Miranda Kate's Blog, page 6

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 312

This week's picture prompt was created by hungarian born, Sarolta Ban. She doesn't give this a name, but it is located in the old works category.  It's not the first time I've used one of her images. I used one on Week 304, Week 28, and Week 24 . She has some exceptional images, I would probably pic a different one every week to use they're so good. 

Okay, this week we have a snippet out of my WIP, Tricky's third book, which I'm working on for NaNoWriMo. It just so happens this kind of phone was mentioned. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

To catch a traitor
Tricky had seen one before, but never a working one. It was odd, almost unnatural seeing people talk into a piece of plastic and hear a voice back. She wondered how they’d got it working. She was sure there was a technical explanation, but she didn’t have the brain for all that nonsense; trees, energy and time were all that worked for her; the telephone wasn’t in any of those realms.
She watched him turn that weird dial: a finger in one of the holes, then it turned back by itself, it did it each time he did this. It looked a bit like a clock but its numbers didn’t make sense – not to Tricky. She sniffed. They were well shot of such things she reckoned. It had only led to distraction and then the end. Why Tumelo wanted to be messing about with them again she had no idea, but it wasn’t her business, even though it felt strange sitting here listening to him speaking to someone on the other side of the building. 
The last time she’d been to the palace had been after her mother’s death to speak to Tumelo about what she had witnessed that night. It had been an emotional visit and she hadn’t really taken in much of her surroundings, just wanting their meeting to be over. And here she was again, wanting the same, but this was just the beginning.
Tumelo put the phone down.
“They’ll be here shortly. Sorry, Tricky but you’ll need to set up all the stones again.”
Tricky didn’t mind, it gave her something to do. Although of course the emerald wouldn’t be coming out again, oh no, that was hers for the keeping. She wouldn’t trade it either. It would go in her stash with her mother’s stones, the ones that dirty backstabber Bottle wanted. But he’d never get his hands on them, oh no, not over her dead body - he’d already tried that once and there wouldn’t be an encore. She had to come up with a way of disposing of him, though maybe not death, maybe something far more fun. He liked mucking about with time so much, but did he really know how it worked? She smiled. She had an idea. A nice idea; one she would grow. In the meantime, she had to deal with this other type of backstabbing - the traitorous type. 

Review: The Time of My Life, by Patrick Swayze & Lisa Niemi

The Time of My Life by niemi-lisa-swayze-patrick
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I have always been an avid fan of Patrick Swayze's work, but hadn't realised he had written an autobiography until recently, so I managed to get my hands on a second hand copy. I was even more surprised that it was written by him and not his wife, as it is authored by both of them on the cover, though it does tell her life story too as they began together and were never apart. He wrote just after he had fallen sick with cancer, and there's a sort of sad tension as you read, knowing that he didn't survive it yet he didn't know that when writing, and still hoped he would.

There was so much about him I didn't know. That his mother was a ballet dancer and he was a trained professional ballet dancer. The incredible drive he had, and how much he had put his body through physically, not just with dance, but with doing his own stunts, including some serious and nasty breaks. And also I didn't know he was such a huge horse whisperer!

However, in terms of the writing, sometimes I felt the content was a bit repetitive and dry. He seemed to use the same expressions to describe meeting people. He also spoke endlessly about his love his wife, and was quite repetitive about his feelings about her, and how insecure he had been in the early days and how he'd felt when they were first married. Saying that, I can only imagine how hard it was for her to lose him, having spent her entire life with him. It's utterly heartbreaking.

He was a driven man and insisted on excellence in everything he did - as was seen by his successes. I will always love his work, and always remember him as he died on my birthday.

If you are a fan of Patrick, this is definitely a book worth reading.

View all my reviews

Review: Hallowe'en Party, by Agatha Christie

Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I do love a Christie, story and I was inspired to read this as I'd just seen the film based off it, A Haunting in Venice, and I have to say they really only took a nugget out of this story. The murder itself, and a few other tiny elements. The rest had little relation.

This was a more rambling Whodunnit, as there seemed to be a lot of tangents and narrating of what had happened, not so much action. But as always, even though you think what you are reading doesn't seem to relate to the murder it all ties up in the end. I have no idea how Christie managed to always do that so well; she doesn't mention any of it in her autobiography, if anything writing was an afterthought in her life.

This is a Hercule Poirot novel and his character comes right off the page, and you get a definite sense of him. And I liked that she had a famous murder mystery writer in there too, as though she was sort of appearing herself. As always it was very well done, but maybe not one of her best books.

View all my reviews

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 311

This week's picture prompt was taken by Julio Lopez Saguar, a photographer from Madrid. It was taken at Central Station at Koln (Cologne), Germany. As I have been there I can confirm that it is a huge station. I like the balance of the links above and below. 

Taking me a while to put this one together but I'm really happy how it came out. This picture always reminds me of the opening of Some Kind of Wonderful - if you are old enough to know that film! 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.


Tracks

I can’t tell youhow many times I’ve walked these tracks. Back and forth all day long, checking connections,clearing out dirt, making them stable, fixing lines, defrosting signals,replacing lights, the list goes on and on.

There’s a thrill to it as you cross thelive lines, and occasionally risk being squashed between two trains going indifferent directions. You don’t have to keep an eye out though, you can feel itthrough the ground: the tracks vibrating, shots of lightning dashing along thelines above your head. Trains have an energy, and the longer you work on thelines the more in tune with it you become.

No matter how busy the world is around you,all the rushing about people do: going to and from work, shopping, catching ashow, out on the town; once you’re on the tracks all that disappears. You tuneright out and into the frequency of that energy. Like hearing a tuning fork allday long. And you still feel it in your body when you leave at night.

Although I seem to have been here for ages today;longer than normal – at least it feels like it.

This morning I was busy chasing off some ofthose graffiti lot. They were over by the siding spraying their rubbish on anythingthey could find. There are some that call it art, but it’s not art, it’sindecipherable letters that only have meaning for them. Like some kind of turfwarfare, where they are passing messages back and forth.

You never see their faces, always dressedin baggy clothing and several hoodies over their heads, and sometimes scarvesto stop the toxic sprays from getting in their faces – though I always thoughtpart of it was about getting high from the fumes.

But I’d been running them off, shouting andthreatening to call the cops, and they ran out across the tracks, exactly whereI didn’t want them to go.

The 5:15 from Doncaster was coming through,as was the 5:12 from Sheffield. They always crossed here. And I knew they werecoming, I could feel it - had for a few minutes already.

Cleaning up the mess of people who get inthe way of high speed trains is not fun at all, I can tell you. Plus it meansstopping everything on the line for hours while the police come, and all theemergency services, and the reporters; it’s a complete melee.

Anyway, one of them went and tripped, didn’the? Went down like a sack of potatoes, and didn’t look like he was getting upanytime soon. So I rushed over to him, and tried to bring him round, his mateslooking on from safety on the other side. They could hear the trains coming tooand weren’t going to risk coming back for their mate. Bloody numpties.

I was trying to get him up, trying to movehim, and then my walkie-talkie fell out of my back pocket, didn’t it, and bloodysmashed on one of the tracks, which meant I had no way of notifying anyone itwasn’t safe.

The energy was really ramping up now, likea high-pitched whine in my nerve endings, literally any second now they weregoing to be here. If you looked you could probably see them in the distance.But I couldn’t look, because I was too busy with this bloody vandal who’d goneand knocked himself out.

Then that sound, you know the electric onethat shoots along the lines above your head, telling you they are on their way,and coming fast and I couldn’t seem to get a grip on this lad; his clothes wereall loose and baggy and I couldn’t work out which way to get a hold on him. Hismates were shouting now, they could see the trains, and I had to debate, stayor go, but I knew the mess it was going to make. If I could just shift him overa couple of tracks.

And then it was over.

He was gone. The vibration must have woken himand got him moving.

His mates were gone too. Probably didn’twant to stick around to see the mess if he didn’t make it.

But I’m here, wondering how I’m going toget the other mess, the one they’d made on the wall, off. But I can’t find mybucket, in fact I can’t find anything and every time I try I just seem to endup back here at this wall. 

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 310

This week's picture prompt was created by Jeffrey Smith, it's called Summoned. I used one of his recently on Week 307 & couldn't miss this one with the build up to Halloween! He has some incredible art worth checking out.  

A short dark one this week, with an edge of hope. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

The Hunt

From our hiddenburrow we saw it; the sequel had gone up to call them to him. It blazed with itsevil grin and we shivered in the darkness.

We could hear the rumblings of the otherscoming to the call. All the depraved and twisted faces flashing past, lit up bythe burning orange light making them more grotesque than normal.

We scuttled deeper under ground, runningthis way and that, hoping to be far enough away by the time they were gathered readyfor their hunt – their ‘trick or treat’ as they liked to call it.

Both were for their benefit: the trick wasto catch us, the treat was to eat us. Our bodies would join the blaze in thefield. We only hoped they weren’t fast enough, clever enough, or thin enough tofind us.

Some of us climbed trees, becoming likefour legged creatures as we scurried to the tallest limbs. They rarely lookedup making it would be the safest way. They would be expecting us to beunderground, where we had burrowed for generations, since they cast our goodnessout. And there would be weak among us who would not manage to remain hidden andfrom the tree tops we would watch their sacrifice as they were torn androasted.

The only hope was that each year there wereless of them and more of us. They were dying out, along with their rituals,which took place is fewer places. Each year they looked more ragged and feeble,some only there to watch, no longer able to walk. As they fed on our weakest,we grew in strength.

Our time would come soon and the only thingablaze would be the remains of their lives.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 309

This week's picture prompt is from photographer Christy Lee Rogers, an artist from Hawaii. This is actually a photograph taken under water at night. Quite incredible, and there's lots more to see on her site. 

Short and sweet, and maybe a little bit ambiguous. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.




Tangled
I’m not quite surehow it happened, how we all ended up in the pool – or even why. Though really,who needs a why? It’s a party, we’re all drunk, it’s warm and there’s a hugepool.

I remember Johnny thought it would be agood idea to be in there, even though it wasn’t his house. And when he jumpedin and discovered the underwater music, the whole party had to move into thewater.

Dancing underwater was fun, but I think itwas Felicity’s dress I got my leg’s tangled in and she started to struggle, andeven though Dan had his life guard certificate he couldn’t work it free, andthen she began to panic pushing him under. By the time Harriet swam up, therewere three more caught up in it, and the others just thought we were dancingand having fun.

The more people tried to get uncoiled, themore they seemed to get knotted up. It was like a churning washing machine ofclothes and people, but in slow motion. And it felt slow; time crawls when youcan’t breathe.

I don’t know who went first, it was hard totell with all the material getting in the way of faces, but eventually theywere gone, and I was there, floundering in clothing that had been discarded.

I felt like I flailed for a lifetime. Andas I turned onto my back, my arms and legs still bound up, I looked up at allthe faces round the pool looking down at me. Their stricken looks as my lastreserves let go, and bubbles of my last breath left me, are scored onto my mindfor an eternity.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 308

This week's picture prompt was created by Polish artist: Zdzislaw Beksinski. Unfortunately he was murdered during a robbery at his flat in 2005. (though he would be 94 if he was still alive). He has a lot of interesting art. 

This week's is short and dystopian. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.
Pinnacle of Life

This is what it hadcome to; the only way to communicate. I shivered in the cold night air. Despitethe fire in front of me, I was too high up to feel its warmth, but this was mylife now. This was how information was sent from place to place, and without meup here on the top of this pinnacle, there would be a break in the chain.

I’m not sure which I hated more, the climbup or the climb down. Either way it took far too long and I was so terrified Iwould lose my grip and then my life, just like Tomo did.

He’d been on the pinnacle to my left, andwas clearly tired after the nightshift. Just four steps down and he’d slipped,fallen a few rungs, and then caught one. But I couldn’t work out whether he’dbroken his arm during the short fall, or just couldn’t catch a proper grip onthe rung, sometimes the cold weather up here covered them in frost. Either wayhe’d eventually given up and let go.

I’d called encouragement, but I’d beenpowerless to do anything else. And I’d cried off and on through the rest of myshift. I’d never climbed down as carefully as I had that morning. It had shakenme up badly.

But they said our work was vital work,despite the risks. We kept the world running. Smoke and fire signals were mylife. I wasn’t trained to do anything else.

Everyone was shunted into specificprofessions to help humanity now. There were no choices anymore. I’d read thehistory and what had got us here, how people had been able to do whatever theywanted, with all this magical technology, but never actually realised it. Andit had resulted in this; the wasteland we now lived in.

One thing being up here was good for, wasreading – interspersed between my five minute fire check. I read about thosedays and daydreamed about what it must have been like to have things like treesand grass and animals. Where there had been vistas and not just rock anddesert, and where there were all kinds of food. I couldn’t imagine what it musthave tasted like; food was functional now, just the basics we needed to survive.

Oh for a time machine to go back to it, andbe a part of it, and not stuck up here on the roof of the world, watching firesburn. But then I was lucky. I didn’t have to scavenge on the ground. I got tosee the sky; I had my own vista, even if it was a deadly one.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 307

This week's picture prompt was created by Jeffrey Smith, it's called Trust Your Gut. he has some incredible art, and there might well be another one soon. 

A short piece this week. Maybe a survivor of the shift, as depicted in my series, Tricky's Tales. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.




Adrift
He gripped thesides of the little boat, praying that it wouldn’t capsize and send him intothe churning masses that were once sea. There had to be land out here, itcouldn’t all be covered; he couldn’t be the only survivor.

The swirling waters took on their ownpattern, a mesmerising one that took him further towards the setting sun. Asthe ocean rocked and rose either side of him, he felt like he was in a tunnel, drivenever onwards. He only hoped there was a destination, one that didn’t involvehis death.

He’d lost the oars days ago, and had beendrifting with the current for some time. He hoped it wasn’t sending him incircles but instead to a shore, where there was dry land and people.

Was he lucky to be in his boat? Maybe. Buthe didn’t currently feel like it. He just kept his eyes on the setting sun, andprepared himself for another night watching the starlit sky – a sky he hadbarely paid attention to until there were no more light sources to disturb it. Thetumultuous events that led to him being in this boat were a blur in his memory,much like the landmass as it had shifted and been deluged by water.

He didn’t know how many days he’d beenwithout food or drink. The spray from the ocean kept his face wet and coveredwith water, which he would occasionally lick as it ran down his face over hismouth. He wanted to dry out and drink a glass of sweet cold water. Hunger wasthere eating at his stomach, but it was just a background noise compared to thethirst. And he just wanted to stop feeling this churning, inside and out, andfeel alive and safe again.

Was that a piece of land, there on the horizon,its hills silhouetted against the sun and cutting into the shape of it? Hecouldn’t be sure. It could be a mirage, a trick of the light, a play in hismind’s eye as the dehydration disrupted his cognition. It had happened before.But he didn’t keep his eyes off it as he was pulled closer by the sucking anddrawing of the waves; he had to have hope, without hope there was no survival.And as the shape grew larger in front of the brilliant disc of light, his hopegrew with it.

How to get Avery Labels to line up in Word 365

 I'm writing this blog post for myself really, because next time I try and print labels I will have forgotten what I did to get them to line up. And I don't want to waste seven sheets of labels trying to work it out - AND I couldn't find any other posts online that told me exactly. 

I am using Word 365 and trying to line up Avery Labels L7160. I have set up a document by click on Mailings (tab in Word), Labels (far right next to envelope), put in my address, then selected Options, selected Avery in Labels Vendor, and looked it up in the list. Then click okay, back to the labels window, select New Document and hey presto you have a sheet of the same addresses. (to enter different addresses, you have to do that manually)

So, I'm ready to print, I think, let's go, and then it doesn't line up.

First makes sure the margins ARE custom: 1.5cm top and bottom, 0.7 both sides. 

Then in Word go to File tab, Print, nad in the next window where it says pages that the A4 option is selected, not letter unless it's the same size.

And even go into Print Properties under the printer and check that is set to A4. 

But the real trick was clicking in the Page setup at the bottom in the same window as above.  

And click on Print Options, which brings up this main window, and under Advanced, Printing (scroll to get to printing), there is this little tricky line that is selected: 'Scale Content for A4 or 8.5 x 11" paper sizes. 

This is NOT the right size for labels. Make sure it is NOT selected.

After that they should print in alignment! 

Hurrah!

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 306

It's extremely rare these days to not be able to find the origin of a picture, because there's no excuse with so many tracking sites not to be able to credit, but this picture throws up just 5 finds on Google image search, and two on others, with the majority to pinterest all linking to an etsy shop that once had this for sale. The others are just other sites sharing the pic with no credit. It's such a shame. It's a cute picture and the image speaks for itself. And there are loads similar to it on etsy if you want one!

I tried for something a bit different, and it is. Much more timid than I thought. Also a test in writing mainly in dialogue. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here. 

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.



Underground 

“What are you wearing that thing foranyway?” Liam flicked the pendant on my necklace.

“It’s the antidote, isn’t it, you dummy!” Iclasped the little vial not wanting to risk him breaking it.

“Who are you calling dummy? You’re the onebelieving it will cure you.”

“It will! As long as I take it within fiveminutes of getting bit – that’s why I’ve got it round my neck.”

“Who gave it you?”

“Uncle Ryan.”

“No way! Then it’s defo bullshit. Hebabbles about all sorts of flaky bullshit: how we are all going to die if wedon’t get above ground again, how the lack of sun will make us weak, how livingunderground is doing us harm.”

“And he’s right. Look what happened toMaisy; that was due to no sun.”

“Rubbish! She was already sick before she camedown here. Being out of the sun is good for you; healthy for your skin, andbetter for your eyes. That’s what Babs says.”

I tried not to scoff too hard. “Babs?! Youhave to be kidding, you’re not listening to her, are you? No wonder you’rebelieving all that clap-trap.”

“It’s true. If I go out there I’ll burn up beforeI get bit.” Liam look convinced, I tried to stifle my laughter.

“Why don’t you try it then?”

“What go up there? Don’t be daft.”

“Why, cuz you think you’ll get burnt?” Igiggled again and Liam looked angry.

“You’re the one who thinks you’ll be curedtaking that silly thing, even if you get bit. Why don’t YOU go and try it?”

“Cuz I’m not as stupid as you.”

Liam kicked the step I was sitting on. I ignoredhim.

“Dennis reckons they’re all dead up there anywayby now; we’ve been down here almost a year,” he said in a sulky tone.

“He going up there to check, is he?”

Liam gave me a black look and I gave him afake grin.

“I’m sick of being down here,” he said ashe slumped down next to me.

“Yeah, me too. But it’s never going to belike it was even if we do manage to one day go back up there. There’s notenough people left.”

“Do you think there’s anyone else outthere, you know, like us, living in hiding?”

“Maybe, but I doubt as big as our groupthough.”

“Remember that show on TV, The WalkingDead, about a zombie apocalypse?”

“Yeah, everyone at school used to go onabout it. But it turned out to be completely unrealistic.”

“TV shows always were. That’s why peoplewatched them. They needed to believe they’d be able to survive alongside them.”

“Fat chance! And all that killing eachother and stuff, no one has been doing any of that.”

“We don’t know that, we’ve been down here.”

“There’s no way they’d survive long enoughto do all that to each other. Real zombie’s aren’t that stupid. But Dennismight be right; they might eventually kill themselves and die out.”

“Sasha said it would take longer than ayear.”

“Yeah, she’s probably right.”

I stood up and dusted off the seat of mytrousers.

“Come on, let’s go see if we can scrounge somethingto eat.”

Liam pulled a face. “It’ll just be more of thatpappy shit.”

“True, but at least it’s something.”

“What I wouldn’t give for a chickensandwich!”

“Oh me too! Or tuna!” I pulled him up.

“Ugh, I hated fish. Although at this pointit’d be better than that sloppy stuff.”

“Definitely. Come on.”

I pulled his arm and we ran off to see if myUncle Ryan had any going spare. The only upside to life underground was that therewas always someone around to scrounge off.