Wake the Zombie.

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"Mmmmmmmm" Gabby murmmered. 

"Urgh" She grumble as the cold morning air rushed into the tent, the smell of pine needles and earth flooding in with it. Burying back down into her sleeping back searching out the warmth and breathing in the sweet warm smell. But the outside smells were creeping in, tickling her senses waking her when all she wanted to do was remain in her cosy cacoon.

The remenants of sulpher wafted in to assault her nostrils. Getting back to sleep was out of the question now, Alex was intent on rousing this morning zombie. Yep, there it is the tickle of burning wood.

"I'm still not moving" Gabby shouted. Alex just laughed.

A few more moments of warmth and then the bitter aroma of coffee came creeping in.

"You're not playing fair!"

A couple of clangs later and the torture was more than Gabby could stand. She unzipped her sleeping bag, pulled on her hoody and boots then stuck her head out of the tent.

"Bacon?! Are you trying to torture me?"

"How else was I supposed to wake the zombie?"

Not much of an effort for today's prompt based on the above picture and purely the sense of smell. I hope my bloggerly friends have had more luck

Once more with a sense of feeling.

I love breaking rules. If I'm not bending the number of people to nominate on a blog challenge I'm writing for an extra few minutes of the daily prompts issued  by my writerly buddy Leah. Today I thought I'd just take the prompt and change it.

Out of the bag today we got:

Write a scene from the point of view of a rescue dog.

But no matter what I do this little brain of mine is coming up with this and nothing else, sorry Leah....At least the juices are flowing.


Sniff...Sweet, milky, cocoa...Chocolate!

Sniff...Metallic, urgh and that antiseptic smell like that horrid place where they give you shots...jewelry probably.

Sniff...Fresh, slightly floral...freshly washed clothes.

If I have to do this for much longer I'm going to have no sense of smell left. 

Sniff...oil. "Woof" That's right, this suitcase. Pretty sure I picked the right one again, for what the 500th time, Thor thought as he bounced in front of his handler indicating he had identified the case with the plastic c-4 inside.

"Good boy Thor." Grace praised, "Right again. One more field assessment and we'll be ready to join the Avengers." 

Thor laid down on the floor at the sound of the ridiculous name for the dog squad at airport security and put his paws over his eyes.

Grace giggled ruffling his ears, "I know, I know. And I'm not called Thor. Would it make it better if I changed my name to Loki?"

Thor jumped up and leaped at Grace, who being crouched down fell backwards with the force of his leap. He loved her smell, it was so subtle not over powering like some of the smells they tested them on here. Urgh the perfume was the worst. Her smell was small but colourful, it was soap and grass and treats and maple syrup all rolled into one. Except in the mornings when there was a little hint of mint too.

By the end of tomorrow they would be all that stood between the humans and the strange ones blowing them up in the sky....one more practice

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I have actually managed to get away a couple of times this summer with my beautiful family and the break gave me time to think. In particular about my writing. The thing people say to me a lot is that my writing is very visual. This is all well and good but I realised, with my toes curled into the cool and slightly damp grass that there are four other senses and why, especially when advised to as writers, am I not utilising them to my full potential. 

The way I figure is I need to start focusing on my other senses and make this come across in my writing. So while Leah is posting prompts I will try to focus on each of the senses in turn to work that muscle and see what happens. Today I tried smell but as it is my weakest sense in terms of writing I may try this one a second time. By all means join me on this challenge and see where your strengths and weaknesses are too.

The morning after the night before.

Today's writing prompt, from Leah via Caitlyn see here  on Pinterest. I'll try to stick to the ten minutes seeing as I have a date tonight!

*   *   *

Frankie was hot, sweat was trickling down her back as Alistair lead her from the dance floor. They had drunk some, watched the burlesque dancers that followed the singer. Frankie had been mesmerised by the poi flame throwers who entertained them after that. It was like they needed no fuel at all, like the flames came to their hands and mouths as if by mere thought, playing in to fantastical shapes to the rhythm of a deep bass. That bass line continued into the morning as they all danced and thrashed on the dance floor, giving themselves over to the beat.

Now he was taking her away from it, he was making her leave. She wasn't ready.

"You look cute when you pout you know" Alistair mocked.

"Hmph" Frankie replied as the hostess placed her shrug on her shoulders, she squirmed uncomfortably. It was too hot for that.

"Come on, you've had enough for one visit." Alistair said taking her hand and dragging her to the ornate arch that she hadn't noticed earlier. Rubies and garnets set into the crystal carved setting, Frankie had an inkling it was for more than just show.

The shimmering started as soon as they passed under the arch, world tilting movement and lingering alcohol in her system were not a good mix. Please don't let me throw up, please don't let me throw up, she thought.

Frankie knew the moment they were on the right side of the club's portal as soon as the cold morning air hit her. She sobered up in a split second and realised it was dawn, the first rays were starting to break through and dissipate the morning mist through the forest branches...

THE FOREST BRANCHES?!

"Alistair, where are we?" Silence, "Alistair?" She turned but he had his phone to his ear. Frankie caught a snippet of his conversation.

"...I don't know Jones it's never spit me out here but then I stayed longer than usual last night. Just triangulate our position and collect us as soon as you can...Yes contact me as soon as you know an ETA." He clicked his phone off and returned it to his pocket, turning to smile at Frankie.

For Deb....excuse the chatting half way through, worth it though!

The Hellfire Club

"Eeeecckkkk" the raven screeched across the dusk from the dead tree he was perched on. The landscape was desolate and Frankie was beginning to wonder if Alistair had her chasing some kind of urban myth. Thankfully there was a nicely worn path along the cliff face, she wouldn't want to be walking on the scree that spread out down the slope in these heels.

Alistair stopped, cupping her face in his hands. "Are you sure about this? You will never be the same again, there is no going back from this."

"You make it sound like I'm signing a contract with the devil." Frankie laughed.

"Try not to." Alistair smiled.

With that he took out a curved knife about six inches long from the small of his back. It had strange markings etched into the steel that Frankie had never seen before. Then in one quick slice he drew the knife over his palm. Returning the knife to its holder he took Frankie's hand before she had a chance to run and placed the bleeding hand on the rock face.

Everything around Frankie shimmered and she felt like the earth had given way underneath her feet. Just as she thought the contents of their early evening dinner would re-visit her she felt Alistair's cool hand on her arm and the world had stopped spinning.

"The first time is always the hardest, you'll get used to it" he whispered in her ear.

Frankie looked up and they were in a club like she had never seen before. Alistair was slipping her shrug off her shoulders but she barely noticed. The ambiance was dark and opulent,  it took her a moment to adjust from the light levels outside. The decor was a black...no wait deep reds, all different shades of red in fact some so deep they looked black and chandeliers hung every everywhere. Except, was that real flame in the wall sconces? Frankie took a moment to take it all in, trying to remind herself to pull her chin up and not gape!

"Welcome to The Hellfire Club, Fais ce que tu voudras." The hostess said to Frankie. "And welcome back Alistair, your usual table?" 

"Please Trixie."

It was only then that Frankie's brain caught up and as they started to walk away arm in arm she whispered, "What did she say?"

"Do what thou will. It's the club's motto, a place where anything goes" and his frivolous and wicked grin spread across his face, the one that won her over ever time.

As they walked deeper into the club the sultry voice of a 1920's singer drifted around, various gambling tables came into view off to the right and the bar to the left, stage dead center with numerous tables dotted around and some private booths. Alistair lead her to a booth letting Frankie slide in and get the view she wanted of the stage.

In just a moment a waitress was at the table with a bottle of champagne. Dressed in a black corset with red trim, ruffled panties, stockings and fishnet gloves. She had fantastic red ringlets, Frankie admired them for a more than a fleeting moment, no matter what she did with her fine hair curls would not hold. Then realisation dawned, the lighting was dim but Frankie was sure she had red skin. And were they scales, and horns, small ones but horns? A quick glance to Alistair and he wasn't reacting, maybe this was a costume for venue staff. Frankie popped her head above the booth seat and took a good look around, yep other waitresses were the same. Some green, some purple but similar, and the odd tail. But wait, a customer, there...a blue customer. Frankie studied the waitress a little more who luckily was talking to Alistair. This didn't look fake, no patchy face paint.

"First time honey?"

"Excuse me?" Frankie replied.

"First time at Hellfire?" The waitress asked again.

Frankie couldn't speak, her accent was even off. European but not, so she just nodded her reply.

"Touch the tail if you like, it's all real." She said flicking a pointed red tail round to reach out to Frankie's hand.

"Abbey, let her have a drink at least."  Alistair mockingly chastised the waitress.

"OK." she giggled, "offer's there if she lasts." She said with a wink. Frankie watched her tail flick as she chasséed to the next table.

Frankie downed her glass of champagne and a second. Nope that was not going to cut it. Calmly she got up and walked away from the booth, she could hear Alistair shout her name once but kept on walking. They had talked about the club of myth and legend where the wealthy go the 'let their hair down' where the devil walked among them, if you believed such things. When he said he could take her she never for one minute thought it existed and not like this. 

Reaching the bar she perched on a red velvet stool and didn't even wait for the bar tender to ask.

"Tequila, straight. Slice on the side"

"Rough day?" he asked dead pan. Stood there in his bowler hat, stripped waistcoat with reptilian eyes like it was the most normal thing in the world.

She knocked back the shot, slammed the glass upside down on the bar and after sucking the lemon a second said, "Again!"

Five shots later Frankie thanked the bar tender and walked back to the booth. She slid in next to Alistair.

"OK, so what's first?" she giggled wickedly.

*   *   *

So this was my response to a friend of mine trying to kick my writing behind into gear! Thanks Leah! Who's response to the writing prompt below can be found here. And my awesome blogging bestie has also taken up the challenge too and written something here. They are both super talented writers so you should definitely go check them out, if only to see how we all cam up with completely different things for the same prompt.

Ok, confession time mine was helped a little by this song which inspired me a little today off Imelda May's new album. I imagine her voice in the club and some of her other songs drifting around there from previous albums. So that combined with Leah's prompt has me writing again. Whether it's good or not I don't care words on the page was name of the game and I have achieved that, oh and I broke the 10 minute rule too....sorry not sorry!

So what is everyone up to? Have you missed me? Because I've missed you! Fill me in and I'll do you a deal, next post will bring you back up to date.

Batten down the hatches!

I'm feeling a little like Eeyore

original sourced here

I was so enjoying the sunshine. The warm glow on my skin. The smell of sun cream and cut grass on the light breeze. The fun and games punctuated by laughter and screams. And the colour it brought to my life. I enjoyed having it all in my life again, it was nice while it lasted.

Now the storm is on the horizon again. The pressure is building, starting to feel truly oppressive.  I knew it wouldn't be long, I knew I couldn't out run it and there it is creeping closer. Stormy grey clouds looming and starting to block out the light. This time I don't think there is any dodging the eye of this storm. Soon the first cracks of thunder will rumble out. Then the light show will begin, few may even be struck by bolts of lightening.

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It's interesting to see how people prepare for a storm:

1. The Ostrich - stick their head in the sand and make believe nothing will touch them.
2. The Leopard - watch them take off and attempt to out run the storms path.
3. The Beaver - build, re-build, shore-up, all in an attempt to minimise the effects of the storm.
4. The Humming Bird - known for their fantastic rate of flapping.

Storms, in general, don't scare me. I love our little British efforts (most of the time they're a flash in the pan with no damage); the anticipation, the show and then the relief of the rain. I get the feeling though, it's going to be quite some time before we will get to dance in the rain with this storm. And that is what worries me, that is what sends me through all of the above character types (not an exhaustive list sourced from anywhere other than my brain). With only the leopard removed from the equation, I won't run again, I wonder which I will settle on.

Yet I can't help but think this storm we're facing is just a baby compared to the ones our Grandfather's and their Father's before them faced. Who are we to fear when they faced World Wars and Depression?

Do you know which character type you are? Is it listed? Or do you behave completely differently when a storm is on its way?

Just a chip

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You have probably seen on the wider tinternet the meme or short conversation that can be view in full at the above link...the general gist is; if you smash a plate, then say sorry, will that fix it?

Now I've worked with the public since leaving university so I have developed somewhat of a thick skin. Don't get me wrong, once upon a time peoples comments did cut through me like a samurai sword through butter, leaving me shredded and  lifeless. I came to realise after a while that most people were venting about their own situations and not being purposefully mean or hurtful. Slowly their comments and sideways glances started to wash over me until I stopped noticing them at all.

Few people still have the power to wound me with one comment; take me down like a plate from a shelf and shatter me. Sometimes if I'm lucky they just chip a corner and leave me functional; whole but damaged.

Mostly these aren't people who intentionally want to break me...but does that make it any less hurtful? An analogy I know Tangled Lou will appreciate (because I know she hoards mugs), is it any less upsetting when you accidentally drop and smash your favourite mug?

The only problem is, attempted breakages from strangers at work (in the past mostly) or from "friends" when I was younger where ten-a-penny. Even when they had an effect on me picking myself up from those was easy. But how do you pick yourself up from the surprise attack that cuts deep? The one you didn't see coming, the one that's left you doubting and questioning yourself for the first time in a long time. I'm not sure I know that answer to this one!

Be careful which plates you chose to smash, it may be someones hard earned confidence!

One of my favourite songs in a new found acoustic version :-)

I Wish....

We've all read one of those books that's really stayed with us. Ones that give you a stonking book-hangover? ...Yeah, I've just finished one of those. In fact all three books in the series have been a bit like that, but this last book has been the worst by far.

Dreams of Gods and Monsters by Laini Taylor. The final part (kind of) of an epic love story between Karou and Akiva amidst impending apocalypse. Parts of this story have been coming to mind ever since I finished it, for example whilst watching my daughters football team win a match at a recent tournament 10-0 I found it comparable to the angels massacre of Loramendi (at least in my head it was). I now find myself yet again remembering another part of this fantastic story.

At the beginning of the series we see  wishes being traded, usually for teeth, and they come in various denominations a little like money. There is a scene in Dreams of Gods and Monsters where Karou's best friend Zuz and here boyfriend Mik end up with a violin case full of wishes. They spend some considerable time debating the right or wrong way to spend the gavriel's, which are worth more in terms of wish granting capacity. However they eventually decide to try not to spend these wishes and save them, becoming the self titled 'Wish Police'.

I tell you all this because this song became available to download today on iTunes, which I did as soon as I knew. It got me to thinking though and you know how that can be a bad thing with me! Have a listen while I tell you all about it.

I must have listened to this song at least twenty times today, I just love his voice. But not only that, this song in particular throws up visions of dancing in my head. A sensual, foot to foot Argentinian Tango. Two bodies moving in perfect synchronicity and fluidity. Eyes meeting with intense passion, heat and flame dancing between the pair as they share the beat of the music and the meeting of souls. It makes me wish with a passion so deep that I had never given up dancing, that I had a partner to share a song like this with in its entirety. That I could play a track like this and get lost in the movement and the beat with only another body to ground me.

image found here

Would that be a waste of a wish? Would Zuz and Mik be on my tail? And what would I wish for anyway?...the chance to dance or the willing/able partner to dance with? If I had a gavriel would I frivolously spend it on regrets or spend it more wisely on sensible things. I guess it depends if this track was playing!!!

What would you wish for given the chance? And no world peace or generic happiness please, those are too big for simple wishes to handle.