Fantasy Fiction, Science Fiction, Short Stories, Writing

Questions

By Scott Bailey © 2014

She came out of the store just in time to see her young son playing on the sidewalk directly in the path of the gray, gaunt man who strode down the centre of the walk like a mechanical derelict.

The boy looked up at her once the man had passed, saw the fear, the hatred in her eyes.

“What’s up? What is the danger?”

She looked troubled by his questions, as if he had stirred something in her she did not wish to confront.

He seemed to be seeing this a lot lately.

“He is a leper,” she answered curtly.

“And that makes him dangerous?” the boy asked. She stared at him as if wondering where his curiosity was coming from. And well she might.

That was not important to him now, he wanted answers. The time had come for them.

“You might get it, I don’t want anything to hurt you.”

“So why is no one helping him?”

She shrugged,

“I don’t think anyone can. It’s not curable.”

“So why is he allowed to wander around?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped.

“But why do you hate him so much?”

“Because he could hurt you! You might get it!”

“Wouldn’t it be better the try to help him rather than hate him?”

“Look it’s too complicated for you to understand! I am not a doctor!”

“But you know doctors?” he frowned.

“Look that’s enough young man – let’s get you home and get you a bath.”

The boy frowned. She would not be drawn any further.

He was quiet on the way home. He had come to a conclusion. The mother he had chosen was not adequate – not in respect to answering his questions. Well, there was nothing he could do about that now. That decision was made.

But he could direct his questions elsewhere. He was going to be forced to. If he didn’t get any better answers soon it was not going to bode well for the human race.

The first line is from my favourite book “Lord Fouls Bane” by Stephen R Donaldson, the first part of The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant.

In response to my daily prompt Call Me Ishmael 

Photo by RODNAE Productions on Pexels.com
General

Questions

Scott Andrew Bailey - Author

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Call Me Ishmael.”

Questions

 

By Scott Bailey © 2014

 

She came out of the store just in time to see her young son playing on the sidewalk directly in the path of the gray, gaunt man who strode down the centre of the walk like a mechanical derelict.

The boy looked up at her once the man had passed, saw the fear, the hatred in her eyes.

“What’s up? What is the danger?”

She looked troubled by his questions, as if he had stirred something in her she did not wish to confront.

He seemed to be seeing this a lot lately.

“He is a leper,” she answered curtly.

“And that makes him dangerous?” the boy asked. She stared at him as if wondering where his curiosity was coming from. And well she might.

That was not important to him…

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General

The Lord of the Trees

Scott Andrew Bailey - Author

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fourth Wall.”

OK so not my favourite film but this was inspired by my favourite TV show growing up.

By Scott Bailey © 2006

I am Herne the Hunter, Lord of the Trees,
and you are a leaf blown on the breeze.
Echoes and whispers inside your head,
set you on the path you were destined to tread.

Head of a wolf, eye of a hawk,
in the forest the hooded man shall walk.
A man of balance not of gold,
Is it demon or god to whom you are sold ?

So string the bow and take up the sword,
Do my bidding and carry my word.
For you are my son Robin in the Hood.
You are the king of all Sherwood.

View original post

General

Summer Clouds

Scott Andrew Bailey - Author

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “In the Summertime.”

An old one reposted as it fits the prompt 🙂

By Scott Bailey © 2001

A quavering wave
of light in light in the summer clouds
as the sun goes down.

View original post

General

Growing Up

Scott Andrew Bailey - Author

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Generation XYZ.”

Not quite what the prompt meant but it reminded me of this poem I wrote years ago.

Goodbye

By Scott Bailey © 2006

It’s not fair.
He stated it, I didn’t.
He called me names.
I had to do it to stop him.
How come I get told off?
It’s not fair.

It’s a shameful waste.
What they do to our world today.
The forests they cut down, the whales they kill.
The fields they destroy, the new roads they build.
The way they leave their scars on the world.
It’s a shameful waste.

It’s a bloody liberty.
I will not stand for it!
I earned my money fairly.
I will spend it pleasantly.
I will not stand being ripped off!
It’s a bloody liberty.


It’s a downright disgrace.
The way these youngsters behave.
They will not heed my words.
They…

View original post 63 more words

General

On the Edge

Scott Andrew Bailey - Author

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “On the Edge.”

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Stand tall on the board
A breeze teases the skin; dive
Slapped by water cold

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General

Green Eyed Monster

Scott Andrew Bailey - Author

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Green-Eyed Monster.”

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Hulk-HD-2

Dear Mr Hulk
I too am green
A different green
Not anger
Jealously
I wonder
Which is stronger
The angrier you get
The stronger you get
The more jealous I get
Of you
For you
Can rage and rage
And smash
While I can only seethe
Consequence binds me tight
So remember
When you condemn
Your weaker half
With contempt
It is harder
Much harder
To be human
Than Hulk

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General

The Politician, The Voter and the Child

Scott Andrew Bailey - Author

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A House Divided.”

 

The Politician, The Voter and the Child

By Scott Bailey © 2015

You work hard

I struggle by

In the dark

You’re a hard-working family

To pay my bills

A silent dark

You deserve more

To keep my job

Shattered by

Respect and remuneration

My family safe

A scream so stark

Higher wage

Bills accrue

A sister torn

More tax

No breaks in sight

A mother too

Security

I am undermined

And then my turn

Here they come

By cheaper crews

To be their tool

To take your jobs

And labour pools

Alone I lived

We try to stop them

Let down by those

My family died

But the law demands

For who we fought a war

Alone I ran

Freedoms we ill afford

Belts pulled tight

Alone to hide

So we must let them in

Doors shut tight

View original post 127 more words

General

Circle Of Five

Scott Andrew Bailey - Author

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Circle of Five.”

OK – not what was specified in the prompt but this is what came to my mind

Circle of Five

By Scott Bailey © 2015

One is a mother – caring and fierce
Two is wife with perceptions that pierce
Three is a woman Kind and strong
Four is a friend to help me along
Five is the lover tender and sweet
All are in one perfect – petite
One beautiful and loving wife
The five with whom I will spend my life

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General

RIP Humanity

Scott Andrew Bailey - Author

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Last Words.”

RIP Humanity

By Scott Bailey © 2015 

Here lies humanity
May they rest in peace
They refused to see the evidence
The greed that would not cease

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General

Spring in my Step

Scott Andrew Bailey - Author

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Re-springing Your Step.”

Spring in my Step

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Rusty
Is the spring in my step
Lost its purpose
Lacking oil
And energy
Waiting
Coiled
Will it bounce again?
One can hope

OK. So not quite what the prompt asked for but its what sprung into my mind.

View original post

General

Moments

Scott Andrew Bailey - Author

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Agree to Disagree.”

Tenuous but this is what my mind came up with.

Moments

 By Scott Bailey © 2015

The world clashes with me
Or I with it
Its movie reel passes before me
And I watch
Observe
But I am not of it
Occasionally
I brushes me
Pricks me
Interrupts my view
My observations
And the things I should enjoy
I don’t
Until I can observe them
Again one day
My moments pass
Slipping
I can never seem
To be in them

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General

Oasis

Scott Andrew Bailey - Author

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Oasis.”

A storm is brewing
Clouds gather
Crowds coalesce
Grief and anger
Answer hate
Where’s my oasis
Of peace

View original post

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

The Lord of the Trees

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fourth Wall.”

OK so not my favourite film but this was inspired by my favourite TV show growing up.

By Scott Bailey © 2006

I am Herne the Hunter, Lord of the Trees,
and you are a leaf blown on the breeze.
Echoes and whispers inside your head,
set you on the path you were destined to tread.

Head of a wolf, eye of a hawk,
in the forest the hooded man shall walk.
A man of balance not of gold,
Is it demon or god to whom you are sold ?

So string the bow and take up the sword,
Do my bidding and carry my word.
For you are my son Robin in the Hood.
You are the king of all Sherwood.

General

Summer Clouds

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “In the Summertime.”

An old one reposted as it fits the prompt 🙂

By Scott Bailey © 2001

A quavering wave
of light in the summer clouds
as the sun goes down.
General

Growing Up

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Generation XYZ.”

Not quite what the prompt meant but it reminded me of this poem I wrote years ago.

Goodbye

By Scott Bailey © 2006

It’s not fair.
He stated it, I didn’t.
He called me names.
I had to do it to stop him.
How come I get told off?
It’s not fair.

It’s a shameful waste.
What they do to our world today.
The forests they cut down, the whales they kill.
The fields they destroy, the new roads they build.
The way they leave their scars on the world.
It’s a shameful waste.

It’s a bloody liberty.
I will not stand for it!
I earned my money fairly.
I will spend it pleasantly.
I will not stand being ripped off!
It’s a bloody liberty.


It’s a downright disgrace.
The way these youngsters behave.
They will not heed my words.
They will not do as they are told.
I will leave my mark on the world.
It’s a downright disgrace.

He needs no name on his grave.
He was a model man.
He stood for what we all stand for.
He spoke the words we all speak.
He was me and you and all those to come.
He needs no name on his grave.

Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

On the Edge

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “On the Edge.”

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Stand tall on the board
A breeze teases the skin; dive
Slapped by water cold

Poetry, Writing

Green Eyed Monster

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Green-Eyed Monster.”

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Hulk-HD-2

Dear Mr Hulk
I too am green
A different green
Not anger
Jealously
I wonder
Which is stronger
The angrier you get
The stronger you get
The more jealous I get
Of you
For you
Can rage and rage
And smash
While I can only seethe
Consequence binds me tight
So remember
When you condemn
Your weaker half
With contempt
It is harder
Much harder
To be human
Than Hulk

Daily Prompt, Short Stories, Writing

Lunch Hour

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “32 Flavors.”

This a repost of a quick story I wrote some time ago – designed to be added to

Thought I would give it another airing 🙂

Lunch Hour

Started by Scott Bailey

There were some friends. And a hall. An infinite hall, with marble walls and pillars that stretched forever into the distance.

And there were tables. Row after row after row of tables. On each table was a never-ending supply of a single dish. In that hall, on those tables there could be found every dish that had ever been imagined, concocted and served up in all of human history.

With a thought you could be sitting before any dish you could think of. Or you could ask your neighbour for a recommendation and try something new. The name of the dish was enough to take you there.

It was time for the friends to eat. They entered and they took their paths through the hall. They commenced their lunch.

As they knew – it was a once only meal.

An hour later they reconvened, look each other in the eyes and assessed their time beneath the infinite arches.

The first spoke.

“I tried as many different tastes as I could. I jumped from table to table and I can honestly say that I know of no one who, could have filled their time here with as many different flavours as I. Yet. Now I am here –  wonder why? I stand here before you proudly stating the quantity of meals I have partaken off – yet I wonder why does that matter? Not one was complete. Have I missed the joy of a meal.”

He hung his head, deep in thought and regret. But second friend spoke.

“You make me wonder. What taste did I miss? I did not try many different meals, For quite soon I found one that I really enjoyed. I sat down and savoured the taste. People around me did the same and we discussed the meal and more besides. I do not regret that – no it was heartwarming – but I wonder at the tastes I missed. Was there a better meal still that I could have savoured with more relish?”

The third friend looked haunted.

“I did not eat. I wanted to try everything but I realised this was not possible, that it was a dream that could only fail. Yet I felt that to just sit down and eat was an insult to the great hospitality and variety that had been laid before us. I fell in with a group of other like-minded people and we were determined to resolve this dilemma with the gifts of reason we have been bestowed with. I have been a fool.”

“You are all fools!” said a fourth friend.

“I knew the way – I understood the correct combination of meals that would allow perfection! I tried to tell you but you would not listen! So many people did not listen! Fools! But there were some and we understand that we have eaten correctly and that we will be rewarded for that. I pity you – you have wasted your lunch hour.”

From Liz Bryant (via Facebook)

“I knew that every choice I could possibly imagine was available to me if only I could be sure to think of my heart’s desire but I couldn’t trust myself to be sure my imagination would conjure my one enduring favourite dish so I watched everyone else and enjoyed observing them choose and enjoy and I admired those who took time to consider, enjoyed and left happy that they had made the right choice”

Blogging101, Poetry, Writing

The Politician, The Voter and the Child

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A House Divided.”

 

The Politician, The Voter and the Child

By Scott Bailey © 2015

You work hard

I struggle by

In the dark

You’re a hard-working family

To pay my bills

A silent dark

You deserve more

To keep my job

Shattered by

Respect and remuneration

My family safe

A scream so stark

Higher wage

Bills accrue

A sister torn

More tax

No breaks in sight

A mother too

Security

I am undermined

And then my turn

Here they come

By cheaper crews

To be their tool

To take your jobs

And labour pools

Alone I lived

We try to stop them

Let down by those

My family died

But the law demands

For who we fought a war

Alone I ran

Freedoms we ill afford

Belts pulled tight

Alone to hide

So we must let them in

Doors shut tight

Far away

We need your fear

As our land

Where wars don’t rage

So let us pass

Slips away

Across the sea

Stronger laws

Dreams of the past

Into a cage

And take your cash

Of golden days

And forms and forms

For a better way

Seem far away

And questions long

Altogether now

Every man for himself

And looks of scorn

Watch your backs

Seems the only way

And acts of wrong

Strengthen our national pride

So I must take a stand

Drowning in

Defend our ways

Against the tide

A stinking sea

Our traditions

That seems to me

I cry

Like class division

To rise and rise

No one pities me

And stay an island proud

To drown our island’s pride

No one pities me

#blogging101

#theCommons

Daily Prompt, Work

The Best Teachers?

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “We Can Be Taught!.”

I had a few good teachers but not many. And those that tried were wading against a tide of social programming. So school was not that productive for me. I left with few qualifications and no direction.

I drifted – pushed by financial necessity into work before I could begin to dream about what I might want from life.

So who were my best teachers?

They were my friends. They didn’t sit me down and lecture me they did two vital things.

They believed in me.

They believed in themselves and acted on that belief.

Watching them follow their dreams whatever the outcome – taught me the bets lesson in my life. To take control of my life and start steering my own destiny.

The best teachers are like the best writers – they show they don’t tell

Daily Prompt, Family, Poetry, Writing

Circle Of Five

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Circle of Five.”

OK – not what was specified in the prompt but this is what came to my mind

Circle of Five

By Scott Bailey © 2015

One is a mother – caring and fierce
Two is wife with perceptions that pierce
Three is a woman Kind and strong
Four is a friend to help me along
Five is the lover tender and sweet
All are in one perfect – petite
One beautiful and loving wife
The five with whom I will spend my life

Adoption, Daily Prompt, Family

Plead the Fifth

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Plead the Fifth.”

The question I find hard to answer – How many kids have you had. I have two – one by birth – one adopted. But we have had three – and whenever I say two it feels like we are betraying the memory of the one that was with us so briefly. Yet if you say three – that leads to many complicated conversations.

I have to add Alexander considers he has three brother’s as he also counts the one we lost at 7 weeks. In my mind we never has that one – we never saw him but I do see his point.

It’s a question that will probably never have a proper answer.

Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

RIP Humanity

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Last Words.”

RIP Humanity

By Scott Bailey © 2015 

Here lies humanity
May they rest in peace
They refused to see the evidence
The greed that would not cease

Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

The Shadow of Fear

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fight or Flight.”

The Shadow of Fear

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Flight or fight
They say
But that first day
The looming shadow
The bully
I was pinned
Couldn’t run
Couldn’t fight
Jellified with fear
Neither response available

For many years
That shadow stalked me
Until one day
I fought
And it fled

Daily Prompt, Family, General, Poetry, Writing

Zombie Apocalypse?

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Moment in Time.”

Zombie Apocalypse?

10246551_10153535579343452_5974698788896006410_n

By Scott Bailey © 2015


From paper to cheek
Paint is slapped with joyful glee
Release the zombie!

Daily Prompt, General, Health, Poetry, Writing

Spring in my Step

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Re-springing Your Step.”

Spring in my Step

By Scott Bailey © 2015

Rusty
Is the spring in my step
Lost its purpose
Lacking oil
And energy
Waiting
Coiled
Will it bounce again?
One can hope

OK. So not quite what the prompt asked for but its what sprung into my mind.

Daily Prompt, General, Poetry, Writing

Moments

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Agree to Disagree.”

Tenuous but this is what my mind came up with.

Moments

 By Scott Bailey © 2015

The world clashes with me
Or I with it
Its movie reel passes before me
And I watch
Observe
But I am not of it
Occasionally
I brushes me
Pricks me
Interrupts my view
My observations
And the things I should enjoy
I don’t
Until I can observe them
Again one day
My moments pass
Slipping
I can never seem
To be in them

General, Poetry, Writing

Temporality

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Image Search.”

Pick a random word and do Google image search on it. Check out the eleventh picture it brings up. Write about whatever that image brings to mind.

So I picked a random word from here – a random word generator. And the eleventh picture was this.

temporality

All Change

By Scott Bailey © 2014

Here we are today
Beavering away like slaves
History forgets

General, Poetry

To Me

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Audience of One.”

To Me (Senryu)

By Scott Bailey © 2014

To my younger self
Don’t be so bloody afraid
Have fun and prosper

Fantasy Fiction, Science Fiction, Short Stories, Writing

Questions

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Call Me Ishmael.”

Questions

 

By Scott Bailey © 2014

 

She came out of the store just in time to see her young son playing on the sidewalk directly in the path of the gray, gaunt man who strode down the centre of the walk like a mechanical derelict.

The boy looked up at her once the man had passed, saw the fear, the hatred in her eyes.

“What’s up? What is the danger?”

She looked troubled by his questions, as if he had stirred something in her she did not wish to confront.

He seemed to be seeing this a lot lately.

“He is a leper,” she answered curtly.

“And that makes him dangerous?” the boy asked. She stared at him as if wondering where his curiosity was coming from. And well she might.

That was not important to him now, he wanted answers. The time had come for them.

“You might get it, I don’t want anything to hurt you.”

“So why is no one helping him?”

She shrugged,

“I don’t think anyone can. It’s not curable.”

“So why is he allowed to wander around?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped.

“But why do you hate him so much?”

“Because he could hurt you! You might get it!”

“Wouldn’t it be better the try to help him rather than hate him?”

“Look its too complicated for you to understand! I am not a doctor!”

“But you know doctors?” he frowned.

“Look that’s enough young man – let’s get you home and get you a bath.”

The boy frowned. She would not be drawn any further.

He was quiet on the way home. He had come to a conclusion. The mother he had chosen was not adequate – not in respect to answering his questions. Well there was nothing he could do about that now. That decision was made.

But he could direct his questions elsewhere. He was going to be forced to. If he didn’t get any better answers soon it was not going to bode well for the human race.

The first line is from my favourite book “Lord Fouls Bane” by Stephen R Donaldson, the first part of The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant.

General, Poetry, Writing

Good Faith?

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “In Good Faith.”

In good faith they took
Their covenant most holy
Is killing good faith!?

General, Writing

Persuasion

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “I Got Skills.”

This is the skill I would like – if I had a choice. For my voice to be heard and my words to take effect.

Then I would travel the world and talk.

Do I have the answers to solve the worlds ills?

No.

But I would use my new-found super power to find the people who had. And then I would persuade them to work together and implement their answers. I would find those who stood in their way and persuade them to move aside.

At the end of the day – talking is the answer – and the most powerful weapon in the world.

With an irresistible voice the world would be yours.

With a great voice comes…. you know the rest

Poetry, Writing

Oasis

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Oasis.”

A storm is brewing
Clouds gather
Crowds coalesce
Grief and anger
Answer hate
Where’s my oasis
Of peace