Wednesday's Words on a Friday

On Wednesdays, assorted people have been taking monthly turns at putting up a selection of six (or twelve) words which is called “Words for Wednesday”.

We have taken over this meme from Delores, who had been having computer problems.

This month the meme continues here, at Riot Kitty’s site.

Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.   

Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or images.   What we do with those prompts is up to us:  a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...

Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog.  We would really like it if as many people as possible joined in with this fun meme.

If you are posting on your own blog - let us know so that we can come along and read your masterpiece.

 

I’m hopeless at poetry so I always do a story.

It’s a fun challenge…why not join in?

This week's words are:

1. idiocy
2. fuck
3. platypus
4. painful
5. crying
6. fuckery

Here is my continuation of last week's effort, without the swear words:

 He'd stumbled in just before dawn, drunk as a skunk, and now lay sprawled, stinking and snoring across the bed, still clothed, still with his boots on.  If I managed to care less, I'd be dead.

As soon as the snoring settled to the point where I knew he wouldn't wake for several hours, I went to the kids bedroom and quietly woke them. Tess was four and Jackie only three, but both were concerned and frightened by my newest black eye. They spoke in whispers, eyeing the suitcase I held in my hand.

"Where we goin' Mum? We runnin' away?" Jackie asked, wide eyed. Tess said, " We really goin' this time Mum?"
"Yes, " I said. "We're going to stay with Old Pearl and Old Billy, down by the riverbank. But you must stay quiet as we walk away from here. Dad's asleep and we don't want to wake him."
"He won't wake up," said Tess, already knowing too much in spite of her tender years.

"Let's get your favourite books and toys into the suitcase," I said. "We can put your clothes and shoes into pillowcases and I'll carry them over my shoulder."
"Like a swag," said Jackie. 
Tess stuffed her little purple platypus into the case; I noticed she ignored the fancy big doll her dad had given her at Christmas. I said nothing. Tess knew her own mind. Jackie pushed his tiny wooden trains into his shorts pockets, pulled on his boots, and declared himself ready. 

We locked the doors from the inside and sneaked out through the window, pulling it closed behind us. Walking down the dusty track to the river, the kids were remarkably silent, until they spotted Old Billy waiting for us, then they ran with excited cries of "Billy!, Billy!" Hugs were bestowed and  we all made our way to Old Pearl's **humpy.

**humpy= an aboriginal shelter made by laying strips of bark (often from a paperbark tree) over sturdy sticks driven into the ground. Circles of stones in front were used as campfires to heat water, also to spit-roast whatever small animal they'd caught for dinner.


I gladly handed over the kids to Old Billy while I collapsed into a long and painful crying session, while Old Pearl patted my back and hugged me, rocking gently as she had done for me as a child. 

"I don't know what idiocy brought you and that Rick together, Mary, " she said when I finally dried up, "but I'm sort of glad, because look at Tess and little Jackie. Two fine young ones you got there. I'm glad you're all here now, we're set to go walkabout tomorrow, you all gonna come?"
"We'll come Pearl," I said. "We need to get far away from him and that no good mum of his, always whispering' about how we're no good, draggin' him down. "

**(a humpy is sometimes called a wurlie)