The sound of children laughing, memories now long passed.

“How do you like to go up in a swing?” my father had asked.

“Higher, daddy!” I begged.

The feeling of weightlessness before gravity pushed me back along my pendulum course was the childhood experience setting me on a path to my future. I enjoyed the feelings of weightlessness and had begged my father to make it last longer.

“Ready!”

Tethered with nothing more than a lifeline, I launched myself into the weightless void now so familiar. I am a specialist. My task is to keep my craft fit for humans as we explore the asteroids in search of mineral riches.

This is the prompt picture from the Saturday Centus site.

Schools and students have permission to use this graphic for non-commercial, educational purposes.

An enigma, an unsolvable mystery yet there they lie, unseen movement, taking their course. There have been many suggestions why or how.

My mind, empirical, tells me to find why but, for a moment, I pause and think more of fantasy or symbolism. They move because they are a metaphor for our lives. They have direction, seemingly random, yet they journey along their course until one day their journey ends.

The empirical mind returns.

Movement is an action of wind, ice, water and slippery clay. I take one small step along my course through life, a metaphor for their journey.

This is the prompt photo from the Saturday Centus blog.

Each year my father raised an old flag, its threads frayed with time. I’d wondered why he did this. Mostly, he proudly flew a flag unweathered by time, replaced with a new when needed.

I remember so well when I was ten, “Daddy, why do raise that flag each year? The new ones look prettier.”

He sat me down and explained he now thought me old enough to understand. He spoke of comradeship, sacrifice and loss and the part the old flag played.

My father long passed, each year I raise a special flag and remember those who came before.

This is the graphic from the Saturday Centus writing challenge.

It started a bright clear day, a great day for a hike. Not long into my walk, the first ominous clouds appeared. Wind whipped up and I could hear the beginning of rumbling.

I knew the dangers of being out in a storm but shelter was at hand, an old settler’s cottage long abandoned. With rain pelting down and lightning flashing across the sky now close, I entered the gloom.

A flash, the noise, my eyes nearly blinded, an apparition appeared. A spinning woman, a ghost from the past, she smiled as she faded. What tricks had the storm played?

Graphic from the Saturday Centus blog.

Schools and students have permission to use this video clip for non-commercial, educational purposes.

Father, Daddy, Dad Acrostic

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From birth his caring for me begun,

A man who had his second son.

Time has run and much to mourn,

He taken young, we so forlorn.

Each year we think of days now gone,

Remembering makes his care live on.

.

Do I with fondness have thoughts to share?

A plethora examples of loving care.

Days with daddy when I was young,

Deeds of valour from war unsung,

Your lessons taught, your banner hung.

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Day of days, loving cup to brim,

And us grown old, our thoughts not dim.

Dad, daddy, father, all words for him.

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This photo can only be used with written permission from me.

The time had come. I’d wanted to reach this moment in time. I stood on the threshold of my future.

A cold sweat beaded my forehead. My heart raced. My hands were clammy, my mind full of hopes and worries.

On the other side of the door I could hear movement and the sound of hushed voices. Through a slight gap in the door I thought I saw a face.

There was only a short time remaining to prepare myself.

I mentally repeated my mantra, “I release all fears and doubts.”

The door opened, “You can come in now. Your baby wants to meet his daddy.”

This photo may only be used with written permission from me.

“Where’s the Sun go at night?”

“Hush, child.”

“Why do trees have leaves?”

“So many questions, child.”

“Why’s the sky blue?”

“It just is, child.”

“If a June night could talk, what would it say?”

“Enough, child. I’m busy. I don’t have time for nonsense. Go and do something useful.”

In time she returned, “Look at my picture. Isn’t it pretty?”

“The colours are wrong, child.”

“I like the sky to be pink.”

The child grew to adulthood and had learned her lessons. She no longer questioned, no longer created. Imagination wasted time.

In a world full of colour and hope, her outlook was grey, uninspiring.

Schools and students have permission to use this graphic for non-commercial, educational purposes.

Row by row they passed, young, straight and true to their wish to serve when their nation called. Into battle they went. When war was done, they returned. All gave some. Some gave all.

Each year they gathered to remember those who gave all. As is the way with time, their ranks grew less, their walk less straight. They reminisced their time with those who had joined their friends in life eternal.

Eventually all will pass. I imagine them again marching straight and true once more united. They’ll not be forgotten.

We will remember them and what they have given when we say, “Lest we forget.”

Schools and students have permission to use this graphic for non-commercial, educational purposes.

Captain Silver Beard Jones eyed his motley crew, “ARGH, MATEY!”

Audible sighs were heard.

“Today’s the day we separate the crew from plank walkers.”

Another sigh as one whispered, “I knew it! Another spelling test!”

The first few times the class had seen their teacher’s alter ego, they’d enjoyed the fun but they soon learned it was his way of breaking the tension when he intended giving a test. This time they were ready.

Captain Silver Beard Jones was shocked, “Everyone scored 100%.”

The class smiled at their bountiful plunder. Their teacher had forgotten to erase their spelling list from the board.

Pirate name by Pirate Name Generator

Schools and students have permission to use this graphic for non-commercial, educational purposes.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a sammich, Poppy,” she still hadn’t got that word.

“What are you putting on it?”

My stomach turned at the list. The words of  “You Put the Lime in the Coconut” came to mind. The words warn of odd mixes but I think I would prefer the lime in the coconut.

“Sweetheart, that’s an odd sandwich.”

“It’s everything I like so it must be good. I made it for you because I love you.”

I couldn’t refuse her smile. I tried to look delighted.

The song played in my mind, “Doctor, ain’t there nothing I can take to relieve this belly ache?”

This is the graphic from the Saturday Centus site.