Månedens farve - OKTOBER - Colour of the Month

Månedens farve for oktober 2023 er --  The colour of the month for October 2023 is

Words for Wednesday ~ September 27

Today is Wednesday. And this means Words for Wednesday!

This challenge started a long time ago, and now it has become a movable feast with Elephant's Child as our coordinator; and the Words are provided by a number of people.

The general idea of this challenge is to make us write. Poems, stories, subtitles, tales, jokes, haiku, crosswords, puns, ... you're the boss.
Use all Words, some Words, one Word, or even none of them if that makes your creative juices flow. Anything goes, only please nothing rude or vulgar.

 It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.

So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.

-- 🇦 -- ⛸ -- 🇧 -- 📰 -- 🇨 -- 

In September River at Drifting through Life is supplying the prompts for Words for Wednesday.

Today's Words:
Frozen
Dollop
Crazy
Bazaar
Bizarre
Belt
    and/or:
Boomerang
Gallon
Running
Newspaper
Calendar
Cakes

I used almost all from the first set (not Bazaar) in the order they were given. And I just continue my story of Susan and the burning Ghost house. 
 
Susan was almost frozen long before the officer returned. She actually considered using her snow magic, as the officer in the driver's seat just sat dozing, But she decided against it. When the first officer finally retuned back the one behind the wheel sat up and asked for Susan's address and turned on the car. The flames were already dying down as they drove past the Ghost House.
At home Susan's parents had dinner ready for her. Cousin Anne had had her parents phone Susan's parents, so no scolding happened. And the praise from the policeman made Susan's cheeks fluster.
A big dollop of ice cream rounded off the dinner nicely.

Next morning Susan slept in. When finally she woke from her crazy dreams of ghosts, fires and labyrinthine houses, the weather had changed. It was cold no more and the fog pressed against the windows. She had been right yesterday had been the last skating day that winter.

She savoured her breakfast, steaming hot tea and honeyed toast. She had no plans for this Saturday, except cleaning and wiping down the skates and hanging them on their hook ready for next year. "Or rather," she thought, "ready to go to the used skate-shop in Helsingborg. My feet will have grown again, and I'll have to accept that I can no longer have a pair of nice, white figure skates, but will have to make do with a pair of black hockey ones. It's a bugger being this big." She cleared the table and then spread papers and brought materials for cleaning and polishing the skates. First she pulled out the long, white laces and gave them a good beating and shaking outside. After cleaning and polishing the blades, she tackled the protectors and put then into place and finally the boots proper. "Tomorrow,"  she said, as much to the skates as to herself, "Tomorrow the skates will have dried out, and I'll  rethread the laces, and tie them into a nice, tight knot. And then, into the cellar you go until next winter," she said. "Thanks for the fun times."

Saturdays meant market, and Susan went there with her mother. It was not big today, and Mum met some of her lady friends and began exchanging news about friends and family. "Mom?" Mom looked at Susan, "I'll go down to the newspaper office and see if there's anything about the fire in today's paper." Mom nodded, and Susan left.
She walked quickly down to the newspaper office. Next to the steps and door leading into the office was a big window. Behind this, today's paper hung like so much laundry on strings fastened with pegs and Susan looked at the pages until she found the story at the bottom of page 13. No photos, only a short mentioning, which did not tell Susan anything she did not know, except for the street number of the Ghost house.
Susan had a bizarre itch to go and see the Ghost house once again.

... to be continued

Poetry Monday :: No Poetry Edition.

   Poetry Monday er en udfordring, hvor Diane fra On the Border er vores vært.
     Nok engang spænder mit elendige helbred ben for min deltagelse.
     Men i hvert fald kan jeg da slå de konmmende stikord op.

-- 🖋 -- 😔 -- ✍ --

Poetry Monday is a challenge, hosted by Diane at On the Border. And once again stupid health issues makes me unable to play. 

I just post the Prompts for the coming Mondays:

Birthdays . . . . . October 2
Family . . . . . . October 9
Dictionary . . . . . October 16
Talk Shows . . . . . October 23
Mischief . . . . . October 30
Watermelon . . . . . November 6
Grandma's Kitchen . . . . . November 13
The Bus . . . . . November 20
A Pet's Life . . . . . November 27

An Error! - Updated

This is happening a lot lately:

Elephant's Child's blog, but it happens everywhere. Sometimes I can solve it by copying my comment, refreshing the page (F5), pasting the comment and then publishing. But not always.

I have not disappeared, or turned away from commenting. Blogger simply won't let me!

Answering Jenny_o' and EC's comments with following words:

"You're right. Changing browsers sometimes help If only it was the same browser doing the trick, I could just use that one, but it seems like it's the changing doing it :)"

I tried following River's advice of just clicking until it published. Leading to a new error: You have reached the maximum number of comments allowed for one day - try again tomorrow.

Stupid, stupid Blogger!

And then, after editing this post, I tried again, and bam, it published! I'm now pushing my luck, tryng to reply to all comments - which I have found is the cure against them being marked as spam.

Words for Wednesday ~ September 20

Yesterday was Wednesday. And this means Words for Wednesday!

This challenge started a long time ago, and now it has become a movable feast with Elephant's Child as our coordinator; and the Words are provided by a number of people.

The general idea of this challenge is to make us write. Poems, stories, subtitles, tales, jokes, haiku, crosswords, puns, ... you're the boss.
Use all Words, some Words, one Word, or even none of them if that makes your creative juices flow. Anything goes, only please nothing rude or vulgar.

 It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.

So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement. 

-- 🇦 -- ⛸ -- 🇧 -- 🚲 -- 🇨 -- 

In September River at Drifting through Life is supplying the prompts for Words for Wednesday.

     Today we had either the sentences:
"That's not a good idea."
"I know, but it's the best bad idea I've got."
     and/or these words:
Fire
Rose
Time
Coins
Peanut butter
Shouting

I continue the story from last Wednesday, still no ,magic, and not totally autobiographic either. I am mixing up things happening in different years and places ... Peanut butter just did not fit in. And I did for once not use the Words in their given order.

Cousin Anne and Susan placed their bikes at the end of the long row of bikes.
"By Golly," Anne said. "My lock is broken? Do you think it will be stolen, if I do not lock it?"
"I hope not," Susan said, "what about placing my bike on top of yours? That way a thief at least have to lift off my bike to purloin yours?"
"Purloin? Steal you mean. Where do you get all those fancy words?"
"Sorry. It's a craze on that 4H school at my aunt's place. Just like tongue twisters and exotic languages."
"Right up your street, then!" Anne said, "but back to my bike. Do you think it works?"
"It's not a good idea, but it's the best bad idea I've got!" Susan answered with a straight face. Anne broke down laughing, and Susan lost it too.
When they finally stopped laughing, which was hard, as they began again every time they happened to look at one another, they pulled off their skate guards and joined the other skaters on the ice. 

A good time was had by all, Cousin Anne was a nimble skater, able to skate backwards and make figure eights on the ice. And she did not fall on her behind every time a dog came a bit too close, which some of Susan's classmates were prone to do. Soon the girls and boys from their classes had made a circle around her, egging her on to always more daredevilish stunts. Cousin Anne ended her impropmtu show with a pirouette and going down in a split.
When Anne rose again the lamps turned on and the skaters began an intricate play of chain-tag on the ice. Susan never really grasped the rules, but as she was not very fast either, she was caught too fast for it to matter much anyhow.

Suddenly a small red glow was seen through the trees.
"Fire!" someone yelled.
A lot of the skaters started shouting. "Fire, Fire!" "It's burning." "Call the fire department!"
"It's the Ghost house! It's burning!" Jens yelled. He was one of Susan's classmates.
"Ghost house?" Susan asked, "I did not know we had a ghost house near here."
"Oh yes," Jens answered, "I has been empty for years and years. The windows have been broken, and nobody lives there but old ghosts."
"What now!" Anna said. "None of us live nearby, and we cannot run around to the neighbouring houses in our skates."
"But won't people see the fire and phone the Fire department?" Anne asked.
"I do not think so, no," Jens said. Right now there's sports in the TV, and all fathers sit watching this to see if their team won, or to see if they won a fortune in the pools. The mothers are all cooking, and I guess reading some drivel while waiting for the taters to boil."
Anne began laughing: "Spot on. That's how it looks at home right now."
Susan suddenly remembered her boots: "I brought my boots, I can bike off and run to the nearest house!"
"Do it," Anne, Jens and all the other children said.

Susan skated to where the bikes lay, quickly found her boots in her bag. She changed into the boots and jumped on her bike. As fast as possible, without caring about the bike lamps, she biked around the ice on the slippery paths, down another path and then right. She could not see the fire any more over the trees, but she could still smell it. She turned into the road with the burning ghost house and slowed down a bit. The first two houses just opposite the park were dark, but the next one had light streaming out of the door and the blue glow from a TV set in one of the windows. Susan let her bike fall on the pavement and ran up the long drive to the house. She banged the door knocker, and not long after a man stood in the door. He looked grumpy, dressed in a white A-shirt and his suspenders hanging down.

Susan said: "Sorry to disturb, but the Ghost house is on fire, could you please call the Fire department!"
"Can't do, no phone. Try next door," the man said and almost slammed the door in Susan's face.
Susan left in a hurry, and then she remembered the phone boot. She pedalled as fast as possible past the burning house, where only some smoke could be seen, to the next intersection. The phone booth was unoccupied and Susan jumped inside and closed the door.
Argh! she thought to herself. I have no coins. Then her eye fell on the instructions saying that the Emergency service was free of charge. She lifted the receiver and upon hearing the carrier wave dialled 0 - 0 - 0. She never felt that the dial had been so slow returning all the way back from the zeroes.
"Emergency service, Alan speaking. How can we help," a calm, male voice sounded from the receiver.
"Hello," Susan said. "The ghost house is on fire."
"The Ghost house?  Sorry I need an address."
Susan did not know the number of the ghost house, but she knew the name of the street it was in. This she told the man. "And I'm calling from the telephone booth nearby."
"What is its phone number. It's written in the small window near where you place the coins. Susan looked and told him the number. "Fine. Can I have your  name please?"
"Susan Olsen. Will you come, I can see much more smoke now."
"I'll send the fire brigade, don't you worry. But stay in the booth. I'll call back in a few minutes. And the police would like a word with you as well."
"Oh bother!" Susan said. What's the time?"
"A quarter to seven." Alan answered.
"My parents will ground me if I'm home too late." Susan said, almost crying. "I promised."
"My gyess is that the police will take you home, so I guess you won't have any problems. I'll call back in a few minutes. You can  start listening for the fire engines soon."
Susan hung up and went outside, and sure enough, soon she heard the fire engines from the city. The distance to the fire station was very short as the crows fly, but much longer by the roads, Susan heard the sirens getting further away and then much nearer and then very near. She saw the blue lights through the trees, and went inside the telephone booth to get away from the sound.

The phone rang.
She picked it up and said: "Susan Olsen speaking."
"Hello Susan, It's Alan from the Emergency service once again. I can tell you that the fire engines are already on their way."
"They sure are, I can hear them," Susan said. "Thank you!"
"It's us thanking you," Alan said. "Just stay put, the police will be right over. Bye and good luck."
Susan placed the receiver back on the hook, and shortly she  saw a police car pulling up next to the booth and went outside.
"Susan Olsen?" the officer said.
"Yes that's me." Susan said trembling. "Are you going to arrest me?"
The police officer laughed. "No, I'm not. That is unless you put a match to that old ghost house. Tell me what happened," he said and pulled out notebook and ball pen.
"I was out skating with my classmates and my cousin and some of her classmates too." Susan began, "After it was dark, we played Chain tag, and suddenly someone yelled Fire. We discussed what to do, and Jens - he's my classmate - guessed that none of the neighbours would see the fire, as they were probably watching TV or cooking. I was the only one that had brought my boots, running in skates is difficult, so I biked over here. The first house, I knocked on, they had no phone, but then I remembered seeing this here payphone and went here. And from here I could see no flames, only more and more smoke," Susan ended her story.
The officer asked for and got names and addresses of the class mates. Susan did not know where all of them lived. "I can call the school and ask, if I need it," the officer said, "I have more than enough to check your story should this be necessary."
"Of course there were also some children I do not know on the ice," Susan said despondently.
"No worries. You're not in any way in trouble or going to be arrested or anything. If we were to arrest people for calling 000 don't you think people would quickly stop calling, and accidents would become much worse?" the officer said. "You're doing us, and the city a favour by calling, so please, no need to worry. And I can tell you it's not the house proper burning, but an outhouse behind it. Get into the police car and stay there, we'll drive you home in a short while, and bring your bike too."
Susan got in, and said hello to the officer behind the wheel. Then she sat in the back seat, trying to be inconspicuous. The other officer took her bike, and placed it in a holder at the rear end of the car, then walked over to the ghost house.

... to be continued