A Morning With Flo.

This is a Monologue written by me for the Theatre during lockdown. This is read by an actor.

Synopsis, a wanna be model called Flo goes into a new upmarket coffee bar alone.

On loan From pixels

PRESS To Listen

Borrowed from pixels

An otherwise ordinary day at the library.

Ilminster Library.

In a small market town in Somerset where most buildings are made from Jurassic Hamstone. The public library being one such building sits solid in the ground. Drawn as I was to it, not just because I am to anywhere that books live, the building looked as old as a gnarly tree (Ancient buildings often do) it caught my attention. I was welcomed by a sign outside saying ‘libraries love readers, step inside and read.’ So I did.

This sign I took literally, so with a huge smile, for such a miserable day … I marched right in. Reading stories and making them up has always been my thing. I have been spilling tales from my mouth uncontrollably since I could speak . I have been known (since this day) to fold myself into the children’s corner like a master of yoga and read aloud. Like a character from a Grimm’s fairy-tale or a strong magnet, people would be drawn to me … mostly small ones.

This specific day I did just that. Once I crossed my legs, I pushed my sit bones in to a cushion and began. Parents and children sat and stood around me, eyes wide, mouths open, as they sat in silence. This silence made the voices I gave the characters more pronounced and my face more animated as I read. I elaborated, asked for their input, both big and little people joined in, calling out questions and might have beens. I warmed to the twinkles in their eyes and dimpled smiles, they were the best moments. At the end I was clapped, which pinked my cheeks. I recall a moment of surprise washed over me; chased by a hot shade of embarrassment.

At that very moment a bespectacled gentleman of the Library; the custodian I believe he called himself, shushed me forcibly. So forcibly in fact I would swear his teeth rattled as If they would be blown clean from his mouth. A kind librarian stopped to ask If I would like a regular spot. We all I suspect had a lovely interlude, to an otherwise ordinary day.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

What tale do you find your mind wanders to if a child asks you to tell them a story? Do you fabricate one, or prefer to read from a book? Do let me know in the comments.

This is a photo of the first present my husband gave me after our wedding. We had been married about eight weeks when he came back from the shops with the groceries a newspaper and a bottle of Fizz.

After he unpacked everything onto the work top he plunged his hand into his trouser pocket and handed me this. Yes a potato, a heart shaped potato and said. “I couldn’t leave it in the greengrocers  once I found it. it just reminded me of you.” We laughed at his words and joked that I looked like a potato, but honestly it was bloody romantic the most romantic my husband could get.

He is not a man of big romantic presentations, he could not gush if he tried. The husband, as I refer to him on my Blog is spontaneous, some might say impulsive, I say he is just simply kind. He said, he did not think a potato could label him romantic. That he would never be accused of being soppy or a sap but this gift though long since gone rotten and recycled to a better place in the compost, will always be first in my memory for the gift that needed no reason. The gift that meant the whole world, it didn’t cost him a penny but took guts to ask for it, and courage to give it to me.

My man has few words of the romantic kind, neither a poem, sonnet or rhyme, would ever pause on his tongue. No love letters will be received but my heart shaped potato is the most significant measure of his love for me.

What a pair.

Have you ever had an extraordinarily odd but perfect gift? Leave your answer in the comments I am dying to see what it is.

The most romantic gestures arrive from the simplest of moments.

Photo by Matteus Silva de Oliveira on Pexels.com

Play this while you read https://youtu.be/g6A0BR5F2zk Click on then return to read.

He kissed me tenderly but clung on for a second too long. His eyes looked with suspicion, as a frown formed between his brows. I had to be firm in my resolve, and not back down. Blinking hard I reached out cold fingers and let them graze his cheek, my lips formed a believable smile as fleetingly his bottom lip quivered. With a straight back and a composed air I waved goodbye and watched him enter the beautiful modern building. Jack’s first day at nursery was the hardest. He beamed like a lighthouse when I arrived to collect him.

Photo by Wendy Wei on Pexels.com

That was my response to Charli’s prompt.

April 29, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story using the phrase, “hit the road, Jack.” You can interpret the phrase any way you like — road trip, goodbye, or story. Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by May 4, 2021. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.

go here to join in. https://carrotranch.com/2021/04/30/april-29-flash-fiction.com/

Tell me, did you play the song? Does my post remind you of another first day? do chat leave me a comment I love to connect.

Play this it is the best way to know how she felt when he was gone.

Hit The Road Jack.

Today I pick up a prompt from Charli at the Carrot ranch, Thank you Charli.

April 22, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about earthing. Put a character’s hands, feet or body and soul into the earth. Who needs recharging? What happens between the interaction? Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by April 27, 2021. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines. Press here to join in or read. Press here

Simple pleasures.

It’s time, to stop and stare as yellow paints the fields. Nature’s beauty shines. Drink in the hypnotic sway let it warm your soul. Remember that elegance has a sharp edge, for all its grace and beauty it is not to be walked among.

Rape is full of allergens, it will ulcerate skin, if you forget the country code … and walk through the farmers crops. like a fisherman’s lure, a fly dangled before you dancing on ripples. You can be grounded by its colour, mezmerized by the sway, let the earth paint your soul. Breathe and enjoy, the simple pleasures.

They say not to use cliche`s but ‘all that glitters isn’t gold,’ would have fit this post nicely, or ‘beauty is skin deep.’ But we writery people know not to commit such sins 🤣 Did you celebrate earth day? Dig your toes in the ground? Let me know in the comments what your thoughts are.

Making a connection with this beautiful earth.

For-get-me-not

The sun tricks the flowers to bloom with its false brightness, low shine that hits the glass, lights up the smears and makes dust motes dance, as winter sneaks back in.

Frozen!

Spring is sprung …Or Is It

Poetry using Kennings.

I am a thermal floater ,

A finger flutterer,

Calling for a takeaway treat.

I am an alarm screecher,

A lesson teacher,

Not sneaky,

you know I am near.

A rampant rodent scoffer

A gliding hunter

Keeping farmlands clean.

I am an Auditory mesmerizer,

With my soaring cries,

I am a sorcerer in disguise.

I am beauty,

I am a Red Kite.

Only sleeping.

By Ellen Best March 2021

Picture from  https://pixabay.com/

I took the childlike kenning and inserted the concept into a freestyle poem, I believe it made this creature come alive. Another new route for me inspired by Lynn Whitehead from the Suffolk arts link. I like to play with what I feel safe with and try new forms, at least I try, … but did it work?. How do you push the invisible boundaries? I would love to know, talk in the comments below I will respond double quick.

Where Has Time Gone

Where has the time gone?

Me in 2008

 It seems like, in a blink of an eye or a twitch of a nose,

Our shape alters and our skin unfolds.

All at once looks take on a different role,

Putting us on another journey, aiming us towards a new goal.

Only now, at this late stage of life do we find out,

if we have worked hard enough on the true us.

For now we rely on what we have on the inside.

Our kindness, personality, empathy and fun.

Can we attract others to us because we are,

Good to be near, have something worthwhile to say

Have we worked hard on ourselves over the years,

Accumulated knowledge that others can’t wait to hear.

Where has the time gone …  in a blink of an eye.

Will I have done enough, before that last goodbye.

To be remembered for what I became.

 Not a face with wrinkles,

some long forgotten name.

By Ellen Best 2021

This came from me finding the above photo, it seems like a few weeks since it was snapped but the mirror tells a different story. I held my face in both hands and wept.

Age is nothing but a number, and our looks are only skin deep, these are well-worn cliche’s but they are the truth. Who we are is what carries us through to the end. Men are beginning more and more to do the same, work on their outward appearance. Women especially, work and have for centuries, on how to present themselves. Learning about the best clothes for our shape, which makeup will cover our flaws. After all first impressions count, we have friends to make, Husbands to attract, jobs/positions to win.

Should that be taught? How to work just as hard on the inside, maybe from infancy? Self matters, the substance of you will one day be all you have left. I am not suggesting that things are not changing, there is a lot of work being done in schools and homes aimed at teaching self-worth, and bravo to that. But the way we look needs to be … something we do secondary to the way we feel, think and express ourselves. To become a good human being is to love who you are. So when life has taken that youthful glow, stretched once supple flesh and slowed us down … we can still hold our own, we will be worthwhile and have something of value to offer. Getting us to believe that is what needs to come next.

I would love to hear your opinions please leave a comment I will answer them all.