T’were green, it was
T’were ‘ooge
Drizzling teeth it ‘ad, breathing fire
But we ‘adn’t no fear, we ‘d not
We’d a few bottled-genii in ‘ere.
Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #18
T’were green, it was
T’were ‘ooge
Drizzling teeth it ‘ad, breathing fire
But we ‘adn’t no fear, we ‘d not
We’d a few bottled-genii in ‘ere.
Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #18
Welcome to my weekly challenge—open to all—just for FUN, FUN, FUN
Here’s how it works:
Every Wednesday I post a photo (this week it’s that one above.)
You respond with something CREATIVE
Here are some suggestions:
You have plenty of scope and only two criteria:
If you post a link in the comments section of this post I’ll be able to find it
If you include Crimson’s Creative Challenge as a heading, WP Search will find it (theory)
If you tag it #CCC others should be able to find it by ‘Searching’ in the WP Reader (fingers crossed)
Here’s wishing you inspirational explosions. And FUN.
Details of the photo are given, if relevant, below this line
Bottles in pub window (The Green Dragon in Wymondham)
Sand-coated sea-stones, reds and blacks
Masquerading tumbled green glass
White and coloured quartz that glisten
Jet and precious amber microscopic dust
Cockles, lugworms, winkles, driftwood
Starfish, crabs and mermaids’ purses
Blackened groynes grown thick with limpets
Castles, buckets, spades abandoned
Red weeds, green weeds, bladderwrack and more
Shells and shingle, muted jingles
Are twice daily covered on our seashore

Honourless banishment for the father
Honourless exile for father’s child too
Three years in exile, this son of an exile
Remembered always, Erik Thorvaldsson
Written for What Pegman Saw
I claim this photo for #2019picoftheweek challenge title Three of a Kind
[For details of #2019picoftheweek challenge see MariaAntonia]
Wymondham Abbey was founded in 1107 by William d’Aubigny ‘Pincerna’, butler to Henry I, to serve as Benedictine monastery with attached parish church.
Henry IIIV ‘dissolved’ it in 1538; the monastery became quarry for local builders, the church remained intact for Wymondham parishioners. Although still referred to as an abbey, it is fact a simple parish church.

You like reading, yea? Fantasy fiction. Mythic Quests. Perhaps something a little out of the ordinary? Say, something set in a prehistoric society. But you’ve not done this before; you’re unsure.
Then first I’ll assure you: I am friendly. And I try to make the process easy as pie. You read the story, answer some questions—could you understand that scene, did this or that grate, have I overinformed, underinformed, who did you like best—that kind of thing, and return the completed questionnaire to me. Simple as ABC.
But you’re still unsure. Book Four: that means you’ve missed the previous three. Will you be able to pick up on the plot? Understand what’s happening? Get a feel for the protagonist and other characters? But these are exactly the questions my faithful core-betas are less able to answer. That’s why I NEED YOU.
Make the first move: Contact Me
The Spinner has tasked Kerrid to eradicate the snake-demon Neka, believed responsible for the Asars banishment from their high World of Divinities. It seems an impossible task. For if the Spinner can’t kill the demon, how can she? Yet Kerrid is convinced, if she can return to the World of Divinities, she’ll find the solution there.
Unable to use the pole of Book Three, Kerrid now tries a different strategy. There are holes in the sky, and one is above Black Mother Mountain in Gushan, familiar from her child-days. If she returns there, if she climbs the mountain … But there she faces an obstacle. Her sister.
Kerrid’s childhood nemesis, her sister has forbidden Kerrid access to Gushan, and her sister is the keeper of the demon in physical form. That demon has taken everyone Kerrid ever loved: her father, her foster-mother, the Linershunn who gave her shelter, and most recently her mortal lover Jedren, father of the child she now carries.
Now she must protect that infant, keep him safe from the demon. Yet at the same time, she must complete her task. How can she do both? And what if further troubles await her?
I knew what lurked beneath that bridge
Could smell its carnal-house reek
But I was the oldest, I couldn’t refuse it.
‘Okay, Mr Troll, I’m crossing it now.’
Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #17
Welcome to my weekly challenge—open to all—just for FUN, FUN, FUN
Here’s how it works:
Every Wednesday I post a photo (this week it’s that one above.)
You respond with something CREATIVE
Here are some suggestions:
You have plenty of scope and only two criteria:
If you post a link in the comments section of this post I’ll be able to find it
If you include Crimson’s Creative Challenge as a heading, WP Search will find it (theory)
If you tag it #CCC others should be able to find it by ‘Searching’ in the WP Reader (fingers crossed)
Here’s wishing you inspirational explosions. And FUN.
Details of the photo are given, if relevant, below this line
Marriotts Way follows a former railway track from Norwich centre to Reepham. At Reepham it curls around and hitches to another former railway track to roll on to Aylsham. 25 miles in all. And as you can imagine, 25 miles involves a lot of bridges. This one crosses the Wensum between Costessey and Drayton.
I watched your first paddle in water; I kept you safe from harm,
for I am the Mother Goose, in devotion, cackling loud in alarm
Composed in response to Sammi’s Weekend Prompt: Devotion in 25 words.
