Tag Archives: Friday Fictioneers

The Snow Job – Friday Fictioneers.

The instant Inge saw the ad, she leaped at the chance to work on the Australian ski fields. Skiing was in her blood. Yet, although her parents had met at the Nagano Olympics and ran the ski school in Grosser Arber, Inge hadn’t claimed it as her own. Rather, it took crossing that vast expanse of desert they called “the Nullarboring”, to get a sense of who she was and claim skiing as her own.

However, as the bus headed into Perisher, something was wrong. Where were the mountains? What about the snow?

All she wanted was a white Christmas.

——-

This has been another contribution for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields The photo prompt for this week was kindly provided by © Dale Rogerson.

I have crossed the Nullarbor by car, train and plane and personally, I find something inspirational in that vast expanse of seeming nothingness. It reminds me of Jesus going out into the wilderness for 40 days and 40 nights. There’s so much space, that your thoughts can just keep going and going and going without being pinned in by concrete and steel.

The Nullarbor Plain (/ˈnʌlərbɔːr/ NUL-ər-bor; Latin: nullus, “no”, and arbor, “tree”[1]) is part of the area of flat, almost treeless, arid or semi-arid country of southern Australia, located on the Great Australian Bight coast with the Great Victoria Desert to its north. It is the world’s largest single exposure of limestone bedrock, and occupies an area of about 200,000 square kilometres (77,000 sq mi).[2] At its widest point, it stretches about 1,100 kilometres (684 mi) from east to west across the border between South Australia and Western Australia -Wikipaedia.

BTW thought you might appreciate reading my Valentine’s Day post about the snow bear’s search for love Snowy…A Valentine’s Day Hopeful.

xx Rowena

 

 

Dying Diva…Friday Fictioneers: 2nd Feb, 2018.

“They’re not getting these!” Grandma  snapped, clinging to her diamond earrings. “Chopping away at me like I’m some sort of bonsai… Enough is enough!”

Catherine was determined to keep her ear lobes, and she sometimes wondered if that’s all she’d have left after the docs had finished chopping away. The virulent melanoma had spread its poisonous ugliness through almost every vein, artery and cell. There wasn’t much left of her anymore.

Yet, she hadn’t forgotten who she was… Madame Butterfly. She might not be able to walk anymore, but she still had her wings and she knew how to fly.

This has been a contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted b y Rochelle Wishoff Fields. We are required to write a 100 words in response to a photo prompt. This week’s photo is © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Have you ever been in a difficult spot where you felt everything was being taken away, but you took a stand. Drew a line in the sand, which you wouldn’t cross? I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

Back in my 20s, I refused additional brain surgery, largely out of concerns about losing my hair. They’d already hacked hair off the back of my head and this time, they wanted to put a probe in the front and shave more off. I’d had enough. Lucilly, I recovered without the additional surgery and ended up with a full head of hair.

xx Rowena

Love Shack…Friday Fictioneers.

In a reverse-journey from riches to rags, Moet to Marxism, Kylie was dossing down in a dilapidated squat, albeit with Daddy’s credit card. Hugh, the acting student, knew nothing about that. He was a foreign student.

“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair.”

Kylie peered over the rusty, corrugated iron rooftop, beaming a knockout smile.

“Alas, handsome Prince, my hair has been cut.”

“What about a ladder? My chariot awaits.”

Gobsmacked, Hugh watched Kylie leap acrobatically over the rafters, and land at his feet…an enigma, a question mark.

Although the pressure was mounting, she said nothing. The gold medal could wait.

……..

This is another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. BTW the Hugh in the story might just happen to be Hugh Jackman who was our local heartthrob when I was at school. I still remember a friend going Hugh Spotting on the trains and I’m sure she wasn’t the only one. However, that doesn’t play into this story. I only borrowed the name.

xx Rowena

 

 

Captain Clean – Friday Fictioneers.

“Mum and Dad built this place after the war,” Muriel said. “Lived in the garage, while they built the house.”

Captain Clean was very tempted to add that nothing had been thrown out since, but bit her tongue. Condescending self-righteousness never worked with hoarders. So, she stuck to the script.

“Keep or throw? Keep or throw?”                                                                                                                                                                     “There you are,” Muriel smiled.

Captain Clean screamed, bolted and drove away.

Muriel had finally found her spare set of teeth, playing hide & seek in her husband’s old shoes.

“I could’ve handled a dead body,” she told the psychologist. “But not false teeth.”

…….

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

xx Rowena

 

Dingo Attack!…Friday Fictioneers.

Perched on top of the ridge, the dingo pack was salivating.

“Fi fy fo fum  I smell …” Papa Dingo paused for dramatic effect.”Lamb chops infused with  rosemary and mustard.”

“Gourmet tonight!” Mama Dingo replied.

“All systems go.” The dingos howled. Right on cue, the humans were zipped inside the tent.

In a flash, the lamb chops were gone.

“Dingos??!!!!” Sally screamed.” When I agreed to go camping, you said NOTHING about dingoes! How are we going to see that “magical night sky” now?”

Suddenly, Jack remembered dinner.

“OMG, the dingoes got our lamb chops.“

“And my Nikon camera!…HOTEL NOW!”

……

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields. PHOTO PROMPT© Jan Wayne Fields.

It’s very late here and I plan to come back and polish this tomorrow. Although the tent in the photo prompt this week is quite modern, I was reminded of the tragic case of baby Azaria Chamberlain who was taken from her family’s tent in 1980 while they were camping at Ayer’s Rock or Uluru. This was one of the most debated and controversial court cases in Australian history.

Azaria Chamberlain (11 June 1980 – 17 August 1980) was an Australian 2-month-old baby girl who was killed by a dingo on the night of 17 August 1980 on a family camping trip to Uluru (also known as Ayers Rock) in the Northern Territory. Her body was never found. Her parents, Lindy and Michael Chamberlain, reported that she had been taken from their tent by a dingo. Lindy Chamberlain was, however, tried for murder and spent more than three years in prison. She was released when a piece of Azaria’s clothing was found near a dingo lair, and new inquests were opened. In 2012, some 32 years after Azaria’s death, the Chamberlains’ version of events was officially supported by a coroner.Wikipaedia

I was 11 when Azaria Chamberlain was taken. Everyone not only talked about the case, but debated and had a stance and Lindy Chamberlain was vilified. I also remember jokes going round school at the time. Racist jokes were equally popular back then so there wasn’t alot of consideration on many, many fronts.

Dingoes, which had seemingly passed under the radar, were also vivified and would’ve starred in “Australia’s Most Wanted”.

The difficulty is that humans and dingoes in Australia have been co-existing for thousands of years and dingoes are Australian natives.

Here’s a bit more about the dingoes:

“Dingoes know that humans are an easy way to get food, and you will often see a dingo watching fishermen, and waiting for free fish. Dingoes also occasionally tour through campsites and sit of the periphery of a camp, watching and waiting for an opportunity to be given some free food or to find some left over scraps. In most cases dingoes simply sit back beyond the light of the camp and watch. If a dingo chooses to sit near you feel very honoured and enjoy its company but do not try to approach the animal, and don’t try to lure it with food. Dingoes do not like to be patted so please never reach out you hand to pat them, especially over their head. This is seen by dingoes as predatorial behaviour and very threatening.

Dingoes are shameless thieves, and will take any opportunity to steal whatever they can from you. This is not because the item has your scent on it and they see it as a food item, it is because they love to play with whatever new and novel item they can find. Do not leave your thongs outside your tent, or leave anything out of your vehicle that you can’t afford to have stolen. This obviously includes food, but also includes sleeping mattresses, which they love to tear up into small pieces, and anything else you own including expensive camera equipment!”

Save Fraser Island Dingoes

Hope you’ve enjoyed something of a trip to Australia this week.

xx Rowena

 

 

Minding the Dog…Friday Fictioneers.

Emily was minding Jess’s place. This also included her precious Border Collie, Oscar, AKA “the Surrogate Man”. Although, Jess had left copious instructions, Emily was more laissez-faire  and gave up after the first page. A dog was a dog.

So, she didn’t read: “Keep the bathroom door SHUT!”

Tonight, Emily had invited Tom over for a candlelit dinner. Tom was so hot, he lit all her fuses at once.

Emily slipped into the bathroom.

“OMG!”

Knickers round her ankles, the door flew open and Oscar barged through wanting a pat. Eyeballing Tom, Emily wished she’d read the fine print.

……

You may well be aware that our Border Collie, Bilbo passed away recently. However, he remains such a part of our lives, fused into so many memories and like so many dogs, he had his “quirks”. In addition to being totally ball-obsessed, Bilbo never liked closed doors, even on a cold day, he’d insist on having the back door open. He’d also routinely open the bathroom dog and come in for a pat if you weren’t careful. Indeed, our house sitter mentioned that we we arrived home from holidays once. Not that this was quite the scenario in play, but I felt like a laugh today.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields Photo prompt © Rochelle Wishoff Fields.

xx Rowena

 

Road Block…Friday Fictioneers.

A huge, amorphous rock with haunting facial features and a crutch, had parked itself right across my path and wouldn’t budge. Indeed, on second thoughts, it wasn’t a rock at all, but a humungus, black rain cloud metamorphosed into a rock just to spite me.

Screw positive thinking! It was no coincidence, that I was The Chosen One. Otherwise, why would a huge, black rock from outer space, suddenly land on MY PATH? It must’ve had geo-tracking honed to my very coordinates. Mum, was right. We’d been born under an unlucky star.

That’s when I saw her shoes sticking out.

…..

This has been another contribution for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff Fields.  PHOTO PROMPT© CEAyr.

Given my health problems, I have naturally pondered why bad things happen. Well, more than the bad stuff. More the really traumatic stuff, which also challenges our notions of fairness such as the death of a child. Sometimes, I know I’ve certainly felt targeted or singled out and that was hard to take.

These were some of the thoughts which went into my take on this week’s prompt.

What are your thoughts about why we experience adversity? I love to hear from you.

Hope you’re having a great week.

Best wishes,

Rowena