Cape Storm

April 17, 2024April 18, 2024 Chris Hall57 Comments

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.

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Di of Pensitivity 101
Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge: TRAUMA, FEAR, TERROR

Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: PRESENT

By the way, this was all true and it was just two weeks ago.

Shall I Stay or Shall I Go

April 6, 2024 Chris Hall53 Comments

© Ayr/Gray

‘Please can I have my life back,’ she said. ‘Is it too much to ask?’

She can stride around the garden and she can run up and down the stairs, several times.
She’s so fit but she can’t go out.

But there’s no one. No one at all.

Quiet, very quiet, she thinks.

She looks at the big door; the one that opens in the street, and she looks back in the hall, for a moment.

Then slowly, very slowly, she opens the door, just a tiny crack.
She opens a little more – a creaking sound – then nothing.

She looks out, staring left and right.

‘Shall I come out?’

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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.

A little hiatus (Tales from the SSC&B)

March 28, 2024September 1, 2024 Chris Hall50 Comments

The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, slides down onto the small flat-roofed section of the old mill building, scanning around while holding her huge bag. The most important new thing was the swanky penthouse on the opposite street where the Bartender stays there most of the time, particularly when the lovely dog, Hūnga, was home too; she’d invited her to stay but the red-head had declined.

She’d had thought about it, but she felt she should stay somewhere else – and in fact, she’d made a little nest, just next to the long-defunct elevator machine room on the top floor, that was all she needed.

She took out her notebook and pencil and started to write, but nothing would come out; she stares at the sky and then she tries again, but no, nothing. She decided to read her new Kindle – she has a lot of catching up to do – but it’s worth it; she settles down on her great big bag, making herself comfy.

Rather later she woke up, but now she’s refreshed and she’s happy to go down to the ground floor; it’s time to enjoy the evening.

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Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge’s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: SLIDE

More #SixSentenceStories

Equinox

March 20, 2024March 21, 2024 Chris Hall66 Comments

© Ayr/Gray

It’s late afternoon as I walked along the sand dunes near the sea, smiling as I hopped down the bank to the beach, striding along to the rock pools, then poking around to see what was there; I could be busy for hours.

As it was getting into evening, it was still warm as I walked around the edge of the ocean, looking far out in the lovely False Bay; then I looked back at the harbour, as I waved at Jannie who’s a fishermen, who works to catch squid and octopus in the dark sea in the night.

Much later, I flung open my window, and there she was, the beautiful moon, Selene. There she stood alone, with all the stars around her; her gibbous moon lay on her back, arching her jewelled scimitar.

I shut my eyes for a moment, and then I saw the octopuses dancing up in the sky, shooting stars around the world, for twice a year it’s the equinox, as the celestial moon brings the spring rebirth, while the harvest moon must rest for the winter. Meanwhile, the octopuses play in the Milky Way, because all of the octopuses are aliens.

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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.

Denise Farley of GirlieOnTheEdge’s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: BANK

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Harvest Moon

March 13, 2024March 15, 2024 Chris Hall59 Comments

© Ayr/Gray

The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, had a plan – she was on WhatsApp with Jenne, Denise and Mimi, telling them that she was still a little magic left in her journey around the world; we’ll meet tomorrow, and don’t worry about the different time zones, I’ll handle it.

Now they were sitting in a beautiful wine garden in the château in Franschhoek, right by the vineyards where they are bringing back the harvest – you see, it was autumn in the southern hemisphere. In a little while two waiters brought wine, juice and delicious food; then they rested – it was so peaceful and calm, and they must have drifted into slumber for a while.

Later, they woke up and it was almost dark; they walked along the Huguenots Monument and further, now it was rather steep, rugged and remote; they laid down on the sweet fynbos, and there it is, the Harvest Moon, huge yellow and magnificent – but that was all they could remember.

Did we dream it – all of us – in different places? But no, on the table, each one has a small silver box and inside it has a little locket; WhatsApp pings, it’s the Raconteuse, you know, it’s going to be useful one day, she said.

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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.

Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge’s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: REMOTE

Click on the Café sign for more #SixSentenceStories

P.S. I am reading ‘The Moon of Autumn: Word Weaving No.1‘ edited by Colleen Chesebro & Jules Paige – I know so many lovely people in WP.

A celebration?

March 7, 2024March 7, 2024 Chris Hall60 Comments

Previously

The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, hurries along the narrow street, looking up and down and around, checking to see what is unchanged: here’s the Bagel’n’Cake place (closed at this time, of course), and here are the two warehouses, rather dingy, on either side.

She’s almost there… and here it is: The Café and Bistro, she holds her hands up, but there’s no one there; she’s deflated, she dropped her head and her feet felt like lead.

She notices something at the top of the steps, it was a still-smouldering cigar butt on the ground – it must be him, the Gatekeeper, who else could it be?

She hurries down to the three steps by the double-doors, peering in the gloom in the long bar and high seats, and across the way to the food pass behind the doors; she could almost see what should be happening – the Bartender with the wine and whisky, and Mimi in the kitchen, and Tom as well.

Then she turns around, going back up, scanning around; there’s something about the back of The Café and Bistro, she races around the building, heaving her big bag, she peeps in the basement, now she’s making headway; she can hear music, in her mind’s eye, she listens, isn’t it Mark Knopfler playing ‘Sultans of Swing’ and wearing his headband?

The Raconteuse grins and she can see the Manager, smiling back and waving; he cranks up the volume and plays, ‘Ace of Spades’.

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Written in response to two challenges:

Di of Pensitivity 101’s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge: HEADWAY, HEADBAND, LEAD
Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge’s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: ACE

Click on the Café sign for more #SixSentenceStories

Back in the neighbourhood

February 29, 2024 Chris Hall55 Comments

The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, was sitting in the black taxi; the cabbie didn’t speak much, and she was happy with that, all he had said was the traffic was busy and where he would take her to the south in the city.

After a moment, she begun to rummage in her enormous bag, noticing her new bold, short and spiky hair in her little mirror; she dug down with her nail clippers, pens and pencils, than finally she found her lucky silver cigarette lighter (the non-functioning prop); she held it tightly, breathing slowly.

The sun was going down, huge and orange-red, over the tall buildings. The taxi swung a right and another left to the park; it was Friday – almost the weekend – so many memories, she thought, smiling.

She was almost there, right in the downtown district; the cabbie slowed down and stopped. The Raconteuse waved a handful of notes and gently slamming the door; then she walked around the narrow road, looking up as it beckoned.

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Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge’s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: NAIL

Click on the Café sign for more #SixSentenceStories

A journey around the stars

February 15, 2024 Chris Hall70 Comments

The red-headed writer, aka the Raconteuse, had realise that she had been wandering for months, maybe for years.

But what had happened? she remembered seeing a large ship and she had been shivering on the beach; she was dripping and all she could think was that she couldn’t write because the pen and paper were too wet.

Things became very strange – she was striding over mountains and across lakes, moving around so many places, she looked over oceans – was it the big, beautiful bridge, San Francisco? – and then she moved farther and farther away.

She hovered over the clouds and she felt her heart beat singing with joy; her mind, her spirit and even her soul, brimming over with glee. She thought that she had been to the stars as far as the milky way and back again.

But now she was back properly; the Raconteuse walk across the street, then hailed a cab, whistling loudly, ‘taxi!’

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Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge’s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: HEART

Click on the Café sign for more #SixSentenceStories

Plugging a Plot Hole (Tales from the SSC&B)

June 18, 2022June 18, 2022 Chris Hall83 Comments

An image of a painting of 'The Demeter' which hangs on the wall of the Manager's office at the SSC&B (origin unknown)* — A painting of ‘The Demeter’ which hangs on the wall of the Manager’s office at the SSC&B (origin unknown)*

The sound of a small explosion emanated from the Manager’s office, rattling the door and causing the lettering to peel a tiny bit more from its glazed panel.

The Bartender and the Supplier had been busy arranging the new stock on the mirror-backed shelves behind the bar, while Mimi, and her spatula-wielding assistant, Tom had been in the newly-refurbished kitchen preparing for Saturday night’s crowd.

They arrived at the office door together, Tom entered first, his eyes sweeping the room: the Raconteuse, quietly dripping by the fireplace, and the picture of the galleon hanging on the wall behind her.

Tom stepped forward, searching the red-haired writer’s face for an explanation, but none came; he reached behind her, running his finger around the damp picture frame: ‘I believe we have experienced a Dimensional Disturbance,’ he announced, glancing at the Raconteuse, ‘your escape route, might I surmise?’

The other Proprietors looked at Tom uncomprehendingly; Tom grinned, ‘it’s like a get-out-of-jail-free card for a blocked writer,’ he winked at the Raconteuse, ‘a stroke of luck that you introduced the Portal in here as a precaution before going to write yourself back in time.’

‘Luck had nothing to do with it,’ replied the Raconteuse.

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This has been my second offering this week for Denise’s Six Sente n ce Story Challenge where this week’s prompt word was stroke.

*crafted on Canva by the author from an image on Pinterest

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Join us at the famous SSC&B for more Six Sentence Stories
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The Jade Camel #21

June 15, 2022June 16, 2022 Chris Hall60 Comments

Previously

Joey glanced at the carnage he’d left behind; an ominous silence pervaded the blood-spattered hallway.

Raising a hand to acknowledge Gary, Joey took a deep breath to quieten his thumping heart and shot back into the building; he burst into his flat and snatched up his back-pack, stuffing it with a handful of clothes and the small battered box which contained his ‘important stuff’.

Skidding back down the stairs, he paused by Ceridwen’s door; it opened before he could knock, revealing Ceridwen, clutching a bristling Cullen in her arms. Digging into his pocket, Joey pulled out a thick roll of notes and started to peel a few off, but Ceridwen shook her head; Joey was about to speak, but she silenced him with a look and with a nod of her head, gestured for him to leave. Giving Cullen’s head a regretful stroke, Joey fled the scene, only pausing to scoop a small shiny object from the hall floor.

Half an hour later, Ceridwen stepped sedately around the fallen bodies and picked up the pay-phone, wondering how she was going to explain all this to the emergency services; one thing was certain though, she wasn’t going to betray young Joey.

Written in response to two challenges:

Di of Pensitivity 101’s Wednesday’s Three Things Challenge: SEDATE, QUIETEN, SILENCE
Denise Farley of Girlie On The Edge’s Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt: STROKE