the lanterns spring up all around the world little specks of light filling up with glee
the colours are vivid from crimson to mauve as they skipped around with joy what a beautiful globe
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Image credit: Leon Contreras @ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows many lanterns floating into the night sky. Some are nearby are more visible than others which are far away.
The red-headed writer had never met this guy until just now, although they had been friends for several years, as they had been doing posts in the ether (or at least in a phone or laptop); there had lost touch for a while doing other things, but it didn’t matter now as there were both grinning.
For a couple of hours they talked and joked, what a beautiful place, she said, several times, as Bjorn laughed just like a bear; he drove long and hard on the plateaus and in the valleys, but then he turned off to a small location, almost right by the sea: ‘there’s my spot, he said.
They sat down in the warm and cozy house – there was toast and sardines with whisky – as they looked out on the wilderness.
Then it was 10.30 pm and it’s dark and she’s tired now; meanwhile, Bjorn was doing strange things in his computer, ‘bits’ and ‘bots’ and ‘non-fungible tokens’ – of which she knew nothing and she smiled as she went to bed, wrapped up next to her huge big bag.
She woke up and it was almost light; she went out and down to the beach, how many grains of sand are there, could she hold just one in her hand? and then it happened…
Suddenly, a green smudge of light materialised as the magical spectacle began; it skipped across the darkness of space, while the shimmering liquid flames danced around the sky: it was the aurora borealis.
the angel and the mermaid what we do every day we stand in the park not moving at all but later, it’s dark and silent and the gates are closed and in the moon light the glorious graceful dancers whirling and swaying spreading joy
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Image credit: Marianna Smiley @Unsplash “Thrive” by Danial Pooper a sculpture in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a giant female figure who is opening her chest to show the greenery inside.There are cracks on the visage and torso of this sculpture.
The ash and sulphur became so dense as the plane banked horribly and listed alarmingly – mayday, mayday – shouted the captain; at this point, the red-head writer, aka the Raconteuse, had so many thoughts but then she blacked out, which was just as well, since the plane lost power: it shuddered and quivered but it glided on the ice.
Just a few minutes later she’d recovered, she stared around, the plane was crippled and in a bad way, but it seemed that everyone was safe; and even better the volcano was silent again, just a few plumes of moulted rock and ash around.
The red-head writer realised that it would be a very long way to walk, but what else would she do; she decided that she would go alone and quickly – she was wearing all her warm clothes and she had a big bag – everything she needed.
She looked at her GPS, then set out.
She had been walking at least two hours, there was no ice now and it’s easier to walk, but suddenly the steep shale made her tumbled down, she had a long fall and stopped, she was rather shaken but soon recovered; now she saw a bank with deep water where the stream levels out – and here was the road.
A little later, she saw a huge car, she waved with her big bag, and it stopped; she smiled happily as she was whisked away by an excellent friend who drives too fast.
Posted for The Unicorn Challenge, a magical challenge hosted by Jenne Gray and C E Ayr, where they provide a photo and we, in turn, provide up to 250 words.
the moon beckons me as the night sky’s burn brighter her moon becomes radiant my magical dreams drift on and offer tiny pulses of light
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Image credit: Kenrick Mills @ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a full moon in a cloudy sky. It’s night time and the clouds behind the moon are illuminated by the moonlight in an eerie fashion.
The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, had been staying in her bolt hole place, a tiny flat right up on the rickety stairs, in Montmartre, near the cemetery; a useful place where she’d already sold her little picture for her tidy profit, just a week ago.
Now it was time to go, she grabbed her important things in her big bag; all she would need was some new warm clothes, buying them from a small boutique shop.
Soon she was making her way to the train, taking her to Charles de Gaulle airport, where she had been many times; she also liked to move around from place to place, often in different continents, but she’d never been to Iceland, it would be the coldest place she’d ever been.
After the usual performance to get in the plane and take off, including keeping her eyes shut for a couple of minutes, everything was fine; now she was quite happy to enjoy her gin and tonic, and look forward to seeing some of her friends from the Cafe, although what there were all doing was a mystery to her for the moment.
About three hours later, she’d been reading most of the time, but now there was a great deal of turbulence, as she put everything away and buckled up her seat belt tightly; she looked out from the window, and suddenly a huge plume of fire burst out from the volcano as it erupted.
too much pollution too many plastic bags and bottles
it should be a better place so make it happen
just a little help and hope
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Image credit: Tom Barrett @ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a view of a walkway/ street, at a time when the shadows cast by the sun are out of proportion larger than the people walking the street.
She stared around the gallery. The main room had all the great masters in the old wing, very dull, she thought, but this part is new and rather posh, how nice.
She lifted a glass from the tray, sipping the bubbly, then she glided around the room. Some rather good paintings, modern in an interesting way but nothing particularly could her eye. But then she sees an imposing sculpture. It rears up, a hooded man and a gaping maw, and it looks rather frightening. Does his expression reflect the artist’s angst?
Apocalypse by Cliff Davies
She made her way up to the second floor. Then suddenly two men – clearly artists – both of them held up their fists. She hedged away, gripping her glass in her hand. People began to stare. Then a moment later, the fight began on the staircase. But it finished as quickly as it started. What was that about, she wondered, as the two artists shook hands and left.
Two hours later, her flight was called. She smiled quietly as she’d acquired a little picture from the gallery wall, where she’d stashed her big bag.
Posted for The Unicorn Challenge, a magical challenge hosted by Jenne Gray and C E Ayr, where they provide a photo and we, in turn, provide up to 250 words.
It moaned and raged across the south coast, right up to the highest mountains.
The storm lashed and buffeted the tallest trees, traumatising animals and people living in their shacks.
The birds, shaking with fear, crept in the hollows and bushes, while the squirrels hunkered down in the deep dreys as the huge palm tree swayed around our garden.
From morning to night the storm raged, and raged again; we looked out into the street where the fire and rescue truck had managed to take down a broken great tree, what a relief, but not before we saw terror in the faces of several people
And finally, in the morning, there was no wind or rain.
At least we all have our houses – the walls, the doors, the windows and the roofs – but everything else is such a mess, and we will only talk about the present at the moment.
A movie star in the making but at the moment he’s treading the boards he pretends he’s shy but he’s nothing like it he could even be a drama queen.
Well, maybe not strike that one out.
He’s a beautiful man so clean and fresh and tidy but there’s one problem he talks so very high such a pity.
Actually, he could be a man in drag and why not?
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Image credit: Sander Sammy @ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a man holding a white face mask which is hiding half of his face. Only his light brown eyes and forehead are visible.