Category Archives: Writing

Dancing in the Moonlight…Friday Fictioneers.

David was joking when he’d asked ballerina, Vanessa Rossi, away camping for the weekend. Never thought she’d agree. Moreover, when she arrived flagrantly overdressed, he was relieved he’d also booked into a hotel.

“You can take the girl out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girl,” he laughed.

Vanessa smiled, sipping champagne while David wrestled unsuccessfully with the tent. Once a Scout, always a Scout, Vanessa could pitch a tent blindfolded. However, she said nothing. He was her Prince, and she was his swan. Enthralled, they danced around the crumpled tent in the moonlight.

….

100 words

I was fiddling around with this one for quite awhile tonight and feel it has good potential as a short story. It was actually inspired by a story my husband tells of a school camp trip when this group of trendy girls had an expensive, upmarket tent but didn’t set it up properly and it fell over during the night and the boys had to come to the rescue. I haven’t had much camping experience myself. However, I was driving across the Nullarbor Plain on the way from Sydney to Perth and we camped by the road for the night. I always thought it was hot in the desert and was almost paralyzed by the cold. To compound my discomfort, I’d worn this fancy jumper with decorative holes and the wind howled through them. I was told “You can take the girl out of the North Shore but you can’t take the North Shore out of the girl.” That’s the part of Sydney I grew up and let’s just say it wasn’t rough and tumble. Meanwhile, the girl in this story is loosely inspired by our daughter who at 13 is still yet to step out in the world but is currently rehearsing to appear in Swan Lake in a local youth production and has been a scout until the start of this year. She got into scouts through her brother, and while she enjoyed it, I was also keen for her to do it as a counter-point to her dancing. Felt it was good for her to get out into the bush hiking and camping and stepping beyond the studio.

I hope you enjoy it and that it hasn’t suffered too much trying to cut it back to 100 words. It’s been heavily edited.

This is another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields where we write 100 words to a photo prompt. PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

Best wishes,

Rowena

Chicken #FridayFictioneers

“Jump the fence, Tom. Come on. I dare you.”

“Dunno Miranda. Can’t you read the sign? No trespassing. They’ll shoot us.”

“Chicken!” Miranda goaded, all bluff. She’d never do it. The new neighbours were weird, possibly even aliens.

“Am not, chicken” Tom replied, jumping into the never-ending abyss.

“Tom!” Miranda screamed. “TOM!!”

Silence.

He’d vanished.

Miranda freaked. Home alone, she’d have to jump the fence, wrestle with whatever it was to get her brother back. She didn’t know if she could do it.

Meanwhile, Tom snuck back over the fence and hid.

This was his best prank yet.

….

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. PHOTO PROMPT © Randy Mazie.

98 words

This prompt brought back memories of my brother who had a friend who lived over our back fence. This little girl with long blond curls would climb up a tree on her side and down a tree on ours to visit. I’m not sure how many kids do that now. However, back then  fences between our houses were just a few planks to mark the boundary and we wandered freely in between each others’ houses. Within this friendly, embracing neighbourhood, I could see someone with a No Trespass sign really standing out.

By the way, I celebrated by Big 50 last week. Have been catching up with a whole lot of friends in small groups to make the most of it. It’s still Winter here and so I’m waiting for it to warm up before I organize a big party. I’m looking forward to it.

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Countdown to 50…Yikes!

Tomorrow, which is currently approaching faster than a Japanese bullet train, I turn 50 and in so many ways am happy to chant “Fifty not out”, even though I’m not a cricket fan by any stretch of the imagination. After all, when we rewind six years ago before I found out they were were going to give me chemo to combat my rampaging auto-immune disease, I was in dire straits. I was potentially looking down the barrel of 12 months to live. That’s serious stuff for anyone. However, at the time, our kids were nine and seven. They were along way off independence and being able to fend for themselves.

So, I am absolutely exuberantly happy to still be here. I truly appreciate the frailty and transience of life and the need to grab onto it with both hands and carpe diem seize the day.

However, in addition to this gratitude, there is also disappointment. A disappointment which can feel like an arrow straight through my heart.

Of course, it’s only natural that reflecting on my 50 years really intensifies both the good and the bad. It brings out the stuff you don’t think about very often as well as the stuff you leave right at the back of your closet hoping there might just be an imaginary land out the back where it could disappear altogether never to return. Of course it doesn’t though, does it?!! Instead, it sends you a huge birthday card. One of those ones which play a song when you open it up which is too loud to ignore.

Of course, I’m not the only one you has had disappointments. Indeed, while mine have been pretty intense at the time, others have been through worse and even much worse.

Moreover, since I’m still here to tell my tale, I’m considerably lucky. Blessed. Whatever you call it. My glass is more than half full. It’s literally overflowing.

Yet, there is the tear. I’m not going to deny it’s there. Or, wipe it away so no one else can see it. Life is full of ups and downs and I don’t believe we should ever deny those times we’re face down in the mud unable to surface. It is what it is. However, acknowledging that, is very different from getting stuck there.

I haven’t got time now to take this any further at the moment. The clock’s just past midnight and so I’ve already passed from my 40s into my fifties and moved on.

Now, it’s time to get to bed because some wise owl thought it would be fantabulous to welcome in the new day by watching the sunrise with the family. We’re heading off to Pearl Beach about 6.00am when I’m usually snoring and dreaming away.

However, I’ll leave you with this great hit from the Uncanny X-Men:

Stay tuned for more reflections.

Meanwhile, you might want to share how you felt about and experienced your most recent milestone birthday in the comments below.

Love & best wishes,

Rowena

 

Pearl Beach, NSW…Walking Through The Lens.

Shame! Shame! Shame! Why is it so difficult for me to get out of the house and get over to Pearl Beach and go for a simple walk? Pearl Beach is only a 15 minute drive away, and is absolutely beautiful. It’s hardly going to the dentist. Although we have our beach just down the road, it’s important to get out of your own backyard and see the world, even if it is only the world next door and not somewhere further afield.

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Pearl Beach, NSW.

However, the reality is that when you live in a place, you’re not on holidays, even if you live near a beach. Life still gets you by the short and curlies and as much as life is to be lived, it also has to be endured. Stuff has to be done. Annoying, irritating stuff such as cleaning, appointments, brushing your teeth, which are hardly earth shattering unless they’re neglected. I’ve also been researching and writing my book which has caught me up in some kind of net where I’ve been swimming along feeling like I’ve broken through, when my foot gets stuck. However, through my efforts to escape, I only make things worse. I’m wrapped up like a cocoon and I’m going nowhere. A spider trapped in its own web.

Empty Chair Pearl Beach

Fond and painful memories of our Pearl beach friends who moved to Poland. It is a strange feeling being the ones left behind still living in the same house while they’ve moved on.

So, I deserve a 22 carat gold star for just making it to Pearl Beach today. However, after going for a walk as well and getting some EXERCISE, I deserve the sun.

yacht

So, there we are… me and my girl walking along Pearl Beach. I looked out to sea and there was a white dot of a yacht sailing along the horizon. I’ve been giving a bit of thought to what lies on the other side of all that ocean. Who am I waving at? This was a tough question for me, because I have no sense of direction and am hopeless at reading maps. However, this was a question I’m pursuing  like a grand global adventure all from the comfort of my armchair and laptop. Anyway, if you could throw a stone from Pearl Beach across that vast expanse of ocean, I think it would bypass New Zealand and Easter Island, heading straight for Chile somewhere around Valparaiso. That freaked me out. That’s a long way over the rainbow.

Anyway, back to walking along the beach. The weather was absolutely glorious, sunny and about 22°C. This was the best of our Winter. Talk about being lucky ducks.

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Moreover, the beach was the most incredible canvas underfoot. Although the wiggling strandlines are meaningless, I sense something profound in their squiggles which is beyond music or words and something like the whisperings of heaven. These squiggles formed wave-like patterns at Pearl Beach, which I’ve never seen before. They were absolutely enchanting. Moreover, tiny crab holes punctured through the sand. Foot and paw prints were appearing, disappearing or merging in a footprint jungle. So much to photograph.

Beach Canvas

Beach Canvas

I used to go to playgroup at Pearl Beach with my kids before they started school and  we’d often end up at the beach afterwards, particularly when they were older and had outgrown their morning nap. We’d order a serve of chips and chat until responsibilities sank in and it was time to go home. In hindsight, their childhood seems like one endless Summer by the beach. However, this idyllic interpretation is definitely the rose-coloured version. Life has had a nasty habit of stepping in and stamping on our dreams. However, we have big feet and are just as good at stomping back.

Plagelines

Plagelines, Pearl Beach. 

Now that I’ve got back out there extending my explorations of our beautiful local beaches, I’m thinking of doing a walking tour of our coast and walking along a new beach each week. Considering I’ll have my camera in hand, it’s hardly going to raise my heart rate in a big way, but it will help. Exercise is exercise. Hopefully, if I draw up a plan, I might actually stick with it and I’m thinking of recruiting a few friends. Turn it into a social event. Clearly, I’m not really passionate about raising my heart-rate. Indeed, I can just see myself indulging at a cafe afterwards but at least I’m honest.

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Anyway, I hope you enjoyed our walk along Pearl Beach.

Is there somewhere special where you like to go walking? I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

Not Tonight, Josephine…Friday Fictioneers, June 19, 2019.

The timing couldn’t have been worse. Jessica and her husband were leaving on their honeymoon, when she spotted Jack almost camouflaged in a grey hoodie. The years fell away as fast as their clothes all those years ago, and she felt just as naked.

“Honey, your boarding pass.”

Jess smiled back at her husband, but couldn’t keep her eyes off Jack. What were the chances?

Meanwhile, Jack was waiting for the call. It was late and he was sweating blood. How could she turn up and ruin everything?

Too late. He chucked his phone in the bin and went home.

…..

100 words.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. This week’s prompt is © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Through the Drapes…Friday Fictioneers June 13, 2019.

Miff found herself drawn into an increasingly sticky web after her casual observations of her neighbours turned obsessive and her notebook was filled with minute observations. The husband, Jerome, was a Neanderthal of the worst order keeping his wife locked up like a slave. Miff had never seen her. However, her lingerie, which she’d photographed out on the line in case it was required as evidence, was clearly very expensive. Miff was poised on the edge of her chair waiting for the shouting, the violence, which strangely never came. There were only his comings and goings. No sign of her at all.

….

102 Words.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. This week’s prompt was provided by © Valerie J. Barrett. Thank you Valerie.

We’d love you to join us. Every week, Rochelle posts a photo prompt and we respond in 100 words or less and I’ve been quite amazed at what we’ve been able to accomplish in so few words. Makes me ponder the need for the novel.

Ghosts on the Run…Friday Fictioneers 7th June, 2019.

When the Ledoux Family rented out their home in Antibes, they had no idea a couple of famous ghosts would move in along with their heads.

Louis and Marie-Antoinette had evacuated Notre Dame toute de Suite after accidentally sparking the fire which almost turned their beloved Lady into a pile of ash.

Of course, it wasn’t Versailles. However, they loved the beach and their new found freedom. Louis could barely keep his hands off his beloved Queen in her alluring bikini, although didn’t like wearing budgie smugglers* at all!

“Mon Cherie, nobody would ever think to look for us here.”

…..

Don’t ask me where the inspiration for my take on today’s prompt came from, except to say that I was quite taken by the stairs at the front and floating to the top. Stairs like that are not kind to me. By the way, Budgie smugglers is an Australian slang term for men’s tight-fitting Speedo-style swimwear and the term received a lot of press thanks to our former Prime Minister Tony Abbott who was often photographed wearing them. He is a volunteer lifesaver.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. This week’s prompt was provided by C.E. Ayr. Thanks, C.E.

We’d love you to join us. Every week, Rochelle posts a photo prompt and we respond in 100 words or less and I’ve been quite amazed at what we’ve been able to accomplish in so few words. Makes me ponder the need for the novel.

Best wishes,

Rowena