A vision of thanks

Charli Mills, she of the Carrot Ranch has asked us this week…

December 24, 2014 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a vision. You can write your own personal vision and “fictionalize” it in the sense that you write it as if it already has come to pass or is unfolding right now. Or you can write the vision of a character. Dream big. dream bold.

A Vision. Sound a little new agey for me. Knit your own yoghurt and bedeck the yurt with organic cranberries kind of thing. But visions don’t have to be supernatural or spiritual or even especially visionary. Indeed the word has been hijacked by business to encompass a corporate business plan. Businesses must have their vision. A plan, a goal. So must we writers. And the vision we need is not just the practical sort that businesses crave but also one laced with faith and underpinned with courage. Because we’re mostly out there on our own and it’s a lonely place, that desk, that keyboard.

I spent many hours tapping away, encouraged by friends and family who wondered at this eccentric behaviour. They we happy that I was happy – well content – to pursue this vision. It was fine, ok. Doing it by myself.

But then I started blogging; I committed to the world in ways I hadn’t before then. I exposed my little vision to a Sauron-like all seeing eye. And I found all sorts of like minded souls willing to share their ideas and encouragement. Like a sweet onion I peeled back the layers and more and more appeared adding gloss on the undercoat of my early blogging attempts.

And the first of these wonderful people were at the Carrot Ranch, nibbling away at the cookie called flash fiction – it’s sweet, it has the odd piece of chocolate buried with in it but sometimes it can seem a bit dry, a bit stodgy and maybe rough on the stomach.

So, as this year peters out in a warm fug of a real fire and fine food I’d like to say a thank you to Charli and her Rough Writers without whose enthusiasm and welcome I might not have addressed blogging so enthusiastically.

Enough of the mush. Here’s my attempt, giving Mary a new dilemma for the New Year. Back story can be found here.

The Rockery

 Paul approached Mary, standing by the rockery. He said, ‘All clear. We can sell your dad’s house at last.’

Something in her stance made him hesitate. He noticed the strewn rocks. ‘What happened?’

‘I thought I’d have one last look at the garden.’ She stifled a sob.

Paul squeezed her shoulder.

‘… I saw him. Just there.’ She pointed at the earth.

‘Your Dad?’

‘I know it wasn’t really him. But then I saw these rocks had fallen. I went to put them back and…’

Paul looked where she pointed. Small bones poked out of the ground. ‘Bloody hell.’


About TanGental

My name is Geoff Le Pard. Once I was a lawyer; now I am a writer. I've published several books: a four book series following Harry Spittle as he grows from hapless student to hapless partner in a London law firm; four others in different genres; a book of poetry; four anthologies of short fiction; and a memoir of my mother. I have several more in the pipeline. I have been blogging regularly since 2014, on topic as diverse as: poetry based on famous poems; memories from my life; my garden; my dog; a whole variety of short fiction; my attempts at baking and food; travel and the consequent disasters; theatre, film and book reviews; and the occasional thought piece. Mostly it is whatever takes my fancy. I avoid politics, mostly, and religion, always. I don't mean to upset anyone but if I do, well, sorry and I suggest you go elsewhere. These are my thoughts and no one else is to blame. If you want to nab anything I post, please acknowledge where it came from.
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24 Responses to A vision of thanks

  1. What is with your “new age” phobia? And what’s wrong with being mushy? (I love the Rough Writers, too…wonderful group.) All is forgiven. Why? Because you mention Sauron. You are awesome because of this and many other non-geeky things. Take that mush! 😉

    Ack! What? What is happening in this story? Am enjoying the continuing story of Mary. Until next week, “These are the days of our lives…” Or something like that. I didn’t watch soaps. Anyway, love it.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sarah says:

    Ooh, that sends shivers! What was Dad doing in that house?

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Charli Mills says:

    Knitting yogurt will definitely be on the schedule of any future retreats! Obviously I didn’t dream big enough last year because it was beyond my imagination that I’d rope a 58 year old Englishman into moments of mush and weeks of fantastic flashing. Thanks for sharing the cookie. And, whoa–what’s going on with Mary in the Rookery? Please tell me this isn’t who I’m fearing it is! Let it be an old beloved beagle or hamster. You have more writer twists in your little pinky than Elvis had swivel in his hips!

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Norah says:

    Knitting yogurt! Now that is something to be seen (visioned?). Maybe both the wool and the yogurt from the goats on the roof to go with the peaches?

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Annecdotist says:

    Bloody hell, indeed, Geoff! Should be accustomed to your twists and turns by now but definitely didn’t see that one coming – hope you’re ready to take it wherever it leads next year.
    As for knitting yoghurt, couldn’t you find a way for Mary to do this? Having just raised my head from absorption in The Book of Strange New Things, anything seems possible right now.
    Look forward to following your flashes of inspiration over the coming year.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Pingback: Visions of Words « Carrot Ranch Communications

  7. lorilschafer says:

    What a lovely thank you note to Carrot Ranch, Geoff! And I’m in love with your metaphor about the cookie 😉

    Liked by 2 people

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