Friday afternoon’s the dead zone they warned in solemn tones.
Said I, Couldn’t care less, loathe to confess I did. Experimentally
one Friday I gingerly hit PUBLISH on WordPress — The silence? Momentous.
I wonder, has anyone noticed these “dead zones” or is it just me? When is your most popular time when you get the most traffic?WordPress tells me it’s Thursday morning.
Sammi's WWP #236: This weekend your challenge is to write a poem or a piece of prose in exactly 38 words using the word “Blue”.Punam's Ragtag Daily Prompt: "Clutter"Eugi's Weekly Prompt: "Shadows"Fandango's FOWC: "Life"
Photo for Cee's FOTD challenge, November 21, 2021:
Flower of the Day Challenge (FOTD): "Please feel free to post
every day or when you you feel like it.
Don’t forget that my FOTD challenge accepts
gardens, leaves and berries as well as flowers."
A penny shiny from the gutter she stoops to pick places auspice in her pocket passing people on the pavement like a ghostly apparition passing through an open door escapes into the vellichor* of shadowed selves in memory’s mist who greet her on Halloween at Harry’s Magic bookshop.
*vellichor: The wistfulness of a second-hand bookshop.
Eugi's Weekly Prompt - "Halloween"
Punam's RDP Saturday - "Apparition"
Sammi's WWP #233 - 48 words exactly, ""Vellichor"
Top Image credit: sergio omassi from Pexels
Bottom Image Credit: RDP Saturday
His sing-song question fell on no ears but hers, deaf all others to its celebratory tones the night of All Hallow’s Eve.
Tenor voice attuned to hearth, lights in hands they enter to find soul cakes laid on barrels, beer and apples.
None heard him but her, would never leave her till her heart stopped, like his: a toast before departing, as midnight strikes.
“I will come and sing no more ’til this time next year.”
Soul cakes? A-souling? Unfamiliar with these terms are you, like I was? According to wikipedia, soul cakesare spicy shortbread-like biscuits given out to “soulers” who come round during the days of Allhallowtide singing and saying prayers, a’souling, in fact.
One traditional song, “A-Souling,” was made familiar to us by Peter, Paul, and Mary who sung it as a Christmas song, which for most parts of England it has become. The group Lothlorien sings it in the traditional mood of Allhallowtide.
For lyrics and translation to the song, click here.
Strange the tale of an elven king’s son Who lured a maid into the land of the young. There she took tea, fated never to return To the land of the living where hopes reigned.
Once she escaped her besom buddies of elven-land But euphoria died when her long black locks turned white As haunting memories of the land of the young Made her yearn for the revelry of elven friends.
On the steps of a cathedral she stood skyward gazing Behind her from the woods the elven king’s son stood imploring But she had found a love beside which earthly magic paled A love eternal from her Maker that over all prevailed.
“I cannot go with you, sweet heir of elven halls Though surely will I miss you and all your kith and kin. I have chosen wisely with wisdom from above To live and die a daughter of the God who does me love.”
The elven lords and ladies left behind remained wondering Their days of wine, their nights of dance, youth forever blooming Thrown aside by a poor maid as if they all were nothing Impressed them not, sincere or not, and soon she was forgotten.
Crimson's Creative Challenge #154 prompt: Image credit Crispina Kemp
RagTag Daily Prompt Thursday: "Euphoria"
Sammi's 13 Days of Samhain vol ii: Day 2 – "Besom Buddies"
Eugi's Weekly Prompt: "Haunting"