*
…One of the things they taught me at High Furrow was that love has gone out of fashion.
‘Love, is passé,’ they said.
In fact, so outmoded a concept was love that the people there could not even bring themselves to say the word.
In order to put love in its place they changed its spelling and pronunciation.
They called it ‘lurve’.
Now this is a terrible thing.
The day love dies is the day the world ends.
*
Continue reading at France & Vincent
There were hollows underneath the old ruins. They could be reached through the small shadowy glen that indented the hill where the remains of the stone structure stood.
Da had said that the underground spaces had likely been storerooms, but in Konnor’s mind they could just as easily have been dungeons. People had such things in castles and forts and towers. In old times.
Or perhaps still did. You never knew what could be lurking underneath someone’s residence.
Continue reading at Na’ama Yehuda
We were out before daylight again, the dog and I. In spite f the storms, wind and rain, there are daffodils in flower and everywhere there are signs of spring. While the human half of this pre-dawn duo cowered gratefully in an overlarge coat, the smaller, but more energetic half bounded along joyfully, breathing steam like a miniature dragon. A resilient creature, impervious to the rain in, I realised, a resilient landscape.
Instead of our usual walk through the fields, and because I needed to call at the village shop, we returned to old haunts and walked down the lane towards the hamlet of Wormstone, so tiny it gets a mere one-liner in Wikipedia. Parish records indicate the name is derived from the Old English for Wærmund’s farm, but I have always preferred to wonder if there was an older, more interesting story of dragons and sacred stones behind the name. And why not? Man has always dreamed and wondered.
Still, even the name Wærmund takes the history back well over a thousand years, and I crossed the path of the old Roman road as I walked, taking history back even further, catching a brief glimpse of the site of the Iron Age remains in the fields beyond. Prehistoric flint tools have been found here, and human occupation seems to have been a constant in the area. There is even archaeological evidence of a vineyard under the site of the school, which, on this cold and wintry morning, seems rather bizarre, though gardeners still tended their allotments alongside the site until work began on the new houses that are being constructed.
Continue reading at The Silent Eye
death ruins those who
waste away in the confines
of locked darkened hearts
perhaps in light of day, hope
can penetrate the bleak gloom
Continue reading at Jules Pens Some Gems
Winter’s portrait glows
Beneath a varnish of rain
Celebrating dawn
*
When I lived in Paris, hanging out with the artists in Montmartre, a ‘vernissage’ was always an excuse to party. Originally, the name applied to the days preceding an exhibition, when artists would hang and then varnish their work as a finishing touch… and this was often a time when patrons were invited to a private viewing.
In the Montmartre that I knew, a ‘vernissage’ was technically the same thing… but referred equally to the party that was held by and with the other artists to celebrate a stroke of good fortune for one of their number.
Watching the sun rise on this rainy, winter morning reminded me of those days of light, colour and laughter… and the smell of wet oils glistening on the easel.
Reblogged from San Giacomo’s Corner:
Check all your previous Sherlock Holmes assumptions at the door – or book cover, in this case. The story within these pages does not simply consist of “fanfic” new cases added to the canon of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Rather, Indie Author Colin Garrow has re-invented the characters and taken them in a new direction. Imagine if you will, Sherlock and Dr. Watson solving cases in an alternate steampunk universe.
“Something Wicker This Way Comes” is the first in a series dubbed “The Watson Letters,” since it is written as a bulk of correspondence between Watson and Holmes. In it we find Dr. Watson as the intrepid gumshoe and Sherlock adding in his bit with rare appearances, and sometimes creating havoc by picking fights over minutiae. I cannot discuss the specific subjects of the letters without dropping spoilers, but I will mention what I can.
Continue reading at San Giacomo’s Corner
It comes again.
This is not the first time I have been overshadowed, neither will it be the last.
For centuries I have stood sentinel, seen the comings and goings of tribes and monarchy, watched the land raped by greed and ignorance.
Continue reading at pensitivity101
Background
The Dohány Street Synagogue also known as the Great Synagogue, is found in in Erzsébetváros, the 7th district of Budapest, Hungary.
An incredibly beautiful building, it was built between 1854 and 1859 in the Moorish Revival style with onion shaped gilded domes. The whole building is decorated with eight-pointed stars as can be seen in the picture below.
Above the main entrance gate of the Dohany synagogue the inscription in Hebrew: “And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.”
The Dohány Street Synagogue complex consists of the Great Synagogue, the Heroes’ Temple, the graveyard, the Memorial and the Jewish Museum and constituted the border of the Budapest Ghetto.
Behind the Great Synagogue is the Holocaust Memorial Park which includes the Tree of life memorial which commemorates the lives of the 5 000 Holocaust victims who are buried in the vicinity of the park. It takes the form of a metal willow tree which is the symbol of mourning for Hungarian Jews. The names of victims are inscribed on its leaves.
Do you notice anything else about this memorial? Tell me in the comments.
A paranormal anthology with nine stories from six authors, including the winning story in the 2019 WordCrafter Paranormal Short Fiction Contest, A Peaceful Life I’ve Never Known, by Jeff Bowles.
Kaye Lynne Booth, Roberta Eaton Cheadle – 2 stories,
Julie Goodwen, Laurel McHargue – 2 stories,
Stevie Turner, Jeff Bowles.
About the author
Robbie, short for Roberta, is an author with five published children’s picture books in the Sir Chocolate books series for children aged 2 to 9 years old (co-authored with her son, Michael Cheadle), one published middle grade book in the Silly Willy series and one published preteen/young adult fictionalised biography about her mother’s life as a young girl growing up in an English town in Suffolk during World War II called While the Bombs Fell (co-authored with her mother, Elsie Hancy Eaton).
All of Robbie’s children’s book are written under Robbie Cheadle and are published by TSL Publications. Robbie has recently branched into adult horror and supernatural writing and, in order to clearly differentiate her children’s books from her adult writing, these will be published under Roberta Eaton Cheadle. Robbie has two short stories in the horror/supernatural genre included in Dark Visions, a collection of 34 short stories by 27 different authors and edited by award winning author, Dan Alatorre. These short stories are published under Robbie Cheadle.
Find and follow Roberta Eaton Cheadle
Roberta Writes Blog Amazon Author Page Twitter Facebook
Books by Roberta Eaton Cheadle
Through the Nethergate
Roberta Eaton Cheadle
Margaret, a girl born with second sight, has the unique ability to bring ghosts trapped between Heaven and Hell back to life. When her parents die suddenly, she goes to live with her beloved grandfather, but the cellar of her grandfather’s ancient inn is haunted by an evil spirit of its own. In the town of Bungay, a black dog wanders the streets, enslaving the ghosts of those who have died unnatural deaths. When Margaret arrives, these phantoms congregate at the inn, hoping she can free them from the clutches of Hugh Bigod, the 12th century ghost who has drawn them away from Heaven’s White Light in his canine guise. With the help of her grandfather and the spirits she has befriended, Margaret sets out to defeat Hugh Bigod, only to discover he wants to use her for his own ends – to take over Hell itself.
While the Bombs Fell
What was it like for children growing up in rural Suffolk during World War 2?
Elsie and her family live in a small double-storey cottage in Bungay, Suffolk. Every night she lies awake listening anxiously for the sound of the German bomber planes. Often they come and the air raid siren sounds signalling that the family must leave their beds and venture out to the air raid shelter in the garden.
Despite the war raging across the English channel, daily life continues with its highlights, such as Christmas and the traditional Boxing Day fox hunt, and its wary moments when Elsie learns the stories of Jack Frost and the ghostly and terrifying Black Shuck that haunts the coastline and countryside of East Anglia.
Includes some authentic World War 2 recipes.
Robbie also writes as Robbie Cheadle
Robbie’s Inspiration Blog Goodreads Facebook YouTube
Amazon author page Twitter: @bakeandwrite
Books by Robbie and Michael Cheadle
The Sir Chocolate books are a delightful marriage of story, verse and cookery
… a perfect recipe for sharing with children. Silly Willy goes to Cape Town tells the adventures of two very different brothers…and includes five party cake ideas.
You can purchase the Sir Chocolate books from:
or you can buy them in South Africa directly from the authors by emailing Robbie Cheadle at sirchoc@outlook.com.
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Something told you it wasn’t going to be a
Terrific idea to venture onto the hills today, but
Of course you were out voted –
Continue reading at The Inkwell
*
After holidaying three years running at White-Lake, Mother decided it offered more congenial surroundings than sooty Colton in which to bring up a family so she put it to Father that we really ought to move there for good.
We took the place of one of the street’s oldest residents who had just died.
When I first entered Number Eight Tees-Grove Road the house smelled of must, felt grubby and was still full of death.
“We’re all going to die,” I announced, “we’re moving into a house of death.”
Continue reading at France & Vincent
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 