Barbeque? Well, not usually called it here. We prefer the word ‘braai’. But it’s just a way to say, ‘howzit’.
It’s time to open some beer… naturally, and to make sure all the meat is arranged around the grill, since everyone has something different.
The women have brought salads and stuff. They’re already ‘skinnering’ (gossiping), and very happy with that. Now it’s the perfect time for ‘sundowners’ for the girls… some lovely white wine – and chilled.
Route 66? Almost. This is Route 62!
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Historical Fiction Word Count: 100
Meanwhile, The Old One and Mr Cushing had managed to get across all those sheds without being noticed by those many gendarmes around that large farm, and they had a hairy time while that bumbling Inspector Clouseau had been laying across that gorgeous limo.
‘Outrageous,’ muttered Mr Cushing, as he clenched his teeth, while both of them hid in some bushes until Inspector Clouseau somehow or other managed to fall down to the ground from that very expensive car; he stood up rather quickly, as he moved away to catch up to all those gendarmes.
‘Now’s our chance,’ grinned The Old One, as Mr Cushing pulled out his keys; ‘no wishful thinking with this perfect purring car,’ as he gunned into reverse, and very, very quickly, he swung a right, and then put it onto drive, ‘zoom on, we’re on the move,’ as both of them grinned with glee, ‘what wits we are!’
They were racing through the countryside, Mr Cushing drove swiftly, while The Old One used his smartphone: ‘hear we are,’ he said, ‘I’ve the GPS, we can find them near the rails and then to the nearest station, hmm, excellent.’
Then The Old One started a soliloquy, almost like a fourth wall he thought to himself: ‘I think I might be a writer, I feel I should write my memoirs, but only the highlights,’ as he took out his posh pen and beautiful notebook.
Mr Cushing glanced at him, and said: ‘you’re going to be busy then.’
This is a beautiful boat, sailing around a huge ocean. It has been a peaceful time so far, but I can see a storm ahead.
So mind the tillers and stuff. The rudder needs to be straight and safe; it’s going to be a long night and day.
And it was, and worrying, but the following day, it was lovely again. Next stop will be Cape Town.
~~~
Image credit:Amein Shareef77@Unsplash
This image shows a sailboat in a vast body of water. The skyline/horizon is clear, and the water is calm. This photo was taken from another boat nearby.
She had been moseying along that long sidewalk, since she had little to do that day. The street was wide and very, very straight, as she continued to walk on. There were trees on the left and trees on the right, and they had been planted for some years.
She almost felt that she should hug a tree. But that would look daft.
A little later she entered the park there. There was a handy bench not far, so she sat down.
Opening her big bag, she took out her writing book and a pen. Then it became a poem.
~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers Genre: Historical Fiction Word Count: 100
‘Mark my words,’ said the red-headed woman as she looked outside from her window on the train as she stared across the tracks and pointed, ‘this is going to be a train smash, in a way, look at those two, they are off the train now, they seem to be going to the train station, hmm, wonder why?’
She tried to crane even further to see what they were doing since the station wasn’t far, she could just see the station car park, but nothing further than that, although it was clear that there was much movement around the cars in the car park.
Meanwhile, the two gargoyles were moving stealthily, crossing the tracks without being seen, of course, they still had those diamonds with them since both of them have natty satchels and several useful pockets inside of them.
The two gargoyles had already put their smartphones on silent but on vibrating instead, just to be sure, as they began to climb up the wall to the car park by the station.
They already knew that this town was too small for a cathedral, and it seemed most unlikely to find a proper large and ancient church; it was even less likely to meet some other useful gargoyles around here.
But luck could still come into play as one of the gargoyles said: ‘do just pinch me now, look at this, what a happy coincidence,’ as the two of them sniggered as they moved over to the next vehicle.
She stood reverently, bowing her head, hoping to find herself, there was no-one around, and that was what she wanted.
She began to walk, trying to stay focused, but what was the point?
But then she knew, she must do this, that beautiful nunnery.
~~~~
Image credit:Yasmin Onuș@Unsplash
This image shows a long stone corridor with repeating arches, where soft sunlight creates dramatic shadows and highlights the historic architecture. Mardin, Türkiye
Those otters were on the move. They were swimming with purpose. They had enjoyed those smallish fish, but now they are going down stream.
Previously they had been in a beck. They had been playing in little pools. It had been pleasant and good fun, but then it had been time to stride on.
Leading, like she would, she beckons. The three almost grown-up pups were alert. They could see they were getting closer, since this is the proper river, and what will they find?
Soon they were there; where should we choose? They all looked around along the bank. But it didn’t take long, fortunately, and, of course, Mister Otter was back!
‘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?’
luna's on line 