Time snuck up on her. She had been waiting for a bus, minding her own business, when.
It was half an hour later. She was still standing by the bus stop but the town hall clock was now striking 7.
She looked at her watch, 6.30? What was happening. Well despite her watch it was too late to get the bus so she started the long trudge up the hill and out of the town.
She was so tired after her walk that she went for a soak in the bath, grabbed a sandwich and went upstairs to bed. She checked the alarm clock, it was half an hour ahead of her watch, so she reset it. She lay her head on her pillow and fell asleep…
Two minutes later it seemed the alarm went off. It must be right as daylight was streaming through the window. She stared at her watch. 10…but was that morning or evening. She looked at the electric clock, 8.30am….what the hell is going on?, she thought.
She felt sick and rang the doctors. As the time arrived for the appointment she hurried up to the surgery. But when she spoke to the receptionist she was told that she was an hour late. She would have to wait until the end of the mornings appointments to see if the doctor had time.
When they finally called her she did not answer. She was sitting there, perfectly still, not moving, not breathing, eyes wide open, staring into space…..
The storm blew in from the North like a runaway train. The wind threw water against the houses. Cars were lifted up by the flood and were caught on the top of the neat hedges that lined the sides of the street. Out of the maelstrom came a figure of a small man dressed in a black raincoat. Water streamed from him, it flowed out of his sleeves and trouser legs. Tears streamed in rivers from his eyes, nose, mouth and even from his ears.
He was called Beck and he was from the North. He was a water god and he had decided to show mankind his might because of the way the World was being treated. He was angry and the storm was growing into a tornado. He had seen the way forests were being cut back, cars clogging roads, ships travelling half way across the world to deliver the cheapest sweatshop goods.
Beck lifted his arms, words bubbled up from his mouth.
Learn or die! He screamed in a high voice. Learn, or, die !
I keep missing write photo prompts where you write a piece about a photo.
This was taken at a grand house near Fountains Abbey in Yorkshire. I’m sorry I can’t remember the name of the building. What is important is that they rent out rooms for holiday let’s there.
Rachel ran down the stairs from her room and rushed out of the green door. It had happened again, the light had played a trick on her and she had seen a shadowy figure in the dust motes that danced in the beam of sunlight shining through the stained glass windows. She had decided to see if anyone was playing tricks with a mirror outside? How else could the image have been projected into her room?
But no one was there, not even the friendly female attendant who usually sat in the kiosk by the gate, selling tickets to tourists to visit the Abbey which stood in ruins only a quarter of a mile away.
She stepped back through the mossy green door. But not into the present. A stench of rotting flesh overwhelmed her. Figures scurried about carrying boxes, flowers, rushes for the lamps. She had gone back in time. A woman, who looked like a maid, shouted at her to move. He’s here, the King has arrived. Get on with your work. Fearful and panicking Rachel stepped backwards and fell, tripping off the step.
The kiosk lady stood over her. You OK dear? She asked…..
If cats had wings would they chase birds in the sky? Would pigeons be safe? Would they swoop down like owls and catch voles from on high?
Horses have Pegasus, cats could be mythological, why not. They were worshipped as gods in Egypt, imagine them flying up to tree tops. Mioawing a Dawn chorus.
With genetic modification they could grow huge wings to allow them to hover like drones, waiting to see when their owners come home, spiralling down to perch on feeding stations.
Their coats could be patterned with spirals and chequer boards in blues and purples.
I was standing under the warm rain when I heard a thud on the upper surface. I quickly got out of the rainier and looked outside at the up and downs, above them stood the geographical anomaly.
The anomaly was booming and throwing out hot black clouds. The flat world shook and buckled as the molten rocks ran down the steep sides of the anomaly.
Quickly putting on my leg jumper and foot coverings I ran to the four wheel cycle and drove it over to the science walls.
What’s happening? I asked the second leader. It’s exploding. Giving black clouds to the upper air. We think the hot rocks might get here.
Now I am a lost person, looking for an upper surface to cover my top body. No living heart to see after me.
I am uncoupled, I am not joined. Water rains from my seeing tubes.
It struck me that my writing is as mixed up as my painting and art. I’m interested in poetry and short stories, documenting life and writing about esoteric stuff like why the earth isn’t flat.
I sometimes ramble on around similar subjects, then get bored and throw something else into the mix – like writing about bread making, or my cats and garden.
I have a lot of thoughts flowing round in my head. I didn’t ask for them to be there. I’m irritated when Sci-fi shows have sound in the vacuum of space, or someone tells a lie about something that is clearly not true.
I was talking to my hubby about this earlier. I do not want to be different, I was going to write “normal” but perhaps I am. Maybe writers are those people that stick to a specific narrative or genre? Or maybe not. I know I don’t do much research about things, most of my writing is imagined or recollected from books and TV programmes.
I started out thinking it would be purely an art blog, a way of selling my paintings, but it’s morphed. I write mors here than anywhere else and I hope it doesn’t get snatched away. I never check how much content I’m creating. It just flows….. And I was once asked why I don’t have adverts… I don’t like them! I keep seeing photos of lemons, or some green gunk that clears up skin problems…. No, sorry, I’m not happy to sell it….
I haven’t seen 2001 for about 10 years but it hasn’t lost its magic. If you have never seen it then it’s worth having a look. It’s a classic science fiction film set in 2001. It was made in the 1960s but it has quite good predictions of how things would work in the future.
It starts at the dawn of man and charts what happens when a enigmatic black obilisk appears on Earth. The film then fasts forward to a future where humans have made a discovery on the moon and follows an expedition to Jupiter.
I did read the original book by Arthur C Clarke and the following sequels. I think in the original story they travel to Saturn, but the destination was changed in the film and the subsequent books.
I won’t post any spoilers about what happens. But it is very good, although modern audiences might find it a bit slow. The one thing I do like is that the space sequences are silent except for music in the first sequence. Sound cannot propagate in a vacuum as there are no molecules to transmit it. Hence although you would hear rockets in earth’s atmosphere you wouldn’t in outer space.
The director was Stanley Kubrick who also directed A clockwork orange and other classic films. I think they are showing it because its the anniversary of Kubruck death.
The start of the film shows the moon in silhouette with Earth and then the sun curving beyond. That’s what I’ve tried to draw here.