Writers cramp! © - Word Press~Writing 101 Challenge~June 2014

JUNE 24, 2014 Writing 101, Day Seventeen: Your Personality on the Page

27/6/2014

We all have anxieties, worries, and fears. What are you scared of? Address one of your worst fears.

Today’s twist: Write this post in a distinct style from your own.

SCARED TO DEATH
Written by John Yeo

Here goes my style No. 1~

What am I afraid of ? When I was younger, nothing!
Now I'm scared to lose, my wife and soul-mate.
I do not want to be dependant on anyone else if dementia strikes.
That would be a fate worse than death for me.
It will never be my style, to write in a helpless way.
To lead my life in a situation when I only remember today.
Without my friend beside me to guide me through.

I am now retired and living very happily with my wife Margaret. We lead quite active lives in our retirement, I have plenty of work in the garden. Margaret loves cooking and spends some time creating dishes from the produce I bring home from the allotment in the Summer and Autumn months. We belong to a bowls club and also bowl indoors during the Winter months.

Easily my biggest fear is that Margaret will go to heaven before I leave this world and I am left alone. Then it will be very scary if I develop Alzheimers disease or dementia, and I become dependant on complete strangers for my needs.

This post requires me to write in a style that is not my normal style.

Style No. 2~My style

CARE POEM
By John Yeo

This unbearable feeling is hard to share.
After many years suffusing into each other
An unbreachable gap has come to appear,
Shattering feelings built over many a year.
We shared many times with mutual respect
Happiness with laughter, always together
Never stopping to consider this awful end
The Death of a lover and a very dear friend
At the last, Death rips and shreds the past
Smashing our life to a million shards
The painful cutting and tearing apart,
Bloodless breaking of a once proud heart
Memories abound in solitary sadness
Flooding my mind with thoughts and despair
You were once here with me,
always there,
This harsh world continues without a care.

Copyright © By John Yeo All rights reserved

JUNE 23rd, 2014 Writing 101, Day Sixteen: Serial Killer III

24/6/2014

The link below will take you to my day four~Writing instalment~”The tragic loss unfolds”~Episode One~

http://wp.me/p2Jp6l-fy

The link below will take you to my day nine ~Writing instalment~”The Orchids”~Episode Two~

http://wp.me/p2Jp6l-iK

LOST AND FOUND
Episode three

By John Yeo

The approaching noises just got closer and closer. We were unsure whether they were made by man or beast. I said to Margaret, we will not run, we will hide in the woods and see who comes along the trail. We waited tensely, listening to the approach of someone in a hurry, obviously chasing after us. Suddenly there was a break in the trees and a tall man, wearing tweed clothes and a deerstalker hat appeared in the clearing. Hallo! He shouted.
I stepped out into the clearing, shaking off, Margaret’s attempt to hold on to me to keep me under cover. The man said, “I’m glad I caught up with you, I have been following you since you left my cottage. I found this brooch on the floor, it looks as if it might have value”. It was a brooch in the shape of a peacock, belonging to Margaret. A sentimental brooch that I purchased as a souvenir, when we were on our travels a few years ago. Margaret was thrilled to get it back, it did mean a lot to her, the strange thing is, she never realised she had lost it in our hurry to get away from the cottage. I thanked the man profusely and offered him a reward from the notes I had in my wallet.
The man introduced himself as Gerald Mellors, and said he was the gamekeeper here on this estate and forest, which stretched as far as five miles in every direction from his cottage.
I asked him, with some trepidation, about the fresh blood we had noticed at the cottage. He replied that he butchered deer for the estate owners and buried the remains of the carcases in the yard. I laughed at that, we did not let on about our suspicious fears.
We then explained that we were also hopelessly lost. Our new friend said not to worry, he would give us directions to follow to get us safely home.
I informed him about our find of the very rare, very valuable orchids. Mr Mellors was amazed, and said he would inform his employers, who were very kindly, and would certainly want to reward us for our honesty, and for our recognition of these precious flowers.
We started out on this journey by losing ourselves, we then found a very rare group of orchids. Margaret lost a brooch, with a high sentimental value, and we found a new friend in Gerald Mellors, the gamekeeper, who helped us find our way home. Margaret still has certain reservations and uneasy feelings about this new-found friend and is wary about my decision to reveal the existence of the valuable orchids.
We almost ran away and lost ourselves again in the depths of the forest. Often when you face your fears, you find answers where you least expect to find them.

Copyright (c)~Written by John Yeo~All rights reserved

EPISODE ONE LINK~ http://wp.me/p2Jp6l-fy ~

EPISODE TWO LINK~ http://wp.me/p2Jp6l-iK ~

JUNE 20th, 2014 ~Writing 101,~Day Fifteen:~Your Voice Will Find You

20/6/2014

You’re told that an event that’s dear to your heart — an annual fair, festival, or conference — will be cancelled forever (or taken over by an evil organization). Write about it.

For your twist, read your piece aloud, multiple times. Hone that voice of yours!

FROM GOD TO MAMMON
By John Yeo

We live in a very rural, very pretty small village, on the East coast of England, in the county of Norfolk. Almost every village or small town here, has a church that nowadays is pretty sparsely attended. In days gone by when churches were packed, the village church would be a very important part of the community. Many of these historical churches have been sold off and put to other uses, including blocks of flats, or art galleries. In one very sad case, legend has it, that one lovely old church became a bingo hall.

We have received the very sad news that our very own familiar old church, will be closed for good next year, as it is now considered uneconomical to continue operating the church as a place of worship. We will be joining another congregation in one of the neighbouring villages. This will be a very sad loss to our community as many of the old families from around this area regularly worshiped here. Not only will we be losing our lovely old church, we will also be losing the village fete that was organised to boost the church funds, together with the general church and village social life.

Sadly, many uneconomical churches all over this country are getting sold off, due to falling church attendance and high maintenance costs.

We will be very sad to see our dearly loved historical church go to property developers, It almost seems like the house of God suddenly is sold for profit and the speculators make even greater profits from the refurbishment of the properties.~From God to Mammon.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo, All rights reserved

JUNE 19TH, 2014 WRITING 101, DAY FOURTEEN: TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN~

19/6/2014

Pick up the nearest book and flip to page 29. What’s the first word that jumps off the page? Use this word as the springboard for your imagination.

Today’s twist: Write the post in the form of a letter.

I picked up a copy of Cervantes~Don Quixote~I turned to page 29. Margaret held the book up and I closed my eyes~The word MIRACLE appeared under my finger.

LETTER TO MIRACLE
By John Yeo

Dear Unexpected Miracle,

I address you as an unexpected event as I am writing to you in response to an unusual request. I do believe in your existence in a very obtuse way. I think when something desirable, unexpected and life-changing happens, forces come into play and you arrive unannounced and usually in a very indefinable way.

It is a pity your arrival and existence is usually totally unprovable or there is always another logical explanation for the event that is attributable to you. For example would the sick person have got better anyway or would the life-saving event be merely chance in action. I believe that if you really want to be taken seriously by the always sceptical Scientific community, you will have to reveal yourself in such a way, there can be no other explanation than your presence and efforts.

May I suggest, my elusive friend, that you reveal yourself through a major irrefutable event. Perhaps suddenly putting a stop to war overnight and bringing peace between all nations. Making all sickness and suffering a thing of the past. I mean all sickness all over the world, not just the occasional questionable one-off cure. Cancel out any form of suffering at a stroke. No more innocent children dying of hunger and thirst. Food aplenty for all the peoples of the world.

Now with miracles such as this, I am sure you will be attributed the credence you deserve. Sadly though you would soon be commonplace and taken for granted.

Yours Sincerely

John~

Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo ~ All rights reserved

JUNE 18, 2014 Writing 101, Day Thirteen: Serial Killer II

18/6/2014

On day four, you wrote a post about losing something. Today, write about finding something.

Today’s twist: if you wrote day four’s post as the first in a series, use this one as the second instalment — loosely defined.

You could pick up the action where you stopped, or jump backward or forward in time~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The link below will take you to my~Day four writing instalment~ “The tragic loss unfolds”~Episode One~

http://wp.me/p2Jp6l-fy

THE ORCHIDS

We froze at first as we could hear this noisy approach getting closer, someone or something was very near us running through the undergrowth. I looked at Margaret, we held hands and ran for our lives in the opposite direction. We did not wait to find out who or what made that noise, birds high above flew away making cries of alarm.

We ran deeper and deeper into the blackness of this huge pine forest, until we both collapsed on the grassy bank of a stream, panting to get our breath back. We had no idea where we were. The stream was running quite fast, there were reeds, rushes and pretty yellow flowers on both sides on the banks. We decided to follow this stream in the hope of finding a way out of the forest.

We came to a clearing in the dense woods that was covered with many wild flowers and lush green grass, by the side of the stream. We sat down to rest and feeling hungry we nibbled on some chocolate with some wild berries. Margaret laughed and remarked that we were enjoying the fruits of the forest.

Margaret then asked me if I knew anything about a group of very pretty wild flowers nearby. I immediately recognised them as a group of beautiful orchids. I am certain these are very rare, very valuable, Fairy Slipper orchids. “We could make a lot of money from these orchids, if only we knew where we were.”

We continued on our way, leaving a makeshift trail of twisted reeds hanging from the branches of the trees and bushes along the path next to the stream. Suddenly there was an approaching crashing and the breaking of twigs coming towards us from behind. We then realised to our horror that we must have been followed from the cottage~~~~~~~~~~~~~(To be continued)

Copyright (c) Written by John Yeo~All rights reserved

JUNE 17th, 2014~Writing 101, Day Twelve: (Virtual) Dark Clouds on the Horizon

17/6/2014

Today, take a cue from something you’ve overheard and write a post inspired by a real-life conversation. Revisit a time when you wish you’d spoken up, reminisce about an important conversation that will always stick with you, or tune in to a conversation happening around you right now and write your reaction. Take time to listen — to what you hear around you, or what your memories stir up.

Today’s twist: include an element of foreshadowing in the beginning of your post.

CONSCIENCE
By John Yeo

I find myself wrestling with the danger of rumour and false impression that is very real and can generate a lot of hurt.

Some time ago I met a very old friend, Ena, at the bus stop. There was a couple in front of us, almost oblivious of us, one of them turned to the other and said quite loudly: “She is a thief, it was all over the town, caught red-handed. Mary something, pretty well known, I hear”.

We were sitting on the bus, when Ena nudged me and remarked: “Did you hear that? They must mean, Mary Smith, round the corner. Well I never! I would never have believed that! They said she was well-known here.”

The news spread like wildfire among the locals and Mary soon became ostracised with her reputation ruined. “Keep your children away from that Smith woman! She is a thief and not to be trusted!”

It was not until the truth was revealed that a well known TV star, Mary Stevens had been caught shoplifting, and it was her the idle gossips were referring to.

Sadly our Mary Smith never got to realise who blackened her name, although it became clear to everyone close by that she was innocent.

I wonder, should I speak out, or stay quiet?

Copyright (c) ~Written by John Yeo ~All rights reserved. All characters and situations in this story are fictitious.

JUNE 16th 2014~Writing 101~Day Eleven: Size Matters

16/6/2014

Tell us about the home where you lived when you were twelve. Which town, city, or country? Was it a house or an apartment? A boarding school or foster home? Who lived there with you?

Today’s twist: pay attention to your sentence lengths and use short, medium, and long sentences as you compose your response about the home you lived in when you were twelve.

BOARDING SCHOOL AND STODGE
By John Yeo

Twelve years of age! To me that is a very long time ago. Yet, I can vividly remember the boarding school, my brother and I attended. I was eighteen months older than brother, Pip.

We were very close, both in age and in our mutual interests.

The school was situated in a small coastal town in England, Clacton-on-sea. The accommodation was divided into houses. We were both assigned to Essex house, under the guidance of a house-master, Mr Goodman, who looked after us, with the help of his kindly lady wife.

A sports field was attached to the school, where we took part in a wide range of sports. Football and cricket predominated with athletics also a very popular choice. I was scorer for the school cricket team and a batsman, when I was selected. I also enjoyed running. My brother Pip also enjoyed taking part in a variety of sports.

I can almost touch the wooden desks in the classroom. A blackboard, with chalk and a dusty cloth that the teacher used to clean off the illustrations from the previous lesson. I remember the homework I would work on in the evening, before joining the rest of the boys on the playing field.

Twelve years of age, I was just beginning to notice girls. There was a girls section of the school that was situated across a busy main road. Segregated and separated. Except for the occasional glimpse and a wave, the unattainable girls became very desirable as time passed.

Although our school was near the seaside, I don’t ever remember walking down to the beach which was on the other side of town. We were taken out regularly in school parties to various places, supervised quite closely, then returned to the school in our groups.

I have vivid memories of the food we consumed and the least said the better. Suffice to say I rarely eat rice pudding, porridge, bread pudding or stodgy foods.

A short sentence. A medium sentence composed of a few more words. A lifetime sentence of likes and dislikes brought on by consuming mass catered food at boarding school that was a surprisingly interesting time in my life.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo All rights reserved

Writing 101, Day Ten: Happy (Insert Special Occasion Here)!

13/6/2014

Tell us about your favourite childhood meal — the one that was always a treat, that meant “celebration,” or that comforted you and has deep roots in your memory. Today’s twist: Tell the story in your own distinct voice

HAPPY CHRISTMAS~1950
Written by John Yeo

This very memorable occasion took place a very long time ago in the early 1950′s. My school-friends and I had been looking forward to a huge upcoming get-together for many months. Several schools were meeting-up for an early Christmas lunch, funded by a charity organisation. We were all lively school-kids between the ages of eight and ten years old.

The excitement began to mount when we boarded several buses at our school to transport us to the venue. I remember how we were all cheering and laughing and how difficult it was for the masters, (our teachers), to get some order for the journey. They had a hard job on their hands looking after us.

500 children were seated in a very large building on chairs at wooden tables, arranged in rows, with the teachers and school monitors and prefects scattered strategically around to keep an eye on things. The noise was deafening at first, with a hubbub of chatter, and much laughter resounding everywhere throughout the building. We all soon settled down as we began to tuck into our lunches of roast chicken, roast potatoes and all the trimmings. This was followed by Christmas pudding with custard, and there were crackers to be pulled with jokes and funnies to be read out loud.

After lunch a very special visitor arrived, dressed in red with a long white beard, Santa Claus entered the building, the cheers and shouts of welcome were deafening. Every child had a present to unwrap, I got a jigsaw puzzle of dogs in the countryside. Then we enjoyed a magic show with a real conjurer wearing a top hat, who was very mysterious and very clever. Finally we all sang Christmas carols at the tops of our voices and everywhere there was a feeling of happiness and good spirits.

At the end of the day, 500 very tired, happy children, boarded the buses to return home, some with memories that would last a lifetime.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo, All rights reserved.

Writing 101 Day Nine~Changing Moccasins — Point of View~

13/6/2014

A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry. Write this scene.

Today’s twist: write the scene from three different points of view: from the perspective of the man, then the woman, and finally the old woman.

DRAMA IN THE PARK
By John Yeo
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Man’s Story

We had to get away from the family and the house as Amelia whispered that she had something important to tell me in private. I suggested a stroll in this beautiful park, I always enjoy walking here among the trees and flowers, watching the birds and it was a beautiful day. Amelia hesitated, then broke the news.The hospital had telephoned to say that the tests she had undergone were completely normal and not cancerous as we had feared. I cried tears of relief and joy as the news sunk in, I couldn’t help myself, I am not normally an emotional man. I gave her a huge hug, with the tears streaming down my face. We then danced a jig together, right there in the middle of the park, laughing out loud.

The Woman’s Story

I am glad Peter brought me to this park where I could tell him the good news in private. We didn’t want the family to worry about our fears for my health, they didn’t suspect I had undergone tests for breast cancer. I had discovered a suspicious lump some time ago and my doctor immediately arranged a barrage of investigative tests, I had received the results today. When I gave Peter the good news he cried. Peter burst out crying, real tears of joy! Then we danced around the park together revelling in the sheer happiness of the moment. There was an elderly lady sitting on a bench nearby knitting, she must have thought we were mad.

The Old Woman’s Story

It was such a beautiful day, I thought I would take my knitting and sit in the park in the sunshine. I must finish this sweater for my grandson Fred’s birthday next week. It is red his colour of the moment, the colour of his favourite football team’s shirts. I noticed this man and woman walking along hand in hand, they seemed quite oblivious of everything around them. Suddenly the woman said something to the man, who stopped in his tracks and burst into tears. I thought they were going to have a row, but they were suddenly laughing, dancing, screaming with laughter and joy. I wonder what that was all about, it really is a funny old world! Knit-one, Purl-one, Knit-one, Purl-one.

Copyright © Written by John Yeo All rights reserved.

Writing 101~Day Eight~Death to Adverbs

11/6/2014

Go to a public location and make a detailed report of what you see. The twist of the day? Write the post without adverbs.

ADVERB-LESS~WRITING

5.00am

The sun appeared with rays and shadows. I sit at a table overlooking a lake with flowers and reeds along the banks. Birds sing and ducks quack, the peace of the early morning, shattered by voices. Tables, trees and grass with flowers on the banks. A heron hunts then flys away. Sunlight is on the leaves of bushes nearby.