Collaborative ‘Consequences’ Stories from October 3rd, 2019

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Poetry

A new twist to the game of Consequences.
To celebrate National Poetry Day today, we are giving you the chance to collaborate to create poetry in motion.
You decide the theme and form: free verse, haiku, micro poetry. It does not have to rhyme, unless you want it to…

nationalpoetryday.co.uk/

October

My nostril’s breath leaves two condensation shapes
Perfect stream replicas of angel wings
Against the cold barred window
But that’s prison
All wings
And no angels

The Philshy Blues

Give us a rumble, give us a tumble, maybe
spare a few prayers to mumble, for this
is the scrutiny of death. The quickness of
breath reminds us that life leaves us bereft,
bereft of the reconciliation that blinking
an eye, tapping a foot is no more than
a fastidious lie meant to keep our realities
safely a-put. Take a step back, pause the
cerebral thought, for this nonsense is whack
only a dreamer’s drought.

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Any Genre

Mo was having an unprecedented meltdown. It started that morning when he reached the bus stop, gasping after a two-minute fruitless dash. The doors had closed on him, great start to the day he thought. He rubbed his eyes, and peered down at his watch, late again. His heart was racing from the over exertion, when he heard a voice over his shoulder

“Want to share a cab?”
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Mo was shocked to find an ageing Rastaman with hair down to his waist offering this cab share!
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‘Well’ he said, ‘thatyou tell me and we’ll go there!’
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Mo started to panic asgoing to work’ he said trying not to show fear.
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‘And where is work?there.’
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Mo was seriouslythe same time, he was so fearful, he started to shake uncontrollably.
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‘The thing is, he stuttered, ‘I’m a Neurosurgeon at UCH.’
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‘Great! I’m a dab hand with mopping up messes. I can help you there.’
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‘Thank you,’ Mo said feeling somewhat relieved.
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He jumped in the cab. ‘I could use someone with your skills.’
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The taxi driver was quite agitated by now. ‘Come on you two’ he smiling – ready for just another day in the ‘office.’

©Fola Ademoye

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THE SMALL ADS

In search of an heiress. Age immaterial,sophistication required. I am an old-fashionedwriter, published in distinguished magazines…

Jo looked long and hard at the ad. She felt simultaneously intrigued and somewhat taken aback. Synchronicity had struck again, perfect for her current WIP. She was stuck for ideas in the middle of her draft. She took a deep breath and dialed the number… Initially, there was a silence on the other end, and then…
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A roisterer’s rumble. Wham! A loud item drops on the other line.
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Finally, a voice ‘are you soliciting some rubbish dear?’ Jo resonance.
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‘Yes dear, no-one pauses this long on a line, without peddling some nonsense.’ The person on the other line remarks.
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Any Genre

Mo was having an unprecedented meltdown. It started that morning when he reached the bus stop, gasping after a two-minute fruitless dash. The doors had closed on him, great start to the day he thought. He rubbed his eyes, and peered down at his watch, late again. His heart was racing from the over exertion, when he heard a voice over his shoulder

“Want to share a cab?”
————————————————————————-
It was John. God. Anyone but John. John the perfect neighbour,with his perfect house, and his perfect wife. He’s just so farking…NICE. Great.
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Mo sighed, shrugged, and resigned himself to a tortuous journey, with him going on about his bloody garden, and his extension…
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Mo couldn’t bring himself to be rude to this gentle, reasonable man. Especially as he was sleeping with his wife.
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This launched Mo into an exhausted philosophical reverie, while even after the effort of a horrid two-minute run.
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Side by side the men sat and bumped down theSonya, John’s wife was a…

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