After rummaging through his robe, a spindly arm held aloft a package of white cotton socks.
Real cotton. Not a blend.
"You need these more than I will" and offered the largesse.
The bum's hand took the package and grazed the monk's hand, "Jeez, yer colt."
Knobby toes slipped into modest sandals. "Warmth is a state of mind." He bowed.
Some kid squealed as the four-legged tanks moseyed into the street. When the bum looked back, the monk was gone.
But not the gift. 3/3
#wss366
#wss366
What stirred those beasts was the rank smell emanating from the big black homeless guy wearing a parka who parked next to the monk. Sleepy, slitted eyes turned towards the bench and advancing afternoon shadows.
"Aintcha cole?" His voice was like gravel soaked in Everclear.
Unperturbed, the monk spoke. "No. I am quite comfortable. Are you cold?"
He wiped his nose, "Yea, once da sun's gone errythin' gits nuncomfertible."
Eyes opened and took in every detail of the smelly companion. 2/x
#wss366
Lazing around Uncle Wilber's Fountain were a trio of borealopeltae making the most of the sun's largesse. If one grazed a shadow, warmth was situational feeling like 21°C when the air was 10°C made all the more bitter by the dry air.
Kids took turns running up to the beasts, #socking them hard with fists, sticks, and rocks but nary eliciting more than a lazy and annoyed grunt.
From a nearby bench, a Buddhist monk waited in quiet contemplation. 1/x
#wss366
#TimeTravelingGhost EP 7 Post 81: 12 May 1999: London
#Wss366 Sock #MastoPrompt Humble #TimeTravelAuthors 03/15. Does anyone have fun (or want to have fun) with time travel?
When Nostradamus spoke next, he had adopted the clipped accent of a Londoner. “I know you won’t take this advice, but you'd be better off enjoying your travels than meddling in divine affairs.”
“1900s Paris is lovely. You would enjoy it. The World's Fair was fabulous. Or how about settling into a #humble croft in Cornwall? You could enjoy the peace and quiet, not to mention the fresh country air. Or maybe somewhere more idyllic, like Tahiti before Captain Wallis arrived? I will say nothing of your visit here if you say nothing of what I have told you.”
I wanted to #sock his smug face. His advice amounted to, “Ignore the evil around you and have fun.”
Emily and I had discussed this several times, and enjoyed the pleasures of wherever we ended up. However, we wouldn’t let evil fester without at least trying to do something about it. After all, we were the “chosen ones.” In my words: “Fair may be foul and foul may be fair, but something stinks in Denmark.”
Rather than say that, I equivocated. “You might be right. We've discussed getting a villa in Versailles.”
“Prudent. While you're there, invest in some Monet or Tissot paintings before they become wildly famous. Though I warn you, 1789 is a terrible year.”
From the enslaved populace songs, chants and demands,
While princes and lords are held captive in prisons.
These will in the future by headless idiots
Be received as divine prayers.
[Nostradamus, Les Prophéties, Quatrain I.14]
“Now, if you will excuse me, I have a consultation with the president of Sole Fruit,” the prophet said, waving toward the door.
#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #UrbanFantasy #Mythpunk #TimeTravel #HistoricalFantasy #Serial
stretch goals
putting on my socks
without a struggle
tripping hazard
the socket wrench set
I never use
#wss366 - sock
Is she the right one?
Look! The color of her socks!
All the doubts are gone
🧦
---
Photo (CC) Olga/Олька @ Flick
#WritersCoffeeClub Talk about an experience you had sharing your writing with a group.
I share my writing here regularly as #wss366 posts.
I've done a fair number of readings, most recently at the end of January, which I wrote about for my blog: https://stevendbrewer.com/a-well-attended-reading-in-elegant-surroundings/
I've never had a group actually read one of my works and then invite me to discuss it, although scammers keep trying to convince me to pay them money to organize things like that. 😠
The Wandering Shop Stories #prompt for today, Sun-15-Mar, is #sock. Feel like writing something short and sweet that has the word "sock" in it? Check out the definitions of the word at: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sock Join in and tag it with #wss366! #writing #WritingLife #microfiction h/t @tobadzistsini
Cecelia realized he was about to ask what she was doing in Highlend and so she cut in and asked him instead.
"And what brings you to Highlend, Milord?" (4/4) #wss366
"Cecelia! Of course! You do very much take after your sister. The resemblance is nothing short of… astonishing. Though, of course, anyone would recognize you as one of the Aspidelle girls. May I ask…" he said. (3/4) #wss366
As 7 bells was striking, Cecelia came down the stairs and entered the dining room. To her horror, in addition to Lord Kenderback was also Viscount Metterwin. He started when he saw her.
"Lady Kandela! What a surprise to see you here!" (1/3) #wss366
Desert Hearts: Part 3
#FanFiction #AscendanceOfABookworm #HanneloresFifthYear
#Wss366 Present #WhiteDay
•⋅☾A week later, Alexandria☽⋅•
“Would you be in a good mood?” Rozemyne asked Ferdinand.
It was a fair question, considering the dark circles under his eyes from spending three days in his private study. A question met with a skeptical look as he took in the baked goods and tea set out on the table.
“I'm not in the mood for taste-testing. Ask a courtier; they will be happy to help,” was his reply.
“Oh, no. Hannelore sent these: rose-scented tea and cookies that their chief has invented. They're nice, like lemon drops. It's kind of like a White Day gift.”
“I’m tired, but we need to talk later in your private room.”
Rozemyne frowned. Private discussions were never good.
“She sent you #present too,” Rozemyne ventured, producing a white handkerchief. “She even embroidered it, a cute cornflower entwined with an edelweiss.”
Her husband sank into a chair and gulped down a cup of tea, notwithstanding its temperature.
“Rozemyne, is this what you want?”
“No, it’s for you.”
“Rozemyne! Not the present, are you a total idiot!? They mistook your gifts for a marriage proposal. Since Hannelore can’t marry you, they assume you intend for her to become my second wife.”
“What? A marriage proposal?”
“Obviously that at the next Council of Aubs, Klassenberg will approach me about this. If this is what you want, I will signal my agreement. It wouldn’t hurt to have a stronger alliance with Klassenberg. But if I accept, she becomes your responsibility. I have no interest in a second wife.”
Ferdinand rose. “Think about it. I will get your answer later.”
Rozemyne watched him leave. “Marry Hannelore? My book-buddy? Like one of those yuri romances from my former life? Humm…”
Morning Plum, White Silk
#FanFiction #MyHappyMarriage
#Wss366 Present #WhiteDay
Miyo put the last stitch into the front of the little bag, just the right size for keeping protective charms.
It had been made with such a lovely piece of white silk. It was almost a shame to turn into a bag. Still, it would make the perfect #present for Kiyoka. He could buy anything he liked, but seemed to enjoy the little things she made him. That made her feel good, not that her work was special in any way.
She went out to where they would eat and set it by his place. It would be too embarrassing to give him something so unworthy. He would find it there, and if he disliked it he could ignore it.
She imagined him sitting down and noticing it, a grimace touching his lips, and then quietly moving the unsightly thing behind the vase of spring plum blossoms she had arranged. The silly token now out of view.
She hesitated and almost turned around to take it away. Then she steeled herself. Surely he would understand that however unworthy it was, she had made with her love.
There he was now!
She bowed as Kiyoka entered the room.
He smiled at her, and the world lit up. She was such a lucky woman.
“I cooked your favorites,” she said and hurried out of the room to fetch the food. She didn’t want to see his reaction to her gift. If it displeased him, he could hide it without worrying about hurting her.
When she returned, her husband was holding the little bag. “You made this?” he said.
Her heart trembling, she nodded.
His finger traced the words she had stitched onto its front. “And you wrote this?” He asked.
She nodded again. The trembling threatened to overtake her body. Why had she written something so trite? It would have been better to use someone else's poem.
He read it. His voice made it sound beautiful.
Morning plum
Softly blooming
Close to my heart
“Thank you,” he said. A tender smile on his lips.
He took the charms from around his neck and put them in the bag. “It’s lovely. I will keep it close to my heart.”
home brew
a birthday present
I gave myself
soaking up sunshine
the ever-present Buddha
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