Kleiser, G., (1917). Fifteen Thousand Useful Phrases. Eleventh edition. New York and London: Funk & Wagnalls Company.
I think your candor is charming.
(Lost the page number).
102 years later, candor autocorrects to candle.
Charming.
That, by the way, is listed as a conversational phrase.
©2019 Allison Wright
Now that he was hooked, she had to proceed carefully.
“There is one catch though”, she continued, “you have to follow a dress code. Jeans and t-shirt won’t do.”
He examined her face, looking for clues if this was true.
“Come on, it’s a fetish club! We go to your place and I wait outside while you change quickly.”
“No, you come with me while I change.”
“Hell, no! I wait outside.”
Would he buy it?
When they reached his apartment, he went inside, turning around a few times to see whether she was still there, then disappeared.
She counted to ten. Then fifteen. Then turned around and ran. Didn’t stop for half an hour, running and turning corners, not looking behind her, now feeling the panic and anger that she had successfully suppressed all evening. It was over.
Copyright 2019 Andrea Bernard
139 words, writing: 10 minutes, editing: 2 minutes
She would take him to this kinky techno club. Because – as “laissez-faire” as it might appear to outsiders – this was actually one of the few places where she knew she would find help.
“I think you like a thrill”, she began, “and I know just the place. There is this kinky club, you know it? I can get you in. They don’t accept single men, but if you want, I’m your ticket for tonight.”
He was immediately hooked.
(to be continued)
Copyright 2019 Andrea Bernard
Writing: 5:30 minutes, editing: 5 minutes
“You know”, he said, while also slowly sitting down, “today is my birthday….”
“Oh, how wonderful! Let’s celebrate that. We go somewhere for a glass of champagne.”
“But… we just got here. I want to celebrate here with you.”
“No”, she insisted, “first we must go out. I want to drink with you, somewhere in a bar. We come back here afterwards, I promise! Just half an hour. Come on, don’t be cheap.” She tried her best smile.
A short silence, then he took a breath and agreed. But nothing was over yet. Sitting at the bar, he looked at her: “Congratulations, you managed to get out of my apartment. But what now, little flower?”
She looked around. People were chatting, drinking, and laughing together. Would anybody believe her, if she asked for help?
That’s when genius stroke her. She knew where to take him to find safety.
(To be continued)
Copyright 2019 Andrea Bernard
words: 154, writing and editing intermingled: 15 minutes
When the company moved offices, there was the matter of the Official Portrait of His Excellency — to consider. The secretaries to the CEO and CFO said to the secretary to the Company Secretary of a blue chip company that hers should be the office to accept the honour of hanging the Official Portrait on its wall.
Of course, the Sec. to the Co. Sec. had to accept such an honour. Not to do so would be unpatriotic. It was noted, however, that she did position her desk with her back to the Official Portrait. At least there was one beautiful face visitors could look at when they entered her office.
©2019 Allison Wright
[113 words.]
She knew she had made a mistake as soon as she entered the apartment and he locked the door behind her with a key. This was not a normal visit of an apartment available for rent. Staring at the key in the door lock, her mind was spinning. I need to get out of this apartment, was all she could think. “Sit down”, the guy said with a smile on his face. She sat on the big bed that was dominating the room. The bedspread had a leopard skin pattern. I have to stay calm. Not show my panic. Think.
(To be continued)
Copyright 2019 Andrea Bernard
101 words, writing: 3.5 minutes, editing: 8 minutes
On our way to Galway in the van, we saw him, black plastic cape flapping wildly, the wings of a monstrous crow caught in a squall. Soaked, he extended a bony thumb and as we passed, I saw he was an old man, maybe in his eighties, his lined face screwed up tightly against the rain. He was an unlikely hitcher but we stopped, brakes squealing in the wet. I shoved up closer to Joe on the bench seat. The man smelt of wet sheep. “Where to ?” I asked him, “Monroe’s bar, a few miles on,” he boomed out, surprising loudly and cheerfully after his drenching “Drop me there and I’ll stand you a drink and a game of cards.” Later, several pints of Guinness and an unfathomable card game later, he trapped me in a dingy corridor on my way to the loo and begged me to marry him. I told him I wasn’t very good at looking after sheep.
James, the geologist, had to walk through my office upstairs to his. That day, he came in after lunch with a new black leather folder that held a pad of A4 paper, and fastened shut with what purported to be a brass clasp.
I greeted him and asked how the interview for the new job had gone. He was somewhat astonished at the question, since he had not mentioned anything about looking for another job to me.
“How did you know?”
I smiled, and took out of my desk drawer my own new folder, identical to his.
“Don’t say anything,” he said.
“I won’t if you won’t,” said I.
©2019 Allison Wright
[119 words.]
Everyone else thought the candle museum in Sydney was amazing in 1986. So many shapes and colours. To me, it all looked like those useless porcelain figurines people attach value to. On the top floor, there were some other arts and crafts. I was taken by the handwoven cushion covers. Piles of them Any 4 for $10.
I must have spent 30 minutes choosing which ones I wanted. I spent another 30 minutes deciding if I wanted to spent a whole $10. I got good use out of those cushion covers. Decades later they looked a bit shabby, except for the blue one, which was merely frayed around the edges.
I took a piece of denim, and appliquéd two sides to the cushion I made for João’s first wheelchair.
Years later, she got a real cushion, designed especially for her new wheelchair. I stuffed the cushion cover with a new piece of foam rubber and sat on it for years at my desk.
I used it this summer on top of another chair to put my swollen feet up while working
Today I gave an old chair I was refurbishing to a friend. I cannot take it with me when I move. She preferred this old cushion cover to the piece of foam rubber I had not yet covered.
She has a special shack where she sits and thinks at the bottom of her garden.
I remembered about choosing the original cushion cover in Sydney. I had forgotten about the rest until now.
My friend looked nice sitting on the old cushion in the old chair, trying it out for size. She’ll put some life into those old things. I know she will.
©2019 Allison Wright
[279 words. Total time: 11 minutes]
“She’s just like you!”
We met Tom and Sally at a small restaurant in Encinitas, California. Tom had picked us up at the airport, but I had yet to meet his wife, son, and sister, who joined us shortly after we had been seated at a large round table. Sally, who had been previously described to me as introverted and awkward, engaged me quite vividly, asking me all kinds of questions about where I was from, what I was doing and the like — the kind of polite scrutiny you would expect upon meeting people for the first time, especially when you’re about to marry their closest friend of thirty years.
After a while I excused myself to go to the restroom — in no small part, to give everyone the opportunity to gossip. My fiancé had been doing this every time we met his friends on this trip: as soon as I left, he would say “So? What do you think? Isn’t she awesome?” I liked that little ritual even though I was slightly embarrassed by the flood of compliments and awe I would receive by proxy when we got home. And this time was no different.
Back in the car, my fiancé told me how Sally — as soon as I was out of earshot — in a moment of clairvoyance had blurted out the one sentence that we keep quoting to each other to this day:
“She’s just like you!”
To this day we are not sure whether she meant it as a compliment or an insult. But whichever it was, she couldn’t have been more right.
[267 words]
(c) Anett Enzmann 2019
five stray minutes 