What makes you laugh?

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Laughter. The simple pleasure of a belly laugh! What a physical experience it can be.

What brings on that kind of laughter for you, dear reader? Does it happen often?

It takes a lot for me to laugh out loud. I’m more of a quiet smiler. Sometimes the smile is so quiet, you could think I was unaffected. I often ‘feel’ the smile in my head and know that it isn’t showing on the outside.

Watching movies often brings out a noisy laugh. Usually over slapstick comedy. I consider slapstick as physical comedy; somebody has fallen, for example. I laugh and laugh like a sicko! There is nothing very subtle about my sense of humour 😀 I’ll find myself laughing so hard that I can’t catch my breath. Sometimes, it is scary because it seems I’ll never get it back. I think this is because I struggle to let myself be loud and my natural inclination is to stuff it back in.

Graham Norton makes me laugh. I love his show. I chuckle my way through it, up to and including the red chair! Graham is very clever at bringing his guests right along, sharing with us their unusual stories and cracking us up.

I laugh with my husband, unexpectedly. Not because I don’t expect to laugh with him, but perhaps because a moment ago life was staid. Nothing particularly outstanding was happening. And then, something is said – we’re on the same wavelength and something clicks – then we’re both bent over in raptures of laughter. Take a peek at each other and again we’re falling around. If you’re lucky enough to have that kind of bond with somebody, then you’ll understand where I’m coming from.

Naturally, I’m a very serious person. I laugh with people I can relax with. That includes my children and my sisters. There are only a few friends that I’ll find myself laughing with.

I didn’t grow up with a wider network of family. It was always Mum and Dad and my siblings. All aunties and cousins lived in another country. And so, I didn’t develop strong bonds there.

My husband and I just spent a day with a cousin and his wife. We’ve been developing friendship over the last few years, mainly via Facebook; and we visited with them in 2013. But we laughed and laughed this weekend. It was very natural and friendly; non-judgmental laughing at each other and ourselves. A lightening of spirit experience.

The endorphins released from laughing are real. You can feel the release and relaxation after a good bout of laughter. It must be why there are laughter therapy classes, why comedians are so popular and why everyone loves the Simpsons! 😀

If you’ve read this, hopefully you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about and you enjoy loud and proud laughter regularly. If you don’t get enough laughs – search it out! What makes you laugh?

I’m including a link here to something that still makes me laugh. I hope you’ll get a good chuckle out of it too.

Break One Mind to Create a Monster

Synopsis

Adolphus is at a crossroads. His mother recently died which caused Adolphus to consider his future, what he aspires to, what his next step will be.
Then he finds the waterfall.

(WRITTEN FOR ROUND 1 OF #NYCMIDNIGHT #FLASHFICTIONCHALLENGE2023 – SUBMITTED JUNE 2023. Didn’t make Round 2)


A young boy in a grey suit, lavender coloured shirt, holding a dandellion, sitting on a bench

Adolphus slumped upon a flat boulder in the dark of the cave. He was cold and surprised. Moments ago he’d been quietly at breakfast attempting to peel his morning egg, with his cat, Blondi.

His beloved mother had recently died, and Adolphus was alone. While breaking his fast he contemplated his vision of an ideal world.

Distracted, he dropped the egg and watched it lazily bounce and roll away. He shrieked as the egg disappeared through a crack in the wall. Startled, he stood. Blondi left him to the strangeness.

Adolphus stepped toward the crack and pushed through his hand then his shoulder. With a deep groan, the crack widened enough to absorb Adolphus.

In summer pyjamas, napkin tucked beneath his chin, Adolphus explored the cave as well as he could without light, finding no evidence of bear or beast. But plenty of evidence of mankind, including wall art.

Fresh water from a spring flowed via a channel in the floor. There was bedding and other personal items scattered around.

An impenetrable waterfall formed the fourth wall. Adolphus carefully surveyed the cave and found no escape route.

People use this cave, he thought. They will return.

Adolphus stood eager and unafraid when he heard voices. He was surprised by the appearance of two ape-like men. Broad in face and body with strong bone structure, heavy eyes and brows with deep dark eye sockets and deeply brown skin.

They seemed like monkeys to Adolphus.

One shouted nonsense words, and waved his arms aggressively. The message was clear to Adolphus. Leave the cave now, or, consequences.

He positioned himself at arm’s length to the wild men. They indicated he should  lead the way. He looked at the waterfall and again saw no way out and shrugged his shoulders.

As Adolphus stood wondering what would happen next, a gentle giant took him by the arm guiding him carefully through a thin water veil. Out into the brightest sunlight, the bluest sky. This horizon free of the arrogance of man and his architectural debris.

Adolphus saw a vast plain and more men, with women and children, working and playing across a  campsite. A low fire burned in a pit.

In moments they were surrounded. By smiling children (keen to touch the stranger) dangerous men, and unimpressed women.  The tribe wore little clothing and the women’s breasts swung like pendulums.

Adolphus was pushed to the ground, while the ape-men conversed heatedly. It appeared there was no consensus about what to do with him. Many glared at him, telegraphing their intention.

The women were calm. They began to smile at him. They checked his hair for pests. Fingered the materials of his nightclothes. Some marvelled at his bare, white feet. He was tickled and he laughed involuntarily. The ladies laughed with him.

The men looked angrier than ever, at this cuckold in their nest. Then descended upon him, scattering women and children like petals into the wind.

Adolphus curled into a foetal position to protect himself from the clear displeasure of these men. Their feet acted as drums, causing the ground to rumble. Their voices carried clear menace, even though Adolphus could not decipher their words.

He thought, I am a stranger here. I don’t belong. I am not wanted. And this is what happens to the cuckold, to the foreigner. To those not the same.

A large ape-man plucked Adolphus from the ground and as easily as tossing wood onto the fire, so he threw Adolphus.

Adolphus lay in the fire pit, his brain trying to understand what had happened. Then as the burning heat registered on his hands and knees, he screamed and propelled himself like a jack in the box out of the fire. With bare hands he tried to dampen the flames clinging to him. The ape-men hounded him with sticks, back toward the waterfall.

Adolphus obliged and trudged along, more concerned with his burns than the irritating sticks herding him. Like cattle.

As he pushed through the veil of water he screamed to them.

What shall I do here? I have no food, no clothes, and no way home!

He was ignored.

Adolphus held no hope of returning home. The fluke of a magic gateway happening once did not guarantee a return ticket.

He picked up the egg, cold now, and juggled it from hand to hand as he considered options.

Eat it? Who knew how long before his next meal. Or, keep the egg. It may be needed to get him home.

Adolphus paced the cave trying to find a sign of where he came through. A large fissure, disturbed soil, perhaps a breath of air crossing the divide from his home in Linz to this place.

He found a spot where it looked right but the gap was too small to crawl through. Measuredly, with no display of panic, he weighed the egg in his hand then rolled it gently at the wall. The egg disappeared.

As Adolphus crawled to the gateway, he heard the plaintive miaows of his beautiful cat.

Then he was through, sitting on his dining room floor, with Blondi crawling all over him.

Hold, my darling Blondi. I am well and reborn. He smoothed her white coat, gazed into her blue eyes. I understand my duty. It is to keep my Volk pure and free of outsiders.

As Adolf began his new life, the gentle ape-man finished his latest work of art. A small, white, moustached child-man standing quite erect. Hovering over his hand was a giant egg.

Perhaps it crossed his mind. That was one strange brother.



Author Note:

The judges didn’t seem to get what I was imagining here. 

This was an imagined Adolf Hitler, when he was Adolphus. 

His mother had recently died. He was considering what his future looked like. 

He dropped his boiled egg. I rolled away to an ‘opening’ to another time.
With early ‘monkey-like’ man. 

This frightened him, at a heightened emotional time in his life, and put the nail in the coffin of his attitude to life. 

The baseline would have already been there. His cat was named Blondi after all.

He could have gone either way. He could have remembered the fear, but then the stranger who helped him. But that’s not how the story went. 

The monkey-like beings frightened him as the ‘other’. And he would never be other. He would be the bogey man.

He would create a world where blond, blue eyed, Aryan was the predominant type. And he would never fear again.

Absolutely NOT MAKING EXCUSES for an evil man. 

Just IMAGINING. 

Friday Fictioneers – Escape

A big screen TV with an image of a rusty old car, being raised with straps.

Photo Prompt: Fleur Lind

It caught my eye the moment I entered.

Its segments called to me.

My sister moaned about life’s disappointments.

Her husband’s failings.

Her monster children.

Made coffee without asking what I wanted.

Assumed it was always the same.

Milk, 2 sugars, too white, too sweet.

I barely listened. Grunted in the right places

‘I made banana bread, with walnuts,’ she said.

She’d forgotten I’m allergic.

‘Everybody loves my baking. I should open a café.’

It was all just noise.

I reached out to the TV. Opened the door.

Walked through, and closed it quietly behind me. [96 words]


Rochelle Wisoff-Fields continues to set the challenge in 2024, encouraging a community of writers to write Flash Fiction of 100 words or fewer. To read other stories, visit here.

Scandinavia, Santorini and Ireland 2023

November 2021 was our 30th wedding anniversary. To celebrate, we’d booked our first cruise with Viking, exploring Scandinavia.

Then we got the blasted pandemic.

September 2023 I turned 60, more reason to celebrate. So, as the planets aligned, we took that cruise. We boarded at Bergen, Norway cruised to Eidfjord, Stavanger, and Oslo. Aalborg and Copenhagen, Denmark. Berlin, Germany. Bornholm, Denmark. Gdansk, Poland and finally Sweden, where we disembarked in Stockholm.

We loved all these places. Bergen was fantastic. Copenhagen stunning. We learned a lot about Norway and the oil industry at Stavanger. Oslo is also a beautiful city.

And icing on the cake was catching up with friends in Aalborg, who collected us from port and took us to their home for friendship and lunch, and to visit a local farmer (heaven for my husband). Lissi and Henning are so lovely. We met them in 1997 at an international farming conference, Eric met them again in the 2000s in the Netherlands, Henning came to Perth for another IFMA conference, and contact continued via Facebook 😁

I began this post from Gdansk, Poland. I’m a writer who spent six weeks overseas in 2023 (Ireland, Scandinavia and Santorini) and didn’t write. Months passed in 2023 without that rhythm. I anticipated that holidaying would reignite the joy; downtime, freed from the real world, with happy things to write about. But it didn’t make a difference, which is why I’m writing about mid-2023 travel in December.

I’ve enjoyed doing #nycmidnight and #WritingBattle challenges in 2023 and had a 48 hour challenge that began (Friday 9th June) while in Gdansk. I’d hoped that doing some blog travel posts would get the writing juices flowing in preparation, but still I didn’t post. 

We began our six weeks away in Cork, Ireland. When we visit the northern hemisphere we always try to fit Ireland into the itinerary. This time for me, it wasn’t about catching up with people. It was being, breathing, and feeling Ireland that I needed. We settled on a beautiful location in Cork, far enough away that only the very willing would visit with us. And luckily and thankfully my Byrne cousin Kevin with his wife Fiona and my Shelley cousin Pamela and her mum (Aunty) Teresa came down. We spent 9 days at Roches Point, flew to Copenhagen for a couple of days before flying to Bergen to join the cruise.

Eric and I expected that we wouldn’t enjoy cruising and we didn’t really. As a cruise line, Viking was excellent. The staff were fantastic, food was great, scheduling was great. There were no kids, or gambling. 

We were uncomfortable with the degree of attention. I know, you moan when you don’t get service, but we’re complaining about too much. We don’t need someone to come to our room twice a day. We also don’t like scheduling. We’re too used to doing things at our own pace and in our own sweet time. We don’t plan to cruise again.

BUT I would like to cruise the Mekong. Might have to get over myself, hey! 😊

After cruising we spent 10 days in Santorini. We love that island. We first visited in 2013 on a Trafalgar Greek Island tour. We booked a studio apartment overlooking the Caldera, took buses all over, hired a car for one day for a bit more freedom to explore wider, had a beautiful sunset dinner at a winery and spent peaceful hours on our balcony, marvelling at the traffic winding up and down from the ferry (narrow winding roads and coach buses, make for entertaining viewing) while we chatted and read. 

I understand how lucky we are to be able to travel. Could we have paid more attention to saving for our retirement, sure. But we could be dead tomorrow. 

The world is not in a good place, and my joints are terrible. We don’t have an overseas trip planned for 2024. 

But since November 2022 we’ve visited Singapore, Scandinavia, Santorini, Ireland. I’ve been to Melbourne several times, Perth a couple, Tasmania also, so we don’t sit still. 

Once we’ve done the hard work to afford it. 

Norfolk Island 2023

Norfolk Island is an idyllic place to visit. 


Norfolk has been on my radar as a possible writer’s retreat for years. Because Colleen McCullough lived there and if it was good enough for Coll … 😁

Colleen passed away in 2015 after forty odd years of living in and contributing to the Norfolk community. It seemed to me that she was an intellectual, perhaps at time impatient, who could also be very generous. She had a deeply creative streak, was prepared to put in the work and was loved by millions.

Colleen’s home is open to the public once a week (her husband still resides there, so measured out doses makes sense). I visited as I had some curiosity about how the great one lived. My three favourite things would be the two portraits of Colleen and her courtyard garden.

Did I write while on Norfolk? Yes, I did. About 12,500 words (over nine days). It helped that I had a couple of deadlines. A manuscript I’m working on via a Write Your Novel in six months course, NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writer’s Month) and a 2,000 word short story due for a Writing Battle.

We stayed at Sunset Villas which is gorgeous and well appointed. On the more luxurious cost end of accommodation. It was a beautiful, restful spot with glorious sunset views and our own pool. We booked through Stayz (VRBO).

I think I’ll come back to Norfolk, maybe next November, but will look around at other accommodation too. I don’t need to be spoiled to write but now that I have been 🤣 can I do without the luxury next time? To be discovered.


What we did

Apart from relaxing – reading, writing and for my husband, swimming – we saw some sights.

The cost of our accommodation included a small hire car so we were able to zip around at our leisure. It also included a complimentary orientation tour with Baunti Tours.

The orientation tour was a great setup for a sense of the island and took about three hours.

With Baunti we also did a fish fry, visited Colleen’s home and did the Lantern Lit Ghost Tour (with Rachel. Yikes!). Baunti had so much more on offer but we didn’t need to fill our time with doing things.

We also did a high tea luncheon at Forrester Court (clifftop) and a Tea Shire Drive through the one hundred acre reserve.

Our favourite coffee shop was The Orb for food and service and atmosphere.

On our own, we visited Kingston, the old penal settlement and right next to Emily Beach. We miss being near the sea in Albury, so we walked or brought our books down to spend time there.

We also drove up to Mt Pitt and Captain Cook’s lookout (separate days) for stunning views. Mt Pitt at sunset is recommended.

Also, Fitzy’s baked potatoes, waffles and gelato are delicious on the Lavender Farm premises, right in town.

Make sure you bring a good jumper (even a beanie) for the evening – although temperature wise that stays pretty even day and night. And although the UV index can run high, temperatures rarely exceed about 23 to 25 degrees Celsius.

Put Norfolk Island on your bucket list ❤️


A little Norfolk Island History

An ‘I was there for five minutes, so now I know stuff’ guide to the history.

  • Captain Cook found Norfolk Island on his second expedition around the world and named it after his benefactor’s wife. She never knew because she’d already died, but Captain Cook didn’t learn that until he got home.
  • Norfolk Island’s penal colonies were established twice.
    • The first was abandoned after about 26 years (burned to the ground on purpose) for a move to Tasmania.
    • Then 11 years later they decided Norfolk was a good idea after all and they returned to establish the meanest penal colony they could. Bastards!
  • Whaling was a thing for a while.
  • Norfolk Pine trees made a lot of export money for the island for a long time. Not any more.
  • Approximately one third of the population of Norfolk are descended from Fletcher Christian’s mutineers. That’s Fletch of the Mutiny on the Bounty fame.
    • He landed in Tahiti with his fellow mutineers but after a while they decided to move on (they were on the run). They took his men and their families, and some Tahitian natives to Pitcairn Island where they were predominantly nasty to each other, killing each other, due to their not being easy availability to food and supplies.
    • One of the mutineers taught his children to read with the only book around (you guessed it) the Bible and remarkably this taught those children how to be human and they helped retrain their fellow Pitcairn Islanders how to behave.
    • Things were pretty grim, so they appealed to the fatherland (England) to save them, which they did. They relocated them to Norfolk Island in 1856.
    • Those Pitcairn families (the children of the mutineers) were established in the homes left behind at the now defunct penal settlement – until about 1918 wen the government moved them out to elsewhere on the island because they wanted to preserve the history of the site.
    • Norfolk Island is an external territory of Australia (but when you travel there from Australia, it counts as international travel!).
  • Other interesting facts:
    • The main town area (Grid town) has a 40km/hr limit and all entries have cattle grids because cattle run free and they need to stop them entering the town CBD.
    • Outside of the town (other side of the cattle grids) the speed limit is 50km/hr due to narrow, winding, potholed roads with cattle roaming around.
    • Cows can graze all over the island at a cost to their owners of $145 per head per annum.
    • There is a Norfolk Island language.
    • They don’t lock cars (they claim, no crime).
    • And you can’t use international roaming. You need to purchase a local SIM card, except when you’re at your accommodation, if they have decent WIFI.

All Star Caper

Synopsis

Ma Jenkins is no fool. The easiest job of her nefarious career has landed in her lap. She needs a team, fast. Not the best team; and that’s exactly what she’s got!


I tap fingers on my desk and watch Bo the Beast pace, with his usual lumbering impression of a restless rhino. With every pounding step the room quakes. He’s messing up the place. Pictures tilt on the wall, coffee jumps out of cups. The drawers of the filing cabinet shudder and jerk. He’s pricking at my patience.

He’s on edge, frustrated and furious since I ordered Curly the Butcher and his moll, Samantha Tease to make an appearance. I’ve an urgent job and my regular no-good thieves are unavailable. I’m making do. Samantha broke Bo’s heart and he now wants to kill Curly. It’s gonna take some gentle handling of the situation.

As opposed to the gloss and opulence of the rest of the Penthouse Suite, I’ve kept this room dark, shabby and uncomfortable, reminiscent of the old days, before I felt impelled by my success to move uptown.

I’m sitting behind my old desk, scarred (like me). It’s huge and encourages the delusion of me as a fragile, silver haired, old gal playing at mob matriarch. It leads visitors to unrealistic expectations of what they might get away with. And if there’s any trouble, well, I let Bo loose.

I’m about to blow a gasket waiting on Curly and Samantha. Waiting is not what I do best, and it’s been fifteen minutes since I called. A job has fallen into my lap, an easy-peasy, money for jam, low-risk heist and we’ve only a couple of hours to pull it together.

And here they are. Laughing, confident swagger. Samantha stiletto heeled and curvaceous. Curly, stylish and debonair. They are loud, full of themselves and deadly killers. Not the skillset I require for tonight’s job, but I need people who are reliable under pressure.

‘About bloody time. What was the hold up?’ I growl.

‘Sorry, boss,’ said Curly. ‘Traffic.’

Bo kicks the filing cabinet at this cheek, and the top drawer crashes open, smashing him in the face. Stupid move, but I do appreciate his impulse control.

‘It’s one in the morning, idiot. Not an excuse that fits the situation.

‘Time is of the essence with this one. Quick and easy, no fuss. There’ll be nobody around. We won’t need any knife action,’ I warn.

‘Whaddya need us for then,’ demands Samantha. She needs an attitude adjustment.

‘Yeah, not really our type of gig,’ adds Curly.

‘What I need is all hands on deck,’ I say. ‘Loyal and reliable, and today, you’re it.

Paddy Patch has his nose in a cast. When he breathes, it’s a freight train. Johnny Juicy is holidaying with his kids in Bali. I’ve never heard the like. All my best stealers are in jail. Maybe not the best, thinking on it.’

‘So, it’s a stickup?’ Bo mumbles through the hand currently holding his face together.

‘It’s a deceased estate sale. Amateur setup. Word is a real treasure trove. Easy money.

‘So easy,’ I continue, ‘that a clever mob with a reliable van can cruise on in and walk out with armloads of the meltable stuff. A golden opportunity.’

A piercing scream from Samantha reveals her clumsy attempt to snoop in the filing cabinet as she’s snagged by the hidden mousetrap. Bo and Curly punch and shove their way to her aid, while I breathe deep in an effort to not pull a gun on them.

‘People! Quit fooling around, we’re outta time. Sam, get into the bathroom, there’s bandages and stuff. Fix yourself up. Boys, guns and dynamite are in the bottom drawer.

‘It’s basically a snatch and grab. Bo, you’ll punch through the front door, then the three of you grab anything that glitters gold. We’ll take the van. I’ll drive.’

Curly grunted a choked laugh at that. Disrespect. To deal with later.

‘Whatever we can take in say, twenty minutes, will do it. I don’t expect to need hardware, but we’ll prepare for the unexpected.’

‘The drawer’s locked, Boss,’ says Curly. ‘Do you have the key?’

‘I never open that drawer. Ah, yes, the key’s in the third drawer. Protected by the mousetrap,’ I say. Delighted at the irony.

We catch the lift down to the basement carpark and pile into the Lite Ace van I keep next to the Porsche. Unremarkable in city traffic, good for under the radar.

Although the van is small, I struggle to see over the dash and feel all eyes on me! More disrespect to be dealt with, later.

‘We’ll drive around the block, eyeball any CCTV, get the lay of the land,’ I say.

But on the first lap, we are stunned to see Joe Murphy and his boys laden with plunder. We jerked around for too long and missed our own party!

We watch for a minute as Joe stands in the doorway, surrounded by broken glass, taking a last look around before heading to his getaway vehicle.

‘Want me to rough someone up?’ asks Bo.

‘Team effort,’ says Curly. ‘Bo creates the chaos. Sam and I finish them off.’

‘Bo, call that sergeant at Police Central. Give him the tip, and we’ll call it a day,’ I say.

I take a moment to consider, before putting the car into drive, blocking Joe’s escape, just as we hear the wail of police sirens. Serves the bastard right, stealing our loot.

Job done, we drive off, Joe Murphy giving us the eye.

When, truly in concert for the first, we give him the collective bird. [907 words]

Friday Fictioneers – It’s Only Words

A row of guitars hanging in a shop, rainbow striped guitar at the front

Photo prompt by Jennifer Pendergast

She’ll anthropomorphise us into a story.

Someone is going to anesthetise us? Who, and why?

It’s what she does, that lady writer, her with the notebook. Gives human characteristics to animals and writes funny stories about them.

Oh, you mean she’s gonna personify us? Cos, we’re not animals.

Who died and made you Professor? She’ll reanimate us in some weak story for laughs, that’s racism, that is.

Racism. Huh. You’re off the shelf!

Go, Professor Nerd! Ten bucks, she’ll attribute me as a Zebra.

Zoomorphism! Your strings are too tight.

Twang! If I had hands, I’d …


The year is 2023 and Rochelle Wisoff-Fields continues to set the challenge and encourage this community of writers. An effort appreciate by us all. The challenge is to write a story in 100 words or fewer.

For other 100 word fiction, read here.

Simply 6 Minutes – I just wanted to watch the game!!

Man spending summer vacations at home alone, he is sitting on the deckchair in the living room and working with a laptop

All I wanted was a few minutes peace.

I begged, pleaded, then took action.

Tantrums, tears and screams ensued.

I shoved cotton wool into my ears.

I was heartless.

I pummelled, and squeezed, and filled bags.

There was mess. There was gore. And pain.

I dragged, pulled and pushed. Shoved, and prodded.

Until at last, under pain of death, they were subdued.

And I at last had peace.

Before I’d sorted them out, the children had been playing at beach picnics.

And so, the ideal ‘at home’ beach break was already in place.

Hot water with bath salts to soak my feet.

An ice cold lager.

The studio lamp, full frontal and it was like I was holidaying in Spain.

Then the icing on the cake. Chelsea vs Arsenal, premier league action on my device.

Only 6 hours before the fight re-commences.

When my darling children return from school. (6 minutes, 149 words)


Simply 6 Minutes Challenge Note

Thanks to Christine for this weekly challenge.

Simply 6 Minutes Challenge Note

  • Set up a timer or sit near a clock so you can keep track of the six minutes you will be writing.
  • You can either use one of the prompts (photo or written) or you can free-write.
  • Get ready and write for 6 minutes, that is it! Can you write a complete story? Can you think of a new Sonnet? Can you write 400 words? 400? 500? There are no restrictions on what kind of writing you do, but you should try to be actively writing for six minutes.

After you are done writing, include your word count and then post back to this page #Simply6Minutes or include your link in the comments section. Pingbacks are enabled

Everything

What would you change about modern society?

We would hit a reset button. Take steps backward. Be able to reverse bad decisions made, with hindsight. Of course, this assumes that you could sort the good from the bad, without cultural bias. And all agree on these new directions.

In reality, this could only happen with a catastrophic reset, where whoever survives decides how we go forward. And of course, those deciding will be biased about the need to survive and will not necessarily make the very best choices.

Friday Fictioneers – Door Porn

Suburban street showing doors and steps

Photo prompt by Dale Rogerson

What is it about doors?

Everywhere I go, their beauty, the architecture attracts my eye.

I know, I’m not the only one.

The fun, the flair, the je ne sais quoi!

Behind these gateways, the hopes, dreams and dramas in play.

There is an element of sticky-beakedness.

An innocent curiosity.

Doors call, ‘look at me!’ We do and begin to ponder.

What joy lays within. What secrets.

Old doors, new doors, admired for their artistry.

And the work of their creators.

Beautiful distractions from dreariness.

Reasons to stop and live in the moment. [93 words]


For Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. A photo prompt challenge to create a story using 100 words or fewer.

Read other stories for this week’s prompt here.


Some doors from my recent travels 😊

Friday Fictioneers – be my guest

roger-b

Photo prompt by Roger Bultot

And there I lay

Traffic passes, while each breath I take cuts like broken glass.

The hours drag

As neighbours dine, as bathers to bed, and lovers etwine.

A heartbeat slows

As colleagues wonder, ‘where was our friend’? Absently asked.

And there I lay

As coppers knock, corpse decays, soul in shock.

A lonely death, but soul set free

No longer yearning, sadness.

And there I lay. [67 words]


For Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. A photo prompt challenge to create a story using 100 words or fewer.

Read other stories for this week’s prompt here.