Onsdagsord ~ June kapitel 12 Words for Wednesday ~ June, Chapter 12 & IWSG

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over as a moveable feast with many participants supplying the Words.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of coordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise, River has taken the mantle of coordinator upon her shoulders.

No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to 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.

This month the words are given by Sean Jeatings and can be found at River's blog Drifting through Life

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.

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

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.

And for today we were given:
Contemporaries 
Easily 
Life 
Met 
Never
    and/or:
One
Say 
Sentence
Who 
Within

Using the first set, and almost in the order they were given, for a small chapter about June.

June's unease with the signalling persons in the big tree and aboard the ship won over her fear of getting involved with other people. She found her bike, the lights, and her helmet. And then she filled a small bag with walnuts and another with blackberries from the garden. A small gift was always welcome. She smiled and felt sad at the same time. Daniel had always been good at finding the perfect gift whenever they had an occasion. He’d been a very complex person, and people who looked beyond his tattooed exterior were often surprised by his compassionate and vibrant inner self. But she couldn’t ask him for help. It had been half a year since she’d had to let him go.
    And she locked the doors before mounting the bike and pedalling off towards Sanne's smaller town.
While her body was occupied with the mechanics of biking, her thoughts roamed freely. She wondered why a lot of her contemporaries had so many strange prejudices. She could easily remember three occasions from the last week alone where she had seen strange ideas about Catholics in the papers, in magazines, or just overheard something. And why were Catholics all of a sudden such a hot topic? It was probably just a case of frequency illusion ... Well, she was going to get wiser. She was about to visit at real life Catholic family. She never knowingly met any Catholics at home before. She had always been more curious than anything else, and her unbiased teacher in religion at school had only fanned this curiosity by talking of monks, nuns and so on as if they still existed, and were not far removed in either time or space ... which of course they were not, June smiled at her own prejudices showing.

På dansk
Endnu et kort kapitel i Junes historie.

Vi fik disse ord:
Contemporaries   - Samtidige
Easily  - Let, sagtens
Life  - Liv
Met  - Mødte
Never - Aldrig
    og/eller:
One - En
Say  - Sig, fortæl
Sentence - Sætning
Who  - Hvem
Within - Indeni, inden for,
Hun brugte det første sæt, og næsten i den rækkefølge, de blev givet, til et lille kapitel om June.

Junes utryghed over de morsende personer i det store træ og ombord på skibet endte med at overvinde hendes modvilje mod at involvere sig med andre mennesker. Hun fandt sin cykel, cykellygterne  og sin hjelm, og så fyldte hun en lille pose med valnødder og en anden med brombær fra haven. En lille gave var aldrig af vejen. Hun smilede og følte sig trist på samme til. Daniel havde været god til at finde den perfekte gave, når de skulle noget. Han havde været en meget sammensat personlighed, og folk der så længere end til hans tatoverede ydre, blev oftest overraskede over det medfølende og sprudlende indre. Men hun kunne ikke spørge ham om hjælp. Snart var det et halvt år siden, hun havde måttet give slip på ham.
Hun låste dørene grundigt, før hun satte sig på cyklen og cyklede afsted mod Sanne’s mindre by.
Mens hendes krop var optaget af det mekaniske ved at cykle, vandrede hendes tanker frit. Hun undrede sig over, hvorfor mange af hendes samtidige havde så mange mærkelige fordomme. Hun kunne sagtens huske flere gange alene i den seneste uge, hvor hun havde set mærkelige forestillinger om katolikker; I aviserne, i ugebladet eller bare noget, folk havde sagt. Og hvorfor var katolikker pludselig blevet et så aktuelt emne? Der var sandsynligvis bare tale om frekvensillusion, det at noget, der var nyt for en selv pludselig var alle steder … Nå, hun ville snart blive klogere. Hun skulle besøge en vaskeægte katolsk familie. Hun havde aldrig før været hjemme hos nogen, hun vidste var katolikker. Hun havde altid været mere nysgerrig end noget andet, og hendes fordomsfri religionslærer i skolen havde kun pustet til denne nysgerrighed ved at tale om munke, nonner og så videre, som om de stadig eksisterede og ikke var langt væk hverken i tid eller rum … hvilket de selvfølgelig heller ikke var; June smilede over sine egne fordomme.

- - A - - B - - C - -

October 6 question - Many people are calling for writers who use AI to disclose it. Most who employ ghostwriters do not admit it - do you think authors who use ghostwriters should have to disclose that, too?

My answer - Yes! Definitely yes. If you did not write the contents of your book yourself, tell us so. Not acknowledging the help you had is in my opinion a kind of lying -- and of stealing.  It does not matter if it's AI, a friend, your spouse, or a ghostwriter. Honesty, please.

Many autobiographies lately are called something like "Life of John Doe, the fisherman, as narrated to Peter Jones". I like this!

More so as in Denmark we have a sum paid from the libraries to the authors of books. Ghostwriters should have their fair share of this too.

June ~ 11

In this chapter June is in need of help. Can you be a solitary hero if you look to other people for assistance?

Finally home she ate some of the good bread and pulled out her Morse code papers. One of the library books had the list she needed. A chart over other European language, their specal letters and their codes (look below for a list). Comparing the letter combinations she had read as Danish letters or seen as errors, to this chart made it clear to her that it was indeed some foreign language. But which one? She first expected it to be one of the other Nordic languages, but there were far too many consonants mashed together for it to be even Icelandic, also there were some special letters not present there. French and the other Roman languages were ruled out for the same reasons. Maybe Romanian, but she was fairly sure that even though they had lots of extra letters they did not have initial consonant clusters of more than two maybe three, never four or five - had she only listened more attentively to the lessons in linguistics. Some Slavonic language might fit the bill. She tried Polish. All the extra letters fit. It made strange words, but they looked like they could be real words.
    She did not have much knowledge of Polish, only remembering that it had like seven cases, lots of conjugations and declensions and a crazy verbal system, which could fit the words in her text. Many first parts looking alike, but with different endings. The text still remained illegible to her for all her thinking.
    'Catholics!' she thought, almost saying it out loud. 'Many Poles are Catholic. Maybe Sanne and Jonah could help?' This would be a task for next Sunday - she realised that she intended to visit mass again - or for when the telephone started working.
    Wednesday she avidly tested the telephone at regular intervals. She had seen more flashes during the night. and those from the woods had been more insistent, repeating a short sequense more times; and she had heard someone yelling. Not clear enough for words, but angry ... in short June did not like the proximity. As soon as the telephone line had been opened, which happened that same afternoon, she phoned Sanne and Jonah.
    Sanne answered the phone, and June explained that she would like to get in touch with someone absolutely trustworthy and Polish speaking. June was very surprised when Sanne replied that she knew Polish. "I studied Polish at the university some years ago," Sanne told her. "I never finished my studies - too many kids happened - but I was quite fluent. And if I'm not good enough, I know who to ask, and he lives nearby. Just come over.

June was in two minds over this. She was in need of the help, but she did not want to get involved with, or dependent on other people ever again. But in the end common sense won. She was more afraid of the persons sending codes and yelling angrily  in the dark woods -- smugglers she imagined -- than of getting more intimate with Sanne and her family.

... to be continued

På dansk

Her bliver jeg nødt til at lade June opsøge hjælp. Kan man være en ensom helt, hvis man får hjælp fra andre?

Da June endelig nåede hjem, spiste hun lidt af det gode brød og tog sine morsekode-papirer frem igen og fandt biblioteksbøgerne frem. Især den ene var god. Den havde en oversigt over de specielle tegn og deres forskellige læsninger (Se nederst). Hun fandt hurtigt ud af at de tegn, hun havde oversat til danske bogstaver eller opfattet som fejl også var bogstaver på andre sprog. Altså var det bare morse på et fremmedsprog. Men hvilket? Først troede hun at det måtte være et af de andre nordiske sprog, men der var alt for mange konsonanter, efter hinanden, til det. Selv ikke islandsk var så sært, og der var også nogle specielle bogstaver, der ikke fandtes på islandsk. Fransk og de andre romanske sprog måtte hun udelukke af samme grund. Måske kunne det være rumænsk, men hun var temmelig sikker på, at selvom det havde masser af ekstra bogstaver, havde det ikke mere end højst tre konsonanter i starten af et ord. Bare hun dog havde lyttet bedre efter i sprogvidenskab. Et eller andet slavisk sprog kunne måske passe. Hun prøvede polsk. Alle de ekstra bogstaver passede, og det gav nogle voldsomt udseende ord der alligevel så ud som om det kunne være rigtige ord.
    Hun havde ikke meget kendskab til polsk, men huskede, at sproget havde syv kasus, masser af forskellige bøjninger samt et vanvittigt verbalsystem. Det kunne alt sammen passe på ordene i hendes tekst. Mange ordstammer lignede hinanden, men med helt forskellige endelser. Teksten forblev lige ulæselig for hende trods al hendes grublen.
    »Katolikker!« tænkte hun og var lige ved at sige det højt. »Mange polakker er katolikker. Måske kunne Sanne og Jonah hjælpe?« Det ville blive en opgave til næste søndag – hun indså, at hun havde tænkt sig at gå til messe igen – eller til når telefonen begyndte at virke.
    Onsdag testede hun ivrigt telefonen med jævne mellemrum. Hun havde set flere lysglimt i løbet af natten, og dem fra skoven havde været mere insisterende, og hun havde hørt nogen råbe højt derude … kort sagt kunne June ikke lide at de var så tæt på. Så snart klartonen lød, hvilket allerede skete tidligt om eftermiddagen, ringede hun til Sanne og Jonah.
    Sanne tog telefonen, og June forklarede, at hun gerne ville i kontakt med en pålidelig person, der talte polsk. June blev meget overrasket, da Sanne svarede, at hun kunne polsk. »Jeg studerede polsk på universitetet for nogle år siden,« fortalte Sanne hende. »Jeg fik godt nok aldrig afsluttet min uddannelse – der kom for mange børn – men jeg blev ret god til polsk inden jeg stoppede, jeg talte det næsten flydende. Og hvis jeg skulle have glemt for meget, ved jeg, hvem jeg skal spørge, og han bor i nærheden. Bare kom forbi.«

June var meget i tvivl om hvad hun skulle gøre. Hun havde brug for hjælp, men hun havde ikke lyst til at involvere sig i eller blive afhængig af andre mennesker igen. Men til sidst vandt hendes sunde fornuft. Hun var mere bange for skumle mennesker, der sendte koder og råbte højt og vredt i mørket – smuglere, forestillede hun sig – end for at komme tættere på Sanne og hendes familie.

fortsættelse følger ...

List of Morse codes in European languages (Please tell if I forgot any)
Liste over morsetegn på andre europæiske sprog (Hvis jeg manger noge, så vær sød og sig det):
É  Đ  É  Ę  · · — · ·
CH  Ĥ  Š   — — — —       
è  ł             · — · · –   
ñ  ń            — — · — —   
ç  ĉ  ć        — · — · ·    
Æ  Ä  Ą   · — · — 
Ø, Ó  Ö     — — — ·
Å  À         · — — · —      
ĝ       — — · — ·      
ŝ       · · · — ·   
þ       · — — · ·       
ð       · · — — ·       
ĵ        · — — — ·       
ü  ŭ   · · — —       
ś       · · · — · · ·       
ź       — — · · — ·       
ż       — — · · —      

Poetry Monday :: Rocket Mandagsdigt :: Raket eller rucola?

Poetry Monday is a blogging challenge started by Diane @ On the Border in February 2017; later it was picked up by Delores @ Mumblings and Jenny @ Procrastinating Donkey.
    Then Dolores took over the hosting duties; but when Dolores left the internet, Diane returned and took over hosting duty again with her and Jenny taking turns suggesting a topic.
    Now Mimi @ Messymimi's Meanderings and I have taken over, as Diane seems disinclined to take up Poetry Monday again.

The prompts are now taken from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a (drawing) prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog. And they mostly lend themselves perfectly for poeming as well. 

  I have something to ask of you: If you read this and the poetry of others via the links, would you please leave a comment.
  Half - if not more - the fun of these challenges is receiving the responses of others.

Today the prompt is Rocket. A word with at least two meanings.

Mom called us in, "Now come and eat!"
We asked: "What is for dinner?"
"Chicken and noodles and rocket as a treat!"
A rocket - this news was a winner.

We hurried in. Asked: "Where is it"
"Where is what?" mom said, "Now wash and sit!"
We did as asked, Expectations great.
"The rocket is there, right on your plate!"

It was a disappointment great.
No fire, no starbursts, no sparkling lights
And as we sat, the green stuff ate,
it was bitter even in smallest bites.

"Never again," we swore "will we
partake of this or trust in thee."


Og så på dansk!

Mandagsdigtet er en blogleg, som blev startet af Diane fra On the Border i februar 2017; senere blev den videreført af Delores fra Mumblings og Jenny fra Procrastinating Donkey.
    Derefter overtog Delores værtsrollen; men da Delores forlod internettet, vendte Diane tilbage og overtog værtsrollen igen, hvor hun og Jenny skiftevis foreslog et emne.
    Nu har Mimi fra Messymimi's Meanderings og jeg så overtaget, da Diane ikke synes at have lyst til at genoptage Poetry Monday.
    Stikordene hentes nu fra 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts. Det er en Facebook-gruppe med et (tegne-)stikord for hver dag i året, men bare rolig, stikordene vil stadig være her og på Mimis blog. Og de egner sig for det meste også perfekt til at skrive digte om.

  Jeg har en opfordring til jer: Hvis I læser dette og andres digte via linkene, vil I så ikke være så søde at skrive en kommentar?
  Halvdelen – hvis ikke mere – af det sjove ved disse udfordringer er at modtage andres reaktioner.

I dag er stikordet Rocket, der betyder mindst to ting Raket og Rucola

Måske får jeg også skrevet et digt på dansk senere i dag.


- - - - - Coming Prompts // Kommende stikord - - - - -

October 12 Contents of the safe  -  Pengeskabets indhold
October 19 X-ray vision - Røngtensyn
October 26 Clam - Musling
November 2 Big Birds _ Store fugle
November 9  Planes - Fly, høvle, plataner

Sunday Selections Søndagsbilleder

The colour of the Month for October is  ~  Månedens farve for oktober er

Ever since River called this colour for "Milk Chocolate" that's all I have seen whenever I look at it. I tried to take a walk, looking at leaves and flowers for this colour. I found no flowers, but ferns for plant dyeing and a King bolete for dinner.

🍂  -  📔  -  👣

River sagde i en kommentar, at den var chokoladefarvet. Siden har jeg ikke kunnet se andet. Jeg prøvede at gå en tur og finde blade eller blomster i den farve, men det eneste jeg fandt, var bregner til plantefarvning og en Karl Johan (eller sommerrørhat) til vores aftensmad.

Then we found another mushroom, a waxcap, not edible, but pretty.

🍂  -  📔  -  👣

Vi fandt også en anden svamp. En vokshat. Den er ikke spiselig, men flot.

The plant dyeing day was a success. Here's one of the pieces. More will probably follow after washing and drying.

🍂  -  📔  -  👣

Plantefarverdagen var en succes. Her er et af stykkerne. Der kommer sikkert flere billeder, når det hele er vasket og tørret.

And I think I ended up finding this colour somewhere not chocolate.

🍂  -  📔  -  👣

Og så endte jeg nok alligevel med at finde denne farve andre steder end i et stykke chokolade.

June ~ 10 B

Next half chapter, I think this is slow going, but mysteries take their time unfolding.

Monday in town, June visited the 'phone shop first. She was told that it would be no problem, and as Charles O'Connor had had a landline, she did not even have to be home. Someone from the company would activate her line, and she could choose a telephone now. "Just test at intervals from some time Wednesday. When you get the dialling tone it means it's working." He wrote her telephone number on a small piece of paper and put it into the desgnated window on the telephone, June had chosen. She thanked him and left.
    Then she walked to the bike shop at the outskirts of town. They had the perfect bike for her, sturdy and even green, her favourite colour. She did not remember when she had last ridden a bike. Dennis had not liked bikes, and been rich enough for them to have two cars. A small, sporty one for him, and a roomy, yet easily handled one for her for shopping, going places with the kids and for their holidays, weekends, and all that. It was the one that had killed him and the kids. She had not felt like driving or even owning a car since. But a bike was something else. The bike dealer had asked her a question.
"Sorry," June said, "I was woolgathering."
"I asked if you'd like to buy a helmet or anything else?"
"Sure," June said, "I'd like a helmet. And panniers or whatever they're called. Biking home with bags on the handle is not a thing I'd like to do."
"No," the bike dealer said, "I would strongly advise against it. By the way, we have a big parking lot behind the shop. You can familiarise yourself with the bike out there."
"Thanks a lot," June said surprised. "Am I that transparent?"
June did remember how to ride a bike, and felt like a little girl once again. 'It seems you really do not forget,' she thought.

She slowly biked on to the library and found a couple of useful-looking books on Morse code. She had some trouble getting registered, as she only recently moved in, and could not produce the wanted identification papers. A temporary card solved this problem.

Biking to the centre of town, she met the mail-man. He hailed her and said: "I'm sorry I walked into your house last week. You were not at home, I had forgotten some letters of yours. You sure get a lot! I was thirsty so I drank some water. I think I left behind my lunch."
He spoke in short sentences with small pauses in between, June had already notice this on his first visits, but today it was even more prominent. Strange habit that. But at least he solved one mystery. "A pudding?" June asked.
"Yup. It was getting hot. I wanted to let it cool while having some water. Later, I wanted to eat it. I could not find it. Did you eat it?" He looked expectantly at her.
"No, I did not. You can have it next time you come. But, you know, it's not nice to walk into other peoples' home while they're not at home."
"I know. Sometimes I forget. I was so thirsty."
June looked closely at the mail-man. Suddenly she saw the person, and not just the mail-man. She noticed the epicanthic folds and the flat nose. He was suffering from Down syndrome. Mildly enough to function as a mail-man, ride a bike, and so on, but his social control was somewhat lacking. "It's OK," she said, "I'll keep the pudding for you."
"Thanks! It's a treat. I can't always afford one. The baker makes them Monday. That's today. I really like them. See you tomorrow."
    June biked to the baker's and bought a new pudding. She was sure that after sitting a whole week in her fridge, the old one would be inedible, if not downright harmful.

 ... to be continued

På dansk

Her er så det næste havle kapitel. Det går langsomt fremad, synes jeg. Men på den anden side, mysterier tager deres tid.

Mandag tog June først ind til telefonbutikken. Hun fik at vide, at det ikke ville være noget problem for hende at få en telefon, Charles O’Connor havde haft en, så ledningern lø der allerede. Ja, hun behøvede ikke engang at være hjemme. En medarbejder fra selskabet ville komme ud til et eller andet målerskab, June forstod ikke rigtig forklaringen, og syntes, det var pinligt at spørge igen. Men det korte af det lange var, at hendes telefonnummer ville blive aktiveret uden at hun behøvede at gøre noget, og hun kunne få en telefon med hjem med det samme.
"Bare sæt den i stikket og løft røret med jævne mellemrum fra onsdag middag," forklarede den unge forhandler.  "Når du hører klartonen, betyder det, at den virker." Han skrev hendes telefonnummer på et lille stykke papir og satte det ind i det dertil indrettede vindue på den telefon, June havde valgt. Hun takkede ham og gik.

Derefter gik hun hen til cykelforretningen i udkanten af byen. De havde den perfekte cykel til hende, robust og endda dæmpet grøn, en af hendes yndlingsfarver. Hun kunne ikke huske, hvornår hun sidst havde cyklet. Dennis havde ikke brudt sig om cykler og havde været rig nok til, at de kunne have to biler. En lille, sporty bil til ham og en rummelig, men alligevel let bil til hende til indkøb, ture med børnene og til deres ferier, weekender og alt det der. Det var den, der havde dræbt ham og børnene.
    Siden da havde hun ikke haft lyst til at køre bil eller overhovedet eje en bil. Men en cykel var noget helt andet. Cykelhandleren havde stillet hende et spørgsmål.
"Undskyld," sagde June, "jeg var lidt fraværende."
"Jeg spurgte, om du havde brug for en cykelhjelm eller noget andet tilbehør?"
"Ja da," sagde June, "jeg vil gerne have en hjelm. Og et par cykeltasker. Jeg har ikke lyst til at cykle hjem med poser på styret.”
"Nej," sagde cykelforhandleren, "det vil jeg også på det kraftigste fraråde. Forresten har vi en stor parkeringsplads omme bag butikken. Derude kan du lære cyklen at kende."
"Mange tak," sagde June. 'Kan det mon ses på mig, at jeg er utryg ved at sætte mig op på en cykel,' tænkte hun.
June kunne heldigvis godt huske det der med at cykle, og følte sig helt som en lille pige igen. 'Det ser ud til, at man faktisk ikke glemmer det, man har lært som lille,' tænkte hun.

Hun cyklede langsomt videre til biblioteket og fandt et par bøger om morsekode, der så nyttige ud. Hun havde lidt besvær med at blive oprettet som låner, da hun først for nylig var flyttet ind og ikke kunne fremvise de krævede identifikationspapirer. Et midlertidigt lånerkort viste sig at være løsningen på dette problem.

Da hun cyklede ind mod byens centrum, mødte hun postbudet. Han vinkede til hende og sagde: "Undskyld, at jeg gik ind i dit hus i sidste uge. Du var ikke hjemme. Jeg havde glemt at give dig nogle af dine breve. Du får virkelig mange! Jeg var tørstig, så jeg drak lidt vand. Jeg tror, jeg glemte min frokost inde hos dig."
Han talte i korte sætninger med små pauser imellem; det havde June allerede lagt mærke til ved hans første besøg, men i dag var det endnu mere tydeligt. En mærkelig vane. Men i det mindste løste han én gåde. "Var det en budding?" spurgte June.
"Jep. Den var ved at blive varm. Jeg ville lade den køle, mens jeg drak vand. Senere ville jeg spise den. Men den var væk. Har du spist den?" Han så forventningsfuldt på hende.
"Nej, det har jeg ikke. Du kan få den, næste gang du kommer. Men du ved godt, at det ikke er pænt at gå ind i andres hjem, mens de ikke er der."
"Det ved jeg godt. Nogle gange glemmer jeg det. Jeg var så tørstig."
June kiggede nøje på postbudet. Pludselig så hun personen, og ikke bare uniformen. Hun lagde mærke til de tunge folder ved øjnene og den flade næse. Han led af Downs syndrom. Mildt nok til at kunne arbejde som postbud, cykle og så videre, men hans evner til at følge de normale, sociale spilleregler lod noget tilbage at ønske. "Det er okay," sagde hun så, "jeg gemmer buddingen til dig."
"Tak! De er så lækre. Jeg har ikke altid råd til en. Bageren laver dem om mandagen. Det er i dag. Jeg kan virkelig godt lide dem. Vi ses i morgen."
    June cyklede hen til bageren og købte en ny budding. Hun var sikker på, at den gamle ville være uspiselig, hvis ikke direkte sundhedsskadelig, efter at have stået en hel uge i hendes køleskab.

 ... fortsættelse følger