MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge: What a Job!

What a job! If it was not for the money I certainly would not be sitting here looking like something out of a pantomime. Dressed in those stupid clothes. Just imagine how those nylon stockings irritate my legs. I could scratch all the time, but it would not be so nice for those wonderful people that pay to watch.

"Good morning, madam. Yes, I am carving a piece of wood. What it will be when it is finished? Oh, a very nice ornament."

"Something to put on the sideboard in the living room. An ornament?"

"Yes, if you want to buy one, there are a few in the shop over there."

And there she goes, to buy a piece of hand made scraped wood. Won't tell her, but they buy them from Hong Kong. All nicely decorated with words like "Home Sweet Home", something like that. What do they do with mine? No problem, I can take them home in the evening. Make lovely firewood for the stove in my cottage. An old man like me has to save where he can.

"No boy, leave that carving knife alone, you might have an accident."

"Jimmy, you heard what the man said, don't touch his things. It is dangerous."

"But mum I just wanted to see how sharp they are. Owwww."

"You see son, now you have cut yourself."

"Oh Jimmy, come to mummy. How can you let such dangerous tools lay around? Look at my son's finger, he has a deep cut. Could have been more serious. Where's the manager here?"

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, look at Jimmy's finger. Your employees could be more careful when they are working. Those tools are dangerous to leave unattended."

What an argument that was. Of course, the customer is always right, so who was the loser? I was, just because Jimmy couldn't keep his hands off my tools and mummy wasn't looking. The result was that I lost my job. That was the evening that I did not take the wood home to burn. I left it where it was. The stupid nylon stockings, the hat which I hated and the shirt with sleeves that looked like something that a waitress would wear: I threw them all on top of the wood pile. The false beard I kept. You never know, it might come in handy.

Anyhow, that evening I was feeling a bit cold at home, with no wood, so I decided to look for some warmth. The wood pile was still there, so I sneaked back to the shop and set it on fire. The shop next door started burning as well. Then the gas station next door also caught a few sparks. I decided I was now warm enough so was on my way home, when I heard this explosion behind me.

Read it all in the newspaper next morning. Seems after the gas station exploded, the restaurant went up in smoke as well. Luckily no-one was injured, they were all on their way to see what the explosion was.

No, they never realised it was me and all because Jimmy cut his finger. Now I have a new job, showing how a blacksmith works.

"Jimmy, leave that hammer alone."

"Owwww"

"Where's the manager. It's dangerous leaving those hammers and nails around. Now Jimmy has driven a nail through his finger."

The manager was found the next day dead behind the counter of the shop. It seemed someone had killed him with a hammer. Who me?

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MULTIPLY Rity's "Riting" Challenge #45: Segways for Switzerland

E-Mail from:
Chief Heinz Dubeli
Police Department,
Bernese Alps

Switzerland

To: Segway Human Transporter Company
Somewhere in America

Dear Sirs,

Through a colleague of mine that was shortly on a vacation in the States I saw a photo of your human transport system. It seems to have become very popular with the American police in various states. I have now decided that this would also be very useful for Swiss use but have a few open questions before placing my order.

1. How many gears do they have? Most of our police stations in the Bernese Overland lie at more than one thousand meters above sea level. Up to now our police teams have used the bicycle in summer and skis in the winter. Could we use the Segway to replace these two transport methods? Please bear in mind that steep upward slopes must be overcome. We assume that downhill is no problem.

2. Do they have powerful brakes? Our police teams travel at high speeds, particularly when crossing valleys. Up to now we have had no problem with the bike or ski. We just have to take it slow on the curves. Or perhaps the Segway is so designed that it can easily overcome descents from our alpine mountains crossing mounting streams and climbing boulders without problem.

4. Is there a possibility to transport goats or cows, perhaps with a small trailer that can be fixed to the wheels? Please bear in mind that life in the Swiss mountains relies on co-operation. Some villages are scattered in isolated valleys and our police force is often called for to assist in bringing the animals to the milking stations usually situated at central points.

5. We do have cases of theft where our police must be prepared to partake in a chase. Very often a cow is stolen, or perhaps wedges of cheese and the thieves usually have their own routes of escape, crossing mountain streams and walking through forests. Can your human transporter cope with such problems, at high speeds naturally?

We trust that your company can oblige with our wishes and please rest assured that after receiving your positive comments, we will be prepared to place an order for at least ten segways. One remaining request from our milk collecting stations; is there room on the Segway for transportation of milk churns. This would be very helpful for our farmers that otherwise must put them on a cart pulled by a horse.

Thanking you for your prompt reply

Chief Heinz Dubeli

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MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge #44: Return to the Beach

“So, here I am again“ were Sheila’s thoughts. It was some time since she had visited this particular beach. This was not surprising, it was in another country and she had to make a plane journey to get there. She stood at the top of the path watching the waves break on the shore. Everything looked the same. It was a typical tourist place, you could buy ice creams, and there was a small restaurant for a meal and bar for a drink.

This time Sheila was not with a girlfriend, or her parents. She was alone, almost alone. She struggled with the pram pushing it down to the beach. She decided baby or no baby; she deserved a holiday again; away from the normal daily routine. Baby Jonas was now a year old and was no problem. He was still at the crawling stage, but could manage to stand on his own two feet if mummy held him. He was admired by all.

“What a lovely child, such wonderful dark eyes and thick black hair.” They were the features that seemed to impress people. Sheila had blond hair and blue eyes so it was clear that Jonas resembled his father.

It was difficult pushing the pram on the sand, it kept blocking the wheels. Eventually she reached one of those nice sun beds with a wide umbrella. She was pleased as it meant that Jonas could play in the sand and was protected from the sun’s rays. Sheila took out the sun cream and creamed Jonas as well as herself, although Jonas had a nice olive skin colour, and probably did not need so much protection.

She relaxed on the sun bed, her memories drifting back to the time when she met Jonas’ father. He looked so different to Sheila, coming from another country, but he was attractive, kind and considerate. Jonas was the fruit of a one night stand. Sheila did not even know where his father lived, whether he might have been married, or anything. She was on holiday at the time and decided to enjoy herself. The girl friends that were with her had already found company, so Sheila was alone, probably in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was a surprise when she returned home and found that she was carrying a souvenir from her holiday, almost a shock. She realised that finding the father would be an impossible job, so she accepted her fate. Now she would not want to be without little Jonas; he was her one and all.

Suddenly she came back to reality. A tall handsome man was standing before her with a tearful Jonas in his arms, and Jonas was wet.

“This is your son, I believe” he said. I think he wandered away and I found him on shore. He was trying to crawl into the sea.”

“You saved him” she said

“No madam, it is my job to make sure that no-one is harmed on this beach. I am a life saver here and I also collect the money for the sun beds.”

Sheila looked at the life saver and she liked what she saw. He was dressed only in his fashionable bathing trunks, his figure resembling one of the models in a fashion magazine, the water running in droplets over his shiny brown skin.

“Thank you so much” she said “how much do I owe for the sunbed?”

“Oh, nothing. It is my pleasure. Are you alone here?”

“Just me and my son, who you have already met.”

“I was wondering” he continued “if you would be interested to visit the town this evening. We could perhaps have a drink together and a meal.”

Sheila thought it over, it would certainly be an interesting evening with this super body but she decided it would be better to stay on her own on the first evening in a strange place.

“Oh thank you for the invitation” she answered “but I am meeting some friends this evening.” Of course there were no friends, but she had to invent an excuse.

“Perhaps another time” the life saver answered. He left Sheila on her own and Sheila watched him walk away to his next customers, two young girls also occupying the beach beds. He was collecting their money, but stayed a while with them, probably also inviting them to an evening out in town.

Sheila looked at Jonas and looked at the life saver.

“Jonas” she said “there goes your father, the man from who you inherited your wonderful brown eyes and thick hair.”

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MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge #43: The Problems of being a Writer

The writer sits at his desk
Words revolving in his head
No order no transparency
He cannot write, brain dead

Where is the food for thought
Looking out the window to search
Seeing nothing, just a void
Hears chirping, a bird on its perch

Inspiration is lacking
Concentration is no fun
Exhausted from repeating thoughts
Reaches out, in his hand a gun

Raises it and points
The genius seeks his root
He aims with intent to kill
The bird he tries to shoot

Up and away flies the bird
From the writer, had enough
Wants not die for anything
So leaves the writer some fluff

Outside is now silent
No bird sings a sweet refrain
Now to pen a few words
The writer tries again

Alas is something missing
As quiet as the grave
The silence can be heard
Inspiration he needs to save

The light is fading slowly
Sees shapes that make him fear
Then suddenly pieces together
He has a brilliant idea

An ode is penned to the bird
The one he nearly shot
Oh to be a writer
It is a tiring lot.

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MULTIPLY Rita's "Ritin" Challenge #42 On the Beach

“Beaches are just not the same anymore.”

Simon was not happy. He wanted to spend the day at home in the garden, relaxing in a comfortable place reading a book, but no. The kids were bored and his wife Marian decided it would be a good idea to go to the beach. The boys would love a day out swimming in the sea and playing on the beach.

“Anything for a quiet life” Simon thought and he packed the beach ball, swim ring and towels in the car. Marian was not just watching, she was preparing some food to take with them. So Simon climbed into the car, two boys in the back seats and Marian at his side and tried to prepare himself psychologically for a day out with the family. He was not happy. They eventually arrived. He was glad that there were few people on the beach, and managed to persuade himself that it would not be so bad after all. Spreading his towel out on the beach he made himself comfortable and began to read.

“Hey daddy, come and play.” It was Harry, the youngest of the two boys.

“Harry go and play with your brother Tom.”

“I can’t dad, he is being miserable and crying.”

Simon was immediately awake. “What is the matter with Tom.”

“He climbed up that big ring thing sticking half way out of the beach and fell off” was the answer.

Simon walked over to Tom to see the damage. “What’s the trouble son? Does it hurt?”

“Like hell dad, fell on my foot, look.”

Simon was not happy with what he saw. The ankle was twice as large as usual and already changing into a bluish colour. Simon walked over to Marian, but where was she. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Harry do you know where your mother is?”

“She said she was going to that place where the ladies go, you know, the toilet.”

“Aha, I see.” So there was nothing for Simon to do but just wait.

In the meanwhile Harry got impatient. “I am going for a swim dad” he said and before Simon could say no, he was gone. Marian eventually arrived from her visit.

“Marian, we have a problem” said Simon.

“I know” answered Marian.

“How comes you know, did you see Tom fall off that big concrete piece of nuisance.”

“I havn’t got a clue what you are talking about Simon. I mean my lip.”

“What’s wrong with your lip. Oh yes, I can see, it is quite swollen.”

“Of course it is, I decided to take a cola and there was a bee sitting on the glass. It stung me on the lip, see how it is swelling up, I think I will have to go to the doctor.”

In the meanwhile Simon heard quite a commotion on the beach and he saw one of the beach staff dragging a body out of the sea which had a remarkable likeness to Harry. Yes it was Harry.

Simon ran as fast as he could, and arrived just as Harry started coughing water up out of his lungs. The lifeguard had probably saved his life after seeing him go under water for the third time. Harry had caught his foot in some seaweed and everything got out of control.

Eventually Simon did manage to read his book in quiet. While he was waiting in the hospital for Tom’s foot to be x-rayed and afterwards put into plaster, the ligaments were torn. The doctor said he would be all right eventually, but it would take a few weeks until he could walk again. Marian was being kept in hospital as she was allergic to bee sting and she remained under observation. And Harry, he just had to stay in hospital to make sure there had been no permanent damage done.

“Beaches are just not the same any more.”

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MULTIPLY Rita's "Ritin" Challenge: The Discovery

Based, and only based on a true story

If Mrs. Wagner had not decided to have a spring cleaning session in her kitchen the loose stone would not have fallen out of the wall and she would not have noticed that it was actually a double wall with a space in between. Further if she had not been so inquisitive as to look what was in between she would not have discovered the rifle leaning on the back of the wall.

This discovery lead to the unhappiness of a retired police officer who thought that he could now live in peace and quiet without the stress of the murder division around his ears and spend the remainder of his retired days tendering his rose bed. Mrs. Wagner unfortunately disturbed the relaxations of retired officer Peter Walker.

We have to take a few steps back in time, more than 20 years. Peter Walker had then been promoted as head of the detective office in a town in a small country somewhere in Europe when the crime was discovered. It was a warm spring week-end and there were many people on their way enjoying walks through woodlands and country villages. In one of these forests there was a so-called week-end house, but the hiker that happened to chance on the house was not very happy afterwards. Fritz Gerber actually had a shock. The stone had now fallen into the pond, figuratively speaking of course, and the ripples began to spread. He ran to the next village and called the police. They arrived quickly to examine the place of the crime. Five elderly people, two married couples and a friend, had been shot and killed in the week-end house and in the garden and the search for the murderer began.

Peter Walker did everything in his power. He examined the background of the victims, arrested a few relatives, only to release them again, without sufficient proof, but the murderer was not found and neither was the weapon. It was easy for the criminal investigation department and their specialists to discover what the weapon was, a rifle, by traces left from the bullets. The open question being where was the rifle and who had used it? In the twenty years that the case existed in the files of the police, there was no success.

That was until the day that Mrs. Wagner cleaned the kitchen and found the rifle. Like every good honest citizen she called the police who collected the rifle for an examination. Mrs. Wagner was just a little bit shocked when the police asked if she knew where the rifle came from. Having a clean legal sheet, the police believed her when she insisted that she did not know anything about the rifle. She had been living in the house for five years, with a rifle in the wall, of course.

Many examinations were made on the rifle and the result was that it was the weapon used to kill five people one sunny day in a holiday chalet in the forest. Even in his retirement ex-officer Peter Walker was satisfied that at last the weapon had been found and enquiries were made as to who had lived in the house before Mrs. Wagner. It seems that it was a person known as Heinz Schmitt, but it also appeared that Heinz Schmitt had decided to leave his safe little country in Europe and emigrate, to live somewhere else in the world. The crime now having taken place more than 20 years ago was now time-barred, meaning that for the police it was a closed case.

Peter Walker was on the one side happy that at last the murderer had been found, on the other hand had a feeling that he had wasted 20 years of his working life chasing a shadow.

Three years before Mrs. Wagner cleaned the kitchen, there was a man standing on a lonely beach somewhere in the world. It was almost midnight as he decided to walk towards the incoming tide. He could swim, but this was not his intention. He just kept walking and never returned to the beach. Had he not decided to end his life in this way, it might have been that the international police had been able to deliver him to his rightful punishment in a small town in Europe.

It may also have been that at last the reasons for the death of five innocent people would be uncovered, or perhaps they were also not so innocent. Who knows what skeletons live in various closets. The case was now time-barred, and perhaps the murderer would have escaped any punishment. In a way retired office Peter Walker was glad.

He could now return to looking after his rose garden.

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MULTIPLY Rita's "Ritin" Challenge #40: And Life goes on

Bill Parker had not seen his kid brother Pete for some time. He applied for the permit and had to wait until permission was granted. Life today was just not the same any more. His country was breaking down and nothing was easy, not even a simple visit to a brother, especially if they lived out of town. He remembered when he was younger. You just jumped in your car and drove off where your nose lead you. It made no difference where. Today it did. Things were different today. A few changes had occurred over the last couple of years.

He had to drive through the old town where he grew up with Pete and mum and dad. That was now in the zone, so there was almost no traffic on the road. He looked across the land at the side of the road and could see the ocean in the distance. He remembered how it used to be. People crowded on the beach, sitting on their towels. It was fun with mum and dad. You changed into your bathing trunks and off you went into the sea. Even then it was not really the cleanest water for swimming, but who cared. As soon as you got home in the evening mum made sure you had a bath. Afterwards the basin was full of sandy residue. He missed that today. Pete was just learning how to swim and only went in the water with his swim help, two coloured plastic covers for his arms. Dad would blow them up and then he could float. He never did learn how to swim, perhaps if there had been more time.

It all looked so bare now, no movement and no people on the beach. The little shops selling snacks and sweets were gone forever. The fun fair was the first to be demolished. They just came along and scooped it away with a crane. There was no electricity, so they cleared it away. Afterwards they started scooping the first layers of the land away. It resembled one big building site and Bill was sure everything would be all right; it would be just a matter of time. Some of the buildings had been left standing resembling stone memorials.

When the accident happened Bill was away, he had joined the army wanting to learn a trade, and hoping to be able to visit other places. His mum and dad were proud of Bill. He remembered seeing them together for the last time, mum, dad and Pete waving at the station as he boarded the train. He still had the letters they wrote to him and in the meanwhile had his own letters again, without any answers. One day the letters stopped coming and he was told his army days were over. The officer did not call him into his office. It was a large hall and many of the soldiers were sitting there waiting to hear why they were there. On that day there were suddenly many orphans in his army unit and they were all sent home.

He left the zone and turned inland. Now the road was in a much better shape. It was a new one, built in the last year. He saw the buildings ahead; it was a large complex that had been built. After showing his permit at the gate he parked his car. He walked over to a large white modern building, Pete's new home. He looked up towards Pete’s window, but there was no Pete waving to his big brother, although Bill knew he was there.

“Hello Mr. Parker” the nurse said “I am sure Pete has been looking forward to your visit all week.”

“Yes I am sure” answered Bill. Bill was certain Pete was not looking forward to the visit, because it was not possible that Pete knew what was going on around him. He was one of the boys that the radioactivity hit hard; all because one of the workers at the power station fell asleep on the job. They call it the zone today, but Bill thought a better name would have been the deadlands. Mum and dad died two days after the accident, as most of their neighbours. Some were saved, like Pete, although Pete only saw the world through bandages. He only ate through a tube supplying liquids to his body.

Bill entered the room.

“Hi Pete” he said, knowing there would be no answer. “I drove past our beach today, you remember. That really brought back some memories” and Bill stayed an hour with Pete and then left.

At least Bill still had some memories, he was sure Pete had none.

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MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge #38: The Lament of a Craftsman

Now this is hard work, my fingers are raw
If only I had something like a motor
Come to think of it, I am many years too soon
But if I had an engine, now that would be a boon

Imagine a world, where the handwork was finished
The craftsmanship detail, now that would be diminished
You all think its good, you think I am glad
When I get home in the evening, I am tired and really feel bad

Now if I had electricity, or something driven by steam
I would not stand here sweating, but that is just a dream
So see your photos and admire, thinking how it looks so good
My tools are simple and tiring, some are just made of wood

I long for the years to come, my descendents life not so bitter
With science and engineering, I am sure they will feel much fitter
But now I am working hard, oh is this life a bore
I really hate this craftsmanship, in the evenings I feel so sore.

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MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge #37: Jason and Emmy

Jason’s memory of seeing the little house with the swing remained vividly in his mind. He was six years old and it was the first time he was allowed to visit his grandmother alone. She did not live far away and he had often been there with his mother. Their apple tree had been generous with its fruit and Jason’s mother gave him some to take to his grandmother. He walked carefully along the path, making sure that he did not drop any of the precious fruit and arrived at the house with the swing, wondering if she was there. He had often walked past and there was a girl that would be sitting on the swing, dressed in the plain working clothes of the day moving to and fro. He would watch her and she would watch him, but his mother would call to hurry and there was never time to get to know her. Today was different and he so hoped that the girl would be there. He had his brothers and sisters to play with, but they were all so much younger, and he wanted to play with someone his own age.

As he approached the house he saw her outside. He carefully placed the sack of apples on the ground and stood still, waiting for a signal that he was welcome.

She looked in his direction.

“Where’s your mother” she asked

“At home” was his answer, not really knowing what to say next.

“Then come over and push me on the swing.”

Jason needed no second invitation and so he pushed the girl higher and higher and her laugh was like the water running over the stones in the near bye brook which ran parallel to the path.

“My name is Emily” she said, “but everyone calls me Emmy. I have seen you often with your mother. Are you on your own today?”

“Yes I am taking the apples to my grandmother, she lives just down the path.”

“I know her, the lady with the kind blue eyes that lives at the mill. She always gives me some bread and butter when I see her. That’s your grandmother? Would you like to sit on the swing? She asked and Jason said “Yes” just waiting for the invitation.

After a while Jason said goodbye to Emmy and took the apples to his grandmother. When he got home he told his mother of his new friend and she gave him permission to see Emily during the day. The house was not far. Jason was now growing up and it was time for him to find his own way around.

This meeting was the first of many between Emily and Jason. They both started school together and Jason would often carry Emily’s schoolbooks. At the beginning of the twentieth century, it was only the wealthy that could afford a school bag and the books were usually tied together with string. Emily became Jason’s best friend and Jason was Emily’s. They spent many hours together and although Emily was old enough to make the swing go higher herself, she was often heard to say to Jason “Push me higher” and he would.

Time passed and both Emily and Jason left school. Emily worked in the big house on the hill as a servant, and Jason worked at the local farm as a labourer, as his father before him. They were not rich people but they had each other. Then came the day when his country was at war. It was the year 1914 and Jason served his country as many other patriotic men. He said a long goodbye to Emily, promising that on his return they would always be together.

Jason was sure that he was doing the right thing by fighting for his country. He had visions of brave attacks where his officers would be proud of him and returning to England glad to have fought for his country. What he saw on the battlefields was not what he expected. He had to dig trenches, if it rained, they were full of mud. When the enemy attacked he was deep in the trench and he fought back. He saw many brave men fall, saw many maimed for life, and when they advanced from their positions he passed the trenches on the other side where there were soldiers from another country, but also soldiers that would never see their home or families again. Towards the end of the war Jason was involved in a gas attack where mustard gas was used, the result being that he had lost his sight.

It was a sad sight to see how his parents met him from the train at their local station in the English countryside. His eyes were covered and although he had a stick to help him find the way, he had to rely on help from others. He had been told that after some time he may regain his sight again.

His one thought when he arrived home was to find Emily again. His parents told him to wait until he felt better and could find his way, but Jason was determined and so one day when his parents were busy, he sneaked out of the house and walked along the path once again. The noise of the water babbling over the stones of the brook helped him to find the way. He soon heard the noise of the swing creaking and knew he was there.

“Emmy, Emmy, I am back – are you there.”

“Yes Jason here I am, I have been waiting so long. Come and push me higher on the swing.” And he felt her hand take his and lead him to the swing. He could smell her and he felt he clothes, remembering the long dress that was her favourite, tied at the waist with a large yellow satin band. He was happy and was home again.

“What happened to your eyes Jason? Was it the war?”

“Yes Emmy, but they told me it was only for a time and I would be able to see again.”

Jason was happy; his parents were worried when he told them he had been to see Emmy. They said nothing; they were happy when Jason was happy and were hoping that his sight would return.

One morning after a few weeks, Jason awoke and his eyes were hurting, but the pain was a welcome pain. The sun was shining through the window and he could feel the rays on his face and even see the light through his eyes. He saw no details, but could tell the difference between light and dark. His parents were so happy.

“I must tell Emmy” he said.

“No wait son” said his father. “It would be more of a surprise when your complete sight returns”. His mother and father looked at each other with an unanswered question in their eyes.

Jason still felt quite weak and so he decided to follow his parent’s advice and stayed at home. Each day his sight became stronger and by the end of the week he could see his parents and brothers and sisters again. He even dared to look in a mirror. It was not a pretty site that met him, the war had left its scars, but he was sure that time would heal all wounds. He was now ready to see Emmy.

“No, son, just wait, we have to tell you something” said his father.

“Dad, I have waited so long, and now I must go to Emmy. I love her so much and want to ask her if she will be my wife.” He sprang out of the door and made his way.

“Mother, we cannot let him go” said his father and his mother answered “No, we must go with him” and they both made their way along the path to the neighbour’s cottage. Jason was walking so fast that they could not reach him in time.

Jason stopped in his tracks as he saw the cottage again. The windows were broken, the door hung open on its hinges and the garden was no longer a neat vegetable garden, but overgrown with weeds. And the swing; the swing where he had met his Emmy the first time; it was only hanging on one rope, the other hanging loosely with a frayed end.

“Emmy” he called and again “Emmy”, but the only answer was the wind rustling in the trees and the old house.

His parents arrived at the scene.

“Mum, Dad, tell me what has happened. Where is my Emmy.”

His mother had tears in her eyes and even his father could hardly look his son in the eyes.

“Jason, we tried to tell you, but you were so happy to be at home again. Please listen son. It was the scarlet fever. It carried the complete family away. First of all Emmy’s mother and father had it and then Emmy caught it. They all had a quick death and are buried together in one grave in the village graveyard.”

Jason was so sure he felt Emmy, smelt her, touched her, just a week before. Perhaps he did.

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MULTIPLY RRC #36 Stairways of Life

I travelled miles, it was hot, it was tiresome
I met other people, met other races
Some of them I had to fight
But I carried on despite the hardship
Despite the regrets I had
I had my orders, I had my beliefs
I entered buildings, forced my way through the door
Some had stairways, some stairways were broken
Broken through destruction
Broken out of revenge
I began to hate my life
Hate taking orders when I knew they were wrong
I wanted to sit on the stairs, just like at home
Just sit down and talk to the people
Try to find a way out of this mess
I remembered the stairway at home
Those cool dark evenings
Meeting the gang on the stairs
Just sitting and talking
No-one telling us to kill, to conquer
We were all different at home
Different colours, different religions
But we could talk without fighting for our rights
Because on the stairway we were all equal
Just the gang, meeting on the stairs
talking, growing up together
I am still travelling
Tell me how long this war lasts
Tell me how many stairs will be destroyed
Before I return

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MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge #34: Graveyard Meeting

It was one of those dark nights, no moonshine, just a few stars dotted across the sky, definitely not a night for a walk through the cemetery. Rose and Charlie found it ideal, they had a lot to catch up with as they had not seen each other for a few years, and what better place could they meet than at the cemetery. Charlie had been there almost ten years and Rose only arrived a week before.

“So now we are together again Rose, I really missed you the first few years: taking walks on my own on the dark nights.”

“Oh Charlie, I missed you too. The first year was the worst, but afterwards I just found that life must go on. And now it doesn’t any more.”

“That’s death Rose, just have to get on with it like the rest of us.”

“Where are the rest of us Charlie, are we the only two here.”

“No, of course not Rose, there are hundreds of us, but only a few special ones like us. They have their own deaths to live like us.”

“Look at that nice bench Charlie, I often had a sit down after I put the flowers on your grave. I suppose it is now our grave. I hope you liked them. You always said you were partial to lilies, so I always brought them for you.”

“Oh yes Rose, I really liked them. It made the place look a bit more comfortable and homely. I suppose it is finished with the lilies now.”

“Probably might be Charlie, you know how much I like yellow roses and Benny, our son, and his wife have already put some on the grave. Hope you don’t mind. You know, I did get a funny feeling sometimes as if you were near when I made my visit.”

“That was the idea Rose. Didn’t like leaving you so sudden, but if the heart stops beating and you have a hungering for something special, then there is nothing you can do about it.”

“Anyhow it’s a nice quiet place here. None of that stress from life any more and we are together again. Hope you don’t mind me having the top floor.”

“No problem Rose, I can just float up now and again if I want to and you can visit me down below. Things are so much easier now. When I think of all those aches and pains I had from the rheumatism and it’s all gone now. Now and again I get a bit hungry, but nothing that a flight into town won’t cure.”

“You are right there Charlie, just a nice peaceful rest.”

“Evening Charlie, is that the wife?”

“Good evening George, yes she has now joined me. Let me introduce you, Rose this is George, he has now been here at least twenty years.”

“Good evening Rose and nice to meet you. Now if you want to know anything or are a bit unsure of things, just ask me.”

“Thank you George, but I am settling in quite well at the moment.”

“That’s what we like to hear, isn’t it Charlie. Next week is full moon, did Charlie tell you about the preparations?”

“No, he didn’t. Is that something special?”

“Not really special Rose. It’s a sort of getting to know you evening, isn’t it Charlie.”

“Yes Rose, I am sure you will love it. George usually organises it and we all meet at the bench for a talk. You would be surprised at the familiar faces you might see. Even your grandmother will be there. She kept asking me when you would eventually arrive. You were her favourite granddaughter you know. Afterwards we take a flight into town to quench our thirst. ”

“Oh, that will be nice Charlie.”

“Well I will be getting along now Rose and Charlie, so wish you a very happy remainder of the evening. Daylight will soon be arriving.”

“Did you hear that Charlie. Now daylight is not so good for the undead like us is it?”

“Definitely isn’t Rose. We might melt or explode into flames, so better be getting back home. Oh it is lovely to have you at my side again Rose. Think of all the expeditions we can make together when we get organised. You don’t even have to be worried about getting bitten, after all we have all ready got our bites.”

And as the two vampires walked back to their grave, they knew that they would now stay together forever and Rose was so looking forward to seeing her grandmother again.

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MULTIPLY RRC #33: The Room

“Breathe in, breathe out, this is wonderful. Back in this room again after so many years, but this time alone. I just wonder how Jim and I fitted into this bed, but we were then younger and the pounds were less; anyhow the closer the better in those days. Now I am back again and am spending another night on this wonderful bed. We always found the view from the window so romantic; or was it the window we found romantic. Oh Jim, I wish you were here again, just to see that nothing has changed.

The rafters supporting the roof and tracing its outlines arising to a peak with their heavy beams in the middle; I always knew if I wanted to die somewhere, then it would be here. The lady looked at me with a strange face when I told her I only needed the room for a night, they were probably used to people staying at least at week, as Jim and I did in the days far gone. Her reaction when I told her I only had a small bag with me was also strange. Who reserves a room in a hotel with just one small bag, but I did not need more. Just my nightdress is enough. When they find me I want them to find something peaceful and relaxed. I even bought the nightdress for the occasion. Not transparent, but white and silky, and not a fabric that creases. No, I do not want to be found creased and cheap as if I was something thrown away from life. Jim said his goodbyes to me last week and said this time you cannot come with me. It is a journey I am making alone. That was easy for Jim to say, but being without Jim was being without part of my life.

Meeting Jim Brannigan was the most wonderful day of my life, we both knew we were meant for each other. We had spent all our days together sharing moments never to be forgotten. When Jack was born, he was so small, those tiny fingers and toes that seemed to have a life of their own. I think it was the first and only moment I saw Jim with tears in his eyes as he held our baby in his arms for the first time. I never forgot that moment in life. Jim taking Jack to the football games, playing with him in the yard and both of us sharing the moment when Jack broke his leg and had to go to hospital. Sitting outside the ward, Jim with his arms around my shoulder and telling me everything would be all right.

Now everything is no longer all right. Jim left so quickly and I just do not feel all right anymore, so I will join him. I am glad I found this place again and nothing has changed. The evening is drawing in and it is getting darker, although looking out of the window I can still see the yellow ears of corn shining in the light of the moon; time to bring some light into the room. They still have the same old fashioned lamps here, but they fit so well and how they illuminate everything, looks almost magical.

Is death magical? Jim looked so relaxed when he left me for the last time. He held my hand and smiled and then he was gone, shrouded in a shining light that spent peace everywhere. Will it be like that when I go?

Now it is really getting dark, even the lamps no longer feed the room with the light it needs. Wait Jim I will be coming soon, just wait. A flash, a blinding flash, Jim is this the way it was. No, wait a minute, I am not ready for this. Another flash, and it hurts, Jim where are you, please take me to where you are.”

“How is she doctor?”

“Mr. Brannigan she was very lucky, we nearly lost her. The impact of the car crash killed your father instantly, but your mother was thrown clear of the car. She was in a bad way, and her heart stopped beating, but we managed to bring her back and she has been in a coma since the operation, but she should pull through.”

“Doctor, I think Mrs. Brannigan is waking up”

“Thank you nurse. Ok, Mr. Brannigan you heard the good news. Your mother is awake.”

“Can I see her doctor?”

“You certainly can, I think seeing her son at a time like this would be part of the best medicine.”

Jack Brannigan entered the ward, and thought his mother to be so small in comparison to the machinery humming around her bed.

“Don’t worry Mr. Brannigan” said the doctor “the tubes are helping her to breathe better. It is just routine at the moment. The operation was a success and we managed to stop the internal bleeding, it is just a matter of time and she should recover.”

“Did you hear that mum, the doctor said you will soon be on your feet.”

“Jack, what are you doing here, did you book a room in at the hotel as well? Did you come on this journey with me?”

“Mum, I don’t know what you mean. Just relax and take it easy. The doctor said you will be ok.”

And with time Mrs. Brannigan was ok. It surprised Jack how well she took the news that his father was killed in the accident; as if she knew he was no longer there. They say that time heals all wounds and with time Mrs. Brannigan was back on her feet. She then decided to make a journey to the hotel where she was so happy with Jim, where they had spent their honeymoon. Her son and his family came with her, in the meanwhile his wife had given birth to a son, Jimmy, that Mrs. Brannigan was sure looked exactly like her departed husband Jim. The visit to the hotel was a disappointment. It was still there, but had been renovated. The wonderful half moon window on the top floor had been replaced by one of those large square glass windows spoiling the atmosphere completely as far as she was concerned. No, it was not the same anymore, but then she realised that this was right. Things were not the same anymore and she must get on with her life.

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MULTIPLY RRC #32 - Daddy?

„Daddy, what’s that man doing with the camera?“

“He’s taking a photo of us together.”

“Why?”

“Well he just asked, so I said it would be ok.”

“But daddy you didn’t ask me.”

“Oh, sorry honey. Do you mind.”

“Of course not daddy, just proving my point.”

“What point?”

“Well, you know, a lady likes to be asked before being photographed.
Daddy, why is the man taking the photo?”

“Well he said we look great together and he wants to enter the photo for a competition.”

“What’s a compition?”

“Competition honey. Where there are other photos and the best photo wins something.”

“Does that mean if we win we have a prize.”

“No, honey, it’s the man with the camera that gets the prize.”

“That’s not fair daddy. It’s us on the picture, so we should have the prize.”

“Well it’s like this. If you want to win a prize you have to work for it. Now did we have to work for it?”

“We had to look in the camera.”

“Yes, but the man with the camera had to organise his camera that he took a nice photo, good enough for a competition. Now that is something we just can’t do. The camera costs a lot of money and belongs to the man.”

“Oh, I see daddy. Does that mean that Marilyn Monro, Jane Russell and all those film stars did everything for free daddy.”

“You know what, honey, what about we go and get an ice cream.”

“Oh, yeah daddy, that’ll be great.”

Daddy?”

“Yeah”

“Oh forget it, I want strawberry ice cream.”

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MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge #30: The Tyre

“No, No, No. That is just what I needed a flat and in the middle of a lonely road miles from the next garage” and with her last remark Judy gave her flat tyre a heavy kick. Then something strange happened. The tyre was surrounded by a white mist which slowly took the shape of an apparition. To be exact a small figure was standing next to the tyre dressed in blue overalls, just like the miniature version of a mechanic.

“At your service Madam” the figure said.

“Who are you and what are you doing here. “

“Madam it seems you have problem with our tyre.”

“What do you mean our tyre. The tyre belongs to the car and it has a puncture, no air, flat, so where do you come from and why have you taken possession of the tyre. It belongs to me and not to us.”

“Please let me explain, I am tyre genie, put into the tyre by wise old genie when it was made.”

“You mean like Aladdin and the lamp. You must be joking. You don’t even look like a genie.”

“No joke madam; only joke is that Aladdin and lamp are old fashioned, not very modern. Today all lamps are electric, not oil. You mean I don’t look like Aladdin. Let us be serious. If I was dressed in the old fashioned clothes that Aladdin wore, you would not believe that I was a tyre genie.”

“No, I suppose I would, but then I don’t really believe in tyre genies or do I have three wishes?”

“Of course you have three wishes. Just try me.”

“OK, I wish that the tyre had air.”

“No problem madam.”

and the tyre really did get some air and was no longer flat – for a few minutes. Then the air started escaping again through a hole.”

“Satisfied madam?”

“I would be if the air stayed in the tyre, but it is escaping again.”

“Of course it is. You asked for air in tyre, but did not say to repair hole.”

“Are you trying to be funny. OK, I wish that the hole would be repaired.”

It seemed to Judy that nothing had happened.

“Of course something happened madam. Tyre is repaired.”

“So where is the air?”

“Madam said nothing about air, just hole repaired. You have one wish left.”

“I don’t think I will bother. You seem to interpret my wishes as you want to.”

“Wishes are always suited to wish instruction manual which says only grant what is asked; all other remarks made after the wish do not count.”

“OK, genie, so how do I get my tyre repaired and make my way home.”

“No problem, madam, I have magic tyre.”

“What is that?”

“Successor to magic carpet. Magic carpets old fashioned and no longer available. We now only have magic tyres.”

“OK, so get your magic tyre and bring me home.”

“No problem madam. Genie has problem.” And then he started crying.

“So don’t cry genie, you are staining your nice clean overall with grease marks.”

“I must be mad” thought Judy, “talking to a genie as if he was real.”

“Why are you crying?” she asked.

“Flat tyre has been genie’s home since car belonged to you. We have spent many hours and travelled many miles together. Now genie has no tyre any more to live in. If you go home on magic tyre car will be left alone with flat tyre and I am homeless.”

and he started crying again.

“You mean you have lived in that tyre since I bought the car. I never noticed you were there.”

“Genies should not be seen or heard, only in emergency.”

“OK genie, tell you what. You get the magic tyre and we both go with the magic tyre to the next garage. You drop me off just before we get to the garage and then go back to my car with the magic tyre. I will tell the mechanic what has happened and he will drive me to my car and change the tyre. When I have the new tyre on the car you can move into that one and live there.”

“Oh madam, many thanks. You mean I get a complete new tyre.”

“Looks like it genie.”

“Madam you still have one wish, if I may say so.”

“OK genie, but I am not so good at wishes. Do you have a suggestion?”

“Oh yes madam. Please wish that new tyre has built in shower. I always feel so dirty when we get home from a drive out.”

Do you believe in genies? Judy didn’t but now she does. She loved flying on the magic tyre and after the new tyre had been fitted on the car she made her last wish and now she has the happiest tyre genie you can imagine. She even washes his overalls when they are dirty. Of course, she also wished for an extra set for genie to wear after he had taken a shower in his new tyre.

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MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge #29: The Barn

The Truck

The Purple Door

The Flag

Welcome to a little village on the outskirts of Geneva where Hank and Jean Stewart are living with their boys Duke and Jason. Yes, you have met them before. They are still trying to adapt to the Swiss way of life after causing some small disturbances. They put an old truck in their garden (in the meanwhile replaced by an old Swiss ski lift cabin), decided to paint their door (the red background and the white cross was just a little bit too Swiss) and eventually managed to almost insult the Swiss nation by putting up a flag in their garden showing the Stars and Stripes. Thanks to an idea of Mrs. Stewart, it was replaced by a Swiss flag (with a reverse side still showing the stars and stripes).

There are just some things you cannot do in Switzerland. However, Hank had now been working in the Swiss office of his American based company for almost a year and was actually enjoying life in Switzerland. He had developed a taste for Swiss wine and his wife just loved Swiss chocolate. Duke’s knowledge of yodelling had become so good that he was one of the best in his group and both of the boys had found two nice girls, the daughters of Charles the local police officer. Things could not be better or….

“Hey mum, what do you think?”

“What do I think about what Jason?”

“About Abe, of course.”

“Who Abe Lincoln?”

“Well sort of, come and have a look?”

“OK, son, what’s this all about Abe? But that’s a dog, a sweet little dog, and his name is Abe. You mean the Swiss are calling their dogs names like our presidents?”

“Not quite mum, you know Jeanette’s dog had puppies and they can’t keep all of them, so I said we would have one. You do like dogs don’t you mum?”

“Well sure Jason, but I would be glad if you told me first of all. He sure is a sweet little thing, but how comes he has a spotted belly and the rest is black?”

“Yea, well, that was a bit of a problem. Jeanette’s dog is a Dalmatian, you know one of those spotted ones and the dog escaped out and met the St. Bernard from next door. The puppies are a bit of a mixture. How do you find the name, mum, I thought Abe is a good name.”

“Son, what is that you have there, a dog?”

“Yes dad, isn’t he lovely. I got him from Jeanette, my girl friend. Her father Charles, you know the nice policeman, said she could ask me if I would take one. They still have five if you want more.”

“No, son, not really, I don’t think I really want one.”

“Oh, Hank” said Jean “you know you love dogs and he is such a cute little thing.”

“But where are we going to put him?”

“Well dad, I though he could live in the Swiss ski lift cabin until you make something for him.”

“Oh, come on Hank, you can make him a nice little house, something like the barns we have in our home country. Just some wood pieced together will do fine.” said Jean.

Hank did roll his eyes but decided he was outnumbered, especially when Duke came home from his yodel classes and saw the dog.

“Hey Jason, he is great, although I would have called him Washington.”

“No I think Abe sounds better, and dad is going to build him a home, just like the barn gramps had out on his ranch.”

So fate was sealed and the next day Hank began to saw the wooden planks to make a nice all American barn for Abe. Naturally there was a small problem.

“Good morning, Michelle, Marcel” Jean greeted her neighbours from across the road.

“Good morning Jean” they answered. Mrs. Le Blanc was not really keen on being on first name terms with the Americans, but Marcel told her it was normal in the States.

“Looks like Hank is busy building” said Marcel Le Blanc.

“What is it going to be this time?” said Michelle Le Blanc “a White House copy?”.

“Oh no” said Jean, “a nice little home for our doggy.”

“I see” answered Mrs. Le Blanc. As soon as they arrived home Michelle looked at Marcel with her “call the police” look.

“What’s wrong now, Michelle. Hank is only building a small hut for his dog.”

“Have they got planning permission? You know in Switzerland you have to stake out the outline of a building before it is put up at least a month ahead, in case there are objections.”

“Yes, but Michelle, who is going to object to a small dog house.”

“It does not look very small to me. Just wait until it is finished, then we will see” was the answer.

After a few days work Hank was proud of the barn replica he had made for Abe and Abe was happy to have a nice house to live in. It even had windows at the side and a weather vane on the roof to show the direction the wind was blowing. Then it happened. There was a knock at the door and Hank opened the door and guess who was standing there – why Charles and Jacques the two village policemen.

“Hi Charles, Jacques nice to see you again. Don’t say it, I know, there is something wrong with our dog house.”

“Well not really Hank, it is a very nice dog house.”

“So Charles, we are not here to compliment Mr. Stewart on his building qualities, remember. He did not seek permission from the Swiss authorities to build it.”

“Something wrong Hank” and Jean came to the door.

“Seems we were supposed to get permission to build a home for Abe.”

“But it’s only a dog house” answered Jean.

“Yes Mrs. Stewart, that may be the case, but it is not correct. Mrs. Le Blanc has already registered an official complaint. She said the weather vane distracts her every time it changes directions.”

“Ok I will remove it” answered Hank.

“Sorry Hank, but that is not the only problem. It seems that the actual building is a bit too, well, you know, just a little bit too American. Now if it were something in the Swiss way of things……. I am sorry Hank, but you know Mrs. Le Blanc.”

“It’s ok Charles, I will replace it with something more suitable.”

“Yes, Mr. Stewart, but put the outline up before you start building” said Jacques and the two policemen left.

“You know what Hank” said Jean “I think that policeman called Charles is quite nice, but I am not too keen on that Jacques.”

“You are right honey, but the law is the law and I have a good idea.”

The next day Hank removed Abe’s barn and Abe had to move back into the ski lift cabin. Then Hank got busy and put the outlines up for a new dog house, without weather vane. He waited a month and was glad there were no objections, especially as Abe was getting bigger and the ski lift just was not very suitable for a dog.

Hank then got busy and eventually constructed a new home for Abe. Now there were no complaints. How could any Swiss citizen object to a smaller version of a Swiss mountain chalet in the garden? A lot of Swiss have them, but they are not usually used as a dog house. Abe had the best dog house in the village. Why, he even had curtains at the windows and a balcony on the top floor. Oh yes, as you know barns are quite high buildings. So Hank kept the height and found that it was just right to build two floors in the chalet.

Michelle Le Blanc was a bit annoyed, but was soon satisfied when Marcel, her husband, also built a smaller version of a Swiss chalet in their garden, although without dog.

MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge #28: The Bridge

It must be at least twenty years since I came here. How things change so quickly. I nearly missed the place altogether, the paths grown over with long grass stalks and even the bridge beginning to show its age. I do not really know why I am here again, but I suppose memories drag you back to their origins and I did actually like John, well I did, but things can change so quickly.

The water was deep after the fresh rainfalls and tore its way through the countryside. The more it flowed the more speed and the noise was full volume under the bridge.

“Hey John, looks like a fairly strong current today.”

“Yea Flo, be glad when the dam is built, then there won’t be any more water flowing through.”

“Well, I don’t know John, it is really a romantic place to be, as we know quite well, don’t we? You and I together on the bench with the sound of water rushing past; just perfect for a romantic evening together.” Flo said with a glimmer in her eyes.

“You said it Flo, so let’s go home now, otherwise your mother and father might start getting worried, and I have to do some night shift tonight at the factory.”

Now John really thought I was stupid. He was just trying to avoid me lately and I know why. Wendy told me that she saw him at the bridge holding hands with that blond freak of a girl called Judy, and they were kissing. Just wait John, you and your nightshift; time that I did some night work as well.

It was a very romantic night, the crickets were chirping in the grass on the bank of the river, it was full moon and its reflection in the water made it look like a giant yellow balloon hanging in the sky. I just had the feeling that John did not have eyes for all that stuff. He was too busy with his hands exploring the blond bombshells body qualities and she seemed to be enjoying it. I decided on that evening that the long grass on the banks of the river can be really good for a hiding place. So there they were at our favourite place on the bench, doing the things that John and I usually did. He even seemed to be enjoying it and her giggles and sighs were really getting on my nerves. I should have been there in his arms, but just you wait you cow. Now they seem to be finished, she was buttoning up her blouse and he was manoeuvring around the front of his trousers putting things back in order. I suppose he will now say a quick goodbye and go on home.

At least he does when I am with him, but just look at that they are stepping up on the bridge and gazing sort of dreamy in their reflections. I must get a bit nearer to see what they are talking about.

“Judy you are the finest girl I have ever met, you have the most beautiful eyes, I just can’t get enough of you.”

“John I love you as well, but what about Flo. I thought she was your girl.”

“Forget it Judy; that was before I met you. She doesn’t want a boyfriend, just someone to pay for her and go out with; now you, Judy; that is really something different. I have given a few hints to Flo that I don’t have much interest any more. No, Judy, Flo is not for me, you are the girl I love. I have something for you.”

“Oh, John, that is just beautiful.”

It was then the light of the moon reflected on the diamond ring he was giving her. Not just a ring, but an engagement ring. I then had to act quickly; I crept up on the bridge behind them. They only had eyes for each other, and I gave our blond princess a good push. Unfortunately she grabbed onto John and they both landed in the strong current of the river flowing under the bridge. I did not really intend for John to get a watery grave, but things do not always turn out as they should.

So these many years later, I think it was perhaps a good job they built the dam down stream and the river dried up. They did find the bodies about two months later and it was just recorded as an unfortunate accident.

Think I better be getting home, the bridge just does not look the same without the water flowing below.

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MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge #27: The Flag

Do you remember the American Stewart family: Hank and Jean, with their sons Jason and Duke. Hank works in Switzerland for his American company. Somehow they have had a couple of small problems settling into their new country, and they try so hard.

Here are the first two stories to bring you up to date

The Truck

The Purple Door

“Hey Honey, what do you think? Uncle Chad sent us the present all the way from the States and it would be a shame not to use it.”
“You’re right Jean, it was a good idea, and we won’t feel so home sick. I am sure the boys will love it.”
“Ok, Hank, looks like we have work to do.”

The American family Stewart are still living in the little village somewhere in the French part of Switzerland, near to Geneva where Hank worked for an American company. They found that life was a little bit different in Europe to the States, everything a bit small scale. They tried their best to get on with the neighbours and their surroundings, but decided to just go about their lives as quietly and inconspicuously as possible, avoiding any unnecessary excitement. Even Jason, their youngest, got a prize in the school for learning the words of the Swiss National Anthem by memory. His brother, Duke, attended yodelling classes once a week and was now one of the best soloists they had.

Michelle Le Blanc was still not so happy with her American neighbours who lived opposite. Her husband Marcel quite liked Hank Stewart and they often had an interesting conversation about sport or politics, the normal masculine conversational topics, although he did not mention it to Michelle.

The next day was Saturday, so Hank was up early in the morning, he had some shopping to do and he took the two boys with him to the local building market. He then saw exactly what he wanted; a white pole about eight feet high.

“That looks like it will do the job, what do you think sons?”

“What’s it for dad?” the two boys asked.

“Hey boys, just think. You saw what Uncle Chad sent us, well this is just ideal to go with it.”

“Oh, I see dad. You don’t think that Mrs. Misery Le Blanc will have anything against it?”

“Son, she is Mrs. Le Blanc to you, even if she can be a bit of a witch now and again. Her husband is a nice guy.”

“Yea I know dad. He even played a round of football with me and Duke last week, but we had to go to the other side of the village.”

“You don’t say.”

“Well Jason said it would be better. He probably didn’t want old Mrs. Misery, sorry dad, Mrs. Le Blanc, to see that he was siding with the enemy.”

“So sons, this has to stop. They are probably a very nice couple and we just got off on the wrong foot with them. Anyhow, we are inviting them to our 4^th July party as well as some other friends.”

“But dad.”

“No buts, they are our neighbours.”

The family Stewart left the shops and travelled home. After lunch Hank Stewart had work to do, under the supervision of Jean of course.

In the meanwhile….

“Marcel, come and look. Those Americans are up to their tricks again.”

“Michelle what are you doing again at the window with the binoculars spying on our American neighbours.”

“Look, Marcel, that Mr. Stewart is hammering a long pole into the ground and his wife is giving him instructions.”

“Perhaps he is fixing a light up in the garden for when he wants to sit outside on the summer evenings. It is really none of our business.”

Suddenly Jean Stewart saw the light reflecting on something in the neighbour’s window opposite.

“Hey, look Hank I am sure that Mrs. Le Blanc is looking at us again with the binoculars.”

“Who cares baby, we are not doing anything illegal.” And so Hank carried on with the work under Jean’s orders. After an hour they were nearly finished.

“Jason” called Hank “bring me Uncle Chad’s present. I am ready for it.”

Hank removed the present from the box and hooked it onto the pole.

“Marcel, Marcel, look what those Americans have done; an insult to our country.”

“Are they burning a statue of our president, or our country’s flag? Come off it Michelle, they are just a nice family doing no harm.”

“No harm, well what do you say to that. They have just hoisted a flag on that pole.”

“Yes, but we have a Swiss flag in our garden as well.”

“No, Marcel, it’s an American one. You know the one with the stars and the stripes. That is against the law, I am calling the police.”

Although Marcel was annoyed with his wife, he knew she was right. In Switzerland you are only allowed to have a Swiss flag showing on your private property. Foreign flags are forbidden. Before he could do anything his wife was already on the phone. Soon afterwards the Stewart family heard a knock on the door and Michelle opened the door.

“Hank, can you come quickly. It’s those nice police officers again, you remember the ones that told us how to paint our door.”

“Bonjour Mr. and Mrs. Stewart. Unfortunately we have a problem. Your neighbour called us.”

“Old Misery Le Blanc again.”

“Jason I told you to speak of Mrs. Le Blanc with respect. Go to your room.”

“So what’s the problem officer.”

“It seems you have an American flag in your garden. I am afraid you will have to remove it.”

“But in America most of us have flags showing our countries in the gardens. It is a good old fashioned custom. Not forgetting that 4th July will soon be here and we are having a good old Independence Day party. Well, when I think of it why don’t you come as well? We have really got to know each other over the past months and I would love to introduce such nice police officers to my friends. You won’t feel so out of place I am inviting a few people from the village as well, our neighbours Mr. and Mrs. Le Blanc.”

“Thank you very much Mr. Stewart we would love to come.”

“Charles, we are here on police business and not on a social visit. First of all we must deal with the facts.”

“But Jacques Mr. and Mrs. Stewart are such nice people. I am sure we can close an eye to the crime.”

“Charles, please remember who we are; staunch upholders of the Swiss law. No, I am sorry Mr. Stewart, but the flag must be removed.”

“What about our 4th July celebrations? You cannot celebrate them without a flag.”

“Sorry, but it is the Swiss law. By the end of next week, the American flag no longer appears.”

The police officers Charles and Jacques left.

“Jacques I really think we could close an eye on the problem. What harm does the Stars and Stripes do in a little Swiss village. No-one will know.”

“It is the principle Charles; the principle.”

With a heavy heart Hank Stewart removed the flag from the pole.

“Hank give me the flag, I have an idea.”

“What sort of an idea Jean?”

“Just wait and see.”

Jean said no more but went on a shopping trip and then Hank heard the sound of the sewing machine now and again during the week from her work room.

It was soon the 4th July and the Stewarts now had a Swiss flag on their pole in the garden, although Hank found it not so suitable for Independence Day celebrations. The invitations had been sent and were accepted. Even Mrs. Le Blanc came. After all she wanted to know what the inside of the American’s house looked like. When police officer Charles arrived Hank was please.

“A shame that your colleague could not come as well.” He said to Charles

“Please do not mention it to my colleague if you see him. I did not tell him I was coming. May I present my wife and two daughters?”

It was a successful party, and Jason and Duke were very happy to meet the daughters of Charles. They really got on well together.”

At midnight the Stewart family had organised some fireworks and while everyone was looking Jean pulled down the Swiss flag. She took it to one side, opened the zip she had put on the side and turned it inside out and put it back on the pole. Some noticed, some did not notice, but it was very original. A Swiss flag on one side with the American flag on the other.

Hank was proud of his wife; she always had such good ideas.

The Stewart boys, Jason and Duke were also pleased. They had found two girl friends, the daughters of a Swiss policeman, so they spent the late hours of the night toasting marshmallows on the fire together.

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MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge #26: The Mountain

“Thank you for the interview Mr. Widmer” said the journalist.

“No problem” was the answer “I am glad to oblige” and the journalist left the mountain chalet situated in a village embedded between the high alpine mountains.

Fritz Widmer was now sunk in thought. He had recently celebrated his eightieth birthday and was honoured that the newspaper had remembered him and wanted an interview based on his mountain climbing experiences. Those days were not even so far gone. He was lucky to be able to maintain his good health and did his last “four thousander” (meters) only a couple of years before. However, now was the time to forget hopping around in the alps and to settle down and watch how the youngsters succeeded. Of course, they had much more modern equipment than he did; steel with a strength not known in the first days of mountaineering and ropes, no longer ropes but synthetic, nylon, being able to bear a weight that was not able in the earlier days.

The journalist wanted to know about the first ascent he made on the north wall of the Number One as it was known. He told them what they wanted to hear, but reflecting on his actual experience he had left some of it unmentioned.

The north wall was overhanging; a difficult feat for even an experienced climber, but Fritz and his colleague Emil had decided to be the first to do it; two young men who met at the university and had the same hobby, mountain climbing. They departed in the early evening for the ascent to the mountain hut, maintained by the local climbing organisation. This was the first step in their climb and their last night together before they got to the actual ascent. At four in the morning the two men left the hut, laden with their rucksacks containing all the tools they needed and roped together. The weather forecast was good; a sunny clear day awaited them. They knew they had to get off early in the morning before the ice started melting, before the mountain path got too treacherous and slippery. They had good shoes with spikes, but having the shoes was one part of the adventure, knowing how to use them was the other.

“How do you feel Fritz” said Emil “do you think it will be a good climb?”

“As long as the weather stays fine” was the answer “and no clouds arrive. It could get dangerous the higher we get. I just hope we have no loose stones falling on our heads.”

Both men knew that would be the most dangerous of the adventure. An overhanging wall always contained its secrets and stones were the most unpredictable. Weather was also a uncertain factor in the mountains. It could change in a few minutes. They made their way slowly but surely and soon reached the half way crevice. It was known as such as the mountain had a break in the wall.

“Was this where it happened?” asked Emil.

“You mean the disappearance” answered Fritz. “Yes, one of the first roped teams lost their way; two of our best mountaineers, my father and his brother. The weather changed and they were never seen again. But we have no choice, it is getting darker, temperatures are getting colder and this is the only place wide enough to take our rest for the night.”

The two men lit a small fire and filled a small pot with some ice that they scrapped from the surrounding stones. The idea was to make some tea. They opened their rucksacks and took some dry meat and had a small meal.

“I don’t like the look of that sky” said Emil “too many dark clouds.”

“You are right; I just hope it holds for us.”

The two men lay together on the narrow ledge in their sleeping bags and tried to get some sleep, but they could already hear the echoes of thunder in the distance. It was then that the rain mixed with snow started falling; bringing some small pebbles with it.

“Emil, quickly put together what you can and into the crevice in the mountain. It is dangerous, but less dangerous than being exposed on this ledge.”

The two men did their best to get into the crevice and then the heavens opened and a full mountain storm began. They were so surprised that they could not take all the equipment with them, and most important, their compass was hit by a stone and broke. They both spent a very cold and uncomfortable night on the mountain. They had already started writing letters of farewell to their families, in case they were ever found, having given up with being rescued. Only few mountaineers in those days had ventured on Number One and the route was not so well known.

During the early morning hours they decided either they marched on further or had no hope left. The men looked at the path, but it had become unrecognisable. Through the covering of snow and ice and the dangers of falling stones, a further march was almost impossible. It was then that Fritz saw something.

“Look Emil, footprints; prints of mountain shoes. Can you see them?”

“You are right Fritz, shall we follow them.”

“I think it would be our only chance.”

And carefully they marched, tied together with their ropes, following the prints. At one point Fritz looked back to where they had spent the night. He could have sworn he saw two figures standing there dressed in the old mountain clothes of days gone by. The figures were just standing as if frozen stiff. Then there was a flurry of snow and they disappeared. They marched on and eventually found themselves on the last slope leading to the top. They both knew they were saved. If they reached the top, it would be a quicker descent on the safe south wall of the mountain.

Fritz had kept this story for himself when the journalist came. Emil had died a few years ago and he was the only person with memories of this ascent. When mountaineering became safer the equipment better there was a expedition again to the Number One. Emil accompanied the expedition and when they arrived at the memorable place where Emil and Fritz had spent the night, they found two frozen figures. The mountain had given back Emil’s uncle and father. “Perhaps they had been standing there since that memorable ascent many years ago” thought Fritz.

If you now visit the little mountain cemetery in the village where Fritz lives you will see many mountaineer’s graves of those that were found in the mountains. One particular grave is very well known. It is that of Fritz father and uncle. Apart from the stone with the names, there are also two mountain shoes. They were those belonging to the two men. Fritz had them preserved in a metal coating. They are a reminder of the night when Fritz and his colleague Emil thought they had climbed their last mountain.

Rita's "Riting" Challenge #26

MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge Week 23: Horse Talk

“I wonder where we are trotting to today, Blackie. Looks like quite a lot of people want to take a ride; all sizes and shapes.”

“Yea, that’s what I was thinking Knight. Hey look, there’s one of those human kids in the crowd. You know how they have a soft heart for horses. If we play good, we might get an apple out of it.”

“Don’t think so Blackie, those days are over. Those human mothers just don’t trust us horses any more. Frightened we might bite them or tread on their feet with our hooves; by the way I had to have a new one yesterday.”

“Thought there was something different with you today. Looks great, hope it was the boss that put it on. That new one they have is still learning and he is not so good at pulling the old nails out and putting the new ones in. I had to give him a warning kick the last time.”

“I know what you mean. I heard they don’t have such a choice with blacksmiths these days. No-one seems to want to do the job any more.”

“Looks like the people are now fitted into the carriage. Just cannot imagine what fun humans have being pulled along in a carriage by two horses; looks like the lady is taking the reins today. Will probably be a slow walk.”

“Well it doesn’t have to be does it?”

“What does that mean?”

“Well as soon as we get to the country part, you know on the neat path through the fields, we could put on a bit of speed, just for a bit of excitement; heads down, snort like mad and away in a fast gallop. Now they would not forget that ride in a hurry.”

“Neither will you Knight. Remember the last horse that had fancy ideas. The grey one that thought he was something special. He went for a fast gallop and I never saw him again, and he did not join the race horses. I don’t think they keep horses that think, only horses that trot along like us.”

“OK, then we won’t have a gallop, but it would be fun. Hey look what’s going on; one of those humans with a camera. Good job I had a good brushing this morning. I wouldn’t like to have a mangy look on a photo. You never know who sees it afterwards. Blacky smile, you are in the photo as well.”

“You mean show my teeth and perhaps a nice smooth neigh for good luck. Look at the character taking the photo. I bet he is one of those professionals. We might even land in the Time Magazine as one of the best photos of the year. Hey look at his hat.”

“Looks very tasty; I think I will make a grab for it when he walks past.”

“I don’t think humans like that Blacky.”

“Who cares? Did you see I got it.”

“Yes but that photographer does not look very happy. Our chances are gone for a front page photo.”

“Looks like he is quite annoyed; give it back to him.”

“Spoilsport.
Looks very unhappy doesn’t he and I even let him have the hat again.”

“Perhaps humans don’t like hats that have been chewed by horses. So fun over, here we go.”

“When I think that we used to run free on the prairies and the plains and now we are just human toys.”

“Well I wouldn’t look at it like that. This evening we sleep in a nice warm stable, have plenty of food and get a good brushing down every day, not to mention new shoes once in a while.”

“Our ancestors didn’t need new shoes.”

“They didn’t go marching over pavements either. So head down, snort nice and civilised and make the humans happy. Hey, that photographer still looks a bit angry about his hat.”

“Who cares, he can buy another one.”

Rita's "Riting" Challenge Week 23

MULTIPLY Rita's "Riting" Challenge Week 22: I am just a lovable Clown really

I don’t know why people don’t like me; after all I am a clown and was made to make people laugh. Just an example, there I was standing on a nice comfortable chair in a second hand shop, just waiting to be the chosen one. I was not really second hand, but no-one had ever wanted me, so this was my destiny at the time. It was Christmas and there were parents with their children all over the place. Not that I don’t like children, but let’s face it they can get on your nerves sometimes. I have heard that if they don’t happen to like a toy, or they get bored with it, they just throw it in a corner. Under the worst circumstances it might even get thrown away. Anyhow I am a single piece really. They sort of made me in the factory and then decided that there was something wrong. The smile on my face wasn’t so friendly and the colour. They had the idea that clowns should wear big shoes, which is a bit ridiculous. Have you ever seen a real clown with feet size sixty? I don’t even try to smile, changing things is not possible for me, I am just the way they made me. So there was a little girl that came up to me in the shop.

“Look mummy, what a horrible face he has, and big feet.”

“But honey he is a clown, they are made like that. He is made to make people laugh.”

“Well mummy, I don’t want him. I don’t find him very funny. He couldn’t even make a hyena laugh.”

and that was the story of my life up to the day when Dr. Foster entered the store. Christmas was gone and all the unwanted toys and dolls left were put into cardboard boxes to be put into the cellar, and brought out next year. I know the routine, it happens to me every year. So the boxes were standing in the corner waiting to go, when he arrived. He put his hands into the boxes and started pulling us out one after the other to have a good look. Then he spoke the magic words.

“How much for the ugly looking clown?”

“Oh you can have him for a quarter of the price.”

I was insulted and annoyed. A quarter of the price, not even so much as half price.

“I’ll take him, don’t bother to wrap him up I can put him in the car as he is.”

And so that was my meeting with Dr. Foster. He took me home and a day later I was perched on a cupboard in his doctor’s practice. He was no normal doctor, but worked in the local prison, looking after the misfits and thrown outs of society, the ones that no-one wanted. He was supposed to be a psychiatrist, although I never saw a certificate hanging anywhere with his qualifications, but a change came into my life, I was loved.

I remember my first meeting with Fred. Now he was a hard nut, had killed a few people, just for the fun of it and was serving a life sentence. He didn’t say much, but I could feel his thoughts prying into my mind. Dr. Foster would spend an hour with Fred once a day in therapy, although Fred was beyond therapy, he was beyond everything. Where I came into the treatment? Well Dr. Foster told Fred that he could keep me in his cell and treat me as if I was his son. That meant, be nice to me and look after me. I think the idea was to make Fred into a civilised person. Well Fred really did like me. Fred just had something against people that smiled and I never smiled of course. I noticed if someone tried to be friendly with him he would act quite hostile and start throwing things around and even try to kill them.

So Fred and I got on well. At last I felt wanted in my lonely life. I had someone that needed me and cared for me. I was quite happy, but then came the day when Dr. Foster decided his therapy was not working and told Fred that I would have to leave him for another patient. Fred was quite annoyed. Actually he got so annoyed that he strangled Dr. Forster and burst through the door of Dr. Foster’s consulting room. Of course there were guards outside, but Fred was so mad at losing me that he attacked the guards. Now you might think one man against two armed guards was a lost cause. Well not really. Fred was so powerful and the guards were not ready for such an attack that he managed to get the weapon from the first guard and shoot him and his colleague with it. He then found the nurse that was hiding behind the desk and used her as a hostage to get us out of the prison. The main thing was Fred took me with him. Now I am happy and satisfied, I have someone that loves me and who looks after me. I am even allowed to sleep in a little bed next to Fred’s bed. Fred a bad man – no not really. It seemed that Dr. Foster’s idea of having someone to look after worked, as since we have been on the run, Fred has not harmed anyone else. We just live happily together on a small farm in the middle of nowhere. If you happen to find us, then just drive past. Fred just does not like having visitors.

Rita's "Riting" Challenge Week 22: I am just a lovable clown really