WORD BOHEMIA CHALLENGE - DAY #7

Interesting photo and had to think a bit outside the box for this one.  Apologies to non-Brits who may well wonder what the heck I'm going on about.  :)

Photo copyright David Vale.

Maintenance Man

With a contended sigh, Edgar walked through the double doors of the Holomaticon XT2500 and allowed excited senses to take in some very familiar surroundings; a smile crossing his lips at the welcome sound of an automated voice.

‘Instructions please?’

Having been away from the machine for three weeks due to maintenance problems, Edgar’s response babbled from his lips.

‘Please repeat.’

Edgar took a deep breath.

‘Austria, Europe, circa. 1925.’

The metallic voice appeared pleased with his decision.

‘One moment please.’

For twelve and a half seconds there was only silence but,with the onset of a soft, inviting hum, the room before Edgar’s eyes began to swim with a range of multi-coloured lights, before settling gradually into recognizable focus.  As expected, he was standing in his favourite city, upon a much-loved bridge spanning the river Danube below.  Small groups of people bustled about him as his eyes once again grew accustomed to the unique lighting of the XT2500 system.  With a growing smile that lit up his face, Edgar marveled at the scenes before him, before a jagged noise of static rudely pierced his thoughts.

‘Hey Ed…how’s it looking?’

Silently cursing his supervisor’s voice, Edgar managed a composed response.

‘So far so good, Bill.  The lighting seems fine, olfactory and audible systems appear back online and I’m just about to test for A.I. functional ability.’

Edgar approached a group of three, dressed in sombre clothing yet engaged in happy banter.

‘A good day to you all.’

The taller of the two men returned his smile, while the remaining man and woman appeared intent on continuing their conversation.    

Tossing a mental coin in his head, Edgar chose test question #3 from the maintenance manual.

‘It’s a beautiful day, sir, but I think perhaps it may cloud over later.’

The man nodded his head intently.

‘Well, you know, it’s just something we've been working on in training and, you know, it just came off today.’

Edgar paused, before repeating his test question with a clearer and slower pronunciation.

The man nodded again and removed his bowler hat to scratch behind his left ear.

‘Well, you know, Wrighty took it down the wing and, you know, Gigsy pulled away some defenders with a darting run and, you know, I was just in the right place at the right time, I guess.’

Edgar shook his head and attempted test question #4.

‘I wonder what the heights of fashion might be this year in our fair city?’

The man nodded and started at the ground.

‘Well, you know, a hat-trick is always nice, but as the Gaffer always says, it’s not about one player, it’s always, like, you know, about the team.  I think, you know, that’s always what’s important, like.’

The woman, standing to his left and adorned in an expensive head to toe dress, turned away from her conversation and took Edgar’s elbow; her voice booming out in a pronounced Scottish accent.

‘Ya know, Gary, I can’t see this team winning anything this year.  I’m sorry, but you simply cannot win a Premiership with a bunch of kids.’

Edgar found himself taking a cautious step backwards from the small group, who all calmly smiled and returned to her conversation.

To his left, Edgar noticed a line of blurry images appearing further along the bridge.  Although not sharply defined, he could clearly see the lower parts of several torsos; complete with white socks, blue shorts and football boots.  Behind him came the sound of the English National Anthem, mixed in with a second, rousing song about some lions being situated on a shirt.

Nervously, he reached to his left shoulder and clicked a button.

‘Bill? I think we may still have a problem…’

© Kev Milsom (2013)

WORD BOHEMIA CHALLENGE #6

The angle of the photo reminded me of a child's viewpoint.

Photograph copyright David Vale.

Hide & Seek

I bet she’s reached to fifty now...

or maybe even sixty now…

Dear God I promise to kiss a cow

if she finds me hiding here.

I saw the way she smiled at me

as she turned her face towards the tree;

I bet she was peeping secretly.

Oh please come find me here!

Please don’t find Anthony Green,

He’s loud and bad and rude and mean,

plus his snot-filled nose is never clean.

Hurry up and find me here!

Anthony’s shouts and happy cheers

alert my heart to darkest fears,

it’s fine…just fine…there’ll be no tears.

But why couldn't she find me here?

Now we’ll never dance on meadow grass,

or hold hands tight during English class,

or laugh till we cry when I pass gas.

If only she’d found me here.

© Kev Milsom (2013)

WORD BOHEMIA CHALLENGE - DAY 5

I liked this picture as it supplied many images and ideas.  Being one who is actively involved in paranormal research, my first thought was of a 'ghost-hunting' party in some abandoned asylum, but as the paranormal idea had already been covered, I decided to pick something else.

Photograph copyright David Vale.

Hallway

The dream has continued for the last three weeks.  Without fail, the details always remain the same.

It’s June, 1980.  The hallway of our former college – long since demolished – appears before my eyes.  Ahead of me I can see you, walking along with Tom on one side and Francois upon the other.  From where I stand I can hear your laughter echoing from the walls.  I know precisely that the source of your laughter lies within an episode of M*A*S*H* shown the previous evening.  I also know that you have each walked from the Science Department on the second floor and are making your way towards the Main Hall and a welcome lunch. 

I know this because, upon that day in June some thirty years previous, I was in the middle of our group; situated between Tom and yourself.  I remember that the person relating the tale of the female outfit which Corporal Klinger was wearing, was myself.  I recall fiercely how my hand swung with yours, like a happy pendulum, as we walked the hall, wrapped in a cloud of huge relief at the end of a tortuous double chemistry lesson; four friends locked together within one supremely, joyous moment.

In my dreams I always hear you responding to my words, yet the only noises which register to my ears are the sound of your voices and the clunk of your footsteps upon antiquated stone floor.

Every time, I promise that I try to run.  For a split-second I move forward, only to watch in frustration as you all move farther away from me.  Last week I am sure that there were no more than five window arches between us.  Today, I know I counted seven.  It’s reaching the point where...where a 'voice' inside me is urging me to stop....to save my energy...to accept that I will never close the gap and once more place my hand within the loving warmth of yours.

I’ll keep trying.  I promise that I will use everything that I possess to keep you in sight; my blessed Angela.

The doctor placed the clipboard upon his desk and wore an expression that poured chilled fear deep into her heart.

‘We’re doing everything that we can, Mrs Wilkinson.  I have to tell you that Simon’s condition has deteriorated overnight. It's down to your husband now. If he can keep fighting then he has a chance...but...’  

Dr Miller’s face bore a sea of frowns.

’...well, I wouldn't be doing my job professionally if I didn't ask you to be prepared for the worst.  I’m so sorry.’ 

© Kev Milsom (2013)

WORD BOHEMIA CHALLENGE - DAY #4

Another tough challenge as nothing immediately leaped out at me, but with the aid of strong tea and plenty of salt & vinegar crisps, some inspiration finally began to kick in.  It's rough as sandpaper and untitled, but just enough for me to get some firm foundations for the beginning of an idea.  :)

Photo © Cassie Tillett

Last week you saw me by our caravan.

Lost within, your waterfall eyes caught briefest sight;

a simple pigeon’s gaze, locked still with yours,

for fleeting moments bathed in dawn’s gold light.

Just enough for you to register;

just enough for you to notice me there.

Friday found us in the park together –

You - sat upon our bench with mournful frown,

Me – stock still beside the litter bins

Hoping you would glance sweet, blue eyes down.

Enough for you to register;

enough for you to notice me there.

Next day I wait by our library,

as you trudged the mile there with books unread;

rage towards a God who causes heartache,

tempered slightly as you found my gaze instead.

Enough for you to register;

enough for you to notice me there.

Today, I've chose to stand right here.

A few more seconds till you leave our house;

mind locked upon our fondest farewell,

whispered promises to my soul-shared spouse;

enough that you might register,

enough for you to know I am there.

© Kev Milsom (2013)

BOHEMIA WORD CHALLENGE DAY #3

I found this one a little trickier, as the image didn't trigger as many instant pictures as the ones previous.

After dallying with a few ideas, I focused on the fact that it reminded me of the many 'house' TV programmes that my daughter likes to watch.

(Photograph of Naples, copyright David Vale)

Smile for the Camera

I feel another dig into my ribs and remember to smile for the camera.  The blonde lady whose name I keep forgetting - but I think might be Anna…or possible Annette - is once more revealing her astonishing set of teeth.  I hear myself gently humming the theme to ‘Jaws’ and feel another accurate dig from my wife’s elbow.  Anna/Annette’s accent is starting to grate now but I am good and keep smiling.

   ‘Now then…I know you said originally that you were looking for a house by the sea, with a sense of peaceful tranquility and room to breathe…’

I think it’s a Liverpool accent…or possibly Cheshire of some kind…maybe even Yorkshire or Scottish borders.  She’s reminding me of a girl at college…Debbie I think…or possibly Dana…anyway she sounded like her, but I can’t for the life of me remember where Debbie/Dana was from.  Another dig alerts me to the fact that I've zoned out.

    ‘…and naturally this helps to give a certain ambience, but I think you’ll be pleased with what I found you today’ concludes Anna/Annette.

    She’s smiling again.  I swear she has ten more teeth than she needs.

    ‘Well, we’re certainly open to new ideas’.  I recognize my wife’s diplomatic, ‘polite’ voice and suddenly take stock of our surroundings.

    The Neapolitan road is narrow.  Back in England it would barely pass for a cycle lane, yet it doesn't stop a wide range of vehicles trying to drive along it or park on it. The noise of blaring horns and animated Italian becomes deafening. Anna/Annette points high above our heads.

    ‘Now I know you said that you preferred a ground floor flat, because of your mobility problems, but I really think you’ll love the ambience of the building and the…inner beauty and…and ambience of the rooms inside.’

Clearly Anna/Annette has found her word for the day.

    There are five sets of stairs.   By the time we reach the top level, I can sense all traces of patience deserting me.  Anna/Annette becomes animated as the camera once again comes to life.   

   ‘It’s old…we think possibly back to even the 15^th century’, she coos.

  ‘Yes, but does it have ambiance?’  After twenty eight years I distinctly recognise my wife’s patience instantly disappearing.  Having not been married to my wife, Susan, since 1985, and totally failing to heed the approaching warning clouds, Anna/Annette simply smiles wider.

   ‘Now I know it’s not really a Tuscan farmhouse, which was also on your list, but I think you’ll change your mind when you see the inside’.  Ten points for not saying ‘ambience’, but glancing at my wife’s face I’m starting to worry for the future of the young lady with the teeth.

    The inside is beyond bleak.  Had the living room been an animal it would have been put out of its misery long ago.  Walls that had not seen a dab of paint since the time of Da Vinci framed a gloomy interior - complete with flea-bitten carpet, grimy windows and furniture which had supplied ample nutrition for many generations of woodworm.  Here comes the smile again.

    ‘I don’t know about you but I think the shabby chic really blends well with the antique ambience to create a...’

   What it created I shall never know, for it was at that moment that my wife’s patience finally broke.  For almost twenty minutes even irritated motorists far below us and their accompanying horns, were quietened by Susan’s tirade, concerning the subjects of what/who Anna/Annette had done to get this television job and the precise biological region in which she could shove her ambience.   

    Finally, an awkward silence broke; helpfully relieved by my good self.

   ‘Newcastle!  That’s where Debbie was from!’ 

    Thankfully, Susan’s stare does not kill me and the room once more resounds to the ambience of awkward silence.

© Kev Milsom (2013)

WORD BOHEMIA CHALLENGE - 

DAY #2

Originally I wrote this as a lighthearted piece, but decided to sleep on it before finishing up. This deeper, darker story came from assorted dreams last night, so I'll save the lighthearted tale for another daily challenge.   

Photo: © Cassie Tillet

Juno

There was a time when, bound for the coast, their numbers were large enough to fill several trains with the noise of youth.  From steaming railway, they had filed obediently onto waiting boats.  Only at the gentle rising of the waves had their chatter abated.  Men, whose only concern should have been what to wear for the next exuberant dance, now shared the exact same fashion and growing fears. 

    The sight of a broadening French coastline alerted both young eyes and heart.  After months of training, planning and speculation, here it was; this big, important day about to happen.  At a single order, the battalion of eight hundred and twenty three men re-checked all equipment, gripped their rifles tightly to their chests and prayed that they would know tomorrow.  From silent prayers, the beach exploded into noise with their first footsteps.  Invaluable, disciplined training offered their only hope.  Pick your spot…stay low…don’t run straight, but DO run fast…may God be smiling down upon you.

    June, 1994.  The last four living souls of 184 Company sit in silence, once more upon French soil, relieving memories half a century old that can never fade with time. As clear as always, faces of former friends appear upon weary, ageing minds.  The best method has been learned through time; remember them smiling…remember them at their last dance…two rums too many…far too loud…trying to chat up the new barmaid…the smell of their tobacco…the particular tones of individual laughter.  But never focus on Juno Beach.  Those thoughts are always for the unconscious night; never for the glaring light of day.

   English and French media have been milling around the area for days.  Brass instruments are receiving a final spit of polish.  A mayor’s speech is being memorized.  Interviewers apply final layers of makeup, ready to address a waiting television audience.  The noise around the media crews nears fever pitch. Directors shout into microphones as important camera angles are discussed.  Deadlines are planned to the nearest millisecond.  There was little doubt; it was to be a big, important day.

For the last four survivors of 184 Company, the bench offers a respectful refuge from the growing noise.  The time to answer banal questions and smile politely for cameras will undoubtedly come.  For now, there need be only silence.    

© Kev Milsom (2013)

WORD BOHEMIA - SEPTEMBER 2013

I just found out about the Bohemia challenge for September, 2013 - basically a photographic prompt is given each day and the challenge is to create a piece of flash fiction (around 100 words) or a poem to accompany the image.

I really need this at the moment as 

my creative motivation could use all the help it can get.  So hopefully I'll end this month with 30 pieces of new writing, from which I can maybe smooth a few out towards greater and grander things.

Photograph -  c. David Vale

Ferris Wheel.

‘Oh don’t worry, it’ll be great,’ says Dad,

‘it goes up over two hundred feet,

I hear that right at the top it’s not so bad

and you can see the Co-Op on the corner of our street,

and won’t it be just wonderful to be way up high,

surprising all the birds swooping round us in the sky?’

But I’m more worried about showering poor spectators

with portions of my breakfast bacon, sausage and potatoes.

‘For God’s sake George!’ screams out my Mother,

‘Bobby really doesn't want to go up there,

I feel a pinch from my smirking brother;

Dan’s been up four times and doesn't care.’

Dad just does his act of pretending to be deaf

and when we’re locked in tight he smiles instead...

a poor, short-lived smile, soon to die a terrible death,

when my former full-sized breakfast lands squarely on Dan’s head.

© Kev Milsom (2013)