Scribblings by Sarah, Stories by Sarah

 Just Desserts 

I stared at the single gladiola adorning the table of the restaurant. The wilted petals belied their brightly coloured hues. I felt sympathy, as I had a sense I looked somewhat the same. My makeup, applied 10 hours ago, still held its colour but had that smudged, worn look. As did my clothing. I noticed with a grimace, I had a small red stain on my shirt. How long had that been there? Boy, what a day! I needed this. I told myself.

I sat up in my chair, straightening my posture, so as to attract the attention of the slovenly wait staff, who seem more interested in socialising than serving. No doubt sharing some galimatias^ they would gossip about at the end of their shift.

I shook my hand in the air, waving and trying to meet the tall, willowy one’s eye. With visible sufferance, she finally wandered over.

“Are you ready to order?” she asked, with all the radiance of a spent light globe.

Ignoring her attitude, I placed my order, “Yes please I’ll just have dessert – the chocolate brownie, lemon meringue pie and the Italian donuts. Oh, and a coffee too. Thanks.”

Her eyes widened. She seemed on the verge of saying something, however immured* her thoughts, instead turning to take the order to the kitchen.

I watched the chef through the cut-out in the wall. I did like these open-style, industrial-type kitchens. You could see what was happening and make sure no untoward hygiene practices were taking place. I looked on with satisfaction, as he took the knife and cut a huge wedge of the pie. The peaks of meringue were like waves atop the glorious yellow tart. He placed it on a plate and commenced piping double whipped cream around its base. It was like a mountain from heaven.

Next was the chocolate brownie. He pulled it straight out of the oven and mesmerised, I observed him slide the slightly oozing chocolate block onto a separate plate. He gripped a traditional ice cream scoop and dished up three lashings of vanilla bean ice cream on the side. I was starting to drool.

Out of the deep fryer, I watched him whisk out three tiny, doughy balls. He rolled them in cinnamon, drizzled caramel sauce and nuts over the top, garnishing the donuts with a single strawberry.

He dinged on the bell and the waitress returned, balancing the three small dishes on her arms. She sat them down in front of me.

The saliva in my mouth was viscous and ready to receive.

I could not wait for the cloudburst of euphoria that would accompany each bite, wiping the misery of today into the hereafter.

Then I realised.

I’d forgotten my insulin.

 

By Sarah ©2017



* immure (verb.) to enclose within walls. to shut in; seclude or confine. to imprison. to build into or entomb in a wall.

^Galimatias (noun.) A secret that must be kept on pain of death.

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Wordle #161. Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem. The words can appear in an alternate form.

Words used: insulin, posture, shake, suffer, cloudburst, immure*, hereafter, slovenly, radiate, gladiola, restaurant, galimatias^

Scribblings by Sarah, Stories by Sarah

Bright Side


Photo by Christian Widell via Unsplash

He hung his head in shame, feeling disappointed he had missed the winning goal – all due to the sun shining in his eyes as he’d made the deciding penalty kick.

The other players had left the field; the winning team whooping and cheering; his teammates tutting and casting him dirty looks.

As he stood alone, the same offending sunlight caught the shine of a $2 coin on the grass near his feet, and he thought to himself, At least I’ve had one win today.


By Sarah ©2017
Prompt: Three Line Tales, Week 73

Scribblings by Sarah, Stories by Sarah

Second Opinion

Image credit Geran de Klerk via Unsplash

The doctor looked through the microscope. Shook his head and checked again. He couldn’t be sure but…it really did seem like it was true.

I’d better get a second opinion, he thought.

“Hey Charles, come over here and tell me what you think” he said to his colleague, who was busy working on a rather nasty looking Petri dish.

Charles put his eye hard up against the looking glass and gave a startled cry, confirming what he’d thought. The girl had sunk so deeply into her depression, she’d become an island. 

Now, how to connect her back to the mainland…

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Bikurgurl, 100 Word Wednesday – Week 24
Word count: 100

Haiku, Scribblings by Sarah

In My Dreams

Sometimes when I write, I’m not sure where it comes from. I see a photo / read a word / analyse a prompt and suddenly; there it is. The idea arrives like a beam of light into my brain, sent from goodness-knows-where, and the writing just flows…usually! 

When I first started blogging, I used to overthink things. I tried too hard to anticipate my reader’s response and worried about making. Every. Piece. Amazing. It was exhausting. 

Now I’ve let it go, I find writing easier and the quality of my work has improved – I hope you agree! I am also more motivated to write, which has in turn, increased my quantity too! 

In fact, I’ve become so obsessed with writing, I cannot wait to arrive home from work, catch up on my favourite blogs via my WordPress Reader and start attacking whatever challenge in the universe has taken my fancy/ies today! I am even dreaming in Haiku and just to prove it, here’s one I wrote in my dreams last night…


nothing’s more divine

than hanging with friends of mine

and making char wine


Now, I have no idea what ‘char wine’ is – I looked it up on Google and apparently barrel char levels are a thing (how much barrels are charred on the inside before fermenting bourbon whisky)…so I guess my friends and I were making homemade whisky (never mind that in my dream we were also dressed as pirates and this Haiku was written on a flag)

At the very least, I’m impressed:

  1. that the Haiku makes sense
  2. it follows the correct 5/7/5 structure
  3. I managed to make it rhyme

Imagine what I could do when I’m conscious…

😜😝😜


This week’s photo is by Axcy @ Deviantart.
You can find details of Nekneeraj’s weekly challenge here: https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/19271780/posts/1500603771

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Photo Challenge #170

Scribblings by Sarah, Stories by Sarah

Sweet Tooth

 

It was a mundane existence really – keeping everything so neat and tidy all the damn time. There was not even a speck of dust on the vents for heaven’s sake. And for what? I needed to grow a spine and just refuse to adhere to such fastidious rules. There were better ways to spend my time!

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spied it. A cheeky candy wrapper poking out from under the bed.

How on earth did that get there? I pondered.

I nudged the bed aside to retrieve the offending candy wrapper and that’s when I saw the partial fingerprint. 

Tentatively, I picked it up and walked backwards, toward the edge of my cell.

Triumphantly I held aloft the prize, knowing there was only one person in D block with half a finger. Staring brazenly at the inmate opposite me, I said with a smile, “Looks like I’m not the only person in here lacking la gaudiere*, hey Stubs? Now I promise I won’t tell. But it will cost you the rest of that packet”…

By Sarah ©2017



Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Wordle #160. Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem.

Words used: mundane, neat, vent, spine, wrapper, la gaudiere, nudge (nudged), partial, tentative, backwards, oppose (opposite), smile

* La gaudiere (noun.) glint of goodness inside people, which you can only find by sloshing them back and forth in your mind until everything dark and gray and common falls away, leaving behind a constellation at the bottom of the pan—a rare element trapped in exposed bedrock, washed there by a storm somewhere upstream.

Scribblings by Sarah

Seventeen

“When I was seventeen, I drank some very good beer,
I drank some very good beer, I purchased with a fake ID.
My name was Brian McGee, I stayed up listenin’ to Queen
When I was seventeen.” 
Homer Simpson

I recently attended GABS, which for those who don’t know about it, is all about BEER – hundreds of craft brewers coming together to showcase their latest and greatest (and sometimes mad) achievements in beer.

In honour of beer connoisseurs everywhere, I’m recommending my favourite Top 17 Australian Craft Beers.

  1. Bridge Road Brewers Pale Ale
  2. Pirate Life Double IPA
  3. Pirate Life IPA
  4. Mountain Goat Pale Ale
  5. Bentspoke Barley Griffin
  6. Bentspoke Crankshaft
  7. Two Birds Brewing Taco Beer
  8. Stone and Wood Pacific Ale
  9. Pirate Life Throwback Pale Ale
  10. Pact Mt Tennant Pale Ale
  11. Bridge Road Brewers Bling IPA
  12. Fat Yak Pale Ale
  13. Yowie Lager
  14. James Squire ‘The Chancer’ Golden Ale
  15. Rabbit and Spaghetti ‘The Fox’ Lager
  16. Two Birds Brewing Summer Ale
  17. Tooheys…JKA! No one really drinks that crap! Not in Victoria anyway…

Happy sampling!


Image credit Pixabay

Prompt: MLMM Saturday’s Mix, 17 June 2017, Theme: seventeen (17), Word count: 170

Free Verse, Poetry by Sarah, Scribblings by Sarah

The Muse


One bite of your neck, was more than I deserved; my muse.

You were so open, with words so smooth; my muse.

You eased the tension from my body, like it were a playhouse; my muse.

Even Neptune himself, could not have been treated any more a king; my muse.

Your semaphorism* a constant tease, a hook, a drug; my muse.

A paradoxical stalemate of wanting, but never having you; my muse.

But in reality, you are a thief; my muse.

I have been stolen, and am lost in you.

By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle #159
Words: 

1. Bite
2. Smooth
3. Open
4. Deserve
5. Paradox
6. Semaphorism (n.)) a conversational hint that you have something personal to say on the subject but don’t go any further—an emphatic nod, a half-told anecdote, an enigmatic ‘I know the feeling’—which you place into conversations like those little flags that warn diggers of something buried underground: maybe a cable that secretly powers your house, maybe a fiberoptic link to some foreign country.)
7. Tension
8. Playhouse
9. Neptune
10. Stalemate
11. Muse
12. Thieves
Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

Scribblings by Sarah, Stories by Sarah

All Tied Up

Being tied to a chair was about as unpleasant as he imagined.

One minute he’d been out enjoying the sunshine, feeling the wind ruffle through the grass around him.

Next, he’d been snatched away, driven for miles and then forced into a cold, cold room…and a room filled with strangers nonetheless! And he hadn’t liked the look of them either – not one bit! They were an odd assortment. Tall, short, thin, chunky, groomed, scruffy…and all different colours too.

He had been wondering what on earth was going on when suddenly, the door to the room had opened and a friendly looking, round-faced woman entered. 

Surely she’s not my captor? he’d thought to himself. She seems too nice, too ‘homey’.

He had no sooner completed the thought than she’d grabbed him. Hard. 

Her chubby fingers had dug into his skin and without a word, she’d thrown him against a couple of the strangers.

She’d grabbed some rope, bound them together and tied them to the chair, plonking them unceremoniously next to others who were bound just like them.

Yep, he thought again, Being tied to a chair was about as unpleasant as he imagined. 

Now, just get on with the damn wedding will you?


Image courtesy of Pixabay

 By Sarah ©2017

Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, First Line Friday 09.06.17