Riddles 09

Riddles 09

 

By the Riddler

 

The Riddler has two puzzles for us today:

 

No 1. Multiply all the numbers on you phone.  What is the total?  

 

No 2.  3 1 2 8 ? 5 2 ?  What Number is missing?

 

                                                                                                         Keep em coming Riddler 

A few more haiku

 A few more haiku  (read at last meeting)

Have a lovely Christmas and a happy new year everybody.

From Rob Kingston

 

world famine

the billionaire’s loose change

rattles the bucket

 

bee hive

each cell

its own summer

 

Blithe spirit, Museum of literature award (runner up) December 2023 

post football

rain soaked scars all over

the pitch

 

And one for Christmas. 

Christmas morning 

a trail of paper follows 

the dog

 

THE HAUNTED HOUSE 2

 THE HAUNTED HOUSE 2

By Bob French 

He stood in front of the old decrepit three-story Victorian house where he'd grown up with old Uncle Bill and Aunty Milly.  A flickering street lamp cast shadows across its facade, telling those who wanted to know, that its days as a grand house were over.   

"Is this place haunted dear?" 

John gripped his wife's hand. "Of course not, it's just old." 

They stood very still in the cold evening wind for a minute or two, then she asked the question. "We sold our lovely house in the suburbs for this?  Are you sure it's not haunted?"

"Of course not."

"Then can you tell me who that faint white face in the top left window belongs to?" 

“I don’t know, but let’s get inside out of this cold.”

As they approached the front door, it suddenly creaked open, causing them to stop.

After a while, they slowly climbed the steps into the dark interior of the house. The sound of the door slamming behind them sounded like thunder.

“Oh God John! what the hell is going on?”

They stood perfectly still allowing the dank smell of age to surround them. 

A door slammed up-stairs causing them to jump.

“Come on Brenda, we have to find out who’s in here?”

Holding hands, they hurried up the stairs and along a dark corridor.

“Look!” At the far end of the corridor, a dim light shone under the door.

The silence was shattered as the muffled sound of several police and ambulance sirens sounded outside.

Then the door at the end of the corridor slowly opened allowing a faint light to illuminate a figure that moved forward them.

“John, Brenda, welcome.  We have been waiting for you.”  The figure seemed to fade back into the door.

John and Brenda followed it until they became aware of others in the room.

“Dad, Mum, Uncle Bill, Aunty Milly. What are you doing here?”  Then he heard Brenda gasp, “Mummy, oh my god, Mummy.” 

A hundred yards up the road from the old Victorian house the emergency services were surrounding a badly smashed up BMW which had left the road at speed.  A Medic approached the police sergeant.

“Sorry, but they are both dead.  They were John and Brenda Coventry from Billericay.

 

Copyright Bob French

 How Much Do I Love Thee

By Len Morgan 

It’s Thursday, half-day closing, I can tell.  She’s getting all excited.

She's putting on her war paint, Lippy, Rouge, and a dab of chanel No5 behind her ears. 

There was a time when she would do that for me, now it’s for somebody else.  

Is it platonic?  I doubt that.  She was ever the warm passionate woman.

It’s been three years since I left, but as yet she hasn’t moved on. 

But, she has to move on!  It hurts me to see her tear-stained face, day after day. 

It’s a testament to our love that she lasted this long, and I know she will never forget me. 

But, at the weekend they will spread my ashes by my beloved Thames, and then we can all move on…

 The Begining...

The Haunted House 1

By Jane Goodhew

He stood in front of the old decrepit three-story Victorian house where he'd grown up, with old Uncle Bill and Aunty Milly.  A flickering streetlamp cast shadows across its facade, telling those who wanted to know, that its days as a grand house were over.  

"Is this place haunted dear?"

John gripped his wife's hand. "Of course not, it's just old."

They stood very still in the cold evening wind for a minute or two, then she asked the question. "We sold our lovely house in the suburbs for this.  Are you sure it's not haunted?"

"Of course not."

"Then can you tell me who that faint white face in the top left window belongs to?"

“You’re seeing things, my dear, its just the light shining in the window, lets go in and start making it our home”.

 

That was two weeks ago and since then I am beginning to think that maybe my wife was correct in thinking this house is haunted and there is someone other than the two of us living here.  It’s little things like flowers appearing in a vase on the table yet neither of us put them there.  Floorboards creaking in the night long after we have gone to bed.  Lights being left on although we know we have turned them off.  Yes, there is definitely someone else in this house and before too long I intend to find out who it is.

I know a priest and although I don’t believe in exorcism, I think he might be able to help us come to terms with these unexplainable events.

Father 0’Donnel was prompt, and his arrival couldn’t have come at a better time for it was Halloween.  We asked as many questions as we could about the history of the house and its occupants prior to my aunt and uncle but there was nothing spectacular.  The usual married couples with children who had then moved on to downsize.  None had ever complained of feeling that the house was haunted although they suspected because of its age that there would have been at least one death.  People in the Victorian times tended to die at home and often in childbirth so would have been young. 

Father O’Donnel left without giving us any clues as to what was happening within our home. It did seem to be a benevolent spirit not malevolent.  So we decided we could accept it and make it part of our forever home.

 

Copyright Jane Goodhew

 

                                                              

 Fortune Cookies

Jane Goodhew

I might have known with my luck lately, what am I saying; lately?  Don’t I mean for centuries, or it seems that way so why would a fortune cookie wish me good fortune in love, money, or luck and yes you guessed, it didn’t, it foretold what could be my demise and told me to get out post haste. 

Don’t be ridiculous you’re thinking how a cookie could know what will happen to you or anyone, it can’t but perhaps it can put the idea into your head, and you will react accordingly viewing everyone and everything with suspicion.  Walk around a ladder instead of under and then get knocked down by a bus or whatever…. Anyway, it isn’t Friday 13^th that was last week. 

I would not go along with this, after all, I have always considered myself to be extremely lucky especially in comparison to for the moment those in the line of the last few hurricanes or forest fires or worn torn countries or those hit by famine or lack of clean water or those in need of a McMillan Nurse.  Just watch the adverts asking for money and you will see how lucky you are but then isn’t there a saying not to compare yourself to others or you will become bitter, twisted and vein or words to that effect.?

The sky outside the restaurant is continually changing as it naturally does and deep silver-grey clouds sit amongst pink, that foretells a beautiful day tomorrow but had this happened yesterday I might have believed it, after all it did look as if the end was nigh. 

The sky had been flat and dark and menacing and a bright blood reddish orange orb sat in the sky, it couldn’t be the sun for you could look at it and it did not seem to hurt your eyes (but then of course only time would tell if it had) and this ’orb’ it was so round it looked like the harvest moon but it was daytime?  Was it not?  Even the birds were confused as it was more like dusk or was it dawn when they either went home to roost or left home looking for food but although they at first flew in formation with military precision they were not sure which way to go so seemed to circle and hover whilst the leader of the squadron decided.  Whilst they just circled and hovered as the wind blew harder and the by now milk a magnesia sky was replaced by blue and the real sun now sat not directly south but had moved to the west where it would settle for the evening.  Life as we and the birds knew it had been resumed so forget the cookie and its forebodings, I am off to meet that stranger and talk to all and sundry after all we have already had my Zemblanity moment, for you see I am a ghost.  

The cookie had been correct but it got the wrong week!

Copyright Jane Goodhew

Rayleigh Mount (Nature 02)

 Rayleigh Mount 

By Sis Unsworth

 

A haven is nestled in the center of town,

a place to escape, when you’re feeling down.

The changing seasons bring, visions to behold.

From the clear glow of spring, to Autumns' pure gold.

The mysteries of nature are, too diverse to count,

Blend with pure harmony, in our Rayleigh Mount.

The image of life we all like to see,

a sanctuary for wildlife, abundant and free.

But fear is restrictive, when you go there alone,

I’ve heard some avoid, going there on their own.

Scared for their safety, in that secluded place,

the Mount would be empty, if fear had its way.

They should feel protected, then people would stay

if there were park keepers, protecting the mount,

It would be used more, on every account.

It may banish fear, and help others to see,

the beauty of nature, so natural and free.

But sometimes it's better, the devil you know,

To save Rayleigh Mount, from being a ‘no go’.

They have to save money, that may well be true,

If we can’t pay Park keepers, what else can they do?

I look to the future, and in my mind's eye,

I see it protected, by drones and AI.

 

Copyright Sis Unsworth