Ocior! Ocior! Ocior!

Picture It and Write!This post is a response to Ermilia Blog’s weekly Picture it & Write! challenge. The blog mistresses provide an image (this week’s is to the right). You write a very short story or poem using the image as a prompt.

OK, so this is not a very short story. In fact, it’s become a #longreads, over 1,500 words. Ooops! But, sometimes, you just gotta go with the flow of the words. ;)

Oh, and I’ve set the Workshop category, so please, critique away in your ruthlessly gentle ways! :)

The Museum of Used Candles – Frisby-on-the-Wreake

This museum in England has been collecting the used candles of the rich and famous for 20 years. The proprietor, Anne Wickham, started the museum in 1994 after a Women’s Institute meeting where she found that all her fellow members found it difficult to throw away their used candles as they were like dear, old friends.

Anne decided to keep those candles and to turn them into a tableau, which she entitled “Growing Old” drawing parallels between the ageing of the WI members and the way the wax had melted and formed wrinkles on the surface of the candles.

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I know why you cry

I know why you cry

In the quiet hollow times when no one is watching
While reading the passage of the lovers’ first kiss

I know why you cry

When the waves crash on rocky shores under an amber sky
When the music touches some forgotten place in your soul

You think it’s for love of another
You think it’s for connection to the world of beings and things
You think it’s for something grander than you

But it’s not
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Favourite Words

Skeletal– relating to or functioning as a skeleton. I think this word is best with the UK pronunciation “skel-EE- tel” rather than the US “SKEL-eh-tel”.

Amnesia– loss of a block of interconnected memories. The soap opera disease! A cliché plot point so hackneyed that it almost makes me want to use it, just in case it comes back into fashion.  Even better is the adjective ‘amnestic’, as in “They were amnestic for the duration of their vacation on Secret Bloody Skull Island. They did not know exactly why. Privately, Charles suspected something terrible had happened.”

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A Day without Reading or Writing

I spend the better part of most days reading and writing. In recreational reading alone, I average about 150 hours per month. (How do I know? My e-reader software actually tracks my reading hours.) When the time I spend reading things like paper books, the Interweebs, and work documents is factored in, I think the grand total would be closer to 275, or maybe even 300 hours a month.

Recently I performed a thought experiment on myself: if I had a whole day during which I had lost the ability to read and write, how would I spend it? What would I do all day?

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My Biggest Success as a Writer so Far

The writing demon is with me always. From the security of her perch on my shoulder, she sporadically rouses from hibernation to taunt me with grand ideas and inspiration. “Come on, Joanne. Give it a go. You can do it.” And in that moment, I believe her.

Inevitably, each and every tidbit of fiendish encouragement and support is rapidly reversed. “Stop, stop, Joanne, stop! What were you thinking?” And in that moment, I believe her.

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A Writer’s World

A man checks his roommate’s internet browsing history and finds searches for slow-acting, untraceable poisons and how long it takes to suffocate someone with a pillow. He knows his snoring’s gotten worse, but would she kill him for a good night’s sleep?

A woman asks her husband to duct-tape her wrists together and put her into the trunk of their car. Is she getting kinky on him, or maybe just losing her mind?

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