What Pegman Saw – After Eden

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. Using the location provided, you must write a piece of flash fiction of no more than 150 words. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code. This week’s prompt is Hadera, Israel.

After Eden

Hannah smiled.

“I love the flowers here.”

Aaron smiled back.

“The Stream Park is a beautiful place – but not as beautiful as you are.”

Hannah’s smile faded.

“We need to talk seriously. My mother asked me straight out today if I was meeting you.”

“What did you say?”

“I said ‘Yes’, of course! I’m not a liar.” She clutched her handbag in her lap. “The thing is there’s something I must tell you. About myself. And I’m afraid I may lose you.”

“I shall never leave you!”

“Aaron.” Hannah swallowed hard. “Do you believe what they teach us in synagogue?”

“Of course. I mean there are bits I take with a pinch of salt…”

Hannah spoke across him. “You see, I don’t, Aaron. So I can never be a proper mother to the children of someone who believes.”

The couple stared at each other, a world of loss in their eyes.

Friday Fictioneers – Fourth Wall

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT © DALE ROGERSON

Fourth Wall

Heavy, gilded mouldings around the proscenium made the stage look like a mirror, thought June, applauding at the end of ‘Cosi fan Tutti’. She looked for Oliver, her boyfriend. There he was! June smiled, then frowned. Why was he holding hands with his stage partner, Margery?

The curtain rang down and the houselights brightened. June waited. Her heart sank when Oliver arrived with Margery and the other two principals.

“That was wonderful, darling. I loved it!”

She leaned forward to kiss, but he gently resisted.

Taking out a diamond ring, he said, “I love you, June. Will you marry me?”

Inlinkz – click here and join the fun!

Friday Fictioneers – Well Done

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT © DAWN MILLER

Well Done

The farmer’s son drove the tractor, and the blades of the plough turned the clods like a sexton’s shovel. The empty grain silo coursed with rain.

Winter came, harsh and unyielding. The farmer’s son stayed home, just the whisky bottle for company. Icicles like swords hung from the silo.

Milder weather came. The farmer’s son rose, sighed, and sowed the summer wheat. Day by day the land greened under the gentle sun.

Then the harvest.

The farmer’s son confronted the silo. With an effort of will, he filled it with grain.

“Well done, son,” said the memory of his father.

Inlinkz – click here and join the fun!

Review – Magic Seeds by V S Naipaul

Review – Magic Seeds by V S Naipaul

I feel very tentative about reviewing this novel by V S Naipaul – he is, after all, a Nobel laureate, and I have no qualifications other than a love of the world of ideas and the writing of several novels that nobody wishes to publish.
The trouble is, I don’t like the book. I finished reading it, but the further through it I read, the more I was having to grit my teeth.
There are several reasons why.

First and foremost, this is a nihilistic book. It decries human aspiration and emphasises its futility. Only one character achieves his life’s goal, and that goal could be said to be bizarre: the character is an Afro-Caribbean man whose ambition is to have a perfectly white grand-daughter that he can acknowledge publicly. And he is a minor character.

The second reason I dislike the book is that it has a lack of credible emotions. The most glaring examples occur when the protagonist, Willie, is a member of a Maoist cadre in India. On one occasion he is present when his colleague blows out the brains of a man believed to have been an informant. Does Willie feel doubt? Guilt? Fear? Satisfaction? The author doesn’t tell us, doesn’t even hint. On the second occasion, he shoots dead a villager for no reason other than to terrorise the remaining villagers. Once again there is no emotion. Later on in the text, being an accessory to the first death fetches Willie a 10 year prison sentence. Does he think about the person who was killed? Not at all.
I can understand the emotionless killings in the nihilist context of the book. They could be said to be a metaphor for the lack of any value to a human life. One can imagine a psychopath being unemotional about the killings. The trouble is that later on in the novel Naipaul describes sexual relationships between men and women. In these, too, there is a lack of emotion – indeed, the only real emotion described is embarrassment.

The third thing I really dislike about the novel is the politics described towards the end. The poor are described in terms that are disparaging; they are viewed through the lens of far-right politics. This upsets me – but it’s also a flaw in the novel because it’s not true. Not merely is it not true, it neglects the genuine social progress that has been made during the period in which the novel is set – progress that in many cases arises from those who live in social housing who are so denigrated by the novel.

In the world that I see around me, people love, people hate, people feel. Love, especially family love, can work miracles. I don’t find any of that in this book.

The writing is bloody brilliant, of course…

What Pegman Saw – Peak Performance

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code. This week’s location is Vanuatu.

Peak Performance

I woke up grumpy.

I tried not to show it, but as we finished breakfast Sarah said, “You’re bored, Michael, and it’s only the third morning of our holiday. You promised me a fortnight without moaning.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry.” Truth was, I’m not very keen on scuba diving – I mean when you’ve seen one coral reef, you’ve seen ‘em all.

Sarah laid one hand on mine.

“Why don’t you go climb Mount Tabwemasana?”

I gaped. How did she know the name of the highest peak on Vanuatu?

“Sure?”

“Sure. Go and enjoy yourself, and I’ll see you in a week.”

Enjoy myself?

I travelled by boat (I’m a poor sailor) and an old 4×4 with solid wooden seats. The vegetation cut back by the guides left a thousand scratches on my arms and legs. I had a dose of the trots.

We made the peak!

Yeah, I enjoyed myself.

Friday Fictioneers – Breaking Up

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

I’m afraid I’ve cheated this week, writing three separate stories for the prompt. I’ve put them together because they’re on a single theme, and form a sequence. So that’s how I’ve cheated – I’ve written a 300 word story in disguise! I hope you’ll all forgive me!

 

Breaking up, breaking down

Robert looks cold and aloof.

“I just prefer her,” he says, quietly. “It’s nothing you’ve done. Can we stay friends?”

I clamp my jaw, shake my head.

“Better a clean break,” I manage.

I shudder uncontrollably as I walk to the station to catch the train home. It’s full. I huddle in my seat and weep, heedless of stares.

What more could I have done to keep him?

My phone chimes. A text message. I can’t read it for tears.

As the train pulls into Manchester my crying stops, and I feel the ice crackling and crystallising around my heart.

Breaking up, breaking out

Robert looks cold and aloof.

“I just prefer her,” he says, quietly. “It’s nothing you’ve done. Can we stay friends?”

I look at him and remember what he’s said in the past.

‘I find commitment difficult.’

‘It was a fling – it didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t like you seeing other men.’

‘I don’t like you dressing like that – it makes you look like a tart.’

“Friends? Forget it!” I say, and stalk out.

Outdoors, the wind is icy, but my overcoat keeps me warm. I feel energised. Let Robert play his mind games; I shan’t be joining in!

Breaking up, breaking through

Robert looks cold and aloof.

“I just prefer her,” he says, quietly. “It’s nothing you’ve done. Can we stay friends?”

Prefer her! When’s he had a chance to find out? What a rat! I punch him, hard, on the jaw, then gasp. ‘What have I done?’ I think, horrified.

We look at each other.

Suddenly, he grins, then laughs, a great belly laugh.

“Your face!” he hoots.

“I’m really sorry,” I stammer.

“It’s my fault. I was being outrageous. I’m sorry.”

We sit down, side by side, and talk. The ice between us melts as we understand each other better.

Inlinkz – click here to join in!

What Pegman Saw – A Wish Granted

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code. This week’s location is Menorca, Spain

Image by Matt Gribbon from Pixabay

A wish granted

The black horse struts downhill, groomed sleek and with scarlet ribbons plaited through his mane and tail for the festival. Marc, one of the caixers, rides him like a king, tall and stern-faced. His black hair is trimmed short like a warrior, and his eyes are dark and commanding. Every few metres he makes the horse rear and people scurry beneath to touch its heart for good luck.

I watch how Marc controls the horse, and my heart yearns for him.

The horse rises, and I step forward, reaching for the beast’s heart. I touch it! Perhaps my dream will come true!

I sprint down the street to the town square, and greet Marc when he arrives.

“Alejandro!” he says.

“May I squire for you in the jousting tomorrow?”

He frowns.

“I have my brother…” he says, and then smiles. “I’m sure we can find something for you to do!”

 

Friday Fictioneers – Who’s unclean?

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT © TED STRUTZ

Who’s unclean?

“You shouldn’t be here! You gave birth four weeks ago and you haven’t been churched yet. Singing carols in the airport is an act of worship!”

Cathryn glared at Pastor Lucas.

“What nonsense! A woman isn’t unclean after giving birth!”

“Go home, Cathryn.” Pastor Lucas turned away and followed the choir.

He watched them in their white robes rising serenely up the escalator like angels, and his eyes lingered on young Beth, golden-haired, blue-eyed, the most angelic of all.

The singing was heavenly – but Cathryn was waiting by the exit.

“You do realise that the child is yours?” she snarled.

Inlinkz – click here to join in!

What Pegman Saw – Integrity

 “What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code. This week’s location is Xinhua, China

Note

On June 4^th 1989 the Chinese Army stormed the pro-democracy protests in Tiananmen Square and its environs. Official figures say hundreds were killed. Unofficial figures say thousands. The casualties were not all among protestors and bystanders; the army lost at least a dozen, dragged from their vehicles and beaten to death. Scores of military vehicles were destroyed.

Integrity

My editor at Xinhua News was sleek and plump, his office newly-painted.

“Feng, what is the directive for coverage of the riots in Tiananmen Square?” he demanded.

“They are a false ideology intended to undermine the stability of our great nation.”

He waved a piece of paper in front of me.

“Then why this?”

“Sir, I’m a journalist. I try to be truthful. Dozens of protestors have told me that this is a non-violent action. They’re looking for reform, not revolution.”

“Take it away, and write something suitable.” He rammed it into my hand. I bowed. He was a greedy political appointee, but he was my boss.

That evening I was seized by police. After weeks of interrogation I was released when I agreed to be re-educated by working on a farm for five years.

It could have been worse. I might have been in the Square on June 4^th.