It’s Deja Vu’ All Over Again

Ralph and Gertrude were enjoying a leisurely stroll by their favorite spot. 

 

“It’s too bad we can never get your brother to join us,” she complained.

 

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Sam’s plum terrified of water. Once when we were growing up, I asked him why. He explained that long ago he was on a large  unsinkable ship that hit an iceberg. Next thing he knew, he was stranded someplace and told to wait for another family to come and get him.”

 

“Sam was born on April 15, 1972. The Titanic sank on April 15, 1912.  Do you think there may be something to it?”

Welcome back yet again to ROCHELLE’S Friday Fictioneers.  Read all about it on her site. Fatima Fakier Deria graces us with the week’s photo.

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A Visit to the Family

“I’ve always enjoyed our annual trip to see your Aunt Harriet, Uncle Ike, and cousin Mamie”, Floyd told Mabel. “Only they could possibly know that G.K. Chesterton died on June 14, 1936. They’re all members of the Chester~Belloc Debate Society.”

“Yeah,” she chimed in. “There’s only one thing I don’t get though. Of all the pets they could have gotten, why a quail?”

“Hey, you have to remember,” he explained, “Chesterton and Belloc were both distinctive. Quails are distinctive. Seen from that point of view, it fits.”

“They’re most certainly distinctive, all righty,” she agreed, as they finished eating.

Welcome back yet again to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Each week, on Wednesday, we get to pretend it’s Friday.  This week’s photo prompt comes from Jean L. Hays

 

 

 

 

MAJOR TROUBLE FOR CHILDREN

PLANNED PARENTHOOD AND CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE

 

This is a real problem of hidden child sexual abuse in our current culture.  Here is an explanation of how so very much of it happens.

The Browning Version..A Poetry Recital

It was April 6, 1889, in Victoria’s England. Robert Browning, aged 76, was attending a party hosted by artist Rudolf Lehmann.

 

Colonel Gouraud brought out an Edison Talking Machine. At the company’s behest, Browning began reciting his poem, “How They Brought the Good News From Ghent To Aix”, but his memory lapsed.

 

“I’m sorry,” he stated. “I can’t remember me own verses, but one thing that I shall remember all me life is the astonishing…by your wonderful invention.”

 

He died on December 12 that year at the home of his son . Browning was the first poet whose voice was recorded for posterity.

 

Robert Browning 

 

 

The photo prompt was provided by Roger Bultot.  As always, Rochelle guides us weekly through Friday Fictioneers.

 

 

Fr. Brian P. Barr’s Anniversary Party

Saturday evening, after 5:00 p.m. Mass at St. Mary of the Isle in Long Beach, New York, was Father Brian Patrick Barr’s big party for the twenty fifth anniversary of his ordination to the priesthood in the Diocese of Rockville Centre. Here is just one of the highlights of the momentous occasion.

The New Kid In Town

Cousins Sadie and Elmer were watching Old Man Smoot do his chores.

“Over yonder’s the Stranger,” Elmer explained.”

“How’d he git the name, ‘Stranger’, she wondered.  “Hasn’t he lived here for sixty four years?”

“Shonuf, Punkin’,” he reminded his cousin, “But he’s sixty eight. Here’bouts folks don’t rightly cotton to outsiders.”

” ‘Course,” he continued, “We humor him an’ all, but we have our traditions to uphold. Bent Fork’s an old established culture. Can’t just anybody fit in.”

They casually continued feeding the pigs and chickens.

“‘Sides that,” he claimed, “He’s a city feller.  His Ma and Pa come from Virginia.”

Rochelle  yet again leads us in Friday Fictioneers.  This week’s photo prompt has been provided by Connie Gayer.

The Dead Writers’ Society

Harry and Blanche finally found their dream house. Having always been both nature lovers and bookworms, they’d fantasized for years about the perfect combination of their two loves.

 

“You’ll see, sweetheart,” the proud husband gushed. “Once all these trees start blooming, it will be such a beautiful environment.”

 

 

“Yes, Harry,” Blanche intoned. “Until then we can get our books arranged. We’ll start with the Romantic poetry and Regency period novels. Then we can move on to the Victorian novels and poetry.

 

“You never know, of course, when Coventry Patmore and Jane Austen might stop by~or the Bronte’s and Browning’s~perhaps even the Shelley’s,” she imagined aloud.

 

“People will claim it can’t be done,” Harry admitted reluctantly. “‘You do understand they’re all currently deceased’, they’ll point out.”

 

 

“Little do folks know,” Blanche continued, “The rapport we’ve always had with the great literary giants of yore. Of course, all anyone needs is a library card and a keen set of eyes and ears. With our new purchase, though, we have even much more of an advantage.”

 

 

Here’s me entry, based upon a photo prompt from Tale Weaver #172

 

 

Before the Parade Passes By

Tom and Frank were getting ready to march, with their Knights of Columbus council, at the annual Memorial Day Parade.

 

“Remember,” Tom stated. “We have to be at the south side of  Illinois Avenue at 9:30 a.m. Monday.”

 

 

“We have the food ready,” Frank continued. “The Knights’ Pub is fully stocked. As always, the Historical and Preservation Society, and Hibernians, will be there.”

 

“We have our banners, fliers, and a trolley to take us home, “Tom explained. “Now all we need are healthy gams to get us through it all.”

 

 

They stared at each other sadly, tacitly conceding defeat.

 

 

Welcome back yet again to Friday Fictioneers.  This week Rochelle

supplies the photo prompt.

 

 

John’s and Fran’s Wedding

I recently went to John’s and Fran’s wedding, where everyone was, like me, Irish and from Queens.

It was an animated night with a wide variety of  loud music, including some songs by the Eagles.

 

 

I was careful about the bar, not wanting to get drunk in the company of their family.

 

 

 

I should suppose I shall have a long wait for the day when I shall be able to keep my anxiety about crowds and noise in check.  Until then, though, I can at least have a good laugh about it. For now I can keep on winning people’s hearts with my distinctive charm.

 

 

 

This is me first attempt at Sunday Whirl . Click the link to find out what it’s all about.  Brenda Warren is in charge.

 

 

 

Goblin Market

“Watch out for those boots,” Mitt warned Keef as they approached the Goblin Market. “Don’t you remember what happened to Lizzie’s sister Laura?”

 

“They’re a reminder of the goblins,” his friend conceded. “They’ll stop at nothing to sell us their poisonous fruits.”

 

“It’s odd,” the former continued, “How such ugly little fellows can make such an enchanting pitch. It just goes to show how delightful a charm the fruits can have.

 

They went on along their way, strolling past the local graveyard and mental institution. The goblins, in the background, continued their irresistible, incessant chant, determined to entice the locals.

 

It’s time, yet again, for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers . Follow the link for an explanation.  Courtney Wright has supplied this week’s photo prompt.