Aurora;my light.

“Dinachi! wake-up.”

“Stop joor. I can hear you and I wasn’t sleeping.”

Chuckling “You were not sleeping, just shielding your eyes from the piercing darkness abi?”

“I have had a hectic night shift, I don’t think my brain has the capacity for these your riddles yet.”

“You’re the one with all the riddles oh, lying there screaming at grandma in your sleep. It was really creep.”

“I wasn’t dreaming, just admit you woke me up for a cuddle.” with a grin he stretched to make room on the couch.

With the flick of a switch, she retreated to his heart.

 

 

 


Written for Friday fictioneers are writing group/challenge hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. It has been a while I have written a story and I loved writing this one hope you love it too. Please click on this link to read other stories and on this one to join the fun. (Have a go!)

A crash course in 7 weeks; lesson 1

“Start as you mean to go on.”

Or “Start with the end in sight.”

My little man turned seven months in June, four days before my return to school day. I had hoped to wean him unto solid meals by this time. I wasn’t expecting him to be able to eat three whole meals, but I had hoped for some sort of day time meal routine at the very least. I had high expectations of my breastmilk expression skills reality, however begged to differ. This leads me to my lessons from week one:

Go into every endeavour with positive energy. Contrary to my usual disposition when faced with a new challenge (which is often apprehension masked in negativity), I returned to school  filled with positive energy. I presume this positivity was a result of my past accomplishments in school prior to going on maternity leave. 

Be positive but have a contingency plan. Being able to get back into study as planned increased myself confidence. It felt like I had a firmer grip on my life and the plans ahead. However, I had no contingency plan with respect to how baby would be fed if the milk I expressed wasn’t enough. At first I had a milk stash in the freezer but it was  quickly depleted by the end of week one. Though baby was having pureed fruit, as well, I was still worried. 

Being relaxed and having breakfast helps with milk production. I have not made the previous statement based on any scientific authority. However, drawing from my personal experience, I found having a good breakfast anytime before 11am not only helped increase my milk production but also the thickness of the expressed milk. I also found having a nap or just some rest or warm bath helped increase milk production. 

Be positive, but be observant; watch your words. It often very tempting to ‘over share’ or to stretch ourselves beyond limit, or to overtly identify with everyone when we come into a new environment. While in certain cases nothing negative comes of this experience, under different circumstances an unhealthy working trend might be established. Often times it comes back to bite us in the butt. Be on your best behaviour, but ensure to be you. (will throw more light on this in week four)

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From 10-20minutes of pumping on a good day for us.

Start at the alphabets

Care to join me on a little stroll? Take a look at my garden, feast your eyes on my tree, what pray ye lays siege to your mind?

Birth,

Toddler, Teenager, 

Self-image, Self-awareness, Self-acceptance

Love, Hope, Faith, Relationships, Career, Religion, Family

Marriage, Parenting, Motherhood, Fatherhood, Breastfeeding,  Social class,

Formula feeding, Mortgage, Rent, Passion, Hobbies, Diet, Health

Conventional, Death, After-life, Assets, Liability

Unorthodox, Friendship, Community,

Intellect,

Fashion,

Beauty,

Alp ha bets ma keup wo rds, ne ver for get y our ro ots; they are valuable, the y are par tof whoy ou are, no matter how bitter.

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Take another step my darling, sit by me, let’s take a look at some other words:

  • Construe:

to understand the meaning, especially of other people’s actions and statements, in a particular way.

to understand the meaning of something in a particular way.

  • Abrupt:

sudden and unexpected, and often unpleasant.

using too few words when talking, in a way that seems rude and unfriendly.

  • Grandiloquent:

A grandiloquent style or way of using language is complicated in order to attract admiration and attention, especially in order to make someone or something seem important.

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Now pick a word from the tree, a word that makes you  either very comfortable or very uncomfortable. Why does the word make you feel that way? When you see people acting out that word, how do you feel? Does your interpretation of the word affect how you perceive another’s behaviour?

When you engage in a discussion about the word does it end abruptly, do you find your self acting abrupt? Or is the reverse the case? Do you feel the need to bedazzle or confuse your audience by using highfaluting words?

Life is simple, we complicate it when we refuse to pull away the layers over an issue. For example, motherhood, this is one word with multiple offspring, often individuals tend to judge the entire topic by looking at one of her offspring. While it is possible for several issues to serve as an indication of the overall picture, it is still better to stick to one topic/issue/offspring at a time and then taking an average estimate.

If it cannot be simplified then perhaps it is not a basic need for living a content life. Even quadratic equations can be simplified, and when it seems impossible, it is often due to a faulty premise.

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Finally turn left and exit the garden: 

Don’t forget where we started, at the alphabets. Everyone has an opinion and like the slabs on the footpath through the garden, we must learn to see those opinions as man made boundaries hedging off wandering roots. Keeping tentacle plants from over growing the garden. For whilst the plants might be beautiful in themselves, but when left unmanaged have a way of looking less appealing with every struggle to walk though them.

It’s important to remember that if we do not like the path created by the slabs we can always push them aside by growing strong roots. Don’t forget even bitter roots can still be beneficial.

Stick to one issue at every given time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fallen bridges.

“So, which do you think I should pick? You reckon she will like the yellow one?”

“Maybe.” Walking right past the vase without so much as a glance.

“Come on, you didn’t even look at it. What’s with you?”

“You know very well the answer to that question.”

“Why can’t you leave things well alone?”

“I would if you stopped dragging me into the middle. She doesn’t want these silly gifts, she wants you, her daughter back home.” 

“You know that’s not possible besides she has you.”

“Have it your way, do consider postage charges this time.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”


I do apologise for my absence the last couple of months, life has been ….. anything but interesting.

For every comment not replied, for every like not acknowledged please bear no grudges for in a few days or so I shall hopefully explain myself properly.

This story is written for Friday fictioneers a writing challenge hosted by Rochelle. The picture was provided by the lovely Sarah Ann Hall, the task is to write a 100 words story inspired by it. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the challenge. Thank you for stopping by… do click on the link to read other stories.

 

Tandem or sociable?

I like the tandem bike.

Two people in synch, well hopefully in synch enjoying the view around them, taking in the fresh air, exercising their muscles.

People think it slows you down, others expect it should double your speed.

And me?

Well I just say what’s the point of getting to the finish line with a corpse over your shoulder or a zombie in front?

Learn to enjoy the journey, I say to my daughter, but she’s having none of it.

She prefers the sociable bike.

she says side by side is better, each one sees the same thing, each one sees the other. No room for deception, each one pedals. No room for any misconceptions.

Better than one in front and one behind.

I smile for the journey is far and fear makes the heart forget that better a single room with open doors than a palace with guarded courts.

If you can’t trust them out of sight, or pardon their shortcomings perhaps it is safer to cycle alone.


In response to the writing challenge flash fiction for aspiring writers hosted by Priceless Joy click on the link to visit the blog. The photograph is from the lovely Dorothy (interesting photo can’t wait to see all the stories it inspires) and the challenge is to write a 100 – 150 words (+/- 25 words) story inspired by it. Do click on the link for other stories.

 

It’s not just the thought …..

There are fresh flowers sitting on the table, not really my favourite kinds but they will have to do for now.

Will I ever get them picked from the garden again?

The boxes are stacked to the roofs, I really don’t know where to start. I can’t find the strength to go forward right now. Everything just feels surreal.

The mantle is bare just like my arms.

Should I put the pictures up?

Are ghosts ever a good part of the present?

The flowers are actually lovely, they smell divine but I miss tiny hands handing them to me.


Written for Friday fictioneers a writing challenge hosted by Rochelle. The picture was provided by the lovely Dale Rogerson, the task is to write a 100 words story inspired by it. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the challenge. Thank you for stopping by… do click on the link to read other stories.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nella

At eighteen Nella learnt to trust everyone.

When Noel said “no one will love you like I do” she didn’t doubted him.

And how about Miss Willow, she helped Nella to embrace her status as a waste of academic resource; I mean how many more F’s could one student get.

She aspired to eat like cousin Emily, talk smart like Simon (their neighbour) and dress like the girl at the grocery store.

Life at number 584 was a strict regime of self value obliteration. With eighty-two items on her list of shortcomings, Nella clung to Noel’s words like a blind leech.


Written for Friday fictioneers a writing challenge hosted by Rochelle. The picture was provided by the lovely Kent Bonham, the task is to write a 100 words story inspired by it. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the challenge. Thank you for stopping by… do click on the link to read other stories.

Children’s stories

Hi people,

Hope everyone’s having an awesome week? It’s been busy, it’s been interesting and it is certain to get a bit more hectic for me. Regardless I hope to always come back to one of my favourite discoveries since I started this blog; writing short stories for little people.

Thankfully I have wonderful people in my life who every now and again remind me of this love, one of them being my friend Akaji who enquired about Harley and Dory a few days ago. I hope she (and you) reads this and finds it as interesting as the first one. Harley’s update will come sometime in the future but it’s in the works. 

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And if this is your first time reading my stories for little one’s please feel free to read others as well. Hope you enjoy them.

A shell for Herby

Harley

Dory the Dolphin

bubbles 6

Coloured lines

“Mrs Mcguire can George come out to play?”

“Sorry hun, but George has a cold, so no playing outside today.”

“Uhhhh”

“Where’s your mum?”

“I don’t know. She went to get some milk ages ago.” mumbling the last bit he turned to leave.

“Do you want to come in and help me make some ginger biscuits for Richard?”

Like the glow of an LCD bulb his little face brightened up”Can I?”

“Sure love, come on in.”

Lines had no business crossing little faces at least that’s what I think, life, however has other ideas.

With a mother who could drink his weight in a night and a dad who only cared to show up at conception, it was a surprise Richard knew his please and thank you’s.

But who was she to judge lines still found it’s way to her little one’s face, life was a persistent artist, all one can do is try to make them bright and colourful lines.

“Do you like ginger biscuits Richard?”


In response to the writing challenge flash fiction for aspiring writers hosted by Priceless Joy click on the link to visit the blog. The photograph is from the lovely Jessica Haines (interesting photo can’t wait to see all the stories it inspires) and the challenge is to write a 100 – 150 words (+/- 25 words) story inspired by it. Do click on the link for other stories. 

 

Home.

It hadn’t been much of a home, had it?

I mean a tent with a tiny storage box was only supposed to serve a few days. But for them it was home for years.

His mothers lovely rhyme as she tucked him into his sleeping bag echoed through his mind;

Down in the meadow,

Just right in the hollow,

lived Conner 

the cornerstone of his mother’s life.

Someday we’ll give him a home

not of fabrics but bricks.

With love as a master and hope for a mistress.

Standing on the porch he smiled at the meadow.

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields


Written for Friday fictioneers a writing challenge hosted by Rochelle. The picture was provided by the lovely Jan Wayne Fields the task is to write a 100 words story inspired by it. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the challenge. Thank you for stopping by… do click on the link to read other stories.