fear in a way I did not think possible. I can look at rhino’s now but still find I turn away when the images are of a charging bull rhino.

avalanche1

My second ‘phobia’ became apparent once I became a mother. The feelings of love and protection were (and are) so intense that I worry about my children’s safety and well-being. Even now when they are adult’s, I still worry about them (I am often teased because of it but the ‘cord’ is never cut – as we mother’s know only too well). Again I had recurring nightmares of this situation, which in a dreamscape is perfectly reasonable, of course. Bearing in mind at the time I was living in England and the situation was far from possible, the dreams were all too real to me.

Once again the dreams were vivid and I had the sensation of the bitter cold. Upon waking I would be shivering. The dream situated me with my two small children on a mountain side where an avalanche roared down towards us. I grabbed a child under each arm and ran to a rocky outcrop, where I held them tight under the overhang. As tonnes of snow poured over us I clung as tightly as I could to ensure each child was not ripped from my grasp.

Once the torrent ceased, we were buried in a capsule of snow and ice with a small pocket of space around us. As time passed, we became colder and colder and I understood I had to find a way to keep my children warm. (Now remember this is a dream and anything is possible in a dream!) I had the children put their feet and hands on my torso and that worked for a while but I could feel my extremities heat lessening. So the best way to keep the children warm was to put them ‘inside’ me where it was very warm. I cut my torso open and made the children crawl inside.

This is the moment I would wake up.

So now you have a glimpse at my psyche – how about you share too?

Writing Prompt Wednesday


9781608636921

If you could pack up and leave on vacation today, where would you be off to?

Considering we are in the depths of a freezing winter here in Alberta, anywhere would appeal to it’s inhabitants, that is warmer than -24!

However, it is no secret I have a favorite place, besides ‘home’ – England, that I would happily live. That place is Rome. It is an enthralling mixture of ancient and modern. Daily life is relaxed, the food and wine delicious and that golden Italian light is magical. The countryside with its winding roads, so like England and the iconic trees, vineyards and terracotta roofed buildings draw me to them. My screen saver at work is a view across the Tuscan countryside. Maybe, I was Italian in a past life and that is the reason I have an affinity with Italy.

I traveled to Florence, Rome and Venice many moons ago and Rome resonated within my soul so deeply I have always been pining to go back. I will go back someday, it is on my bucket list.

 

Where would you go?

Writing Prompt Wednesday


9781608636921

Tell a story of when you broke something…

This is my story.

baubles

I was sure the glass bauble was secured on the tree. I’d made a point to check the wire. As a family heirloom it was important to me to keep the shiny ornament high enough on the Christmas tree so little fingers and large paws did not dislodge it. As I turned to retrieve another bauble I hear a crash – my heart sank. There on the tiled floor was my great-great grandmother’s bauble in a thousand pieces. I fell to my knees, tears brimming over my cheeks. Shock held me still for several moments. With great care I gathered the glass shards, tiny pinpricks cutting my fingertips as I did so. The light glanced off the opalescent pieces. My heart ached, how could I ever replace it. With the last few pieces held in my hand, I began to get up, but a small piece of paper tied with a silk thread caught my eye. Placing the shards on the tiles, I picked up the small paper bundle and unwrapped it. Inside was a beautifully written note in cursive writing.

                To whoever finds this note, may your wish come true, Celia

That was my great-great grandmother’s name. Why had she hidden such a note in the bauble? I turned around at footsteps – there in front of me was my daughter. What a wonderful surprise and one I’d wished for. Her global travels had taken her away for so long and she had once again said she could not make it home for Christmas.

                “You’re here, oh my love it is wonderful to have you home.”

                “I was given a free ticket from a friend, who had other commitments. It was so unexpected. I wanted to surprise you.”

My wish had come true, had the bauble made it so?

Why not write one and share it?