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500 X 206 Castle

 
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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Sat Aug 04, 2012 12:32 pm    Post subject: 500 X 206 Castle Reply with quote


Sorry it's been so long between prompts. I'll try to do better from now on. God bless and have fun with this. (Prompt comes via Harry. Thanks, my friend.)

Marlicia
with God all things are possible

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Harry
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PostPosted: Wed Aug 08, 2012 5:23 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Matched Pairs

Harry Buschman




It's hard to imagine how Frank and Ruthie got together. They had similar dislikes I suppose – intense dislikes. They even disliked each other ... they had that in common, and I suppose that, in itself, was the main reason they attracted each other. Like the opposite poles of a magnet.

They were lucky to have rich parents. They couldn't have existed in the day to day world of making a living, having children or living in a suburban neighborhood. That one fact, in itself, goes a long way to explain their decision to build a house on a rock in the Bay of Fundy. At low tide the house was inaccessible – sixty feet in the air. When the tide was high, they could step into the little skiff floating just outside the kitchen door and row to town..

Living alone in this strange house opened the door for the free exercise of their individual interests. Frank fancied himself as a novelist – he wrote 60 novels the first year they took occupancy. Frank had never experienced tragedy, ecstasy or bliss in his life, but that didn't stop him. He planned to write 60 novels every year. The clacking of his Olivetti typewriter went on day and night. No one had ever read one of Frank's novels and none had ever been set in print. Ruthie had never read one ... neither had Frank for that matter.

Ruthie had other fish to fry. She crocheted from dawn to dark. Her life's work was planned to be a waterproof woolen tarpaulin large enough to cover the Rose Bowl. The clicking of her needles and the clacking of Frank's Olivetti from dawn to dark were the only sounds heard in this beehive of useless activity.

This idyllic existence came to a sudden end at low tide, however, when Frank, fresh out of cigars, decided to jump in the skiff and row to town.
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Heidi
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PostPosted: Wed Aug 08, 2012 11:47 am    Post subject: Harry's story Reply with quote

I just finished reading your story Harry, good as always. I didn't get the ending until I looked at the picture again. Interesting how both of them just assume they are great at their hobbies although no one ELSE seems to know about them.
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Harry
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PostPosted: Wed Aug 08, 2012 12:57 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The crocheting went on without pause.
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Heidi
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PostPosted: Thu Aug 09, 2012 6:23 pm    Post subject: story ending Reply with quote

Hey Harry I assume your response was in regards to mine..I wasn't that confused about the ending just took a minute to register what happened However your further tidbit makes it more amusing. Wink
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Harry
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PostPosted: Fri Aug 10, 2012 4:16 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Other than having more left-overs after the evening meal, Ruthie's life was much the same.
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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Wed Aug 22, 2012 1:09 pm    Post subject: Topsy-Turvy (WC 500) Reply with quote

Whew! Sorry I'm so late, everyone. Time just got away from me. I beg your pardon for this. It's hot off the press and complete freewrite, but I wanted to post something while I had the chance to write (which I haven't had for a while). Thank you for taking a look.

God bless...
Marlicia



Topsy Turvy
© Marlicia Ferandez 8-22-12 (WC 500)


I don’t remember how it happened. Of course I never do. Once I woke up in my coffee. Literally. It was a miracle I wasn’t boiled to death. Another time I sneezed and the ground swallowed me up to my neck. I spent several uncomfortable hours that way…buried in the ground like a fence post. Some poor peasant came and dug me out. With my wispy green hair, I think he mistook me for an oversized carrot or something. The poor fellow nearly yanked my head from my shoulders trying to pull me out of the ground. Fixed the crick in my neck though. He might have a future in skeletal alignment. Too bad I never saw him after that day. He disappeared with the coming of the night, like a thief, which I suppose he was, since the contents of my purse also disappeared.

I suppose I should be grateful since he did free me before he left. And I am. But he has no idea what he’s taken. There’s no coin in my purse. Well, that’s not exactly true. There may be some, but I’m not a rich man. Never have been. At least not in the way a common peasant or thief would understand. No. My riches are not, were not, measured in gold, silver or any other precious metal or jewel. There were a few coins to be sure, come to think of it. A stray copper or silver piece, but no gold to speak of. That is not my stock in trade. I hope he didn’t throw the purse away. The results could be disastrous.

But I fear he has.

And someone has found it. Someone who knows what they’ve discovered and who is able to use it. In the hands of the wrong person…I shudder to think what might occur. Unseasonable changes in the weather. Unnatural land formations and days and nights that delay their comings and goings.

Strange events have already begun. Much stranger than my waking up swimming in my coffee, or being swallowed up by the solid ground beneath my feet. At daybreak it rained up from the sea into the sky, and after a prolonged dawn, the sun rose over the hills to reveal my home perched on the pinnacle of the upended gnomon, or what is commonly known as the dial-stone. In the normal course of events the shadow cast by the pointed stone fell across a giant sundial, now covered with water.

My home is miles from the dial-stone, or was. Now it balances on the gnomon’s base, and there it seems destined to stay, with me trapped inside. At least for the moment.

I have to think. Whoever is using the contents of my pouch is an amateur. If I can keep my wits, I may yet find him and reclaim what is mine. Then I can put everything back in order. As it should be.

Provided what resides in my bag will cooperate.

It’s quite temperamental.

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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Wed Aug 22, 2012 1:14 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Uh oh! It sounds like Frank might have met an untimely end. And Ruthie probably never knew the difference. One minor question. You said she was crocheting, right? That means one hook...so no clacking. Maybe she was knitting? Loved her yarn bombing idea. Very appropriately useless. Loved the story as well, my friend. I've missed reading your work and enjoyed this immensely.

God bless...

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Harry
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PostPosted: Thu Aug 23, 2012 11:34 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well let's hope for the best in any event. I pray it won't be an event, but if it should you have only yourself to blame! The poor passer-by should have left you there, buried in your own sneeze ... by the way, pay no attention to that woman knitting the tarpaulin.
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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Sun Aug 26, 2012 4:58 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

LOL, you make me smile, Harry. Thanks for that and for taking the time to read and comment on this so quickly. I really appreciate it. My magician is trying very hard not to pay attention to the woman knitting, but it's such a very big project...and then there was that splash, or was it a splat?

God bless and thanks again, my friend,
Marlicia
with God all things are possible

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