Tag Archives: #vss

Telyn, the Harp.

“I’m Telyn, the Harp.”

“Telling the harp what?”

“No. My name is Telyn, and I am a harp. The Harp.”


“And what, may I ask, are you?”

“May you well ask. I am… fanfare of drums… a piece of metal that has been twisted into a shape.”

“A triangle.”

“That’s it. I have been twisted into a triangular shape… but, I don’t know what I am called.”

“Perhaps, ‘Tingy’ might be a good name for you.”

“Ooh! That would be lovely. Tingy the thing made into a triangular shape. How happy I am!”

And with that, he struck himself on the head with a small rod of metal.


Telyn sighed, a lovely glissando of a sigh, but, a sigh nevertheless.

‘Winnie the Pooh’s Different Day’

(LWG prompt for 15/09/2020)

‘It is going to be another one of those days’, thought Pooh, as he decided what outfit he was going to wear today – he eventually went for the red shirt and trouser-less look, as it was all he had to choose from.

‘It must be a Thursday.’ reasoned Pooh. ‘Or one of the other ones; but, it does feel like a Thursday.

It was, in fact, a Wednesday, which ‘is’ a Thursday, in all but name.

Pooh left his home in the Hundred Acre Wood and went to see if Piglet was up for a game of squash.

At Piglet’s house, in answer to Pooh’s knocking on the doorbell, the door was answered by a tall man in a flying outfit from the Great War (Pooh had read about, and seen pictures, of this, in one of Christopher Robin’s picture books) and the man had a dapper moustache to boot.

“Is Piglet in?” asked Pooh.

‘“Piglet? No. He’s gone upstairs with Ginger. He’s always wanted to go up in one of the old balloons.”

“Upstairs?” queried Pooh, his face taking on his default ‘confused’ look. “Piglet hasn’t got an ‘upstairs’ “

“No. Up into the blue, skywards, through the atmosphere, up where the air is clear.” replied the dapper chappie. ‘Come to think of it, Piglet doesn’t seem to have much ‘upstairs’ either, does he?’ the man laughed.

Pooh didn’t think that was funny, but he didn’t know why.

“Are you a pillock?” asked Pooh, innocently.

“A ‘pillock?’ “ the airman seemed a little taken aback.

“Yes.” continued Pooh. “Going ‘up-tiddly-up-up’ and then ‘down-tiddly down-down?”

Enlightenment crossed the airman’s expression.

“Yup! Group Captain James Bigglesworth at your service!” replied Group Captain James Bigglesworth. “But you can call me ‘Biggles’.”

“Thank you.” said Pooh, remembering his manners. “I am Pooh.”

“Oh, don’t be too hard on yourself, my little rotund fellow, I’m sure you have many fine qualities – you are quite polite, for instance.”

“My name is Pooh, Winnie the Pooh. Like in Bond, James Bond.”

“Who, Pooh?” Biggles looked affectionately down upon the little bear. “You creatures of the Hundred Acre Wood are all rather special. Are there any more of your friends that I can meet?”

“Well, there’s Kanga and Roo, Eeyore, Tigger, and… others.” Pooh’s mind thought of the Heffalumps and Woozles. “Others.” he repeated lamely.

“Kanga and Roo? Aussies? Well, they should be up for a laugh. What about Eeyore and Tigger – are they good fellows both?”

“Not quite. Eeyore does get a bit low sometimes… often; but, Tigger is the opposite – bouncier than Kanga, I would say – possibly he’s got ADHD.”

Biggles thought on this. “Never mind. I’m sure that they’ll make a fine crew for a sortie over the briny.

“And there’s Christopher Robin.” said Pooh.

“Ah! A talking red-breasted bird – how tickety-boo!” Biggles was often perceived as being annoying, but Pooh was a kindly chap and didn’t find Biggles ‘too’ much of a handful.

“No. Christopher Robin is a boy, like you, but much smaller. He is the brains in our little rag-tag group.” Pooh certainly knew where the brains were in their community. “He can spell proper and everything.” finished Pooh, now quite puffed out.

“Well, I look forward to meeting the rest of the gang—“

It was at that moment that the sound of a low-flying aircraft was heard by the both of them.

“Ah! Ginger and The Pigster are heading back. I do hope they get the old string bag down in one piece – such a pain when you have to rebuild the beauties.”

The plane came into view, flying low over the treetops, rocking slightly as she came.

“I think Piglet is flying her in.” declared Biggles. “I can just see his pink ears poking out from the cockpit.”

“Piglet is?” asked Pooh. “But he’s never even been in an aeroplane before, how can he be flying it?”

“Piglet may be small of stature; but he is large of courage when it comes to bravery!” exclaimed Biggles.

A little while later Piglet and Ginger walked in to Piglet’s house; Piglet jumping from foot to foot, and beaming from ear to ear, Ginger filling in his pilot’s log.

“All good up top, Ginger?” asked Biggles.

“Top notch, Biggles, old man. We soared above the clouds and Piglet even looped-the-loop.” Ginger was obviously impressed with Piglet’s performance.

Pooh looked at Biggles, Ginger, and Piglet. “If you’d have asked me if any of this was possible…” said Pooh, “I’d have said that ‘Pigs might fly!’ “

They all laughed at this for quite a while.

There was never a dull day in the Hundred Acre Wood.

19:14 – LWG prompt

It was approaching a quarter past seven o’clock when the young men left their childhood’s behind and signed upon the dotted line for the reward of the King’s shilling and a muddy grave.

SoCS – Practice. @LindaGHill

And you can Pop here to see Linda’s fine web site and all these lovely prompts.

No, I’m going in cold with this – no practice for me.

Which means that it’s gonna bomb.

I mean – can you have any expectations that this is going to be worthy of the three minutes that it takes you to read this. Not even mentioning the ten minutes that it took me (is taking me) to write it.

Words of wisdom – none!

Pearls of… well, wisdom – none!

Words… well, yes, it has quite a few of those – there may be verbs, adverbs, adjectives, nouns, pronouns, and more of the same. Oh, and definitely, somewhere within, there will be a list – there’s always a list – and what is list it will be.

Some lists just… list things, with no explanation (as does mine) whilst others are purely inspirational, buckets spring to mind, buckets always spring to mind, and then I down an hour deciding what colour my bucket should be. Well, Orange, yellow, basic black – there are oh, so many colours – and finally decide upon a pale mint and cream combination (which doesn’t exist) which has to be made like a kitchen (bespoke) yup, bespoke, and boy that would be an achievement – wouldn’t it?.

Don’t you just love rhetorical questions?

No, you don’t have to answer that.

But, if you want to… don’t.

So, what would I have written if I had practiced?

Nothing much, because I would have thought the heck out of the subject and been too self aware of myself to create anything of worth.

Like this is!

Anyway, I must be getting near my self-set 10 minutes.

Or am I?

Has Time become a Fourth Dimension where every ‘old’ second has become the length of an ‘hour’?

In which case, brace yourself for some rollercoaster of a ride – only what has gone before… *

times 3,600 (or so).


Dream Story – The Warm Yellow Custard Lake

… and they both dived eagerly into the lake of warm custard – for that is what it was.

Surfacing some distance apart, the two hollered to each other their joy at their instantaneous feelings of vitality, health, and well-being, for they were truly invigorated – which feelings can arise after a swim, even in warm custard, but this was different.

Small cuts, bruises, scars, and their, recently, ever-present sunburn, all disappeared – gone, and gone for good. The healing powers of the warm custard were, to put it lamely, amazing!

Fully rejuvenated, and feeling twenty years younger, the pair travelled on upon their quest, telling the tale of the yellow lake and its properties.

Thus, people began journeying from near, and then far, to bear witness by personal immersion into the healing warmth of yellowness.

As more and ever more people used the warm custard to heal small wounds, injuries and more serious ailments – even, in one instance, to replace a missing limb – the warm custard began to cool, and a shade of green tinged the golden yellow surface. The, until recently, sick and wounded also commented upon the slight sourness that they tasted when they inadvertently swallowed some of the warm custard.

But, the people came in their droves.

Until, soon, all the healing powers of the Yellow Custard Lake were exhausted. The lake had cooled, turned a murky green all over, and bubbled strangely in places. It had become a swamp.

In olden times, this was how swamps were formed. And if you ever now see a lake of warm custard on your travels…

…jump on in…

… before it becomes a foetid swamp –

for nobody wants to immerse themselves in one of those, do they?

The Incredible Growing Poem


It’s said,

long ago,

and far away,

there lived a bad troll;

although, he never swore,

ate people, stole things, or burped;

so he wasn’t really that bad.

A Story in Many Parts – which you can help to write (keep it light) please read and pop your continuation of the story in the comments – thank you.

No one really knows what is around the corner, and I certainly didn’t. Not, today, at any rate.

I had gone out in order to buy a packet of loose-leaf tea and a potato (I had three, I needed four), taking my usual route to the local ‘BuyStuff’ store. This required travelling up my street, turning the corner, and walking a further twenty paces to reach my destination.

It was when I turned the corner that my day took a strange turn.

Out of Context

Out of Context

I left old Context town behind me; I was happy to be out of a place where I just didn’t fit in.

The butterfly and the duckling

Liskeard Writers Prompt for 21/01/2020: Picture prompt – the butterfly and the duckling.

When you think about reincarnation, as I’m sure you do from time to time, do you consider the possibility that you would come back as a long-living creature – such as an Aldabra Giant Tortoise or a Greenland Shark, or a creature with a short life-span, such as an adult Mayfly or a House Mouse

Well, this story involves two people that meet, fall in love, and die, all too young, in an airplane crash.

They are pure-hearted souls that qualified, without dispute, for reincarnation.

Jessica was transformed into a beautiful Blue Morpho butterfly; Leonides, strangely inappropriately, was reincarnated as a duckling, an ugly duckling, with feathers all stubby and brown.

As you know, or maybe you don’t, all animals, insects, mammals (apart from most humans) have the ability to converse with each other. They don’t always choose to; but, they can hold conversations in many ways apart from the spoken language that we expect of them.

So, Jessica and Leonides were able to find each other by a series of clicks, quacks, chirps, flutters, and a fair degree of luck.

They remained friends throughout their reincarnated lives, sadly Jessica’s was one of brevity, and Leonides grew to be an ugly swan, who used the brute strength of his wings to quell the dissatisfaction that he felt at not having also been brought back as a beautiful butterfly, where he could spend a brief, but exquisite, life with Jessica – as they had done when in human form.

The calendar that their picture adorns is a tribute to a moment in their second lives. And the picture was taken from an actual scene that caught the artist’s eye – so beautiful it was.

Keeping A Light On. (Revisited).

Keeping A Light On. (Revisited).

Every evening, the little old man climbed to the top of the spiral staircase to light the lamp; staying there, thinking upon life, until the dawn’s early light rose. He slept, during the day, in a cot near the base of the lighthouse; eating the food that the kind folk from the village left him.

For forty years he had tended to the flame that shone out for the mariners’ safety; like his father, and his grandfather, before him.

The mariners, whose sea had receded ten miles beyond the old coast line many, many years ago.