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This above all; to thine own self be true. 
William Shakespeare

FLOWER GRAFFITI ~ 12th APRIL 2016

14/4/2016

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Image © Copyright John and Margaret
FLOWER GRAFFITI
by John Yeo

    Annabelle was a creative, artistic sensitive young woman. At art college she fell heavily in love with Dominic a fellow student who seemed to be on the same wavelength in all things. They became inseparable, and it was certain they would get through the exams together with flying colours.
   They were indeed colourful, extrovert and prepared to go to any lengths to express their natural artistic talents. Dominic would draw lightning sketches of passers by in the city centre for money, a form of busking that helped to pay the bills. Annabelle also painted and was developing a market for portraits, from among her friends and family.
   Annabelle had a younger brother, Toby, a mischievous youngster who was struggling with his,  A level exams and running around with a crowd of young daredevils who would stop at nothing to get some thrills from life.
    Toby, like his sister, was also artistic, but sadly he expressed his talent in a different way. Toby was a graffiti artist, specialising in painting on high office blocks and skyscrapers.
    One day the group dared him to paint a huge red poppy on the twenty-seventh floor of a large office block in the city centre. A building that was the headquarters of a major European bank.

    “No! I could never do that without the right equipment. I would need a window cleaning cradle and you would all have to be there to manhandle the hoist.”

   “We have thought of that, we have a hoist secreted at the back of the building and we are ready to go. Tomorrow is poppy day and your art will make the front page of every national daily paper in the country! You will be famous when the truth comes out.”


   Toby outrightly refused to have anything to do with this plan and later that day he confided in Dominic.

   The next morning every newspaper in the country carried banner headlines that described four huge red poppies painted on the fourth floor walls of a major city office block to remember the dead in two world wars.

  Dominic, Annabelle and Toby all smiled knowingly at each other, and admired their poppies from below.

    Dominic laughed at Toby and said. “Height is not important. In Art it is the statement that counts!”

Copyright  © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

(766 WORDS)

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FELT CASTLES ~ 6th APRIL 2016

8/4/2016

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Image © Copyright John and Margaret
A prompt response for Inspiration Monday ~ Felt Castles

FELT CASTLES
by John Yeo

       Rampaging across the continent the raiders laid waste to everything they came across, in their greedy lust for riches and power. The fearsome young leader was afraid of nothing and rose to every challenge that came his way. Tyrion had recently become the supreme leader after challenging, defeating, and dethroning the previous leader. Tyrion was fearless Lord of all the valleys and sub-kingdoms that made up the Southern half of the continent of Grevillea. Tyrion's relentless atrocities continued Northwards ruthlessly conquering and ransacking everything in his path.
   The powerful army of raiders had taken up residence in a valley that contained an impregnable castle. Tyrion felt secure and rested for a while to take stock of his kingdom. He sent out emissaries to contact his lords in residence in the conquered lands he ruled over, to demand funds by way of heavy taxes on the populations. One by one, these powerful lords arrived with gifts of much gold, silver and precious jewels.
   A stranger from the north rode into the castle that day, amidst these lords, on a pure white stallion, leading a mule train loaded with many bales of a soft material. A gentle unarmed man approached the guards and requested an audience with Tyrion.
The aggressive captain of the guard immediately arrested him and he was dragged before the leader.

     “Who are you and where do you hail from?” Tyrion immediately asked the man, now in chains to prevent his escape.

      “Sir! My name is Santana, I come from Pacifica, a peaceful valley in the North. We have heard much about you and we would like to trade peacefully with you. We have much to offer and I am sure we could learn much from each other. We are a very peaceful people.”

     Tyrion smiled benevolently and thought long and hard before replying. “What is to stop us from overrunning your peaceful community taking whatever we want?”

    Santana said few words in reply, “Why? Everything we have is yours for the taking without bloodshed.”

    Tyrion said.  “What have you brought on your mule train?”

    “A luxurious new mysterious material that we use to construct our dwellings, very lightweight and very strong and waterproof. I would like to show your men how to construct portable castles to keep you safe wherever you go.” Replied Santana.

   Tyrion ordered his release at once and before long many portable castles covered the plains surrounding the castle.

     More mule trains had continually arrived, bearing the wondrous new material, and several days later most of Tyrion’s army were housed in comfort.


    Tyrion then ordered his army to prepare to march on Pacifica the next day, laughingly he prepared for an easy conquest.


    Santana was shocked, “Why?”  he asked, “We are your friends a very gentle peaceful people!”


    Tyrion laughed and relied, “I need the money to continue to fight and conquer.”

   That night all was prepared and the army slept comfortably and peacefully before the morning's march on Pacifica.

    Then fire broke out around the castle, a raging inferno spread widely and raged out of control from castle to castle. There was no escape from the flames. Thousands died, the only survivors were inside the impregnable castle. Then an iron clad army surrounded the valley and wiped out the few survivors, before they marched through the gates that were opened from within.

   Tyrion’s guards were killed and he was dragged before Santana.

    “How?” He begged as he was forced on his knees

   Taking a double edged sword Santana smiled and said. “This is the iron fist inside a velvet glove! Exacting justice for your ruthless killing.”

    Then with one blow Santana cut off the tyrant's head.

Copyright  © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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ATROPHY ~ 24th MARCH 2016

26/3/2016

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A ONE WORD flash Fiction story based on the word ATROPHY
PictureImage Copyright John and Margaret
​​ATROPHY
by John Yeo


 I often wonder if there really is such a thing as atrophy of the brain. The favourite expression when describing the symptoms of mental degeneration is, ‘Use it or Lose it!’ We are advised to put our mental faculties under the utmost pressure, by attempting difficult puzzles and problems. I am reliably informed that new pathways are built in the brain to accommodate the different incoming information.

    Marcus Gellby was 79 years of age, a man who had lived a very full life. A leader of men and a captain of industry all his life, he threw himself into everything he was involved in and usually came out smiling.  May, his wife was the first to notice the little lapses of memory, the increasing number of times she had to remind him of little things. May would often finish his sentences for him and  she was responsible for keeping their appointments diary.
    Marcus was in total denial of the possibility of a medical reason for these lapses and just laughed the whole thing off as old age creeping up on him.
  Secretly, Marcus was worried enough to be aware that something would have to be done to stem this  apparent atrophy of his brain.
   He began to stretch himself with word games. Then he began to take supplements that promised to sharpen up the intellect. He watched May’s reactions, to his interactions with her, very carefully, to see if there would be any miraculous change or a rapid improvement. No such luck, he continued to stretch himself however with the puzzles and pills.
    One day Marcus heard of a herbal remedy used by gypsies, a drink made up of common woodland plants that promised to regenerate the intellect and reverse the cell degeneration. Marcus caught up with a large family of Romany wanderers and described the potion and then begged to be able to buy some of this miracle elixir. The head of the family introduced Marcus to his Grandmother who agreed to mix the potion and warned Marcus that he would have to take the mixture regularly for the rest of his life. Marcus agreed.
    May meanwhile had begun to notice a distinct improvement to Marcus's memory over the next few weeks. Marcus explained this was probably due to the mental exercises and the vitamin tablets he had been taking, Marcus hadn’t mentioned the Gypsy cure at all.
    Marcus’s mental faculties began to rapidly improve, he took up Mathematics and Science studies, and undertook a home study degree course when he reached his eightieth birthday.
   Marcus had spent a fortune on the gypsy cure, and consumed  many brain enhancing vitamins, he was stretching his brain enormously with his studies and a cure of the brain atrophy seemed to have worked.
  The billion dollar question was?..........Which area did the improvement come from? Was it even a single factor in Marcus’s combination of remedies? Or was the improvement effected by a combination of them all?
   The Atrophy that had seemingly frozen the growth of the old cells, was miraculously stemmed, and a rejuvenation process had begun. Doctors and Scientists employed by various drug manufacturers were very keen to question Marcus and isolate the substance that had effected this remarkable improvement. Marcus who had become quite astute lately, withheld  the gypsy potion and quietly contacted the Romany travellers who were shocked at this turn of events, particularly the grandmother.
    The head of the family decided to take her to London with some samples and negotiate with several of these drug firms. Strangely when the potion was analysed it seemed to be made up of Nettle juice and Dock leaves.
   This was a terrible shock to Marcus as he had paid a lot of money out for the administration of this miracle remedy. It was thought that this had a sort of placebo effect on Marcus as he had believed this remedy was the answer.
   There was no final answer to these tantalising questions, Marcus lived to be 103, writing 15 books and becoming a chess grandmaster.

  Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved


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