Tag Archives: Gedichte

Nightmare in the City

Friday Fictioneers

caged-liz

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

Nightmare in the City.

I am not sleeping, who does?
Robotically, I am on the train at six am, and transfer to the tube. I stop at Costa’s, the girl who serves is an Android on a vocal loop.
I sit at my station at exactly nine am.
Nothing happens.
At twelve pm the Android serves reconstituted Panini.
Nothing happens.
At five pm I catch the tube then, I am on the train again at six am.
I’m not asleep; the rat catcher won’t trap me.
The race is on and the Costa Android winks. She feeds dirty rats in the city.
Nothing happens.

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The Return

News Flash – My short story Lilly-Anne has just been published on literally Stories a world wide short story site. Your views and comments are appreciated.

Lilly Anne – by James McEwan

*****

Friday Fictioneers   (slightly late this week, enjoy)

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PHOTO PROMPT © Yarnspinnerr

The Return.

Shrouded in monsoon mist along the Chakkar Road, Jazlaan viewed the ruined and dilapidated house. Seventy years ago, Partition had driven her family away. 

Still, in the kitchen, she smelled the warmth of cardamom and cinnamon sizzling in ghee and heard echoes of children lamenting in Urdu. Dust, like Chapatti flour, covered over the floors.

Mould consumed damp walls, the moths her gowns. What wealth and chattels she saved were left to grandchildren now, or burned on her pyre. The silver blacken mirror on the wall reflected her joy as she brushed her gossamer hair. 

Her spirit was home.

Dreaming of the Tardis

Friday Fictioneers – Friday 23rd March

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Photo Prompt by Björn Rudberg

Dreaming of the Tardis.

‘Ambiguous?’
Holmes ignored me and peered through his binoculars. ‘At last we have her lair.’
‘Same sign again, Holmes.’
‘A mere ploy, Watson.’ He pointed to the distant ridge. ‘The Tardis! we have her. Oh boy, Watson, the Doctor is here.’ He strode on along the track.
For the hundredth time the ridge came into view, as we reached the same sign on this same spot.
Is there no escape from this repetitive nightmare? I was dehydrated following Holmes on this circular looped track.
‘The Tardis!’
Next time round, I will push him off and jump to jolt myself awake.

Which Tree are You?

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers – 9th March

Which Tree are You?

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Photo by Sandra Crook

“Come tell me, Louise,” he said, pulling her from the water. “What happened to you?”
“Oh, Grandpa.” She laughed. “What a beautiful house, is it heaven?”
“For some. Such a dreadful war.”
‘Like you.”
“Yes. I was wounded at Sommesous. It broke her heart.” He ruffled Louise’s hair. “Ah, my Madam Lilly de Vogue and her hospital, our noble home.”
“My Grandma?”
“Yes. She saved many lives, but for every hero who died she planted a tree.”
“Is she here?”
“No, oh no.” He laughed.  “She lives with her lovers in Marseille. I wish her well.”
“Which tree are you?”
“My tree is the Colonel Marcel Pinion de Vogue.” He took her hand. “Now Louise, what happened to you?”
“I couldn’t swim, Grandpa.”

Book Covers – Really!

Book Covers – Really.

A great cover for a book is at the forefront of any publishers’ sales plan.  The professional design is produced with the aim to hit the market in the correct genre with author’s name, sometimes, highlighted more than the title.
Readers know what they want, and what authors they enjoy reading most, in which case it is the celebrity author’s name that is given prominence on the cover. Just a brief preamble leading to a question below.

Independent authors are advised to get professional work done in both editing and cover design that they can afford. Great advice – but stubborn old me just didn’t listen in this case.

I have had my short story collection, ‘The Listener” gone over by the edit process and ‘oh boy’, what a process. I am told it is very much better than the 2014 version.

I stuck with the cover with a small change – on the front cover font and back cover blurb.

I have done all this as an exercise in procrastination, if there was a medal or a university course for procrastination I would probably have gone for the PhD. I should be writing my novel instead, keep laughing.

The original camera shot.

Old Collection 113 (2)

Photo by James McEwan

I took the source photograph while on holiday in Dresden, Germany. I found it fascinating that someone or some people went to a lot of effort to paint the picture. I never found out who or why. I had not started to write back then and the idea of a book cover came to me many years later.

This is one part of the advice I did follow, make your cover unique. (I missed the effective part).
An advantage over using stock photographs is that I own the picture.

My first cover.

kindle-cover-new

The latest cover – matte -done in MS Word. 1.6Mb version – Printed copy is 11.5Mb

Microsoft Word - cover The Listener 2018

Here are my questions:
Is the MS word cover good enough?
I am considering using GIMP and or Adobe professional for future covers.
Of the two covers above, which is better; to give prominence to the title or author’s name?

My Darling Morag

My Darling Morag – Only 100 Words

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photo by Jacco Rienks via Unsplash

My Darling Morag

In a fit of magical rage, an act of indignant revenge, I cursed my darling Morag for her infidelity. I transformed my wife, whom I still love, into this docile bovine creature. She was once a beautiful red head, wild and feisty in her youth, see how she has matured to a tough and horny beast.
Each morning I stroke her head and I cringe at my rash decision – I kiss her sloppy nose and I promise, I will return to Hogwarts and complete my wizardly training.
First, I must deal with Angus. I’m thinking, perhaps a slimy fire-bellied toad.

Water World

Water World   100 word Wednesday – Week 55.

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Photo by Danka & Peter

Water World

The salty air blowing in my hair tangles the thoughts through my mind.
These lurid dreams are intense, deeper than any enormous sea.
Today I learned my true identity, that among these rocks I was found as new-born Selkie, and over the years I grew like a human on the land, but without an ocean skin I cannot return to the sea.
I scream for help across the waves. Does my mother hear me and will she respond?
Please, I ask, bring a new skin so that I can escape this shore and claim my Selkie heritage.
Please mother, I’m begging you.

Every Piece a Memory

Rochelle Wisoff- Fields.  Friday Fictioneers.

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Photo by Sarah Ann Hall

Every Piece a Memory

Early morning when I am alone I think of you.
Do you remember when we argued in the flea market, and I bartered furiously to please you. My reward, a glowing smile and a hug like mulled wine on a frosty day.
You saw ‘must have bargains’ and I told you I couldn’t carry any more, you pecked my cheek. I was annoyed lugging them through the Underground. Now, every piece is a memory, each one a moment when we laughed. Each you begged for, and whether you won or lost, your collection grew with our unfathomable love.
I miss you.

Last night I dreamt of Carmen.

Carmen. 100 word Wednesday

Good morning sunshine, you make my heart sting.
Cycling along to meet Carmen waiting by the falls.
My darling Carmen what secret do you have to tell?
I’m coming, cycling as fast as I can, I’m coming.
Please wait, I’m coming, I’m cycling as fast as I can.
What is it? What do you have to tell me, waiting by the falls?
I’m coming, cycling as fast as I can, I’m coming.
I see you smiling, crying. What is it? Keep away from the falls.
I’m coming, cycling as fast as I can, I’m coming.
I am cycling as fast as I can, tears rolling down my cheeks.
I wake, let me sleep, let me cycle. Every night Carmen waits.
I cycled as fast as I could.
Good morning sunshine. You make my heart sting.

 

A Secret Lover’s Diary

Three Line Tales Week, Week 88.

A Secret Lover’s Diary.

My intensity is afraid and when you read my words don’t judge me as a fool.
But every day I have written about my desires and dreams, and of your beauty.
Please; my secrets will remain invisible until you breathe life on my pages.