Dienstag, 4. Oktober 2016

Usual stuff







They couldn’t reach the cord to make it stop & so it flew about scaring the older ladies just out of church. It left behind a trail of wet feathers & a renewed sense of the presence of evil among the faithful. Once they found out who started it, everyone settled down & went back to hating the usual stuff....

- storypeople - 






















Shared with Tuesday's Treasures

Sonntag, 2. Oktober 2016

Autumn...





Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love — that makes life and nature harmonize. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one’s very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a pefect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

- George Eliot, letter to Miss Lewis, 1st October 1841 -












Freitag, 30. September 2016

Friday Five and shortstories





Good morning,
it's Friday and time for Willy Nilly Friday Five and Five on Friday.

Last friday Tom The Backroads Traveller shows this photo (thanks for credit)
and in my mind came five stories.



I

More than five decades they made the library service. 
She did it with joy, because the books were her friends. 
Often she read stories to the children or the elderly with bad eyes.
It was a popular meeting place. but with the years came fewer and fewer people: 
the younger ones had gone away, the old people died.
Finally she died too. 
The reverend took a book in her coffin.
Surely she reads now all the old stories to the angels...

II

Hundreds of miles he had driven to this godforsaken place.
Here the deal should be, which would save him. 
But now he sat here and Fletcher did not come.
What was going on? Was he busted, they had arrested him?
He could nobody no reach.
No matter, he thought, now I'm even here, will wait another day.
Long since the last cigarette was smoked and he leaned against the wall.
He had probably fallen asleep ... suddenly the door opened 
and a lovely young woman stepped out and handed him a book. 
Blankly he looked at it.
Suddenly he remembered how much he had read as a boy, 
and soon he plunges into a strange fascinating world again.
Fletcher was forgotten

III

They biked over here and saw the inscription. 
They brought their books from home and put them on the floor in front of the door.
They read each other all the stories.
Other children saw this and brought their books too.
They exchanged them, and came here every wednesday 
to their self-made library service ...

IV

He drove so many unknkown roads. 
He liked to discover new terrain and old buildings - they had to tell so many stories!
Then he saw the door. Tightly closed.
He was so curious to take  the crowbars and it opened.
Behind he found old straw and lots of garbage. 
He rummaged around and found a book.
He openend it and found written the lives of all the people
 from the farms of the area for more than 200 years...

V

They got the old building cheap. 
Now they were here to live with all their children and plans and dreams.
 It was not easy, but they were young and would already make it.
The old door would not budge so quickly. 
When she was finally opened, they saw old wooden shelves full shedded and dusty books.
All children helped to make order and to clean the books.
Then they opened the library service again.
Soon people came from everywhere and brought them new books.
It was again a rich library and a lovely meeting place...

*

Have a nice weekend with a good book 

Shared with Monday WRites too.

verses




Mittwoch, 28. September 2016

Invitation of the day





There are times when I have no idea
what comes next & it’s the thing I’ve
come to love most about being alive:
leaning in to hear the invitation
of each day & feeling my whole
body melt when I say
yes, yes, yes.

- storypeople -


















(photos from my archive)

The joy of paint








Posted for the weekly prompt of Our Beautiful World