Mole and bullfrog

The mole came out of his hole and looked around. He spied a big fat bullfrog looking straight at him.
'Reeeebit' croaked the bullfrog in acknowledgement.
I said the mole 'spied', the mole had very bad eye sight so the bullfrog looked more like a huge blancmange shape looming in front of him. The mole sniffed the air...it certainly didn't smell like a nice blancmange... and blancmanges don't normally speak... The mole squinted further still but eventually, failing to make out what was in front of him, he shrugged his shoulders and disappeared back down his hole...

The bullfrog was of the chilled variety. He shrugged his shoulders too. Then spying a fly nearby he gave a quick flick of his tongue and swallowed the nice little hairy snack.

The hand

Out of the dark hollow of the old oak tree came a withered grey hand with long yellow fingernails - jagged and ripped and filled with black soil. The long index finger unfurled and then curled, unfurled and then curled. It beckoned to Amy slowly. It beckoned and called for her to crawl into the hollow beside it but Amy was scared and did not want to go.

Night things

It had long gone midnight and the only light that now lit the streets were the orange glowing street laps, dully ebbing and softly buzzing. The world was quiet, sleeping...or so it seemed. Busy people never see the smaller details. They rush about and forget about the night things. But there is a whole other world out there in the dark and they watch you when you walk, late at night, towards your home, all alone.

Evelyn's not happy

It was pouring down with rain and late in the evening. Evelyn had the heaters turned up and was squinting to see through the misty car screen window as she drove home from the office. She wasn't feeling very happy. In fact she was very close to breaking down. She was tired and feeling downright miserable. Seeing a nearby lay-by suddenly, she swerved into it, turned off the car engine and sat with her head in her arms resting against the steering wheel. The rain continued to pitter-patter on the roof but otherwise all she could hear was her rapid breathing which was quickly turning into wretched quivering sobs. Each breath she drew in, the more desperate her cries became until she was wailing at the top of her lungs.

Eventually this subsided a bit and she sat there quietly, her wet cheek pressed into the top of her hand. It was all such a mess. Such a mess. She remembered back to the days when she was a child then in that moment, and, in particular, she remembered going to her cousins' house to visit Amy and Lizzie. It was funny, the memories were vague and foggy but one thing was always clear when she looked back: those were some of the happiest times of her life.

Nowadays, nothing felt right anymore. She felt like Dorothy without her ruby slippers. Somewhere along the way she had woken up in a strange land where everyone and everything was all very well but...all she wanted to do was go home. Home...

But where was that? What was that? She couldn't tell. She didn't know but every day the longing grew deeper within her. It pulled at her insides and tore at her heart...

Another one liner

I want to develop the Lizzie Sleeping entry a lot more as I have bigger ideas for that and characters...but for now just a sentence or two - trying to keep the discipline going...

Bobbie Bird sat on his front the doorstep, head in his hands and gazed through his splayed fingers at the huge rip in down the front of his new blue jeans. His knew his dad would go spare... and the last thing Birdy wanted was to upset his father...

Lizzie sleeping

Twelve year old Lizzie Mayhew lay sleeping in the hospital. She'd been sleeping for a long time. Everyone was worried. The doctor's said the prognosis was not good. Nana May sat by Lizzie's bed and held her hand. It felt cold and damp so Nana May rubbed it gently between her own weathered palm.
'Lizzie?' she whispered, leaning in. 'Lizzie my love?'
Lizzie kept sleeping.
'Listen Lizzie, I know you can hear me, everyone else is thinking the worst but I know you're coming back. We just need more time. I need to find a way to stall them. Lizzie, I don't want to alarm you but they're thinking of pulling the plug...'
She took a deep breath and carried on fiercely, determined.
'But I won't let them do that. I won't let it come to that. Trust me. Just please Lizzie, hurry up in there okay? Hurry up and come back. Don't pretend any of it is real. It's not. It may seem so but it is not where you belong. Here is where you belong. With us. Here, in 1979.'

Mrs Mayhew silently watched Nana May from the entrance of the hospital bedroom. Her hand holding the frame and her small oval face peering round, framed with wispy bits of white blonde hair.
Poor dear... she thought and she felt her eyes begin to glisten. She's losing it too. We're all losing it... She stepped forward and into Nana May's view. Nana May looked up. She smiled sympathetically.
'Don't worry Anna, Lizzie is coming back.'
Mrs Mayhew pressed her lips together and forced a smile back. She nodded quietly and moved towards her mother-in-law and rested her arm on her shoulder. She looked down at Lizzie sleeping.
'You hear that Lizzie?' her voice broke ever so slightly. 'Nana May says you're coming back to us. Is that so?' She stroked her daughters hair and then wiped away at the edges of her partly opened mouth with her thumb.
'How's Henry? Amy?' asked Nana.
'He's gone back to work. He didn't really want to but we were driving each other insane with him being in the house all day. Amy's at school.' Anna's eyes never left her daughter's face, as if staring at her for long enough might break this awful spell. Nana watched her.
'Such a sleeping beauty...' she muttered. 'What we need here is a prince...'
Mrs Mayhew sighed. Silly woman, she thought. Always away with the fairies.
'No, Nana,' she corrected 'What we need now is a miracle.'

***************************************************************
Amy Mayhew sat by a tree near the school fence in her lunch break cautiously eyeing up her sandwich with a frown on her face. She peeled back the brown bread to reveal an unappetising sight. She hated cheese and tomato sandwiches. The tomato made the bread pink and soggy. Obviously with every thing going on, her mother had momentarily forgotten that. Sighing she wrapped them back up and walked towards the nearby bin. So much for lunch. She sat back down despondently and picked at the buckle on her shoe.

A ball flew overhead and past the metal bars and footsteps thundered over towards her. A small dirt cloud blew in her face as their owner skidded to a halt.
'Awww, man!' came a whiny, exasperated voice. Amy looked up. There stood Robert Bird from class 5G. Or Birdy as he was often called by his peers. Noticing her, Birdy quickly blushed and looked down at his feet awkwardly.
'Oh...H-hi A-amy,' he stammered, 'How's your sister?'
'Still sleeping,' came Amy's quiet reply.
'Do you think she'll wake up soon?' Birdy asked tentatively, looking up with difficulty, his head to one side, squinting like he was staring at the sun.
'Dunno,' Amy breathed 'Nana says so but no one else seems very positive.'
'Oh....'
Amy looked at him and then behind her.
'Need help fetching your ball back?' she asked
'Nah it's okay.'
'You sure? The fence is pretty high.'
'I can climb it,' he puffed
'Not saying you can't...'

'Right then.' and he made for the fence. Though struggle as he might he failed to hoist himself up and over it. Impatient calls quickly followed him from across the field.
'Come on Birdy! What's takin' ya so long?'
Amy looked at him expectantly. She raised her eyebrows.
'Pity yer can't fly Bobby Bird!' came another shout followed by distinguishable laughter.
'Do you need a lift up?' said Amy, willing to compromise. Birdy smiled embarrassed. 'Yeah, that'd be good thanks.'
With some effort Amy helped assist Birdy over the fence and he raced off in the direction of the ball. He soon came back with it.
'Throw it over!' said Amy. The ball landed in the dirt beside her and she kicked it with some force back towards the boys who, forgetting Birdy, quickly began to reimmerse themselves in the game.
'Could've said thanks,' grumbled Birdy, watching them through the bars.
'How are we going to get you back over again?' asked Amy

Little time today so just a quick one...

He brought the blade down clumsily missing the onion and slicing into the side of his finger. The white chopping board rapidly changed colour as the blood spread over the surface...