Ross's Writing Blog

#100WCGU – Wk90 – Prompt: “…the points were sharp…” – 104 words – “Echidna”

25 May

I saw an echidna waddling its way around my garden and marvelled at a little creature more akin to the past, a monotreme, an egg-laying mammal.

They’re gentle creatures. Their only defence when threatened is to dig their strong claws into the ground and present their spines.

The points were sharp and it served the echidna well. When threat left, it returned to its gentle foraging.

The echidna can be a metaphor for life. We can make our points in life, sometimes sharp and sometimes in defence, but underneath we must remember who we are and choose a gentle path, not one of violence.

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

2 Comments

Posted by Ross Mannell on May 25, 2013 in 1. 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups #100WCGU

Saturday Centus – Wk#160 – Prompt: “ARGH, MATEY!” – 102 words – “Tested”

25 May

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.

4 Comments

Posted by Ross Mannell on May 25, 2013 in 2. Saturday Centus

#100WCGU – Wk89 – Photo Prompt – 105 words – “Wishing”

15 May

A moment in time captured, a memory formed so many times brought to mind in future thoughts. The twins, so little, lost in their dreams. They stood close together at our wishing place. Did they dream of fairies and unicorns?

Years have passed. The twins are grown, now mothers to their own. My hair has greyed, my walk now slow, I sit surrounded by all that’s precious to me.

They see the photo.

“Do you remember our wish?” one asked.

They saw my questioning eyes, “We wished to one day be as good a mum as you. Happy Mother’s Day.”

This is a public domain graphic sourced through Wikimedia Commons. To see the original #100WCGU prompt photo, click on the above photo.

2 Comments

Posted by Ross Mannell on May 15, 2013 in 1. 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups #100WCGU

Saturday Centus – Wk#159 – Prompt: “you put the lime in the coconut” – 107 words – “Yummy”

14 May

“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.

6 Comments

Posted by Ross Mannell on May 14, 2013 in 2. Saturday Centus

#100WCGU – Wk88 – Prompt: “parting is such sweet sorrow” – 105 words – “Fred”

12 May

Fred Shakespeare had not inherited the gift for words of his ancestor. For that matter, he hadn’t inherited a gift for anything except one. He had a gift for choosing the wrong words in most given situations. Fred was unknowingly skilled in the art of the faux pas.

“Look at that ugly child,” he once said to his now ex-boss before being introduced to his boss’s family.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” he quoted to dump his girlfriend convinced it meant he was happy to see the end of her.

She had kissed him on the cheek, “You’re so sweet.”

“That went well,” he’d thought.

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

Saturday Centus – Wk#158 – Prompt: “SLEEP MY CHILD, AND PEACE ATTEND THEE” – 107 words – “Cwsg” aka “Sleep”

11 May

My child, asleep after a day of new discoveries…

I wondered, “What dreams does he bring?”

My mind, slowing in the moment of contentment, brought thoughts of my grandfather so long ago…

“Cwsg fy mhlentyn a heddwch yn mynychu ti,” his words would soothe me when sleep was elusive.

Welsh, the language of my ancestors, was lost in time to me yet this one phrase I understood.

Kissing the forehead of my sleeping joy, “Sleep my child and peace attend thee.”

I could see my grandfather smiling down on us, sharing our intimate moment, knowing he was still a part of our lives… all through the night.

This was the graphic on the Saturday Centus site.

2 Comments

Posted by Ross Mannell on May 11, 2013 in 2. Saturday Centus

#100WCGU – Wk87 – Prompt: “the hairs on my arms stood up” – 107 words – “Reflection”

03 May

This was the day for which I had longed. I was now a teacher. There was a mixture of excitement and apprehension as I saw their young faces. They too wondered what was ahead.

The hairs on my arms stood up, “Good morning, class.”

Many years and many young faces have now passed. I reflect on my career on this my last day. I wondered if I’d made a difference in their young lives.

I opened a card from a former student many years grown, “You were the best teacher a very depressed and confused 11 year old could have hoped for.”

A difference had been made.

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

2 Comments

Posted by Ross Mannell on May 3, 2013 in 1. 100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups #100WCGU

Saturday Centus – Wk#157 – Prompt: “Melt butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat” – 109 words – “Fever”

03 May

“The Art of Pancakes”… What a title for such a simple recipe yet I was lost in thought as the broadcast droned on.

“Melt butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat,” the voice continued.

How many times in our lives have we been lost in those mundane moments?

She stirs. I gently stroke her head still too warm. Her eyes again close.

The voice, “Cook until golden brown.”

The night had been long as anyone with a fevered child knows. My eyes slowly closed…

“Mumma?”

Her call brought me back to my senses. Her temperature was returning to normal.

“Can I have pancakes?”

“I know just the recipe.”

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

4 Comments

Posted by Ross Mannell on May 3, 2013 in 2. Saturday Centus

#100WCGU – Wk86 – Prompt; “the queue was so long” – 105 words – “Punishment”

28 Apr

He made his way down an impossibly long hall. Entering a vast room, something ushered him into one of the numerous queues, some moving forward and some moving back towards him.

He heard some complain, “The queue was so long. They said I was in the wrong one.”

He asked one complainer, “Am I in the right queue?”

Agony could be heard in the reply, “You’re new? You don’t know? It’s just the beginning for you. There’s no right queue.”

In time he learnt this was hell for those who had taken pleasure in making others wait in vain in the world of the living.

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

Saturday Centus – Wk#156 – Prompt: “Dear John,” – 102 words – “Lost At Sea”

27 Apr

“Dear John,”

Two words she’d so often written since he’d set to sea because of this accursed war. The task was to escort a convoy… a milk run he had claimed… no real danger.

Her letters, written daily, in the hope they’d find him and in return she would receive those she knew he would write… but it wasn’t to be. Her first letter wasn’t from him but from the navy.

Five words tore into her heart, “all hands lost at sea.”

A letter tossed into the sea in a bottle…

“Dear John, my love, why did you leave me?” it began.

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

2 Comments

Posted by Ross Mannell on April 27, 2013 in 2. Saturday Centus

I saw an echidna waddling its way around my garden and marvelled at a little creature more akin to the past, a monotreme, an egg-laying mammal.

They’re gentle creatures. Their only defence when threatened is to dig their strong claws into the ground and present their spines.

The points were sharp and it served the echidna well. When threat left, it returned to its gentle foraging.

The echidna can be a metaphor for life. We can make our points in life, sometimes sharp and sometimes in defence, but underneath we must remember who we are and choose a gentle path, not one of violence.

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.

A moment in time captured, a memory formed so many times brought to mind in future thoughts. The twins, so little, lost in their dreams. They stood close together at our wishing place. Did they dream of fairies and unicorns?

Years have passed. The twins are grown, now mothers to their own. My hair has greyed, my walk now slow, I sit surrounded by all that’s precious to me.

They see the photo.

“Do you remember our wish?” one asked.

They saw my questioning eyes, “We wished to one day be as good a mum as you. Happy Mother’s Day.”

This is a public domain graphic sourced through Wikimedia Commons. To see the original #100WCGU prompt photo, click on the above photo.

“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?”

Fred Shakespeare had not inherited the gift for words of his ancestor. For that matter, he hadn’t inherited a gift for anything except one. He had a gift for choosing the wrong words in most given situations. Fred was unknowingly skilled in the art of the faux pas.

“Look at that ugly child,” he once said to his now ex-boss before being introduced to his boss’s family.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” he quoted to dump his girlfriend convinced it meant he was happy to see the end of her.

She had kissed him on the cheek, “You’re so sweet.”

“That went well,” he’d thought.

My child, asleep after a day of new discoveries…

I wondered, “What dreams does he bring?”

My mind, slowing in the moment of contentment, brought thoughts of my grandfather so long ago…

“Cwsg fy mhlentyn a heddwch yn mynychu ti,” his words would soothe me when sleep was elusive.

Welsh, the language of my ancestors, was lost in time to me yet this one phrase I understood.

Kissing the forehead of my sleeping joy, “Sleep my child and peace attend thee.”

I could see my grandfather smiling down on us, sharing our intimate moment, knowing he was still a part of our lives… all through the night.

This was the day for which I had longed. I was now a teacher. There was a mixture of excitement and apprehension as I saw their young faces. They too wondered what was ahead.

The hairs on my arms stood up, “Good morning, class.”

Many years and many young faces have now passed. I reflect on my career on this my last day. I wondered if I’d made a difference in their young lives.

I opened a card from a former student many years grown, “You were the best teacher a very depressed and confused 11 year old could have hoped for.”

A difference had been made.

“The Art of Pancakes”… What a title for such a simple recipe yet I was lost in thought as the broadcast droned on.

“Melt butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat,” the voice continued.

How many times in our lives have we been lost in those mundane moments?

She stirs. I gently stroke her head still too warm. Her eyes again close.

The voice, “Cook until golden brown.”

The night had been long as anyone with a fevered child knows. My eyes slowly closed…

“Mumma?”

Her call brought me back to my senses. Her temperature was returning to normal.

“Can I have pancakes?”

“I know just the recipe.”

He made his way down an impossibly long hall. Entering a vast room, something ushered him into one of the numerous queues, some moving forward and some moving back towards him.

He heard some complain, “The queue was so long. They said I was in the wrong one.”

He asked one complainer, “Am I in the right queue?”

Agony could be heard in the reply, “You’re new? You don’t know? It’s just the beginning for you. There’s no right queue.”

In time he learnt this was hell for those who had taken pleasure in making others wait in vain in the world of the living.

“Dear John,”

Two words she’d so often written since he’d set to sea because of this accursed war. The task was to escort a convoy… a milk run he had claimed… no real danger.

Her letters, written daily, in the hope they’d find him and in return she would receive those she knew he would write… but it wasn’t to be. Her first letter wasn’t from him but from the navy.

Five words tore into her heart, “all hands lost at sea.”

A letter tossed into the sea in a bottle…

“Dear John, my love, why did you leave me?” it began.

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