Today is the turn of Elsie AKA River, to provide the words for Wednesday.
(I SHALL USE ALL OF THESE WORDS ) Vest...
Here is my Story Titled: "Having a Morbid Day"
Where I stood by the WHITE LILAC bush in the back garden, the piston driven plane approaching from the south on its way to the local Airport at Newcastle in NSW Australia - its thundering noise while in its descent revived a flicker of bad memory from the vaults of time; stored in my brain from a long past era.
However, not so vivid today, instead we have a mad woman - an aged spinster who arrives at her weekender up the road with her animals each weekend , whose dogs and her screeching Galah's and Cockatoo's in her garden reply in their own way to the noise of the descending plane. A prediction of this occurring is inevitable; it rarely fails similarly to the howls of local dogs whose accompaniments to the sound of an Ambulance heading for "Heavens Door" the local retirement village where most of the local Hospital's patients originate from.
So to avoid this bedlam I retreat from the exterior into the quietness of the house where I go to the utility room to wash the bacteria of the garden earth from my arms and hands; I twitch as the unexpected coldness of the water hits my hands, having done I head for the office with a cup of tea and later while sitting at my desk hear the less noisy return of the plane heading in a different flight path over the mountain lake.
A quietness then descends for a while, then as I gaze from the front window the slow return of the ambulance from 'Heaven's Door' is followed shortly after by the all too familiar Black Van from the undertaker heading in the other direction.
Having a morbid day by Vest. Back soon.
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