DP Weekly Challenge: Dialogue

“But we can’t put her in that dark, deep hole.” Lorna sniffled and looked from the cold lifeless body beside her back to the recently excavated hole.

“What do we do then honey?” Tom stood looking at his twelve-year-old daughter. How can you explain death and the afterlife to someone who covers her ears every time you try? He considered his options. He decided time was the only logical choice. It was getting cool. November and cool in Ireland means you do not stand still for long.  He knew that in ten minutes time they would be refilling the soil on top of the inert body, driven by the need to stay warm.

Lorna surveyed  him. “You don’t care, do you?”

He looked around him. That was too like his ex-wife’s voice and tone for him. He shivered and tried not to consider the possibility that Lorna was more like Sue than he would like.

“I do.” He turned to her and pointed. “Look at these eyes. They can’t cry anymore today. All out of tears. I just need to get this job done. We should go somewhere and remember her when she was happy and well.

“Ok. But she can’t go in there alone.”

This statement chilled him to the bone. He stepped back. But Lorna had run back to the car and arrived back hugging some items. Her favourite pink jumper she placed it on top and then added a tennis ball and a chewed up teddy bear.  He smiled.

“Thanks that’s better. I’m glad one of us thought this through.”

“Yes dad, I know but women are known to be much more sensitive than men. Let’s do this.”

They worked in silence. Twenty minutes later and the job was done.  Lorna place a large stick at the top to mark the grave and a bright blue rubber bone at the bottom. He looked at it and raised his eyebrows.

She whispered. “It’s for  Penney’s children, the pups will have to come and visit their mums grave, they will need something to keep them busy. This should work.”

With a flick of her dark brown hair she pivoted about and walked back to the car. He followed her, wiping the tears from his eyes. As they drove towards home he asked,

“When did you become older and wiser than me?”

“Many lives ago, dad, many lives ago.”

This post is a DP Weekly challenge: Dialogue rules can be found at the following page;

Horace has a hard day.

Only five hundred and fifty five more sacks of nectar to collect and I’m winner of the collector of the week, Horace thought as he paused for a break.

It was hot. Humid and hot, not two of his favorite words but work was work and families had mouths and they needed to be fed.

He paused and with a neat flick his straw-like tongue zipped outwards and got …nada… zilch…nothing.

Again, it can’t be happening again. Oh gosh, that’s the third time today. I’m overworked, I’m finished I won’t make the top of the pollen charts today or tomorrow. I must be ill. As he ranted and raved, he paused,  the other insects around him were mostly bees or the odd horsefly, but he could have sworn he heard a giggle. He looked around no one appeared to be watching him.

“Oh god, its worse than I thought, I’m going cuckoo, mad, batty.” He shuddered – he hated bats.

Horace considered his options. To return home now would be to admit total and utter defeat.  “I’m not a quitter, ” he muttered. “I’ll move on to the next plant and try once more.”

As he took off, he noticed that taking off was becoming harder and harder. I feel as though I am gaining weight. Must go back to  Moving and Meditating Classes, they did me good the last time.

He landed with a thump and gave himself a minute. He closed his eyes and pictured a calm scene. Night time and his bed.

Meanwhile Lolita ladybug had unattached herself from him and was busy collecting nectar. She hummed as she worked. Moths were famous for being less than clever but today she had hit the jackpot. So far she had robbed him of six sacks of nectar and if she played her cards right he would even give her a ride back home.

The air fizzled. She looked up and noticed he had one eye open. Humming stopped and she became one with the stem of the plant. Hoping was all she had now unless he was exceptionally stupid….

Flash fiction piece inspired by this photo on Dragonfly Photography’s blog page.

Trifecta Challenge: Grace

She sashayed towards him. Every ounce of her two tonne body issuing an invitation: I’m a woman – come get me.

He gulped, discovered he couldn’t move. He was incapable of thought, mesmerized by that great supple movement of her hips and felt her eyes pierce his soul.

He knew at once she had to be his, “what’s your name?” he growled, his eyes fastened on hers.

Stupid question he thought, it doesn’t matter, because this was one whole lot of woman and this time he was going to win the Grace Waltz. He was going to take her to the Hippopotamus’ Mud Ball in November or die trying.

 

b : a pleasing appearance or effect : charm <all the grace of youth — John Buchan>

c : ease and suppleness of movement or bearing

– See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.5YH3KlFy.dpuf

How Breeze got his name.

“Breeze, its a weird name. How did you get it?” Tulip asked one afternoon.

He smiled. Flicking an annoying squirrel off the branch they sat on he said, “To answer that we need to climb Sugar Loaf mountain.” He pointed into the distance.

“Let’s go.” Tulip said.

One hour later they were sitting on a ledge looking down on the forest. “I can’t see our tree.” Breeze moaned.

“Let me help.” Tulip flicked her wand towards the trees. She said, “Wait, give it a minute.”

Breeze counted. At sixty he was rewarded. A rainbow volcano erupted from a tree, showering the forest below with sparkling, dancing lights. “Thanks,” he said and began his story.

Mum was nursing me outside our cave, the day after I was born. I was crying. Two birds flew close to her and asked her to make me stop. Then they asked, “What is his name?”

“He doesn’t have one yet, because an Ogre takes his name from whatever or whoever makes him smile, but he hasn’t stopped crying.”

“We know,” they said putting their wings over their heads.

A breeze blew softly across the mountain tops. It drifted down to the crying baby. It danced across his toes and worked its way up to his nose. His crying stopped. He smiled.

The birds popped their heads out and asked, “who did it?”

She said, ” the breeze did it. His name is Breeze.”

Tulip looked at him. “I don’t think that could be true.”

Suddenly she felt a flitting breeze tugging at her wings. It pulled her hair from its pony tail, tickled her nose. She smiled.

But Breeze was way ahead of her as it worked its magic on him and he laughed so hard he rolled half way down the mountain.

For an image of Breeze and Tulip check out this link

The Trouble With Trees

Breeze loved to sit in trees.

It was generally regarded by those who believed they knew Ogres, that Ogres hated trees, but he was the exception to the rule. The bonus for sitting in trees was; he could spy on his neighbors.

It was Monday afternoon. Breeze climbed his favourite tree in the forest and almost crashed to the ground. His favourite branch was bent at an ninty degree angle which meant he could not sit on it.

He grinned, then said, “I could use it as a slide.” And he did.

On his third slide to the ground, he let out a tremendous roar of ‘Wheeeeee.’

The female voice that roared back was not tiny or polite. When she had his attention, Fairy Tulip declared,

“You sank an entire batch of fairy cakes so you can come to the party and explain why they look like pancakes.”  Her foot was tapping the air as her wings flapped close to his nose.”Stop scowling at me. You thundering big oaf.”

“Ogre” he corrected her. “I’m a thundering big Ogre.”

Her answer surprised him.

She laughed, so hard she tumbled upwards until she was level with his eyes. “Well for a TBO you have surprisingly nice eyes.”

They went to the party together.

Days passed before Tulip met Breeze. “I have an order for two hundred cakes. Come to the tree at two o clock, I will sit with you to protect the slide and my cakes.”

He scratched his head. “Ok,  if you bring a large fairy cake for me.”

Tulip said “Yes.”

At two o’clock he saw her struggling with a huge package. She said, “I couldn’t carry the cake up to the branch but you could.”

He climbed to the branch below his favourite one, in case he was tempted to slide.

“This cake is huge.” He said.

“Don’t worry I’ll help.”

They sat for a long time eating and talking.

It was late when Tulip said, “this is odd,  we are sitting high in the sky and we are sinking instead of the sun.”

“That can’t be right.” Breeze said and finished the last of the giant cake.

Tulip looked down and smiled. She said. “Getting back on the ground is usually a long flight for me. But watch.”

With a flick of her wings she took a step and landed on the ground. Breeze stood up and walked after her. Together they looked at the tree. Instead of one branch bent towards the ground now there was two branches bent over like steps on stairs.

Breeze smiled at her. “Tulip you have solved the mystery. Thank you.”

“You are very welcome, but perhaps you should stop eating fairy cakes for the next few weeks.”

Together they strolled off into the forest.

 

This story was inspired by pictures on miartedoris.wordpress.com site.

Bob’s Diary. It’s not my fault…

It’s not my fault. I thought we were going to look for a cat.

“Something small and cuddly to keep you company” I was told.

She acted like a cat. Take a look at these pictures.

ellie or cat Ellie on bench

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now look what has happened:

She became cute,

cute ellie The leader

And bossy!

The Disappearance.

“I’m going to be on TV.” Fred announced.

Emily looked at him. Fred was four years older. “Why?” She asked.

“I’ll be in the talent show.”

“Good for you Fred.” Dad said, puffing out his chest.

“I must buy a new dress.” Mum looked dreamy.

Emily didn’t get it. Pulling a stuffed rabbit out of a hat? Everyone knew it was a trick.

She looked at them. “But I do real magic, not play magic like Fred.”

“Course you can, princess.” Dad said.

“How about I buy you a new dress, Em?”

Emily scowled. Why did no one believe her?

For the next month the house was in a frenzy of magic.

Emily retreated to read her favourite Celtic stories. She was happy, until she heard her mum ask,  “Who is your assistant Fred?”

“I don’t know. Do I need one?” He squished up his nose  then said, “Stupid me, all the best magicians have an assistant.”

“There are a lot of girls in your class. I bet one of them would love to help.”

Fred scowled. He didn’t like girls. They giggled. They didn’t play football or basketball. “No, I don’t think they would be allowed to come over for practise. Most of them are busy doing dancing and other girly stuff.”

Emilycrept towards the door.

“Emily could do it.” Fred turned and grinned at his sister.

Mum said, “good. Em, you can work with Fred.”

Fred put on his sad face. Loving your brother is a bore, Emily thought.  “Okay.”

“Great now I must check your dress. It might need a bit of pzazz. A few bows or ribbons,” mum dashed from the room.

With Emily by his side, Fred continued to practise. “I have a great finale planned Em.” He said, leading her into the garden where he had his greatest trick of all set up.

He was good, but Emily knew she could be better. “Will they expect everything to be perfect?” She asked.

“Course it will be.” He said.

The morning of the show arrived. The television centre was on the other side of town. Emily brought her favourite book with her and loads of snacks.

Fred looked at her. “We might be on first and be home early.”

Shaking her head she answered. “Not with my luck.”

He scowled at her.  Then gave her hand a pat, “You will get your chance to show off on TV when you are eleven. It’s only a couple of years.”

She said, “I don’t think I will have to wait that long.”

“I hope you aren’t going to mess me act up.”

“Don’t worry I will make your act spectacular.” Emily said. “Jelly baby?”

Fred went to put on his costume.  lady with an angular face sat beside her. At her feet were two terrriers wearing large bows.

“Do they do tricks?” She politely asked.

“No.” The lady moved closer. She smelt of lemon soap.  The dogs curled up at at her feet.  “They sing in harmony.”

One of the dogs belched.

“Great.” Emily said. And picking up her book she began to read it.

One by one the contestants were called to the set. Emily glanced at the elderly man holding a chainsaw.  “He won’t be able to start that thing.” She said.

She was correct. His face was bright red as he left the room in a hurry.

“I think that man with the guitar will win.” She said listening to him strumming on his guitar.

Fred scowled. “Thanks, what about me?”

“You Fred, will be spectacular.” She smacked her lips together.

A tap on her shoulder, “are you ready dear?” the man with the clipboard asked.

She straightened her dress, fixed her brightest smile on her face and walked into the room behind Fred.

“I will perform magic for you this afternoon. I will be helped by my charming sister, Emily.” Fred said.

Emily gave a courtesy and beamed. The audience clapped and someone whistled. They like me. This thought carried Emily through a perfect rendition of pouring the water into a paper bag trick. On and on it went. Fred stuck his chest out. This irritated Emily a little.

He’s a twit. I can do magic. This thought landed in her head and would not be shifted.

She heard Fred say, “In a minute I will ask Emily to stand in this box, which,” he tapped the sides and top, “is solid.”  He gave the audience a quick smile before he said, “Would a member of the audience check it out please?”

An elderly man shuffled from his seat and inspected the box. Emily thought he might kick it. “It’s solid.” He said and went back to his seat.

Fred pointed at Emily and then at the box. She could feel her temper rising. I’m tired of being bossed around.

Inside the box, Emily relaxed. She could no longer see Fred. It helped. Unfortunately she could hear him.

It was enough.

“I will spin the box and say the magic word. When I open the door Emily will have vanished. She will appear from behind the curtain.”

When Fred opened the door the applause was deafening. “Isn’t he great?” mum breathed. She looked across the stage waiting for Emily to appear.

An hour later they were still searching for her.

*  *  *  *

Seventy years later Fred lay on his death bed. “I would give anything to know what happened to Em.”

She appeared before him.  “I told you.  I can do magic, why didn’t you listen?”

“I missed you. Where were you?”

“Tir Na nOg,  It is spectacular. We could use a play magician. Would you like to come with me now?”

Fred gave a nod.

When the nurse came to check on him; he was no longer there.