she sits staring out rain pitter-patters down, cold and grey dismal, dank and damp
but inside she’s warm reading a tatty old book and what’s wrong with that?
the candle flickers but there’s no ghosts here now just peace and happiness
no misery here!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Image credit: Esra Korkmaz @ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows an open book lying on a table near a window. There is a lit candle near the book on the table in a brass bowl. The pages of the book are yellowing with age. There are water droplets on the outside of the window pane.
The red-head woman was walking around the Montmartre Cemetery, wondering what she could do, since she was running out of cash – although of course she could sell, or maybe pawn, her lovely ruby ring, as she fiddled with her finger.
She had turned left when suddenly she spotted the two gargoyles who were standing next to one of the dead poets graves, as they were busy working on two large easels, wearing artists’ smocks and berets, and both of them were scoffing and bickering (as usual); but then stopped and said, ‘ah, there you are,’ as they grinned back at the red-head woman.
Meanwhile the old vampire appeared, opening his arms and smiling: ‘to you like my outfit,’ as he whirled around; ‘yes, I know, I’m doing my best, although, I know I’m a relic, but I suit and boot quite well, don’t you think.’
‘Now, down to business and stuff,’ said the old vampire, as Joan, Francis and Scatty popped up and join them, ‘okay, we all know about the old building just around the corner,’ as he pointed, ‘and now I can reveal,’ he paused like a drum roll, and winked.
‘It began with the lovely red-head woman who opened that old safe, and then later the two gargoyles managed to read those antique deeds, and then they sent it via courier to me – and that’s where I got it.’
‘You see, it seems I own it out right – and we can do whatever we want!’
Time to go in as the huge doors beckon. She has her cotton bag and she’s on her last call.
She’s inside and she’s confident. She walks up the winding stairs, wearing her professional face.
She disappears, and re-appears.
‘Order, Order!’ She’s the judge.
~~~~~~~~~~
Image credit: Richard Stachmann @ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a woman standing on the sidewalk, near a door looking at her phone. There is a handbag in between her hand and a cloth bag hanging from her shoulder.
She’s put out the snacks and brought his beer, chilled, in his special glass (one of them). More beers are in the fridge; she has a pie ready to warm for half-time – steak and kidney – his preferred.
Pre-match build up: pundits pontificate; re-runs, highlights, triumphs and near misses. There is success and then there is shame. Which will it be today? National Pride is at stake, for this is the World Cup.
As she sits, small and submissive on the far end of the couch, she plays a different commentary in her head. Missed penalties, own goals, bad decisions by the ref. The repercussions: cuts and bruises (hers); failure on the field reflected in domestic disappointment.
Predictions are favourable. The odds of a positive outcome are weighed in favour. She weighs up her own odds: win or draw 20 per cent, lose 50 per cent (the chances of a beating).
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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 full moon leaked across the balcony as the red-head woman looked out into the sky; suddenly she saw Joan, Francis and Scatty, who were hovering on broomsticks: ‘one for you too,’ said Scatty, ‘they are all made with hardwood and jute, and strong and light,’ – ‘come on, hurry,’ said Joan, ‘time to party – we are going around the moon – you’ll see,’ and off they go.
They were flying down the Seine and then the ocean appeared, ‘let’s go to New York,’ shouted Francis, ‘you can see the Café and Bistro, and I think you’ve been there haven’t you?’ – ‘well, kind of,’ muttered the red-head.
They crossed the water keeping with the moon, and then they landed: ‘well,’ said the red-head, ‘I’m going in and quickly skirted around the room,’ – at that moment, the Bartender was wiping a cloth on the sparkling table, as she looked up and smiled, and Mimi also waved happily as she when back to the kitchen; ‘I think I got away with that,’ muttered the red-head.
‘Come on let’s fly to the West Coast; here’s the bridge now, and let’s sit,’ – then the red-head woman hugged her warm fabric as she watched the moon rising again.
But now it’s time to go – and this is the clever bit… ‘widdershins, widdershins, widdershins’ shouted Scatty.
***
Did she fall asleep? thought the red-head… did she dream all of this? but no; she looked in her pocket – it was a napkin from SSC&B!
will he walk a thousand miles as he climbs around the sea and will he walk another league as well?
his boots are big and magnificent as he strides over mountains and lakes and then the pinnacle arrives…
but what more can he achieve?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Image credit: Karsten Winegeart @ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a pair of hiking boots suspended in the air. They both are facing in different directions and it seems as if they are worn on feet attached to invisible legs!
The red-head woman had woken up, had thrown off her quilt, stood up, walked across and opened the handle into the little kitchen where she spooned some strong coffee into the jug, as it percolated; she stared out into the grey and dank morning, it was wet, very wet, completely different from yesterday.
She got dressed quickly, drinking her coffee, and as she sat down with the three new and ancient books that she had only just bought from the bookseller, she opened all of them.
The first thing she realised was that all of them were in English (phew), and the second thing she realised was that she had known right from the start, these were written about Joan of Arc, Comte de Saint-Germain, and Scáthach: her three friends (and vampires) Joan, Francis and Scatty.
She delved down, looking around all of them, piecing and putting markers everywhere, what seemed particularly interesting was that the two historical tomes were similar, but the folklore one was poles apart; but everything was good.
Then she remembered about the little book which she’d found – the one in the safe; she would get that now.
Meanwhile, it was all very well to read these old books but the red-head woman still needed to hatch a plan (and soon, and then stick to it) since she had little dosh left after doing everything else, but it was raining so hard, like cats and dogs, it was better to stay at home, just for now.
Walk up this beautiful alley so fragrant, fulsome and vivid, washed with umber and white-lime walls as marigolds and cyclamens bloom.
The steps are worn and warm as well, as we weave around the village, and then eventually we’re here. The vistas are magnificent; we look out to see for many miles and we wish we could stay forever.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Image credit: Sig- Sigmund @ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a view of an alley where stairs lead up to a house. The stairs are decorated with planters where different flowers are flourishing. There is a huge vine hanging from the side wall. The whole look is of a well-used and aged home.
The red-head woman had been still smirking as she got into the taxi, she had rather a lot of euro coins as earlier she’d won at table-football with several people in the lounge in the Hotel St Germain, and she’d pocketed it them in her big bag, meanwhile the helpful concierge had been dialling one of the taxi ranks from the lobby.
The taxi pulled out and it seemed very busy, she craned up looking around – and then it had dawned on her: she’d completely forgot about the Olympic Games in Paris, and it was already happening, it was so interesting and massive, and right here too (she’d been distracted for several weeks), but now she was very excited.
The taxi had drawn up, almost right at the door, as the red-head woman opened her big bag and digged deep into her compartment, unearthing her money and got rid of most of her coins; she gave him saying – ‘keep the change’ – while he grumbled and then smiled.
The red-head woman heaved up her bag and hurried up to the top of her tiny flat, she deposited her bag, then opened the little balcony; she saw the two gargoyles who were hovering over her, ‘can we come in?’ – she nodded.
‘We’ve been busy for the past two weeks, as we have a temporary job, helping the climbers in the Olympic sport,’ they started, and stopped…
‘Gosh, sorry, got to go, we’re going to watch the final of women’s beach volleyball (ooh)!’
she’s gold or bronze, but never silver she’s a lion or a cheetah, not a pussy she will never get old her beauty will never fade she’s always flourishing her hair hangs down her face creeping down over her eyebrows forehead glistening with grace she’s gold or bronze, and never silver and she’s mine, always.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Image credit: Engin Akyurt @ Unsplash
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows the face of a woman, partly covered by her hair. Her visible face is covered in a glittery substance, her eyes are closed and there’s an enigmatic expression on her face.
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