CCC029: Boys Of The Hood

Seven boys of the hood punched and crowed
Squabbling over whose latest rap was the best
Witchery neighbour, bent back bowed
I’ll change you into worm-pecking jackdaws
If you don’t shut it and give me rest
And as they fought their hands became claws

Posted in Crimson's Creative Challenge, Photos, Poems (Some Silly) | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #029

Every Wednesday I’ll post FOUR photos (if you want to get a head start you’ll find them marked in that week’s Sunday Picture Post and Tuesday Treats). Lots of choice!

And here there are:

You respond with something CREATIVE. Perhaps an  answering photo, or micro-fiction, or a poem, or just a caption

As before, there are only two criteria:

!!!!! Your creative offering is indeed yours !!!!!

!!!!! Your writing is kept to 150 words or less !!!!!

If you post a link in the comments section of this post I’ll be able to find it.

Here’s wishing you inspirational explosions. And FUN

Posted in Crimson's Creative Challenge, Photos | Tagged , , | 12 Comments

Tuesday Treats: Details from Another Fine Day

22nd March 2025 dawned warm and sunny. Perfect. Here’s some of the details

22nd March 2025

🔼 It’s a lovely little woodland despite industry is elbowing in

22nd March 2025

🔼 Daffodils by their numberless numbers🔽

22nd March 2025

🔽 I give up trying to identify to which of our many wild plum-family species these and other white blossoms belong

22nd March 2025

🔽 Along the lane, over there in the middle of that field, you see? Some sort of crow. Yea, they’re jackdaws and they’re fishing for insects

22nd March 2025

22nd March 2025

Two of my favourite early wild flowers: 🔼 red deadnettle and 🔽 celandine (snuggling up close with a stinging nettle)

22nd March 2025

22nd March 2025

Another two favourites, but these are shrub-sized. 🔼 gorse and honeysuckle 🔽

22nd March 2025

22nd March 2025

Lakeside vegetation 🔼 last year’s reed head and this year’s pussy willow 🔽

22nd March 2025

Finally, couldn’t resist a shot at these turkey-tails 🔽 for the fungi fans

22nd March 2025

That’s all for this week, folks. Hope you enjoyed

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Seed Fall Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven of my current wip. As before, all and any comments very much appreciated

Please note: This is now a weekly post

The spirit-woman Cela-Kuci had confirmed it: A star-spirit had spoken. And the name of that spirit was Kija, the star-deer. Why else the flaying of the boy, Tammi-Tiki; why else had the spirit-man killed the dragon to save Li-Kerbi, and both she and Tammi-Tiki born as children to Kija-house. And this while the star Kija was rising. Now Cela-Kuci had tasked Li-Kerbi with spreading news of a meeting. All the dow must know of it. With four days to prepare, Li-Kerbi wasted no time.

No matter that Li-Kerbi might prefer to return to Kija-house, on leaving Cela-Kuci she went directly to Wael-house. That was Anji-Tiki-ta’s house and as headman of Toki-dow he must be the first informed. Since Wael was the next house but one from Byi-house, she kept to the back way. It gave her more time to swallow the grin that wanted to burst across her face. It must be held tight. At least until after the meeting.

But as she emerged from the back way, alongside the longhouse and into the dow’s centre, the headman’s woman, standing with her wrinkled visage like a gnarled old tree, blocked Li-Kerbi’s progress. “And you want what, here? Sneaking up from behind like a thief.”

“I’ve a message for Anji-Tiki-ta.” Li-Kerbi didn’t say the message was from Cela-Kuci. She knew the headman’s crabby old woman would likely make a fictional feast from that small morsel. And even if the woman was right in her surmises, that would cause Li-Kerbi more trouble than she’d ever had, for not sealing her lips until the words were slipped to the monkey-born Anji.

“He’s not here,” the woman said. “Taken his men to fetch us meat. And if he brings enough we’ll feed the dow this night.”

Li-Kerbi nodded, took a deep breath and turned away, to cross the dow’s centre back to Kija-house.

As soon as in reach, her mother grabbed Li-Kerbi by the band of shells at the top of her arm and, ignoring her squeals, rushed her up the steps to the relative privacy of the shadowed interior. Li-Kerbi wrenched out of her grasp and was straight back down those steps.

“What?” her mother called after her.

“Fetching my shoe.” She’d lost a sandal in her mother’s haste.

Her mother wailed, her hands to her face to cover her eyes. “Beseeching spirit-father-eagle, beseeching spirit-mother-deer, allow no disaster to enter here.” And to Li-Kerbi, “Throw that sandal away. Don’t you bring it in here. Bring it in here and it’ll be you going away, and it won’t be to any house in Robi-dow.”

Li-Kerbi ignored her mother and with the shoe back on her foot walked right in.

Inside the house, the spirits whispered in her head, how contrary of her who’d not wanted to be assigned to Cela-Kuci when first sent there, who’d not wanted to be a spirit-woman, now to be hiding her satisfied grin. But she answered, if this was her fate then she must accept and embrace it, and she listed as many advantages as she could find. Kija, the star-deer, wanted her, Cela-Kuci had as good as said it. And Father-Bull would have to release her. That’s all she could find for now. Except whatever else it might entail, there’d be no climbing the hills to Robi-dow now.

Her mother huffed and scowled at Li-Kerbi’s feet. “So be it. Then I’m thinking something Cela-Kuci said has sent you off on this disobedient track. Though there was scant obedience in you before. Setting fish traps down by the burrows, inviting the Life-Eater. Pfft, you’ve lost your senses. And me your mother. Wait till I tell your father this.”

Li-Kerbi ignored her mother’s words, her fingers rubbing her thigh in such agitated manner they broke anew the already broken weave of her skirt. It wasn’t that she was worried, nor that she feared what disaster she’d bring on herself. It was just impatience. She wanted to spread the news of the dow’s meeting but she couldn’t yet. She bit her lip, turned and turned, and looked for something, anything, to occupy her hands and her thoughts while she waited for Anji-Tiki to return. She asked her mother, “You have some spinning I can do for you?”
Her mother opened her mouth. And closed it again. “You think to deceive me?”

By answer Li-Kerbi scrunched her face and grimaced. “I think to be useful.” She cocked her head.

“There.” Her mother nodded to a basket of fibres readied for spinning. Li-Kerbi set to it.

“So,” her mother said after a few moments of watching her daughter, “what did Cela-Kuci say? When you told her what you’d seen.”

“I cannot say.” She pressed her lips together, hard.

Her mother watched her a while longer, before nodding.

“Mother, you’re to say nothing of what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking your brother Ambita should be back soon. He’s learning his hunting skills with your sister’s man. But you wouldn’t be thinking of him. Not now, would you.”

“Why would I not?” She tilted her head. “I’ve thought of him every day since Tammi was taken.” Taken by star-spirit Kija, who was now taking her – though she hoped that would be in a less painful way.

*

The men of Anji-Tiki-ta’s Wael-house returned from their hunt with ample game for a feast – even after the star-spirits were fed. While the elder women amused and nursed the younger children, their mothers and the older girls prepared the meat and the hides. Away from the women, where they’d not be seen, the men with their older sons set to cleaning, repairing or replacing the shafts or heads of their spears, their throwing-sticks and rope-linked stones. Now was the time for Li-Kerbi to seek out Anji-Tiki-ta, now, when he’d be alone.

He sat atop the steps to Wael-house, looking grandiose with his shell-hung arms and his feather-topped head, his hands loosely clasped over his midriff the better to cock his elbows and appear so much bigger.

Li-Kerbi approached, her eyes on the headman’s grass-wrap, on his feather-fringed boots, on the shell-hung bands around his calves, never raised enough to fetch his wrath. But the day was soon coming, she was sure of it now, when she’d be greater than Anji-Tiki-ta, greater even than Cela-Kuci, and all the dow would bow to her. For the star-deer Kija, having taken Tammi-Tiki to gain their attention, now had declared he’d something of pressing importance to say. And in saving her from the dragons he had declared her his mouthpiece. But until that was known she must play the humble unworthy disobedient daughter of Amba-Tawan who, not being born to Kija-house, nor to Toki-dow, would ever be subservient to the father of the taken Tammi-Tiki.

“You want?” Anji-Tiki said, his words brusque.

“I have a message I must say to you.” She supposed that the best way to phrase it.

“A message? Why given to you, not said to me?” He leaned towards her, hands now on his knees. From where she knelt at the bottom of the steps, he looked like he’d topple and fall on top of her. He was a big man, he might crush her. “Who says this message?”

Li-Kerbi bit her lip. Here it was, her moment of rising. Thank you, star-spirit Kija, she said with her heart.

“By the taking of Tammi-Tiki of Kija-house, and the saving of myself from the dragons, also of Kija-house, and the vision of himself granted me this early morning – all while star-spirit Kija is rising – star-spirit Kija lets it be known he has a message for us. Cela-Kuci has advised me to call a dow-meeting that we might discuss the star-deer’s desires.”

“If the spirit Kija has chosen you as his mouth, I can do no less.” Yet by the sour look on his face she could see this didn’t sit well with the headman. “Go tell every house, I call a dow-meeting. When?”

“On the ninth day of Byi,” she said, for the moment resisting the need to blow her breath upwards to cool her burning face.

Anji-Tiki-ta grunted. “So be it. I call a dow-meeting for four days hence. Now, Li-Kerbi, I task you with spreading this news.”

This was a big message. Not only was she sent by Cela-Kuci but now also charged by the headman. And if that wasn’t enough to set her apart from the dow, everyone in the dow soon would know that the star-spirit Kija had chosen her, lifting her up to take her away from her life. Of a sudden she couldn’t breathe, hand to her chest as if that would help. Around her the longhouses spun while a hive of bees buzzed in her head.

To be continued next Monday

Posted in Fantasy Fiction, Mythic Fiction | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Sunday Picture Post: Another Fine Day

Spring truly is here in the UK. 22nd March 2025 dawns as another fine day. We hop on a bus, just to the outskirts of town; we’re heading south, south of the county border. Our destination, Lound Lakes, though at this season we’re more interested in sights seen along the way. So, shoes on. Let’s go

22nd March 2025 

🔼🔽 Our walk starts in this little woodland. The snowdrops now are gone. Now the daffodils are on display

22nd March 2025

22nd March 2025 

🔼🔽 At this early season, before the canopy closes over and darkens it all, we see the fantastical forms of the trees

22nd March 2025

22nd March 2025 

Out of the woods and along the lane. 🔼 Lined with white blossoms 🔽 With a clear view into the distance, the trooping pylons easily seen

22nd March 2025

22nd March 2025 

It’s a standing joke that Norfolk is flat. But here on the border with Suffolk that flatness starts to swell and undulate🔼🔽

22nd March 2025

22nd March 2025 

🔼This is heathland and the month has an ‘r’ in it, so here is gorse

🔽 First glimpse of the lake

22nd March 2025 

🔼 I did say of those white blossoms that at this season are seen along every lane

22nd March 2025

22nd March 2025 

🔼The lake and our journey ends here🔽

22nd March 2025 

One goose and a moorhen is all we could see. The migrants all gone

Hope you enjoyed

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Trimmed with Gold

Image credit: Tania Rose on Pixabay

This now before Boody was Breken Lafard.

He wore a deep indigo coat – silk by the shimmer and drenched in gold. Gold embroidery gnarled the high stand-collar and purled down the long buttoned-front, covered the shoulders, was strewn down the sleeves, to coalesce on the cuffs.

Discontent with mere gold, diamonds, rubies and sapphires had been added – like the dappling of sun through the trees.

A red silk sash crossed Breken’s chest – the sword’s baldric. The sword’s hilt was a fancy affair of gold filigree – and yet more rubies studded upon it. This was altogether too much opulence.


98 words written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Opulence

Adapted from a passage in Roots of Rookeri, by Crispina Kemp. Oh, yea, that’s me

Available as e-book and paperback on Amazon

Posted in Fantasy Fiction, On Writing | Tagged , | 15 Comments

CCC028: My Place To Sit

It was my place to sit
Every day, even if the rain did spit
Sit and ponder
And maybe wonder
What happened to those weary years
When you’d sit with me
Yakking and buzzing like a busy bee
Never quiet, how you did annoy
But, Bobby, you were the sweetest boy

Posted in Crimson's Creative Challenge, Photos, Poems (Some Silly) | Tagged , , | 21 Comments

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #028

Every Wednesday I’ll post FOUR photos (if you want to get a head start you’ll find them marked in that week’s Sunday Picture Post and Tuesday Treats). Lots of choice!

And here there are:

You respond with something CREATIVE. Perhaps an  answering photo, or micro-fiction, or a poem, or just a caption

As before, there are only two criteria:

!!!!! Your creative offering is indeed yours !!!!!

!!!!! Your writing is kept to 150 words or less !!!!!

If you post a link in the comments section of this post I’ll be able to find it.

Here’s wishing you inspirational explosions. And FUN

Posted in Crimson's Creative Challenge, Photos | Tagged , , | 13 Comments

Tuesday Treats: More About Spring

A medley of photos featuring the smaller details from our walk through Corton Woods on 14th March 2025

14th March 2025

🔼Shadows on the brickwork of the bridge. 🔽And pine-flowers (yes they are, they bear seeds!)

14th March 2025

14th March 2025

🔼Gorse erupts into a blaze of yellow in every month that has an ‘r’, says the saying.

14th March 2025

🔼The alexanders are on their marks, getting ready to sparkle along our lanes. Here a ladybird has found something delicious

14th March 2025

🔼Flowering currant, which I’m pretty sure is a garden shrub that’s escaped domesticity. Yay!

14th March 2025

🔼Do you think this looks like an elephant’s hide?  Or a crocodile’s? 🔽Beech catkins

14th March 2025

14th March 2025

🔼The little woodland is densely packed with holly and ivy🔽

14th March 2025

14th March 2025

🔼And as promised, fungus. It’s a yellow form of the turkeytail

Hope you enjoyed.

Now, what have we got for you next week?

 

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How I Write

Teddy insisted I remove the plug-in keyboard cos, he said, it’s not comfy to sit on

Such a vast subject. Let’s apply some structure.

The Basics: Equipment.

I like to sit at a desk and use a laptop and MS Word. But I don’t use the laptop keyboard. I have a plug-in which clatters most satisfactorily, reminiscent of the Brother typewriter I started my writing life on.

But I also keep a notebook and a supply of biros handy. Black. Fine point. These are for jotting down those numerous amendments as I realise they’re needed.

Also, I’ll sit comfy on the sofa and write copious notes on the story, where it’s going, what’s changing, is it working.

Then also there are notes from various levels of research. Research might include how to make gunpowder, the possible geography, climate, wildlife of my story’s location, and how to treat a Komodo dragon’s venomous bite.

I don’t have a komodo dragon but I do have a frog

Also, at this stage I try to compose a one-sentence pitch of what the story’s about:

Seed FallWhen the mind-controlling techs of a G.M. Programme on an alien planet are drowned, the tech-hating basecamp overseer must take on their role.

Note: This can/will change several times during the writing process.

The First Draft

Am I a plotter or a pantser? As with many writers, I’m a bit of both.

I spend an age working on the plot in my head. At some point I’ll start to make notes and later I’ll fit said notes into some kind of structure: three acts with the major plot points. I usually develop the story further from there and I’ll note the protagonist’s Character Arc.

But being an impatient soul, I seldom complete that plotting process. Chapters are not mapped out, nor are the scenes. At this stage if I’ve written an outline it’s soon abandoned. I flex my fingers, connect my head, and start on the tapping.

Ah, bliss. Satisfaction. And away the story runs with the characters doing what characters do.

Found this pic in my archives. Thought bubbles?

After a morning’s writing in like manner, I’m on the comfy sofa, notebook and pen in hand, trying to apply structure to the mess my characters have just made of my previously structured plot. This usually – always? – includes new twists and turns, an adjusted story arc, and maybe even a completely new and previously unimagined ending.

And so it goes.

Dust and Clean Up

Around about halfway through the story I’ll do a bit of a dust and clean up. As far as Seed Fall is concerned, so far this has been decapitalising words that should have been lowercase and feeding in some foreshadowing.

First Draft 2nd Half

By now I know where my story is going and how it’s going to get there. The ending might still be fuzzy and if anyone asks me about the theme I doubt I can answer. So far, on this story, I have a single word: Responsibility.

Found this in the archives and thought it looked kinda spacey

As I get to know the characters the dialogue might/will change, reflecting this. Character arcs can change, too. In fact, the completed First Draft might not resemble the story that floated around in my head at the start and kept me awake nights wanting to be written. That’s why on completion of the first draft there follows many revisions.

First Draft Seed Fall New Weekly Posting

All of which might go some way to easing your reading of the story which, as of next week, I shall be posting weekly.

 

Posted in On Writing | Tagged | 6 Comments