“Ooh, gosh, what a wonderful spread, and we haven’t even got to the table yet.” “Awesome isn’t it?” “I’m just craning over several tables to see what people are eating. No, I don’t think it’s rude. I’m just wondering what I might choose.”
“I’m going to call that waiter… rather attractive, isn’t he, don’t you think?” “Ah, we should also think about wine.” “Hmm, definitely a bottle of wine, and that will be fine.”
The two of them went quiet for a couple of minutes. The waiter appeared. Then soon everything was sorted.
“Now all we need is a selfie!”
~~~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Fiction Word Count: 100
The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) was very much revived now after that excellent coffee at the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro, while she chatted to Mimi who had been stacking the clean glasses and other things by the counter.
“Do you need any help around here?” asked la Raconteuse.
“Gosh no, nothing needed around here,” said Mimi, “however, there is one thing you can do, as she held up one finger and grinned; “just wait for a couple of minutes, I will be back,” as she darted back through the double doors, past the kitchen, past the Manager’s Office and beyond.
Then the tall, thin man appeared from the double doors, he must have been in his Manager’s Office all the time; he was now carrying a large cardboard box which was clearly rather heavy: “hmm, intriguing,” thought la Raconteuse, as she smiled radiantly to the tall, thin man, as he put that box on one of the tables.
But then there was much barking behind the double doors: “why, it must be Hūnga!” said la Raconteuse, as Mimi and Hūnga appeared just then; “now that’s going to be fun,” grinned la Raconteuse, “I’m thinking we should go for a lovely walk, what do you think, dear Hūnga?” – as Hūnga woofed back.
And so, since it was a gorgeous spring day, la Raconteuse,Hūnga and the tall, thin man all went on a walk by the wide river and by the cherry blossom trees, and that big box was forgotten for the moment.
so roses are red such a cliché, isn’t it still this is off white it’s very pleasing, lovely although this is a painting
and this is it? that’s right so clever, I’m really impressed that’s beautifully done and what is his name, do tell he was called Vincent van Gogh
🌹🌹🌹
Image credit:Jay Sadangi@Unsplash
This image shows a window with rusted borders. The window is divided into four panes. Behind the bottom two panes, a beautiful bunch of white flowers is visible.
The two boys had been peering over one of the back gardens where there was a large shed. They could see something interesting, and they really wanted to see more. “We could go around to the front and knock.” “Or we could just bunk over the fence.”
And so they did. And luckily the shed wasn’t locked.
“Ooh look, it’s a tiny train on the track, and everything else.” “Such detail.” “And perfectly to scale too.” The two boys looked at each other and grinned, and then they stared some more.
“That little train is immaculate.” “It’s in the proper colours, like British Rail.”
Then an old man appeared. “Oy, what are you up to?” But then he grinned. “Okay kids, I’m happy to show how it works, and you can watch.”
The two boys grinned back. “This is going to be fun!” “And you can call me Uncle Bill.”
Well it’s not published quite yet, but I’m sure it will. Shall I read some to you, and you can listen? And maybe you might make some comments?
See, I’ve printed all of this out, and it’s in my binder here. I will open it at the start.
I’m quite pleased about the very beginning. It flows rather nicely since the main protagonist, well, she’s pretty feisty and she has some large and heavy keys, and that’s the crux of the whole story, even at the first paragraph.
Oh, you’re going out? Not ready to listen to what I’ve written?
~~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Book Excerpt Word Count: 100
The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) had been busy tidying up around her little apartment, not something she did very often, but needs must, although after more than two hours she was beginning to flag.
Still, it was definitely worth it, especially her lovely table where she writes; it was mostly for working on her laptop, but she often printed things out for prudence sake, one wouldn’t want to lose in that way after all, as she shuddered for a moment.
Now everything was in order, she had pruned all those unnecessary pieces of A4 paper, and the useful ones she had used her paper hole puncher to put them into several binders, as she smiled to herself being pleased with what she had done.
Her vintage Velos lightning-perforator two hole puncher which she’d used it in the office when she worked there (and then nicked it on that last day), now she tried to pinch it open carefully, but it seemed to be stuck, but then, of course, it sprung open and all those tiny round paper bits, almost like confetti, dropped all around the table and floor.
More than irritating as she glared at the once clean and sparkling area, as she trudged to the kitchen cupboard.
But then she had a thought as she looked outside, it was such a lovely spring day; she should go out and have a quick walk over to the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro,since that would be the perfect coffee to drink just now.
I will drink coffee and you will drink lovely tea but she drinks wine, gosh that is rather radical yes indeed, what a woman
“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.”
let’s slide closer to her look, she talks fast and loudly very funny though she’s so, so dry, isn’t she and we know her name, don’t we
― Dorothy Parker ~~~
Image credit:Andes Beltran@Unsplash
This image shows someone holding three cups and the cups are made in the image of a woman’s face. The expression on the three cups are slightly different from each other.
But is it art? What do you mean? Well, it’s not really real. Sorry? It has been generated with software.
It’s not surreal, no. It’s very realistic. Now that I understand. I could munch some fruit in there. That bit of banana is beautiful, isn’t it? And that mug of coffee looks hot.
That old photo looks interesting too. I like the way that artist is working outside. It’s called en plein air Ooh, impressive.
You know there is a market for buying crypto-art? You don’t say? Yep, it’s called Non Fungible Tokens. Well, all I can say is… blimey!
~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Fiction Word Count: 100
‘Odd,’ said Joan, ‘we haven’t seen our lovely friend, the red-headed woman, for several days, have we?’ – ‘no indeed,’ as Scatty looked up for a moment, as she laid down all her cards, and shouted, ‘Rummy!’ as she grinned happily, ‘all out, again,’ as she gathered the cards together, then began to shuffle them again.
Meanwhile, on the next table, Francis and The Old One were concentrating playing poker, while outside, Mr Cushing was busy cleaning his gorgeous limousine, he had just finished polishing the car, when he looked up to see the red-headed woman standing near him.
‘Fancy a drive, my dear?’ said Mr Cushing, ‘I think I know where you want to go,’ as he stared at her, while she gripped her bag more tightly, then nodded.
‘Can I come too?’ as The Old One appeared outside, ‘I lost again, poker is not my strong suit you see, my pride has been injured yet again, but never mind, it seems we have a job to do.’
So off they went, the three of them, it was such a lovely day, and soon they arrived at that particular farm, and even from there, they could all see the poor farmer was clearly still brooding over life’s injustices, well wouldn’t he?
The red-headed woman jumped out, trotting to the farmer, the two of them began to walk in step together; then they popped inside the farm house, then a moment later, the red-headed woman appeared again, and said, ‘all done.’
luna's on line 