The two boys had been playing with their bouncy ball by the park, but then the ball sailed over that back garden. “At least we can see through the tall gate.” “But what’s over there? It looks like a slithering thing, and I don’t like the look of it.” “It’s long and black, although we can’t see it very well from here.” They peered again, and then said: “Come on, we’ll be fine.” So they jumped over.
They looked around at the rather rambling garden. “Here’s our ball under the bush.” “And there’s no snake at all.” As both giggled.
~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Historical Fiction Word Count: 100
The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) had been musing yet again while she waited for the kettle to boil; she’d been a little nervous last week went she when to the imposing bank since she needed to pay off all her debts and loans this time, lucky that she got some money in reserve, although she was pretty broke now.
She drank yet another brew as she muttered to herself while opening her laptop… there must be some inspiration in blogging world surely?
She scrolled down in WordPress – she felt it was always better on her laptop rather than her smartphone… hmm, too smart for me, as she grinned to herself; seems there’s too much fake news and stuff around the world anyway, much better to just make things up, no jeopardizing there for sure!
However, there was no inspiration at the moment she felt, as she decided to pack her big bag; it was always better to have too much than less, with pens, pencils, two notebooks and, her rather old but still good, laptop, plus several items which were most useful.
La Raconteuse left her small apartment, locking her front door, then almost running down those many steps to the bottom – it was six floors naturally.
Then less than fifteen minutes later, la Raconteuse had entered the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro, while she had walked across a couple of streets, a narrow alley and then the three steps down; and now she’d almost had a small ditty in her head already.
“It’s very blue, isn’t it?” “Indeed, it is.” “Such a huge fountain… magnificent, I’d say.” “But what are we talking about this time?” “Well, it’s a bit complicated.” “Okay, but let’s walk along those trees.”
And so they did.
“History, eh? That’s a very big subject, isn’t it?” “Well, we can narrow it down.” “Go on, I am all ears…” “Hmm, you are being funny… aren’t you?” “There’s nothing wrong with that.” “Sure.”
“Well, where are we up to?” “Okay. History is all about men.” “Really?” “Yep.”
“We should talk about ‘herstory’.” “Aha, got it.” (smiling) “Feminist… and the rest!”
~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Historical Fiction Word Count: 100
The red-headed woman had been reminiscing as she stood outside on her tiny balcony, she had known her wonderful friends for more than three years now, what fun they had had in the past, and they were still finding different opportunities.
She had been rather worried as Halloween might be cancelled, since Mr Cushing had told everyone about that as he had been driving them back to Montmartre, apart from those two gargoyles who had flown off before then.
However, at least that excellent cemetery, the one in Montmartre, was able to still go ahead with Halloween, and in fact it was not a bit of a damp squib at all, it was absolutely sublime, including several younger vampires, who acted victims, although they obviously weren’t, just like vice versa as they all laughed a lot.
There were ghosts and ghouls, and mummies, although almost all of them were still just vampires, but of course Scatty was enjoying this so much, since she was in her element – no-one was able to better her as she stalked around as being her other self, she’s such a beautiful black panther.
But now the red-headed woman walked back to open her iPad, since she wanted to see how the BBC World News was going; and there it was… this was amazing; it said the North American people were most pleased, there was no hollowvictory over there it seemed at all.
And a moment later, the two gargoyles alighted in her tiny balcony.
Hey Joey, what are you doing? Aren’t you getting a bit big?
I’m not being rude, far from it, but, and there is a but, your poor mom is rather tired.
So how about this? You can play with me, I’m your older brother!
~~~
Image credit:Brian / Bushboy
This image shows a female kangaroo with a Joey ( baby kangaroo) in its pouch. The Joey is peeking out and its curiosity is apparent. The mama and the baby are standing in front of a forest background
“It’s Halloween, isn’t it,” grinned Uncle Bill. “We know,” laughed the two boys in unison. “I’m glad that both of you have popped around here. I know you have your sheets to be ghosts, but I’ve some things in my shed which will help you as well.” The two of them looked at each other for a moment, then they followed Uncle Bill to the shed.
“Okay, this should do,” as Uncle Bill produced two broomsticks, two small cassocks and two tall pointy hats.” The two of them grinned while pocketing some tangerines and Polos. “Have fun and see you soonish,” as he waved them off.
Meanwhile, Uncle Bill finished his open fire in the living room. The flames danced around and became toasty. Then he carefully arranged their treasures, since all three of them had scrumped lots of chestnuts last week. That will warm them up, grinned Uncle Bill.
“Time is such a wibbly-wobbly thing,” said James. “Such a hard concept for us,” said Jane.
So the two almost human people started the special car, and off they went, up and very fast, as Jane controlled all the power things, while James pushed the buttons.
“Here we go,” the two of them grinned.
Then soon that miraculous car dropped down to a beautiful beach. June and James got out of the car. “Aha, this is brilliant,” they said together. “Yep, I have these two ancient things,” said James. “And phew,” grinned Jane, “so that was where my phone was!”
~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Edited Novel Excerpt Word Count: 100
What a very strange day had occurred in those vast catacombs, and parts had been pretty bad it seemed, however, the evening and the night were wonderful and all of them had a surge of deep happiness while settling down to watch an old movie.
Everyone had far too much delightful food and drink, apart from Mr Cushing who was much more sensible; still someone had to do that, like refilling several optics behind the bar and all the gin had been drunk at the end of the night.
Still, worry not, almost everybody went to sleep, although those two gargoyles were not in a good way, as yet again, they were more than drunk, woozy, dipsy and almost vomiting for part of the night, but nevertheless a few hours later they were completely fine again.
“We’re wonderful gargoyles, and we’re still very happy to sow our wild oats,” as they giggled; “we can be rather reckless and sometimes naughty, but oh, we need the sun and the light,” as the two of them climbed up from those catacombs, and then they flew off into the sky.
“Okay,” said Francis, “time to leave, and thank you, Mr Cushing, that was excellent,” while Mr Cushing nodded back.
So off they all went, but then Mr Cushing had several things to say: “sorry, there’s some bad news, there has been some rioting in the streets for some time, and also it seems Halloween, which is almost here, is going to be cancelled!”
