Slowly going down it’s rather steep you’re whispering but you’re alone and no one saw you there.
Your hanging onto the rail on the right side you’re holding your stick and you’re doing well.
You sit down removing your socks and your sandals putting them neatly.
Now you’re standing up here’s the beach here’s the sea isn’t it perfect?
You’re starting to walk down and out – bracing you’re keeping going and never coming back.
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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.
The red-head woman looked through her many postcards which she had bought from the Frida Kahlo museum last week; it had been that the Old Vampire had given her a wedge of cash so that she could use it for whatever she wanted.
‘If you have enough money you can go anywhere you want,’ said the Old Vampire, as he looked down from lounging on the very comfy chair on the exclusive plane – ‘good isn’t it, no need to have a passport either, which is just as well,’ as he winked.
Joan, Francis and Scatty came to join them as they had been chatting to the pilot in the cockpit – ‘not far now,’ said Francis, as he looked out of the plane as it started to descend, ‘back to France and civilization.’
They had expected to hear from the two gargoyles quite soon, but nothing, nothing at all; still the pilot had landed the plane in a very small airfield, and a luxury car had appeared, the red-head woman had wedged her big bag next to her as she looked out from the car, as it drove them to the great chateau.
‘Now this is luxury,’ said Joan, as they entered the reception, as a very tall man appeared: ‘I am Georges, and I will help you with any whim,’ as he bowed; – ‘how excellent,’ beamed Scatty, as they picked their rooms.
The red-head woman stepped out and sat on the wall; she looked up… a balloon? she thought.
it’s so clear and mountains stare up air breathes deep
it’s lovely row, row, row again wonderful
~ such a shame we only have an hour ~
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Image credit: Radek Skyzypczak @ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this is an image of 5 wooden, empty row boats in a body of water. The water is reflecting the mountains and trees along its coast.
Ten minutes later Scatty had landed her broomstick on the edge of the quayside, right next to the rather classy boat, as the two of them stood up and looked at each other and grinned; a moment later, the old one, appeared from the boat and took off his cap, ‘ship-ahoy,’ he said, ‘I’m the Captain!’ – and of course, the red-head woman was beaming now.
Scatty and the red-head woman quickly got into the big boat as the other two – Joan and Francis – were ready to cast off.
‘So what are we doing..?’ – ‘well, we already know about pumpkins, ghouls, ghosts and whatnot, but we thought it would be really good to try the Day of the Dead?’ – ‘oh hold on, grab the phone.’
‘Sail past Cuba and continue to sail to Cancun, and beyond – that’s Mexico, by the way,’ said the two gargoyles who were explaining on their smartphone from Paris, as they were shouting, as usual – ‘you see we’re part of the travel agency on the website now, and it is going rather well – okay that should be fine, we will send all the details with the WhatsApp thing… off and out,’ as they giggled.
‘So it’s going to be great and no one would have any idea that most of us are vampires – such fun, don’t you think?’ as the old vampire began to dance.
Not far now – we’ll take the broomsticks and fly to Mexico City – oh, of course, you should visit Frida Kahlo’s museum… definitely!
he’s a little goblin and rather sweet but he’s lonely and he’s looking for a mate there aren’t very many left now and that so sad he’d been busy in the embers and suddenly she’d appeared she smiled and waved let’s be lovers, eh?
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Image credit: Klára Vernarcová@ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows an outdoor scene at night. There is an open log fire burning in front of a wooden bench and a table. There are a couple of candles burning on the table.
The log fire has a strange-looking flame burning in its middle, that looks like a time creature of fire. A few iron spits are thrust into the ground near the fire.
The red-head woman (the fictional one) had pulled away from a spider web as she stood up inside the Hemingway House.
The Gatekeeper had been standing a little way away as he continued to smoke a rather nice Cuban cigar; he had been wondering whether he could get into deep water with this one as he hardly knew her – of course he knew the Raconteuse very well and they got on brilliantly, but that other one is very different, still why not – it could be fun.
The red-head woman had already opened the back door and leaned out to see him – ‘come on, let’s go up to the library’ – they looked inside, and there was Ernest Hemingway who was sitting at the typewriter, they looked at each other and back again; then the great man stood up and looked out, as he lit a cigarette and then walked straight through them –a ghost??
The Gatekeeper’s smartphone started ringing; it was the tall, thin man and he shouted at both of them: ‘get out quickly – it doesn’t matter why, just go’ – and then they heard several sirens coming closer as the house was lit up.
The two of them ran down and out, as the red-head woman said – ‘just go, I can deal with this’ – as the Gatekeeper decided to agree.
She began to shout: ‘I’m fine, just cross, actually livid… more than that I’m outraged – oh, doesn’t matter, look, Scatty‘s just appeared – I’ll hop behind her broomstick, and we will fly away (tallyho).
she warms up gently she needs to walk prettily here she goes, ‘en l’air’ there ‘glissade’ – she glides five five: but it helps if you’re a ghost
🩰👻🩰
In French en l’air – in the air glissade – to glide (a gliding movement for 5th to 5th)
———————————————————
Image credit: Alex Shuper @ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a white ghostly figure suspended in the air over a crop of pumpkins. The trees in the background are lit by an eerie red light.
She had been looking over the Hemingway House, just round the corner where she was staying at the rather nice villa where there was a maid and a cleaner (how posh); she had lingered around the library, particularly the old typewriter and the chaise-longue – she would have loved to sit by the great man… but at least she had met several six-toed cats; meanwhile she carried a book: Hemingway’s Boat by Paul Hendrickson (she had almost finished it).
For lunch she had had a gorgeous waiter, who had been helpful as she ordered some delightful crayfish (almost as good as Mimi’s) and also a large slice of Key lime pie (she should mention that to the Bartender next time too).
Then she wandered down to the beach to sit and read her Kindle; she’d read it before, it’s called One Day I Wasby Joe Leonardi.
The Raconteuse had fallen asleep but the red-head woman was ready to work.
It was night and Hemingway House was locked, but the Gatekeeper helped her to climb up and over the railings; she quickly broke a small panel of glass on one of the bottom windows and then she was through.
sweet, silky and smooth firm and crunchy or soft and juicy
eat it with cheese or salad or maybe cook a pie or a tart
try an upside-down cake or poaching them in wine
making some dried in the oven (very low – don’t burn it)
but the best way is to gently pull it from a tree and eat
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Image credit: Kateryna Hliznitsova @ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a wooden table placed under a tree. On the table, there is an open book, a cutting board, and a knife. There is a plate with a sliced pear on it and some pears are on another plate on the table.
That’s right it’s me – not the red-headed writer (aka the Raconteuse) nor the fictional woman (also a red-head person too) – this time… it’s just me: so why?
Hold a pen hold a mouse different?
Type on the laptop sooo sloow oh dear.
The problem is my right hand is not working very well and it is very difficult to write (not good) and it is more than irritation – it’s a bad blow; but still I am sure it well get better soon (I hope).
But even if I was going to write the next episode in the SSS about the Hemingway House it would not be the proper thing to do, since Florida is right in the middle of the path of Hurricane Milton at the moment.
luna's on line 