Every Picture Tells a Story – As the Golden Sun Sinks Slowly in the West

Every picture tells a story couple on beach

There was a knock at the door, albeit an expected caller.

“You are on time. I hope you have kept your part of the bargain.”


“Or nothing, have you got the money?”

“Of course I have, a bargain is a bargain. Now that’s a nice photo, where did you get that. It could almost be us after the happy day when we made our vows to stay together for better or worse.”

“I like to dream sometimes and so I took it from Internet. There are tons of photos of happy couples watching the golden sun sink slowly in the West.”

“But it isn’t us is it?”

“In my dreams, but I prefer the money. It was part of the deal. I am the answer to all your dreams and the solution to all your problems you told me when you made the proposal.”

“You got half when we made the arrangement.”

“Yes, and you said I get the rest after we tie the band for life. We tied it for life, but as soon as I get the other half you can disappear from my life.”

“Ok, calm down. I am here aren’t I, ready to pay. It’s a lot of money in cash, but that’s how we wanted it, no traces, no clues, just a clean arrangement.”

Al Montana put his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket and Mavis Montana was glad. At last she would have enough money to pay her debts to the dealer who sold her the drug supplies. She reflected on the day she met Al in the backroom of a bar where she was snorting a row of cocaine, but had no money to pay and Al made the proposition and paid for the cocaine into the bargain. Being an unwanted immigrant, he decided life would be easier if he had the right passport. Mavis did not mind. She wanted no faithful husband with kids and everything, she just needed the money and Al was ready to pay for a marriage certificate and all the trimmings. He wanted to stay in this tax paradise and being a citizen would be so easy.

Mavis greedy eyes saw the bundle he took from his pocket, wrapped in a cloth.

“You didn’t have to wrap it so nicely, money is money whether in a parcel or not.”

Al unwrapped his parcel, produced a vest pocket colt and pumped a bullet into Mavis. She fell, but still breathing. Afterwards he searched her apartment for the downpayment, which he found. The framed photo of the loving couple on the beach fell to the ground and the glass broke, almost an omen, Al thought.

“Yes it would have been nice, but Al does no do nice, he does business and this was a good business” he thought as he put the gun into Mavis hand and shot another bullet in her head with her hand just to finish the job as she was still breathing. Just another case of a drug addict suicide that didn’t work with the first bullet.

Daily repeat Prompt: Blog it again Angloswiss

Write a post about anything you’d like — in the style of your favorite blogger. (Be sure to link to them!)

Link to what? In the good old days, about 2 years ago, when this was a place to look forward to, enjoy, inspire your writing abilities I answered this prompt in memory of Mr. Mad and I still honour his efforts in the blogging world. He took small steps, but his memory was a big step in my blogging world. And now:


I really wanted to get inspiration from the grid. I know many bloggers here that write good blogs and so I decided to search. Unfortunately most of the had gone or for some reason their sites were abandoned. On the other hand I do not pick one blogger above the others. We all have our battles to fight and most of us eventually give up when confronted with such a lazy couldn’t care less motivation that we get from WordPress, so why should I bother?

I ask myself the question daily. I was waking from my golden oldie sleep and felt a nudge in my brain.

“Arise and write the daily prompt.”

“Huh? What daily prompt?”

“The one that arrives punctually daily to tickle your inspiration and lead you to form untold conquests.”

It says:

“Sometimes, you sit down to blog but your words and photos get stuck — prompts give them a push. We publish a new one every morning.”

What new daily prompt every morning? Ok, in my time level it is afternoon, but that is a detail. The problem is I no longer get new ones, but they are already approaching their second birthday. I was going to suggest ….. but he is no longer here, a victim of the dreaded 404 error. I combed through the grid and found many have disappeared, gone to the happy blogging hunting grounds never to reappear, so why do I bother?

I live in hope that one day the sun will arise on a re-invigorated land of new prompts, ready to be absorbed and to tell everyone all about it. Instead I am contracting a bipolar disorder when someone mentions the word “daily prompt”. My mood roams from happy go lucky to somber funeral tones. I have been abandoned to a world somewhere in between blog and no blog. My inspiration has gone, Even my computer keys are blocked with saltwater from the tears I shed in frustration. Where is this leading?

Daily prompt bloggers everywhere, unite and fight against this evil influence that is destroying our flow of inspirational blogs. Blogni, bloggdi, bloci as our Roman blogging forefathers wrote when engraving their stones, or employing papyrus stalks, dipping them in the ink of past civilisations. We are here to blog, not to pull out old dying prompts from the mire of forgetfulness.

How many of our blogging brethren still exist, are still breathing the proud air of writing something completely different, a new blog, one to take over the world? Is it surprising when only 50 shades make an impression on the blogging world, when we are not encouraged to produce something new and revolutionary to leave a mark on the realms of blog.

Don’t cry for me bloggers, I am one of you, born into this mire of repetition. There was a time when I would have felt honoured to become blogger of the year, win a Pulitzer prize (or a Nobel would do). Today this triumph is no longer something to be remembered by, but an insult on your blogging intelligence.

“What? She got a Pulitzer! For a blog, but not one of those repeat blogs with the frim fram sauce and the chafafa on the side.”

Unfortunately that is all that is left to nurture our blogging spirit.

I rest my case, but will be back with fire in my spirit and will take my revenge.

I just noticed according to my computer this blog has 666 words, is this an omen?

Daily Repeat Prompt: Blog it again Angloswiss

The Cat Sat on the Mat

I was in the basement of the local supermarket with Mr. Swiss. We were looking at some new cushions for our outside furniture as the others had suffered due to the outside weather conditions. We always buy new ones every year. Unfortunately due to a misunderstanding and golden oldie forgetfulness we forgot to measure at home before choosing new ones. I remained in the basement at Mr. Swiss transferred to upstairs where they were settling the exact chairs we had. He sent a distraught assistant to the basement to fetch a measure so that she could measure the chairs they had to ensure we bought the right size and I was left to my own distractions. And then I saw the cat, so I removed my camera from my bag and began to shoot whilst waiting, this was a must.

The cat sat on the mat was the first sentence I learned in my first reading book at school. Just a stupid start to a life of reading. However, this cat decided to take it literally.

The cat sat on the mat in the supermarket

Can you see the cat amidst the surroundings of the advertised bathroom equipment. Cats are not stupid, if they are tired they sleep and do not wait until they go home. There are so many opportunities for a place to circle into a land of dreams and what could be better that a comfortable bathroom mat with its soft poster in a supermarket. To explain, this ginger example of the feline race lives somewhere near the supermarket, there are actually two and if you are lucky you find them both. You never actually know which feline you are photographing as they are lookalikes, but I suspect that while this one was sleeping in the bathroom the other was probably making himself comfortable on a chair in the restaurant.

So let’s have a closer look.

The cat sat on the mat in the supermarket

I was wondering if the price of 19.90 swiss francs was for the feline or the mat. In the meanwhile three other shoppers took photos with their smart phones as they were walking past, another gave him a tickle between the ears which the feline did not actually enjoy. This cat wanted to sleep and not be a victim of human endearments.

Mr. Swiss eventually arrived and could not find me as I had met a lady I knew and was carried away in my conversation about the cat and other female things. He called me on his iPhone and I answered and what a surprise, he was only around the corner looking at the cushions for the garden seats. Unfortunately we had a little misunderstanding about the exact size, so as the problem was not so urgent, we decided to measure the ones we already had and wait until the next shopping safari on Friday. We need five cushions and there only had three in the supermarket, so what’s the rush. We then departed and the cat slept on as if nothing had happened. The feline now had an audience of at least five shoppers.

Daily Prompt: Just a Dream – if you don’t know what to write, then have a dream

You’re having a nightmare, and have to choose between three doors. Pick one, and tell us about what you find on the other side.

Room view

There are doors and doors. Some doors are square, some rectangular and some open into a dark dismal path of no return. You can dream of these doors, knowing that when you open one there might be a monster behind it. There was a dream once with a tangly wiggly frumerous dankly of cubletigated frigerous chumbles. Yes, behind the door a Jabberwock was lurking, spoiling the drudgerous thoughts of an innocent sleeping victim. I called upon the bandersnatch who killed the jabberwock with one swipe of its fladdly blade. With what? Yes reader and fellow bloggers, there was no vorpal sword to help. The slithy toves were using it to open the next door. And so I progressed to the next door.

The handle was slippery, as if a slimy hand had tried to open the door. I looked and found it was my hand and remembered I should not eat jello before trying to open doors in dreams. It could become very complicated. A hand gave me a damp cloth to wipe off the slime from my hands and the door handle. A hand? I took a closer look as this hand was very cold and sharp. It was a bony hand, with two fingers missing. Where was I, I did not like this dream, but now I could turn the slimy door handle. There was a shriek, a hollow laugh, and something moved across the hairs on my head. I shivered, it was a friendly spider. He was friendly because he moved on and did not stay. There was a distant rumble, a severed head tumbled to the ground on the rails. I found myself in the ghost train of the international union of ghost drivers.

“Hello” said a voice “would you like to go for a ride? I can only sell you a one way ticket, but it is the best way to go, illuminated by the fires of hell and the cauldron of unknown destinations. You will love it.”

“Huh, I am not sure.”

“You are not sure, you have to be sure. It is not everyone that can take this eternal ride. The last human that joined us is still travelling, he loves it, especially the downhill run.”

“It goes down?”

“Yes it goes up and down, we have to keep it interesting otherwise people would not join us. We are only charging two souls today, special price, two for one.”

“Two for one what?”

“Do not ask, the seat is still warm, I just have to clean it first of all. Blood stains are not a good encouragement for our guests.”

“I think I made a mistake. Sorry to bother you, where is the door out?”

“We don’t do doors out usually, but you can try this one” and he pointed to a trapdoor between the rails. “You must be quick, the next train is coming down the track soon.”

I decided to grab the chance when I could and pulled the ring in the door. This was not such a good idea, it was the third door and I felt myself falling into an endless space. This time there was no return, it was the third door, and according to the dreamland special from WordPress it was my last choice. With a squelch I landed on a table. My WordPress t-shirt was ruined, covered in brown stains. At least it was not blood. I took a taste and found it to be chocolate flavoured. I had an omen of something evil, a recurring nightmare that had been following me for some time.

I hear metallic peals of laughter, I saw reflections in the dark. This was the end of a horror trip. Gleaming pairs of artificial eyes were staring, and there was a murmur which was becoming louder. Voices were calling in unison

“We love chocolate cake, we love chocolate cake, we love Angloswiss chocolate cake.”

I realised this door lead to the infinite torture. Someone put the lights on and they stared in my direction: it was the Wordy den, the place that no-one goes in their right mind. I left and returned to the ghost train, but the driver was holding his bony hand out for a soul. In the meanwhile I could not remember where I had put my soul, and so I took shelter in Jabberwocky, but it was brillig and I was pelted with momraths and jujub tree fruit. Then I awoke.

I was back to the present day, still trying to think what I should write for a repeat prompt I once wrote on 20th December 2012 where I was being chased by a slimy fish.

Do you ever have a déjà vue with these prompts?

Prompt: Just a Dream – if you don’t know what to write, then have a dream

The Blacklight Candelabra: Dewey Decimal System

Create three 3-digit numbers using your selections from the first step.
Next, visit this Dewey Decimal System website and find the subjects that match your three digit numbers.

My number is 671 – Metalworking and metal products.

Tool School

The infamous Blacklight Candelabra means it well with me together with the Dewey Decimal System. I choose three random numbers and I arrive in the world of metal. I worked in the world of metal for thirty years as an export clerk. I was not up to my arms in metal shavings as shown in the photo. The photo shows the remains of the metal working process, the metal that was no-longer needed. there was a bar of metal, a rod or a block at the beginning which no-one could use. It had to be shaped and so it was shaped with various end mills.

Ok, you are confused. My employer manufactured the end mills in various shapes and sizes according to the work to be done. Metal is not just metal, it comes in various flavours. The basic flavour would carry rust if got wet, so it was refined with other ingredients. For the sake of simplification we called it HSS meaning high speed steel. In the beginning metal was created, but refined, had additions to make it stronger, perhaps more pliable, to suit the operation the end mill would perform.

And so the end mill was made to shape the metal to form the mould that a company needed. Take a look in the bathroom and what do you see. Perhaps a towel hanger, a tap, even a shower head. These things do not appear with the wave of a magic wand, they are formed from metal and so again to the beginning. The rod or bar or lump is cut, but with what. With a suitable milling tool inserted in a machine, a special machine. The excitement then begins forming the raw form. There is much noise the metal screaming as the mill ploughs through the surface. I am burning cries the metal and so it is simultaneously cooled with a liquid addition. Water, yes, but mixed with oil. I never did find out why, but probably to do with the friction caused on the surface and the oil made it nice and slippery and there was no traffic jam in the machine.

Various end mills are employed according to the shape of what you wanted to make. A metal mould might be created for pouring the liquid metal into it in the shape of your bathroom appliances, or even a kitchen machine. Like a cake, various ingredients must be added to the end mill to achieve the perfect result. You get to the part where we talk about tungsten carbide, or perhaps the cobalt content may be raised from 5% to 10% in the end mill. No this is too technical, I am to explain the world of metal.

Not all mills can be called end, they are the straight rigid ones. The ones with a shank and the fancy bit at the end for milling. Some are round and flat, some are cone shaped, but they all do the work, eaten metal to make a form.

There is also something called a tap and dye not to be omitted in the world of metal. You buy a screw and want it to fit. Have you ever thought how many threads there are to be screwed (in a metallurgical way of course). There are thousands and so the taps and dress are made in thousands of forms. The difference between the two: a tap is long and bores into the metal making an internal thread such as a nut, and the dye carves the thread around the metal forming a screw.

If you fall and break your arm the magical metal titanium will be screwed into the broken bones to keep it together. Oh I remember the wonderful photos of my left arm taken at the hospital showing the interior decorations of 15 screws and a metal plate keeping it all together. This was six years ago and my arm is still in one piece, thanks to titanium.

Of course there are casualties in the metal working business and you can see the remains of the work in the photo. These twiddly shiny decorative metal remains are not buried and put to rest forever, nor do they pollute the surroundings. The are renewed, rehashed, redone and brought to a new life by melting them down and reuse. Do not ask me how, I was only an office worker sending the end mills to other countries where they were applied to make steel forms, bathroom taps. I remember an agricultural organisation in Holland that used the end mills for shaping the hooves of cows.

I took many photos, the men in the department wondering what an office worker was doing hopping around their department in all sorts of positions trying to get the correct setting for her camera. Am I boring you? Probably, but this was my life for many years. I still have memories of the waft of oil and metal in my nose and the scraping noises of metal against metal, or the saw with its rhythmic back and forth sawing the bars and rods to the suitable size. Oh happy days.

Tool School

The Blacklight Candelabra: Dewey Decimal System – Metalworking and Metal products

Daily Prompt

Daily Prompt: In Loving Memory – RIP Daily Prompt

Write your obituary. 

Romford Cemetery

I beg your pardon. First of all WordPress kills the daily prompt with the eternal rehash from two years ago and only keep it fresh for the newbies. The long suffering daily prompters are cast on one side and now I should write my obituary. We all died at the beginning of 2015 when WordPress decided to kill us with boredom and repetitions. If you cannot think of anything new, neither can I. It is not my job. I am the one writing to keep this dying WordPress daily prompt site alive.

As the first sparse crocus appear in my lawn after the Winter snow, so are the prompts. Uninteresting, few and far between, nothing new and actually long dead. I would say if you want to stop these daily prompts, that is OK, then admit it and tell us all about it. If you are too lazy and fed up with the work involved, then just say go away and do not bother. You do not need us and we do not need you. Yes I am angry, fed up and will be glad to move on. The only reason I am still here is because I have made some good friends and do not want to lose the contact.

I am not going to write my obituary, for the plain reasons that I have done it before and I am still alive. Perhaps not in this particular prompt, but in a few others which eternally repeat themselves. Today is a short prompt from me, I have better things to write and do.

In other words, Rest in Peace Daily Prompt, I will return, will tag my contributions with “Daily Prompt” to get them in the grid, but your themes and subjects have long died. May they rest in peace until someone somewhere in the realm of WordPress might decide to involve some thought on those of us that spend time writing and like to have fun and enjoyment. I probably have to wear black now when I am writing to get in the mood.

Daily Prompt: In Loving Memory: RIP Daily Prompt

Daily Prompt: Circle of Five – again?

A writer once said, “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” If this is true, which five people would you like to spend your time with?

The Crow

I have a new friend. His name is crow. Now and again he sits in the garden. I think he is trying to tell me something like “just because I happen to be photo No. 5 in your vast selection, it does not mean that I have to take part in this silly stupid prompt”. I always heard that crows were very intelligent and have a perception that carries into untold realms. Now that was a good sentence, must remember that for my book when I write it.

“Ok crow, you can go now, no I will not write about you, I have to write about the five people I would like to spend my time with.”

I know I did it before in December 2012 and it is astonishing to find that the five living people are still alive and the dead ones are still dead. No-one returned from that place they moved onto and Mr. Swiss and Tabby are still here.

So now we have to find five new people if we are doing this prompt again, which I am. Do not ask me why, I am probably too stupid and dumb to find something else, and on top too lazy. Here we are altogether, I, me and myself, which makes three. Mr. Swiss who is now doing something on his computer – a daily prompt? No, I do not think so. He is mentally preparing himself for an errand. I need tea, two sorts, english breakfast tea and Lady Grey tea and the tin is down to the last three tea bags. He has ridden down his computer, is now putting on his winter jacket, his Andy Capp and will be departing with our faithful car to places only known to him and me: the local co-op supermarket in town and the doctors. Our tablet supplies are also down to a minimum. We both take the same ones for cholesterol control and he will pick up a fresh supply.

So now I, me and myself are alone, he just said “Ciao”, but I still have my Apple Computer as company (No. 5) and that’s that. Now I hear a knock on the door. I really have no room for No. 6, it does not stand in the WordPress about six in the inner circle. Oh, no, not that.

“Hello Mrs. Angloswiss, any chocolate cake.”

“No. Wordy, you are being very cheeky, I am your customer, not your chocolate cake supplier and what are you doing here?”

“Well, it seemed you were having problems with your inner circle, so they sent me to complete the group.”

“Well it just so seems that my circle of five is now complete, so you can go again. No Wordy, I am not giving you a slice of chocolate cake wrapped in aluminium foil to take with you.”

“Well the powers that assembled me thought I could help you out. You have counted yourself as three and you are only one. Mr. Swiss is OK, you can keep him, but a computer is not allowed. That is a thing and not a person. I would be a person.”

“No, Wordy, you are no more a person than my computer. You were assembled somewhere in a factory and if I would hit you on the head with my computer, which is a thing, you would need a new head which would be very easy to replace in your Do-It-Yourself centre somewhere in Silicon Valley. Just a few screws and metal hinges and a couple of glass eyes would do the trick. I believe brain parts do not exist.”

“Mrs. Angloswiss I only wanted to help. Of course I have a brain, the best technology available and my eyes are an advanced form of modern developments in the synthetic department.”

“Sorry Wordy but no, you will not be No. 5 in my inner circle, I prefer my computer, it works all the time and does what I tell it. You may go. No, wait a minute. Tell the higher level of intelligence where you were fabricated that I am sick and tired of these warmed up prompts and you are definitely not one of the five people (or things) that I want to spend time with. I would be happier with my crow in the garden. At least he doesn’t hover around for chocolate cake, he just collects some lost souls for the local cemetery.

Crow come here, I have a customer for you.”

Now where has Wordy gone. He seems to have disappeared and left his little aluminium foil parcel with chocolate cake. I wonder what scared him?

Daily Prompt: Circle of Five – again?