A Little Wind Wreaks Havoc.

Thank you Sue Vincent for this weeks picture prompt go ūüĒúhereūüĒô to join Thursdays #writephotoprompt smoke.

 

A strange smell hung over the village it had done so for most of the summer; bad eggs, that’s the nearest I could Identify it as. Mornings around ten O’clock it was at its worst, and if the summer breeze wafted your way you knew it. People stopped hanging their linen out and they kept the windows firmly shut. The local shop took a bomb of money selling airfreshners, scented oil bottles the expensive ones with reeds. When they had a huge delivery of oscillating fans, which incidentally sold out in two days; suspicions arose. Fingers were pointed directly at the village postmistress who was the only one not complaining, and the only one rubbing her hands together behind the counter in our village store.

Emergency meetings were held in secret down the allotments, neighbourhood watch was only watching one place. Only Farmer Longstockings was ¬†unbothered, he said “country folk should be used to country smells” refusing to join the village folks scuttle butting and finger wagging. Farmer Longstockings was now suspect no.two.

I loved it when folk came up to bluebell woods to gaze on the blanket of colour that spilt down the bank and mingled with pink orchids. Groups of camera clutching walkers kissed by the sun and happy to be part of a flora and fauna celebration. I made scones and best home made jams, we sold them at the village hall, the monies raised paid for the  party at harvest festival time. Several of us took part bringing sandwiches pasties and bottles of chilled cider. Some of the lads would charge three pounds to take them to the woods, they would give an elaborately expanded story on how they came to be. But this year our month of lucrative money-making seemed to be in jeopardy.

The scout group were making stench masks to sell when the visitors arrive, some bought up the dolly pegs from the shop and became peg wearing investigators with bandannas over their mouths. It wasn’t long before the scoutmaster took badges away for scaring the three pensioners in the Almshouses… No. Three on the suspect list.

One bright morning a gentle breeze hummed across the rickety bridge where I liked to sketch and gaze at the water, but with it came the stench and tails of pure white smoke.I covered my nose with a confiscated peg put on my sunglasses and followed the tails that licked the blue sky. ¬†Beyond the bluebell woods past the copse of silver birch was a cave it was once a mine; it was said that it never produced much, a few fossils and semi-precious stones. There were tales of magic and folklore surrounding the cave, but mostly it was on private farm land (suspect no.two) ¬†and unsafe. None the less it was time this was sorted and I believed it would be down to me to do so. Just as I thought in the distance I could see it curling as if from a chimney out of the mouth of the cave. My childhood memories of the tales came rushing back I hadn’t believed them at six so why did they make me tremble at a fully grown seventeen. A resting place for the last dragon my Father had told me, and of secret trysts and growls that came from below. Then there was the eerie light and fog that sometimes was seen from across the miles. What if…

Farmer Longstockings had spotted me, I watched him turn the rusted tractor in my direction, now I was… concerned, but as I was almost an adult I straightened my back and ploughed on. ¬†Philip had spotted the smoke trail and guessed that maybe his ole snout was so used to stink that he could no longer smell, but his eyes made him suspicious. We arrived at the same time “Farmer Longstockings” I nodded my head and planted my feet with a stomp. “Philip! yer too long in the leg to not use my given name”. ¬†He pushed his hat to the back of his head, wiped his eyes with a bit of scrim, they ¬†were streaming as he gazed up at the gentle wisps emanating from ten feet above us.

“This is no task for a young lady, you go see the missus an tell her to send Toby with the big chains”. ¬†Off I went pleased to get away from the vomit-inducing stench. Toby was the Longstockings son that hadn’t seen me since I was a child. He must be home for the summer, he’d been away at horticulture college for two years and the thought of actually seeing him made my heart beat most peculiarly.

Ann wasn’t as pleased to have me disturbing her chores and didn’t relish me talking to her son; that much was apparent. Three hours passed before they returned, wet, dirty and very smelly. They had capped the opening to stop the escape of sulphuric smoke that came from way beneath the earth. Philip phoned a geologist who would work with him and supervise the fitting of a permanent plug. Together they’d make ¬†safe the cave ¬†over the next few weeks. Before I left we had agreed that less said soonest mended would be the order of the day.

Bluebell month was glorious, and a new romance blossomed between Toby and me. That Summer I filled my bottom drawer in preparation… items purchased with monies earned from my book. The Tale of The Last Dragon. The story came about one summer’s day when a little wind wreaked Havoc.

 

The Last Dance Of Purple.

cracked-ice

Thank you Sue Vincent for the picture promptūüĒú press ūüĒôhere to join in with #write photo.

Not knowing where she was, Mable shook free her hair and tried to clear her head. On the horizon colours reflected like a kaleidoscope bouncing light from the setting sun to the frozen brook. She blinked and flinched as memories rushed in. The cold hard floor, the biting rope, the rumble of an empty stomach and the taste of metal on her tongue. Her only hope was to get as far away as possible before the sun disappeared and her view was lost. The terrible reality of her ordeal thrust home but refusing to acknowledge it she pushed on.

Mabel stumbled on towards the light; her head flicking back constantly to see if she was followed. A loss of concentration and she tripped on a root; her footing was lost. One wet stocking told her she was in serious trouble. Plunging ungracefully through the ice, no matter how much thrashing and praying Mabel had done; it was in vain. As if in slow motion she was sucked deeper and further from the bank. The cold was all encompassing her body felt heavy and numb. A muffled scream was heard by a startled Muntjac who answered the cry with a bark.

Through her frost tipped lashes and the opaque ice… she watched the last dance of purple light fade, the silent sunset gone, with the harrowing blink of an eye.

Do pay me by leaving a comment, my spirits will lift and I will be encouraged inspired to write more… besides I love to tell you a story and leave you guessing. *whispers* what was she running from?

#writephoto The Summer Of Mystery.

Use the photo to form a story, poem or post by noon on Wdenesday 30th November click HERE to read other wonderful responses or to join in the fun.

Wendy took hold of her friends shoulders and shook her. “Suzy stop trying to peek, you aren’t being fair,” Wendy was pouting and frowning. “You promised me and if…  if you want to be my best friend,” Wendy had fat tears hanging from her lashes, threatening to fall.They worked their way deeper into the tree line, Suzy wobbled and tripped her way over the uneven ground. 

Wendy pulling her friends hands led her in wide circles over fallen logs and tinkling streams. “Suzy constantly moaned and flinched “Are we there yet” she called.” But on they trod, Wendy stopped her and let her smell some bluebells and listen to the woodland creatures rustling and birds in full song. “Listen… can you hear the magic? Do you feel the special? Oh Suzy we are almost there it smells like candy floss doesn’t it? We have to do the thing now… the secret words then it will happen.”


Wendy untied the scarf from her friends eyes. “Don’t  look! keep the eyes closed or or… it won’t work. Abracadabra round and round let the magic be found!  Wave Wendy, both hands hard..  go in circles keep your eyes shut”. Finally Wendy whispered “Open your eyes”. Rubbing her face and looking through squinting eyes she blinked rapidly. A huge grin spreads across her face gripping Wendy’s forearms both girls squealed and tapped their feet like flamenco dancers. 

Suzy looked her friend close into her face as Wendy whispered to her “I told you it is magic, the secret fairy den. We are the only special ones who know. The two little girls armed with their secret prepared for a magical summer.

Photographer E. Best  permission needed to use this image.

Did you have a secret place a summer of ,magic. Please let me know your story in the comments… I look forward to reading them all, i will reply to them all. 😇

A Place that stirred my Very soul.

The Lotus temple is my favorite building, the one above all others that has come to be the beginning of a new me; a second chance.
Whilst working in India I had the chance to visit this amazing marble clad structure. My visit was the most ethereal moving experience I have encountered.
I was doing a whistle stop, sightseeing, must do on your last day bus tour Рnot the way I like to do things, but people had presented me with the ticket, and they were so proud of their country and my gift there could only be  graciousness with my acceptance.
I may at another time elaborate on this extrordinary day, but for the moment I will introduce the building in all its spiritual beauty.

image

This picture  for which i am very greatful is from pixaby link below.
https://pixabay.com/en/photos/

Now for Facts.

Lotus temple is open to people from all religions. It is one of the houses of Bahai Worship.

2. Bahai law emphasizes the universality of all religions. It states that House of Worship is a gathering place for people of all religions.

3. The law further states that only the holy scriptures of Bahai faith and other religions can be read or chanted inside in any language.

4. The readings and prayers can be set to music by choirs as per the law specified by Bahai religion.

5. No musical instruments can be played inside the house of God according to the followers of Bahai religion.

6. Furthermore, no sermons can be delivered. Hence, there is no place for practice of ritualistic ceremonies within this religious community.

7. Like other Bahai Houses of Worship, the Lotus Temple shares certain architectural elements. Some of these are specified in the Bahai scripture.

8. Abhui-Baha is the son of the founder of this religion. He had stipulated that the essential architectural character of a House of Worship should have a nine-sided shape.

9. All the Houses of Worship built by the Bahai community have dome in the central structure. However, the Lotus Temple does not have this characteristic architectural element.

10. There is no place for pictures, photos, statues or images in Bahai religion.

Source:¬†http://www.buzzoop.com/travel/10…

“My Story Can Now Begin.”

The bus pulled up, it was¬† the middle of monsoon season and every surface glistened ¬†from the rains of the morning. There were racks to leave your shoes and lockers to put your belongings,camera’s, phones, water, food.
I had a purse on a long leather strap across my body under my dupatta,  which is a shawl to cover my shoulders or head; necessary in some of the places I had to visit that day. My purse carried my medication some money and my Id, like the other visitors I had, no shoes,no bags, no camera, just space and myself.

Some of the people were guided outside around the perimeter, and a few inside, so that the space was uncompramised. At first the vastness is overwhelming the silence was unexplainable. I lay as others did on a marble pew or structure, where you looked into the centre of the lotus flower high above me. My breath and occasional rustling as people settled were the only sounds. I lay for maybe fifteen minutes time dissipated, it was as if I was waiting for something; then it came.

A small bird fluttered around the beams and rested as high as he could get, he threw back his head and sang; the notes reverberated off every surface magnifying each note. I realised I’d been holding my breath, as i gasped he disappeared just as quickly as he appeared. My moment will stay forever 2009 in many ways marked a turning point a new life for me, with this experience at the top.
I hope you liked my memory and would love to know if a place holds something special for you all comments are welcomed and answered promptly.
This post was provoked out of me by Niki touch this to see her post please like or comment

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