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

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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TORN JEANS ~ 16TH MARCH 2016

18/3/2016

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Image © Copyright John and Margaret
Writing Practice from a prompt by The Write Practice

http://thewritepractice.com

The Prompt
Let’s twist things up. You show up to Mrs. White’s Tudor style mansion to meet with your writing critique group, as you do every week. You expect to have a fun time talking about writing and getting feedback, not to find one member of the group murdered in the drawing room. First, describe how you find the murder victim. Then, after the police lock you in a room with the rest of the guests, write about your suspicions of who-dun it as you look around the room at your fellow writers. Set your timer for thirty minutes.
~~~~~~~

TORN JEANS
by John Yeo

   It’s Tuesday evening once again, My favourite evening of the week. We are off to take part in our evening of literary congeniality together, at Madelaine White’s mansion at the top of the hill, overlooking the village. Gilbert White is a wealthy industrialist who likes to play at being a Lord of the manor.
   The drive up the steep hill is very pretty, with the estate farm and fields spreading out into the distant horizon. The huge ornamental gates with a statue of a horse's head on each gatepost, are always left open on Tuesday to welcome the writing group.
   Mrs White opens the door herself, in response to the chimes of the doorbell that resounds hollowly through the rooms of the mansion. The butler is always off-duty on Tuesdays. We always receive a wonderful welcome from our lady hostess. There are just six of us in the group at present. Annie, Dorothy, Jill, Richard, Margaret and I.
  We usually meet in the impressive library, where there are many leather bound books from floor to ceiling, and many comfortable chairs and tables. Tonight is no exception and we get ourselves comfortable as we wait for Jill, who has gone to fix her torn jeans in the drawing room full length mirror.
   We wait a good ten minutes before we begin to work, we all leave one after another to get drinks in the drawing room, and visit the toilets situated there. Jill still hasn’t got back after another five minutes, and Mrs White leaves us to find her. Suddenly there is a frightening high scream from the drawing room. We all rush in there at once to find a shocked Mrs White and the prone figure of Jill on the floor of the drawing room. There is a pool of blood seeping over the carpet under her body. “She’s dead,” gasps Mrs White. somebody call the police.”
   Soon after the police arrive to investigate and to the horror of everyone, we are all locked up in the library by the police.
Looking around at our fellow writers, I try to work out who is capable of the killing and why? Presumably we are locked up here because the police suspect one of us.
  I immediately rule out Margaret and myself. This leaves Annie, Dorothy, and Richard and of course Mrs White. I think my suspicions lie with Dorothy, she has always held a competitive grudge against Jill.
   Sometime later we are all interviewed by the investigating officer, who is still without a suspect, not a single clue has been revealed during the questioning.
   Then after a search of the pantry, a man with blood on his clothes, found hiding there, is led out handcuffed by the police. Mrs White is in a state of shock as she identifies her butler.
The sensational twist in the tale  occurred a week later when Madeleine White was arrested for the murder of Jill Dyson who was blackmailing her, for an alleged affair she had with her father.   Jill claimed Mrs White was her Mother who had abandoned her to marry Gilbert White.
   The butler was released after admitting smearing himself with blood to protect Mrs White.

   Gilbert White is moving away soon. Sadly our literary group is no more.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.

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FOCUS ~ 7TH MARCH 2016

9/3/2016

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Image © Copyright ~ John and Margaret
THE WRITE PRACTICE

THE PROMPT
Practice focus by writing about a football player before a big game. How does he prepare his mind? Does he visualise the game in his mind? Does he think about what it felt like the first time he played the sport?


FOCUS
by John Yeo 

     The day has finally arrived. Training has been hard, videos, tactical moves on display on the blackboard, special exercises, every conceivable eventuality the coach could dream up, has been explored. Spies and scouts have infiltrated the opposition’s training ground and reported back to the boss. Yesterday we spent six hours rehearsing moves passing the ball to one another, working flash tackles, finishes, exploring defensive positions. Then another two hours studying the recorded major matches that the opposition have been involved in this season.   We have tried to get inside their coach's mind to interpret the thinking that has gone into the moves he has drummed into his team. Then, more field practice, moves and countermeasures to block their favourite modes of attack. We have even been studying the way to counter a professional foul, this is increasingly a blight on the game lately and we have to study how to spot the signs of a lead up to a foul. Next we study avoidance with methods of hidden retaliation, a natural response if you have just avoided getting put out of the game.
    The big match is two days away and the boss has given everyone a night off, to get away from the consistent living, dreaming, eating, the game, and the total absorption of the hard intense training. We have been shut away in a hotel for almost two weeks solid now. The players are heading into town to clear the cobwebs away, we have been instructed to steer clear of too much wine, women and song. I intend to treat myself to a night at the theatre. There is a performance of Shakespeare’s, “Hamlet” at the local theatre, put on by the local repertory company. I am a great fan of this play and it will take my mind off the match. My mates all disdained accompanying me, in favour of a local nightclub that reputedly serves soft drink. I hear the coach is delighted with this plan.
    Surprisingly almost everyone turned up for training on time the next day. Two of the lads were a bit late, but no harm done, the boss has given them a telling-off, to remember. Everyone is keen and as sharp as glass. Kevin, our star striker was developing moves out of thin air. There were two very pretty female spectators on the sidelines cheering him on. Who they were,  is anybody's guess.
    The match is scheduled to begin in one hour. There is a huge crowd in the stands and I am blanking everything out and furiously meditating on the Prince’s soliloquy in Hamlet. “To be or not to be?.” Becomes what will be my rise in pay when I raise that cup above my head.
   My mind is ablaze with the thoughts of the glory of the victory. “To Be, or To Be.” Forget the Not. We are going to win!

Copyright © ~ Written by John Yeo ~All rights reserved 
​
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THE WRITE PRACTICE ~ 5th MARCH 2016

7/3/2016

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Image © Copyright ~ John and Margaret
THE WRITE PRACTICE

The Prompt ~ Write about a time you felt uncomfortable or awkward. Try not to focus on your feelings but project your feelings on the things around you.


Thirty minutes.

THE INVITATION 
by John Yeo

     The invitation was exquisitely worded. The pleasure of your company is requested at Blake’s nightclub and restaurant to celebrate the Black Anniversary of our select club. The evening will include a three course dinner and dancing to a live band.

     “Blake’s!”  I exclaimed to my wife, “Where’s that? I can’t say I have ever heard of a place called Blake’s. Have you darling? It doesn’t spring to mind, but we must have patronised the place at some time in the last few years or they wouldn't have our details.”

    “It sounds like a very posh night out, I think we will have to go!”

Said Elaine excitedly.


    “Now hold on a minute Elaine. I think I will have to check this out on the Internet, I will see what Google comes up with.”

     “OK Andrew, I will have to get a new outfit for this night out, I am sure it will be fine.”

  Elaine was excited and she went to telephone her friend Jill, to see if she knew anything about Blake’s club.
  Andrew came rushing into the living-room during the call.     “  

     "Darling this is a exclusive establishment in the West End of London, frequented by many celebrities and rock stars from the 50’s. Sounds like a fun night out.”


     “Wow!” Said Elaine.

      “This Club has a very interesting past. It used to be frequented by gangsters, gamblers and high society. Rumour has it there was a murder there almost exactly 50 years ago.”      Andrew went on, “I can’t imagine why we have been invited, there is no dress code and the invite simply says Black tie.”

     “Sounds exciting, I will have to get a special outfit and a new hat, I will wear a black scarf to match your black tie.” Said Elaine.

     “I’m not sure I like the idea of us not remembering anything about this place, and not knowing why we have been invited Elaine, but I am sure you want to go, so we will go.”

     The date of the Anniversary finally arrived, and for three hours Elaine was preparing herself for the evening ahead. A beautiful transformation was the result. Andrew wore a white DJ with a black bow tie. A long black limousine arrived to pick the couple up. The driver was an elderly man wearing a chauffeurs cap. He smiled as he held the door open for Elaine and Andrew and they simply climbed right in. The luxurious interior contained a minibar and a television set with a built- in control pad in the armrest.    There was a sudden click as the doors were centrally locked behind them once they were inside. There was a telephone connected to the driver and Andrew picked it up to ask why they were locked in. There was no response from the driver, Andrew became more agitated and banged on the middle interior window, but the driver just continued to look solemnly ahead.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved.
​
Picture
Image © Copyright John and Margaret
Problems Are Your Job

This is your discipline as a writer. Be a collector of stones. Learn how to aim them well.

When you’re feeling like you want to rescue your character, to keep him or her comfortable, instead, do the opposite. Make whatever discomfort your character had feel like a blessing compared to the pain he or she is about to experience.

Now, go get throwing.


THE WRITE PRACTICE

Write a scene in which a character has stones thrown at him or her, figurative or otherwise.

Write for fifteen minutes. When your time is up, post your practice in the comments section. And if you post, please be sure to give feedback to your fellow writers.

Happy writing stone throwing.


ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER
by John Yeo

    Saturday night again and the emergency department is filling up with a steady procession of drunks and drug addicts, some brought in by the police already under arrest.
     I was late for work tonight and I walked straight into the Sister, I will be in a great deal of trouble on Monday. I am already in for a formal written warning.
      I forgot to take another patient’s temperature, this didn’t inspire confidence in my abilities.
     Now this lady is threatening to put in a formal written complaint against me because she says I deliberately kept her waiting.
    I had another problem earlier tonight, when a lady obviously at the end of her tether, brought her daughter in with a bloody nose, she said the little girl had fallen over. I had to call in Social services when I discovered that the little girl was deaf and dumb, and was unable to communicate with anybody.
     I was so tired and nearly at the end of my shift when a man assaulted me by touching me inappropriately, he grabbed my bust. Security called in the police and he will have to go to court now. I’m scared about that as I don’t want any comebacks from nutters. The Sister in charge says I must make a formal complaint as he will be doing it again to another innocent person. I have to attend the local police station to do that tomorrow.


Copyright © Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved 





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