AnElephant Posts Most Ghosts

Ghost by Phil Burns

Ghost by Phil Burns

AnElephantCant deny he’s a scaredy cat
He does not always feel safe in the night
His panic is complete
If some freak in a sheet
Shouts boo and gives him a quite fearful fright

And then he might waken in the darkness
And decide to hide behind his bed-post
He does something wise
He covers his eyes
He does not want to see a g-g-g-g-g-ghost

He decides to rely on technology
Goes out and buys a reliable dead thing detector
Puts it under his bed
If the wee light turns red
It means he is being stalked by a silently supercilious spectre

Now AnElephant is a big sturdy laddie
More like a ton of turkey than a baby-faced bantam
But let’s cut to the chase
He has no wish to face
A fearsome ferocious frenetic fallacious fierce phantom

AnElephant has no desire to cause trouble
He tries to be nice and does not want to stir it
But he starts to worry
Because if he’s in a hurry
He runs fast and tramples folk if he spots a spirit

So perhaps he runs off to a distant far away place
Like New Zealand or even Alaska
Unless once or twice
He meets a wee ghosties who’s nice
Like that cartoon character in Paramount Pictures called Casper

Posted in Daft Rhymes, humour | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The Body – Friday Fictioneers

AnElephantCant always be specific
But he finds being vague sometimes works
So when someone is dead
On the floor or in bed
It is very likely sweet Anja is the corpse

Once again it is Friday Fictioneer time.
Presented weekly by rampant Rochelle, please follow this link for some rollicking rumbustious recitals from readily raffish reporters.
But first pause to read some relative rubbish from AnElephant.
The idea is to write a very short story, circa 100 words, based on this picture prompt (below).
That’s it.

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

The Body

There is a body in the corner.
A girl, with what looks like a broken neck.
Forbes’ trademark style.
I can’t help her, so I ignore her.
I hear Forbes’ voice through the door to the living area.
Sounds like he is organising the clean up of this latest tantrum.
I push the door open, softly, slowly.
The phone goes down.
I pause.
Then hear the clink of glass.
He is preparing a drink.
No surprise there.
Johnny Walker on ice, I know.
I push the door open.
Cough.
He turns, surprised.
I shoot him, twice.
That is my job.

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Eros – Haibun Thinking

AnElephantCant always be static
He still has a hankering to roam
But sitting here in Edinburgh Airport
In his mind there’s just one thought
In a few hours he will happily be home

Waiting for a flight to Nice, AnElephant once again launches a one pachyderm assault on this great weekly challenge hosted by his friend Al.
Please take a moment to check out this page to see some superb interpretations of the Japanese Haibun, a literary form which explores the relationship between the human experience and nature.
This week he chooses this film quote as his topic.
“Some people can’t believe in themselves until someone else believes in them first.”
- Good Will Hunting

Eros by AnElephantCant

Eros by AnElephantCant

Eros
He is now over 80 years old.
He decides he wants another dog.
His wife is long dead, his children scattered, and although they visit often with his grandchildren, he spends too many lonely nights in contemplation.
He makes enquiries, hears of a quality litter of German Shepherds, still very young.
He sits in the kennels, studying the pups.
He fancies that he knows about dogs.
They are an impressive collection, who come, sit and go on command.
Except for one handsome beast who sits apart.
He calls it, in French and in dogspeak.
It ignores him.
He laughs, tries again, coaxes.
It ignores him.
That dog will never make the cut, he decides, shaking his head rather sadly.
Because there is something about it.
But never mind.
Then, for some reason, he finds he is now less keen on the others.
He sighs, disappointed.
It rises, walks to him, sits at his feet, and gazes up into his eyes.
Now he understands.
No one chooses this dog.
He chooses you.
He names it Eros.
Five years have now passed.
The old man is gone.
Eros now looks after Emmy.
And he has also chosen me.
He is my friend.

some individuals
instinctively understand
their role in life

Posted in Daft Rhymes, haibun | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

AnElephant’s Fish Kiss Wish List

Underwater by Emma, friend of AnElephant

Underwater by Emma, friend of AnElephant

AnElephantCant finesse fun-finned fishies
Although he is not so sure about shadowy Sharks
He does want to know
If a Catfish says miaow
And he is curious to discover if a Dogfish really barks

In Scotland millions of folk come to catch fish
Rivers like the Spey are world famous for Salmon
This is not AnElephant’s thing
He prefers just to sing
And to rock along to Bob Marley Jammin’

But Scots eat fish suppers by the gazillion
If you don’t like them deep-fried you are considered an oddity
We eat them with chips
Which stick to the hips
And surprisingly we prefer Haddockson Ford to his Daddy Sean Coddery

AnElephant loves Zebra and Angel fish
He is enthralled by the graceful leaping Trout
But the Goldfish poor wee soul
Swims in circles in his bowl
As though he’s living in a never-ending roundabout

The Koi Carp is a particularly popular poisson
AnElephant considers this a Mackerel when you look at its face
A Sole may come from Dover
But if you turn it over
You might find it originates in a totally different Plaice

He senses a serious Swordfish is suspiciously scary
A barbaric Barracuda makes him anxiously afraid
He does not want to play
With a king bed-sized Stingray
But he loves to linger with a magical mystical Mermaid

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Crash – Sunday Photo Fiction

AnElephantCant stay in the city
He enjoys a ramble down a quiet country road
And returns to the killing
Because he finds it quite thrilling
And in recent weeks Anja’s death toll has slowed

This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
Just click on the link to saunter insouciantly through some sensational stories by sensible scribes.
But please first read AnElephant’s melodramatic motorway madness.

Copyright Al Forbes

Copyright Al Forbes

Crash

He is very depressed and in a foul mood when he swerves across the narrow road into the oncoming car, catapulting its passenger, a young American lady from North Carolina, through the windscreen to her death.
His wife has just told him she is leaving, moving to Paris with her boss to set up a new branch of their thriving agency.
His own small software business is struggling badly.
He is unsure if it can survive the latest cash flow crisis.
His only child, his brilliant and athletic son, has left university with severe drug problems, but still refuses treatment or, indeed, any help whatsoever.
And now his own health is failing due to the stress.
But he deliberately swerves across the narrow road into the oncoming car when the little boy with the red tricycle and the screaming mother emerges abruptly from the garden directly into his path.

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Other Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 31 Comments

Wedding Bells

tender touch by anelephantcant

tender touch by anelephantcant

He talks of his unhappiness
To the wind and birds and trees
Understands that he must never count
The tears nobody sees

He recalls all her bland promises
Now sadly turned to dust
Hears the echo of the wedding bells
Silenced by lies and rust

Seconds or years keep slipping by
He misses her smiling eyes so much
He’d give a decade of his life
For one more tender touch

She needs some time to find herself
Says give me space to be alone
Neglects to come back to his arms
For reasons yet unknown

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

AnElephant’s First Request

AnElephantCant pronounce a big word
So he finds today’s task quite formidable
He promises to be quiet
If just two folk go and buy it
The writing style of his new book is inimitable

The following is the start of his new e-book, The Second Request, short and exciting, and set at Amazon’s minimum price (£1.80, $2.49).

The Second Request
The series of explosions prompt different reactions across the base.
The men, trained to the highest level, go on auto pilot, lifting weapons, racing to pre-assigned positions.
Their wives, some pausing to gather up younger children, dash in panic to the school-house.
No one yet knows what is happening.
In this elite outpost on a deep sea loch on Scotland’s west coast all the forces personnel are male.
The only women are their wives and some support staff.
The establishment is remote, ultra-secure and top secret.
The men are specialists, highly skilled, the finest in the Union.
They are confused but alert.
The reconnaissance is fast and effective.
They see nothing.
It appears that there are no injuries.
There is no visible damage.
Nothing.
Then they hear the hubbub from the school.
The children are gone.
All except for Theo who is in a wheelchair with both ankles in plaster after an over-ambitious adventure on a roof-top.
He cries softly, sadly.
I was sleeping, he sobs, I was sleeping.
When asked what happened to the others he just shakes his head, tears in his eyes.
I was asleep….
And Debs arrives, hysterical.
My Sophie was home in bed with a cold, now she is gone!
I checked on her when I heard the commotion – gone!
I was in the house, she couldn’t have got past me.
Two men are immediately despatched to her home.
Meanwhile the school building is searched, and searched again.
Then the surrounding huts and sheds.
Then the entire base.
Quickly and efficiently.
Nothing.
Eighteen children, aged between 5 and 9 years old, have disappeared.
It is clearly impossible.

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Other Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments