‘Where is our coffee?’ wondered Scatty, ‘she’s taking ages,’ as she craned her head across the aisle, ‘but at least that lovely red-headed woman had given us our tickets, she’s so useful, never inept is she,’ as Scatty glanced across the aisle again.
‘We’re going to be branded as liars and thieves,’ muttered Joan, – Francis said, ‘well, it wasn’t us, was it, it was only them, those wretched gargoyles,’ as he glanced up, although they couldn’t actually see them, since the two gargoyles were lying on the top of the train.
‘Hush, don’t talk so loudly,’ muttered Joan, ‘we need to introduce a different topic, people can hear what we are talking about and that is not a good idea – mums the word, eh?’
Then the red-headed woman appeared holding the four coffees; she was putting them down on the table, and she said, ‘ouch, that was very hot, I got a slight injury, look, there is a small burn on my left wrist, still it’s not a train smash, as we would say – and yes, I’m crossing my one thumb for luck,’ as she grinned.
They sipped their coffees – all black and no sugar – as they were all mulling their thoughts as the train continued to travel quickly; of course, it was dark now, but they could see more buildings, ‘it’s a big town coming up soon,’ remark the red-headed woman.
A little later, the train slowed down, ‘look it’s going to stop before the town, I wonder why?’
She got up in the night that time, it was gorgeous and warm, and so clear.
The moon was full and huge, the stars twinkled beautifully.
There was planets – she knew them, and beyond there were galaxies.
She stared, and stared again, then she was moving, up and up.
She will meet and greet, but who were they?
She closed her eyes, and that was it.
And was it just a dream?
~~~~
Image credit:Steve Busch@Unsplash
The photographer described this image as; Triangulum Galaxy. Not your normal-looking galaxy. This galaxy is known as a flocculent spiral galaxy because its arms are made of patchy segments, not long, continuous spirals like you see in most other galaxies. It also lacks a strong central core of dense, bright stars. The patchy blue and red/pink areas are large star formation regions.This galaxy is 2.7 million light years away.
‘Look at that wonderful cake,’ she said. ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘Right in the middle of that excellent cake shop.’ ‘I realise that.’ ‘It’s gorgeous… three layers, lovely, and it looks rather retro.’ ‘It’s big.’ ‘It’s just that… well, I was thinking, you know…’ as her voice trailed off. He said nothing.
‘Are we moving to the next shop?’ he asked. ‘Oh no, not quite yet,’ as she lingered. ‘We could have an anniversary treat… it’s just a little bit early.’
‘Yep, that’s what we should do.’ She opened the cake shop door. He followed her. ‘It’s flower power, isn’t it.’
~~~~~~~
~~~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Hysterical Non-Fiction Word Count: 100
‘It’s stopping, look, that train,’ grinned Scatty, ‘we should get on it, shouldn’t we,’ as they looked to each other, ‘see, those gendarmes are past the last shed now, let’s go, and why not, there are no problems are there?’
Both Mr Cushing and The Old One looked rather apprehensive: ‘it’s my limousine,’ said Mr Cushing, ‘I’m not leaving the old girl by that farm,’ – ‘no siree,’ said The Old One, ‘I always ride shotgun with you now, so we will have to chance it then,’ – and a moment later, they both shot off.
‘Train time,’ smiled Joan, ‘how handy there was a tiny station just here,’ – ‘more than handy,’ said Francis, ‘I am kind of thinking this could be a ghost train,’ but he muttered very quietly and no-one else heard what he said.
However, everything seemed normal as all four of them got into that busy train.
The train was moving quickly now as the red-headed woman walked through the carriages, she brushed a wisp of hair away from her face, as she glanced at a rather pretty baby who was sitting by her dad playing pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake; and in the next but last carriage, this was what she was after: ‘ooh, at last, a brew… hot coffee!’
Meanwhile, the two gargoyles had been checking out those diamonds, since of course they had got them; they had been using their smartphones since they had an inkling about something clever Reena had said quite recently: ‘ah, there it is…’
It said, ‘take what you need.’ It was stuck on a telegraph pole by the pavement. She stopped and looked. Interesting, she thought. But she moved on, although she continued that thought.
She mused as she walked along that road. What were the seven words again? She could remember them, and all were good, she felt.
She pondered as the rain started again. Well, it was the UK after all. Then the next telegraph pole appeared, which also had the same words. However, this one had been disfigured.
So ‘love’ and ‘money’ had disappeared, as did ‘passion’ and ‘happiness’ – very sad that. Then ‘luck’ had become ‘uck’ – very unpleasant. But, at least it hadn’t been replaced with ‘fuck’ (gosh, naughty).
Right in the middle, the word, ‘courage’ had lost part of it. Now it’s called ‘rage’… another gosh for that. All that was left was ‘hope’ and that seemed appropriate.
~~~~~~~
Image credit:Maximus Mazar@Unsplash
This image shows a paper poster on a pole, saying – “Take what you need” Underneath are tabs marked- Love, Hope, Passion, Courage, Happiness, Luck, Money!
She is a comely gal, mindful though, but then she’ll munch and crunch happily. Goodness gracious!
She’s persistent, for sure, proudly too. She’ll be on the prowl, then strike quickly. Goodness gracious!
She’ll see a visitor, and she’ll wink. There’s an opportunity, but no. Goodness gracious!
She’ll sulk for a couple of hours, but then she’ll open her pretty mouth. Goodness gracious!
She will try her luck again, grinning. You see, she is a Venus fly-trap. Goodness gracious!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For Colleen Chesebro‘s #TankaTuesday #48 – 20 January 2026 where this week’s host Melissa Lemay’s invitation is to follow poet Marianne Moore’s syllabic pattern in one of her poems. I chose the pattern of 9-syllable lines and a 4-syllable refrain.
‘I want to go on the dodgems. The bright purple one looks best.’ She grins, looking to her older brother. ‘Pretty please?’ As she jumps up and down, then waves her little hands.
‘You’ve got the money, haven’t you. And I’m sure we’ve enough.’ She wheedles her older brother. And it always works.
‘Look, it’s stopping.’ She grabs his hand and almost drags him over to the pretty bright purple bumper car.
She jumps in. She’s always the driver, even though she can only just reach that pedal. Then he pays that tall guy, and they are off. Broom, broom!
~~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Memoir Word Count: 100
All six of them, Francis, Joan, Scatty, the red-headed woman, The Old One and Mr Cushing, burst out from the far end of the shed; all of them glanced back at Inspector Clouseau who was still tied up and tightly, before they all turned forward to this important mission.
‘Come on,’ said Joan, ‘we can walk and talk, and maybe we should walk rather quickly,’ – ‘also,’ said Scatty, ‘we should forget all about that pretty kettle of fish,’ – ‘absolutely,’ muttered the red-headed woman, ‘it’s not relevant anyway,’ – while Mr Cushing nodded his head feeling vindicated.
‘Are we all feeling better now?’ asked The Old One, – ‘I believe so,’ grinned Mr Cushing, ‘are we united… we are, aren’t we,’ – ‘we’re a unit, yes, that’s right,’ beamed Francis, ‘we’re great again.’
‘But where are the two gargoyles,’ asked the red-headed woman, ‘are they missing… it seems unlikely though?’ as she looked around everyone.
‘Well, they are hardly upstarts, are they,’ said Joan, ‘those two gargoyles are very old indeed,’ – ‘yes, very true,’ grinned Scatty, ‘we are all ancient,’ – ‘oh, but not her, the red-headed woman,’ said The Old One, as he smiled back to her, ‘she’s in her prime, isn’t she,’ – as the red-headed woman, blushed a bit.
But now they all started to run, since it was clear that the gendarmes had arrived; then they heard a train very close to them, and as they looked up, they could see the two gargoyles sitting on the top of that train.
luna's on line 