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.

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 Travels

We came to play in the river,

This is beyond stupid,

not only have I lost Dora

but also….

dora

 

the River.

Help!

Bobs Eye View

Okay,                                                                                                                    

Every ship needs a captain,

Every ship needs a captain,

 

Time I stepped in, to steer this ship,
weather miserable, she’s got me on a diet,
but there are ways and means to win a jelly baby or three –
I mean take a look at this face!

Bob

 

A Promising Encounter

snowdrops_202966

Heavy feet trudging through a meadow

distracted by winters shadow

By a gate I met a lone white capped sentry

Who neither gave nor denied entry

I supposed this fragile snowdrop

To be a lost member of a troop

 

Down by the water I was accosted by others

Smiling I accepted they were his brothers

Abandoned here by changing tide

Their delicate fragrant beauty too much to hide

Spread by the racing winds blow

To become an oblivious carpet of snow

 

My wonder grew as I crept past

For their present beauty was not to last

Some peeped out at me amongst the moss

I  wondered who was their boss

To carefully, tenderly tuck and sow

In such a way to ensure they would grow

 

Turning my head I questioned my thoughts

Others were stationed to taunt natures wrought

Daring and brave, they crept

From hedge to water, they slept

Guarding their promise outlying wardens stand in a ring

As silently each snowdrop heralds spring