MULTIPLY United Friends Challenge #114: Don't trust everyone

Jillermar's Challenge

Tell a Story that teaches a lesson to others.

The spider had been working on his home all morning. He had started to spin his web when someone decided to water the garden. Actually he was quite happy to get some fresh water, after all even spiders had to drink now and again, but he preferred the water that came straight down from the clouds above. He was not impressed when one of those human types turned on the hose and the water poured out in such a torrent that his efforts of a morning were wasted. A spider’s web is a work of art, not just a home. Each thread was spun with care and thought. In spite of such difficulties, the spider decided to carry on with his building, after all it was his destiny and fate to spin his own home with the threads given to him by nature.

“What are you doing?” said a voice under the nearest leaf.
“What does it look like I am doing” answered the spider “I am building something to last; a work of art.”
“Well it looks a bit torn at the edges at the moment” and the spider saw a fly crawl from beneath the leaf.
“Since when does a fly know what a perfect spider’s web is?”
“Sorry, but I only turned into a fly this morning, so it’s the first time I have seen a web. What does it look like when it is finished?”
“Well you must be new to the garden if you have never seen a spider’s web”. The spider was glad for an interesting conversation now and again, especially with such a young simple fly, so he stopped spinning for a moment. “Spider’s webs are something that every garden has. You are now flying around in the garden and may see a few of them.”
“We flies don’t seem to need a web. I just hang around on a leaf. It’s useful being a fly. You can even walk upside down and there is always something to eat. I don’t know who put me in this place, probably my mum, but she certainly made sure I wouldn’t go hungry. Those humans are always leaving something around. I had only arrived a few minutes and there was already a piece of bread covered with jam that nobody wanted. I spent a few nice minutes on that bread digesting the sweet stuff. I think I am going to enjoy life in this garden. What do you do all day, except for spinning a web?”
“Not very much really” answered the spider.
“You mean all you do is spin a web. Doesn’t that get a bit boring? We flies, well we fly. You know see the world from the top.”
“Yes, well I suppose that is why you are called fly. We spiders generally just spend the day hanging around. You never know what might turn up. So now I must finish my web, so that I have a comfortable home to live in.”
“How can you call that a home? There are no rooms anywhere. It is just flat and all you do is sit in the middle. That must be a boring life.”
“Oh no, I don’t find it at all boring. Now and again something might damage my web and then I have to repair it. We spiders are very patient. We can just sit and wait for ages.
“What are you waiting for?”
“I tell you something, fly. If you are so interested in the life of a spider, then come a bit closer. I can see you better and we can have a cosy chat.”
“I can’t come any closer. I might damage your lovely web, after all the time you have spent making it.”
“That’s no problem fly. We spiders are made to spin webs and I will have it repaired in no time. Just take a few steps closer, or even better, just fly over; no problem.”
“Well, thanks for the invitation, here I come.”
And so it happened that the fly paid a visit to the spider’s web.

“Mr. Spider, I don’t like your web very much. I can’t move, my feet are stuck.”
“Yes, that it is a problem that flies can have when they visit a spider at home. I will see if I can make it a bit more comfortable.”
And the spider crawled over to the fly and started spinning.
“What are you doing spider? That is not very comfortable. I can’t move any more, I am completely covered in your webby stuff. I cannot fly any more.”
“Sorry fly but spiders just cannot eat bread and jam, or anything that humans leave laying around. We are carnivores, we eat meat. Our webs are too small to absorb anything larger than a fly, so I will just leave you for a while until I get hungry.”

Our fly was now feeling very unhappy. He had only been converted in the morning to a fly from his infant form, and already his life was in danger. It was a hot summer day, but the sky was gradually becoming darker as storm clouds gathered. The sky was illuminated by a flash of lightening and the thunder rolled, although our fly did not notice all this. He was waiting to be eaten by a very patient spider that had spent all morning spinning a new home. However, luck was with the fly. The heavens opened and a torrential burst of rain fell over the garden, engulfing the spider’s web and tearing it too pieces. Fly came tumbling down to the ground and on the way managed to free himself from the sticky web substance. As soon as he could move his wings he was away, ready to enjoy the remainder of his short life.

The spider waited beneath a leaf, a little annoyed that his lunch parcel had been so abruptly taken from him by a cloudburst. After the storm was over, the spider crawled out of his shelter and once again began to spin a new web.

The fly was now sitting under a leaf once again. He had learnt his first lesson in life on his first day as a fully grown fly. Never accept a spider’s invitation.

United Friends Challenge #114: Don't trust everyone

MULTIPLY Creative Challenge #38: Delicious

In England we know fish and chips is the best
It would win the first place in any contest
But go to France and they might eat eggs
but their favourite dish is some nice frog legs
In Germany they know what food is about
And enjoy a dish of fresh sauerkraut
Go to Italy way down in the south
pizza and spaghetti just melt in the mouth
A trip to Russia might be good for the thirst
A bottle of vodka might not be the worst
So let’s go to America and have some Cajun
With this dish in Louisiana they really have fun
And all over the States from East to West
All Americans find that a hamburger is best
Let’s go down to Australia what’s on the menu
They eat lots of meat straight from the b-b-q
I live in Switzerland and there you can freeze
But there is nothing more tasty than some genuine Swiss cheese
So what does this mean, I do not want to be vicious
But each country and race have their own things delicious
What the Chinese enjoy is something most rare
And what the others eat they just do not care
So let us try everything, and let us be kind
Try all food and eat it, it broadens the mind

Creative Challenge #38: Delicious

MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge #6: The Imprisonment

There is something funny in the air, I can feel it. I think there is a conspiracy. My sister has already hidden herself; perhaps I should do the same. I am hungry so will take a bite to eat. Now that was the wrong decision. He got me by the scruff of my neck and is holding me down, calling out to his partner to come. She arrives and I am picked up and trapped. All around me metal bars, no way to escape. I can snarl and cry as much as I want, to no avail. I am locked in. I try to bite through the bars but they are too strong. Now I am floating on air. I am being carried in this cage; leaving my home and all that I know for something unknown. I can hear a door opening, I am moved upwards and the door is closed. There is noise all around me. I can hear talking and then I am moving. Well I am not moving but the place where I have been put is moving. There are smells in the air I recognise; something from the outside world, a freshness reminding me of a walk in a garden. The fragrance of fresh grass, of damp earth mixed with a more heavy smell, the smell surrounding the house and garden where I live: a chemical aroma that I always associate with the place where I am now trapped in my cage.

I hear a regular hum and sway from side to side. When will this stop? There is a sharp turning movement and then there is no longer any motion. I hear the sound of a door being opened and I am again flying, sailing through the air, being lifted to another plain. A strong smell of fresh air engulfs me, if only the bars were not in between. I could run for miles, feeling free and embracing my world again.

“Please help me someone, please” but my calls are not answered. I am not understood. We enter another place, but this is even more frightening. I see one of my kind also in a cage, captured by the others. No chance of escape, just sitting silently and waiting for his fate. My companion disappears with his cage, being carried away and he is also crying out for help. “Oh, if only I had hid like my sister, then I would not be in this predicament.”

I am now on a higher level, still in my cage and can smell the smells of my kind all around me, although I am alone. My capturer is there as well as another two of her sort and they are communicating. I look up with pleading eyes, and they have pity and open my cage and I am taken out of my prison, but I am still not free. One of my capturers is pinning me down and the other is holding a sharp instrument; memories awake somewhere from a far gone time and place. It all seems so familiar. “Hold her” says a voice and the sharp instrument is brought nearer and enters my body. I keep silent as I do not want them to think that I am willingly their prisoner. Who knows what they are going to do with me. “Put me down, please put me down” I cry but I have no chance and am put back into my prison, am again surrounded by the crossed bars of metal, limiting my view on the world. Now I attack. I open my mouth and make such threatening gestures that my guards get worried. I snarl and my eyes show such an expression that the others are frightened. “No, please not that” I call but my cage is now covered with a cloth to prevent my teeth sinking into the flesh of the others. The cage is locked and I am again being transported through the air. I see another of my kind entering to the place where I am leaving. “What are they doing to us?” I wonder. My cage is again put into this object that moves and the same feelings come over me when I was imprisoned: trapped again.

I now feel tired, I give up, I can no longer resist. Then at last something pleasant: familiar smells and noises. We have stopped and I am again travelling, but this looks familiar. I hear a door opening and oh wonder, I am released. My cage is opened and there is no-one to stop me. I jump for my life and am at last free again. My sister comes to greet me and I am back again in my four walls.

“Nera, we are back home now, so you do not have to be frightened any more” I said to my cat when we arrived home this morning from the visit to the vets for her annual jabs. I have to put my cat in a cage, put her in the car and drive to the vets and afterwards bring her home again in the car. The story might be the process from the viewpoint of a cat.

Rita's "Riting" Challenge #6: The Imprisonment

MULTIPLY Pictures to Words #4: Tales to Tell

„Look granddad, there’s an old sofa at the edge of the river bank, wonder who put it there“
“Well there is a bit of a story to that sofa Johnny.”
“Granddad you always know stories to lots of things, so tell me please.”
“OK Johnny let’s sit down on this fallen tree trunk and I will tell you all about it.”

Johnny loved going for walks with his grandfather. He always took time to explain everything and he was now looking forward to the story about the sofa at the river side. It really looked in a bad way. The metal skeleton of its insides was poking through and the once shiny leather was covered with green slime and torn in places. The water washed over it in rhythm with the wind.

“Ok Johnny it all started a long while ago. Just here along the river was a wooden house. No-one really knew who built it and how long it had been there, but a man lived in the house, Jack Marsh. We did not know when he moved in, he was just there. He was well known in the town as he was very gifted with repairing things. If you had a roof that needed some new slates, or windows that were rattling in their frames, you just had to ask Jack Marsh and he would come and repair them. He did not ask for as much money as the business’s in town and so people were glad for his help. He was a man of few words, and would never tell anything about his past life. Some said he was once a sailor and had visited more countries than you could imagine, others said he served a long prison sentence for murder, had been released and now preferred to keep himself to himself, but despite all the stories that were circulating no-one really knew who he was and where he came from. The only reason his name was known was that he always signed a receipt after he had done a job for someone.

So life went on in our little town and Jack Marsh was just part of the town. One evening we had a bad storm and there was a lot of work to be done afterwards. Clearing away the tree branches that had been scattered and soaking up the water everywhere. Mrs. White needed help with some broken windows and was on the lookout for Jack Marsh, but Jack was not there for once. There were a few other neighbours that were missing his help. No-one really trusted themselves to go to his house, but soon word got to the authorities and they sent the local policeman to see what had happened.”

“But granddad, that must have been you, you used to be our policeman in the village” said Johnny.

“That’s right Johnny, I had to go and knock at the door to the house where Jack Marsh lived. I stood outside the door for some time but heard nothing in the house. I then went back to the police station and took one of my colleagues with me. You have to be careful on you own in such a situation. Jack Smith came with me and we both knocked again at the door. After waiting we had to break the door down to see what had happened.”

“Oh granddad, what did you find?”

“Well it wasn’t such a pretty site Johnny. You see Jack Marsh was not so young any more and his time had come. We found him lying on the sofa you see in the river. It was then a lovely black leather sofa. It was there that Jack Marsh had taken his last breath in this world.”

“But granddad why is the sofa now in the river.?”
“Wait Johnny, until I tell you the rest. Jack Marsh had a burial at the town cemetery. Although he had no real family, there were a lot of people at the funeral as he had helped us all at one time or another. We all had a collection and together paid for his burial and gave him a good farewell. As no-one wanted to live in the house any more, and it didn’t really belong to anyone, the town decided to demolish the house. The workmen moved in with their tools and started to take things apart. It was then that they found it.”

“What did they find granddad?”
“When they picked up the sofa to put it outside in the garden the bottom of the sofa gave way and, well, it was full of gold bars.”
“You mean the gold bars they have in the banks.”
“Yes, Johnny, there must have been at least fifty of them. They were just too heavy and they had been stashed away in the sofa. The leather just tore when the sofa was lifted. Of course there was a lot of excitement. The sofa was left outside of the house in the garden on the river bank and the gold bars were taken to the bank.”
“But granddad, where did the gold come from?”
“Well, we found that out some time afterwards. When we sorted through the papers belonging to Jack Marsh, we found his discharge certificate from prison. After looking into his records it seemed he was involved in a bank robbery. The stolen gold was never found, but it seems he had it all the time. I suppose he had served enough time in prison and decided to let things be. He took his last breath laying on his gold.”

“And the sofa granddad?”
“Well what with all the excitement about finding the gold everyone forgot about the sofa. It was just left at the side of the river, and I suppose one evening there was a storm, the river rose and took the sofa with it.”

“Granddad you can really tell some good tales” Johnny said and Johnny’s grandfather just smiled to himself.

Pictures to Words #4: Tales to Tell