I am so happy I am officially excited. The Blogger’s Bash is set for 15th June 2019 here is a link to the Official Website. https://annualbloggersbash.com/
A not to miss event .
Day: Nov 1, 2018
I can’t wait to get my ticket !! Buy Your Ticket Here!
The Escapist’s Colouring Club,1st November 2018
With no further ado, fanfare please.
I actually finished on time yesterday!
Above is October’s finished project. And below is it’s progress.
Do I get points for being on time!😉
No here is my project for November.
Now I must keep up good behaviour , if you would like to join us you will be welcome at LindaGHill‘s Escapist’s Colouring Club.
Thursday photo prompt: Stark #writephoto
This is my entry for Sue Vincent of The Daily Echo’s #writephoto.
The prompt this week Stark.
I have picked a sad but I feel relevant subject.
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Her options were stark. Put up with things as they were, carry on coping with the mental abuse, the harsh words and those painful silences that could last for days. Or leave, home, give up her whole life and this view?
She knew that she had really left it too late. Over sixty and nowhere to go, really, that was no choice. Trapped as always walking on broken glass.
To the outside world they were the perfect couple, always ready to help others. She was so lucky to have such a kind and gentle husband….. Holidays, cars, presents.
She should of put her foot down when he had the affair shut the door when he left. Why let him back he’d lead a double life for years …. But that was finished now.
Wasted chances, too many options had gone by the by. Was she lazy, stupid or just plain afraid of the unknown? Was she all the things he shouted at her?…her eyes stung at the thought of that.
After a while, she thought you just stop fighting back and believe the propaganda. She had woken up one morning and realised she had nothing left to fight for, no fight left in her.
Suddenly the starkness of her situation hit her… Even her beloved view looked stark . She drained her coffee and went back indoors.
Fire-fox
A fabulous account of an age old tradition.
The wind was bitter… the first flakes of snow mingled with the rain as we crossed the ridge. It would be a long, cold night, in spite of the flame that burned on the western horizon as the sun sank into the earth. We followed the lights, seeking shelter in the village, a little way beyond the Field of Sheaves.
Moonrise was still hours away, but even so, a pale ghost of music drifted on the wind. This was the place… our mysterious informant had been correct. All we had to do was wait. Crowds were already gathering… shadowy figures, face and form concealed behind scarves, hats and turned up collars… and a darker figure still that ran amongst them.
Moving fast, indistinct, no more than a blur of midnight feathers, he towered over the assembled company. Crow held the dancing ground as an age-old battle was about to begin…
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The Day after Halloween.
November the first and he had been left behind.
All witches, ghouls and ghost had returned home.
Gone, every imp and devil, he alone the only remaining of his kind.
Here amid the humans, what was he to do on his own?
He roamed the streets, haunted the parks, prowled the shopping centres.
He hung around the schools looking for like souls to play with.
He messed up children’s rooms, upset teenagers, no door he couldn’t enter.
He was so lonely and bored nothing on this earth, any joy could give him.
After a while when the demons roll was called, finally he was missed.
All hell was let loose, where was the boy, the haunted soul.
Who would comfort him, could a human sooth him like a vampire kiss. Satan doubted this.
Would angels find him and steal his evil and make him something whole. That could not be allowed.
So out the went the hoards of hell to search the world and search it well.
All this fuss for just one boy? Yes the devil loves his own.
The loss on Halloween was more than the Devil could bare,an empty space in hell.
Out the Furies went, they found him and took him home.
willowdot21 
