5 Sentence Fiction - Sacrifice

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At night Annabelle headed out into the cold, she travelled by train into the city, the opposite direction to everyone else. This is how she felt, opposite to everyone else; when others slept - she was awake; when others were awake - she was asleep. 


Annabelle opened the little grey door in the grate at the back of the huge store, she put down her handbag and picked up her tools: mop, bucket, broom, brushes, sprays, cloths and bandaids. She worked hard moving from floor to floor cleaning the checked tiled floors and the doors and the elevators and the toilets, her hands would bleed from scrubbing off the marks left from thousands of pairs of shoes. 


When she felt tired or sorry for herself, she opened the locket around her neck, inside, a faded photo of a little boy with rosy cheeks and a hopeful smile, she soon returned to her brushes and sprays knowing that it was all worthwhile.

I have based the above story loosely on the 5 sentences below. I wanted to write about my grandparents' sacrifice - so I did. I hope you don't mind.

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My grandparents left the country where their families were born, where they had friends and family, jobs and bank accounts, churches and schools, pet rabbits and clogs. 


Holland was growing quickly, filling up with people from all over the world, expanding in every direction, life was changing quickly. With big families, full of lots of strapping boys they decided to load their children and what they could of their lives into suitcases and put them onto boats as big as buildings, they endured a long and arduous sea journey for many days and many nights. 


They started a new life, took jobs below thier status, worked incredibly long hours and endured ridicule and shame for their language and culture. They were my grandparents, they believed for a better life for thier children and for their children's children, they saw opportunities for us all in Australia, I am grateful for their sacrifice.

What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction. 

Write on Wednesdays - Floating Candles

Angeline stood outside the cathedral and looked up. The windows stared down at her and the gargoyles mocked her tatty clothes and shoeless feet. Tourists bustled past her with their cameras ready and chatted endlessly about bus times and dinner cruises. Angeline had walked a long way to get to the cathedral, a journey that had taken her away from home and away for too long. She looked up at the mocking gargoyles, took a deep breath and stepped into the cathedral. 


She crept along the sides of the chapel. She was not interested in famous dead people or architectural this or that. She had to get to the little chapel where she could light a candle. Angeline didn't know what would happen when she lit the candle, she just knew that something drew her there from the other side of the city. As she approached the alcove she was alarmed that there were so many candles already there, she stood and watched the spots of fire dance in their shimmering ponds. Would her single candle make any difference to her prayer? She daren't think about it. She took a new candle from the box, blessed it with a kiss and found a tiny spot to place her candle. 


As she lit the candle and the smell of the match filled her nostrils and the light danced and reflected in her eyes, she whispered a prayer she had walked across a snow covered city to say, "Please, I know you are very busy, but please....."




Write On Wednesdays Exercise 26 - Look at the photo at the top of this post. What does it inspire in you? Set your timer for 5 minutes. With the photo in mind, write the first words that come into your head until the buzzer rings. If you aren't a visual person, you could try lighting a few candles and writing by candlelight. Different sensory experiences can be useful for inspiring creative writing so please play around to make the prompt suit your writing needs. If you do try writing by candlelight, let us know. I'd love to know how it works for you!

RemembeRED - Old Photos

Well, this isn't a favourite photo of mine, but my oh my, do I remember these times.... My mother loved this photo of me, she had it hanging in her photo gallery for years, I wonder why she liked it so much? I should ask her sometime.

Sitting in the bush on a hot Saturday afternoon was not something I really wanted to do. I wanted to be home where I could just watch television or listen to music in my room. I hated having to wear trainers and long socks, I worried about ticks and snakes and goannas and dirt in general. I did not like having to go without showers and I just wanted a clean place to sit. I do remember being thankful that there were no boys around, it was good to have a break from that angst.


We were taken on a drive on the back of a ute around the property we were camping on. There were old mines all over the property and we were encouraged to go in some of the shafts to look around. I didn't particularly like the feeling of being under earth in the middle of the bush, of course the younger girls screamed and cried and worried about Bunyips.


I was 16 at the time. I was not good at being 16. My skin was bad, my teeth were bad, I hated my body and I wished I had never cut my hair. I was neither smart nor dumb. I was neither pretty nor ugly. I was neither popular nor unpopular. I was in the middle, average, no ripples.


I wish I could reach into this photo and tell this self-conscious girl that she is going to be okay. That she will find her way in time, that life gets better. I would tell her that life is what you make it, that life is more than the sum of parts; bad skin, bad teeth, big bottom - they are not the sum of who that girl is. I would tell this girl to travel, to learn and to dream. I wish I could tell her those things. I wish someone had....

Everyone has a favorite photo of themself, whether it’s a childhood snapshot, a professional graduation or wedding photograph, or a close-up taken amongst friends.

Some say a photograph steals the soul. This week, show us yours: take us into the moment that photograph was taken. Show us who you were then and what the photograph means–in 300 words.

Friday Food - Sour Cream Banana Cake

A few weeks ago a friend of ours came to visit, he was roped into building a fence for the meandering chickens who were ruining our garden {not that we have much of a garden, but having marauding chickens making things worse was not at all cool}. He arrived on our doorstep with bunches and bunches of bananas that he grew in his very own garden and he also brought homemade banana cake made from his very own homegrown bananas. Oh my goodness - the banana cake didn't last 12 hours and the bananas were excitedly received by three small children.


But, he did bring us 5 bunches of bananas that each had more than 10 bananas in each bunch. Even after force feeding the kids bananas at every snack and meal, there were still a lot left over. So I popped them in the freezer.


Just last week we were having a lovely aunt and uncle over for afternoon tea, so I thought I would make something with the bananas. When looking for recipes, I could only find recipes that needed one or two bananas, and that was just not going to use up all of my now defrosted bananas. I decided to triple the following recipe - yep - triple it. So off I went.... cooking cooking cooking....


I made one loaf tin and then one roasting pan {18cm X 30cm} FULL of banana cake. It was a LOT of cake. But it used up all of those bananas and also our overflow of free range eggs. So it was win win... Until Monday morning when I realised I had a fridge full of banana cake. I decided I needed to get it out of the house, so I sent a huge container of it to work with Mr Cool. It was a big hit. 


The recipe is as follows.... Feel free to double or triple it!

Sour Cream Banana Cake

Prep Time: 20 mins
Cooking Time: 50-60 mins
Serves: 8


Ingredients
125g butter, softened
3/4 cup caster sugar
1 tsp vanilla essence
2 eggs, at room temperature
3/4 cup sour cream {or natural yoghurt or a combination}
1 cup mashed bananas {2 large, very ripe bananas}
2 1/4 cups self raising flour
1/4 tsp bicarbonate soda


Icing
60g cream cheese
60g sour cream
1 tsp lemon juice
1 cup icing sugar


Method

1. Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius, grease base and sides of a square cake pan, or loaf pan or slice tin
2. Beat the butter, sugar and vanilla together until pale and creamy. 
3. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. 
4. Using a metal spoon, gently fold in sour cream and bananas.
5. Sift over the flour and bicarbonate soda and gently fold through.
6. Spoon batter into prepared pan, Smooth surface. Bake for 50-60 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean. Stand for 5 minutes before turning onto a wire rack.
7. To make icing: place softened cream cheese and yoghurt/sour cream into a bowl with the lemon juice. Sift in the icing sugar. Beat with electric mixer until thick and creamy. Add more icing sugar if it is too thin, or a splash more lemon juice if it is too thick. Spread onto cake when cake is almost cool.

Variations...

• I used half low fat natural yoghurt and half low fat sour cream and it was delicious. Next time, I will only use yoghurt, the slightly sour yoghurt was a great contrast to the highly sweet bananas. 
• This would make a great dessert cake, leave the icing off and make a caramel sauce. Melt butter and brown sugar in a small saucepan on the stove, when sugar is melted, before it boils, add some cream and stir through. Serve over warm cake - add ice-cream if you dare.
• You could add nuts to the cake itself or sprinkle over the top when it is iced.
• I think I will try adding some shredded coconut to the cake next time I make it, banana and coconut is a great taste combination.

This is part of my regular Friday Food posts - even though it is Sunday... 

Write on Wednesday - The Saddest Thing I Ever Heard

The Saddest Thing I Ever Heard....

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They sat around the table reminiscing about the good old days of living in the big old house on the farm, while the rain tapped a melody on the hot tin roof. Each took their turn bringing forth a memory; holidays by the beach and being nipped on sunburnt toes by crabs; travelling to Sydney with the windows down and the smell of fields and fields of rain drenched grain; mad games of hide and seek ending in finding the younger children asleep in the hay loft; school lunches of vegemite sandwiches and little blocks of homemade cheese. 


"Dad, remember that game you used to play with us before dinner? The 'Water Game'?" The now adult children all remembered this with great fondness and began recollecting tallies and amounts and bragging rights. 


"I loved that game. I do it with my children now. But we do it after dinner so the children don't spoil their dinner. We gather around the table and see how many glasses of water we can drink. My kids love it!" They all chirped in with more accounts of the famous family game.


The now old and frail father had tears streaming down his face. He looked at his children with pleading eyes, "The farm wasn't making any money, the drought had hit hard, there was simply not enough food.... We had to play that game, we couldn't let you go to bed with empty stomachs. We gave you lots of water to drink so you wouldn't go to bed hungry." His voice trailed off and soft sobs could be heard.


The room filled with silence. Even the rain stopped tapping.


"Dad, that is the saddest thing I have ever heard. But, I am so proud of you for never telling us. I thought I grew up as a king; I had fresh air aplenty, sun to brown my skin, a mother who made her own jam and a father who grew grain that fed our country. I have never been as proud of you as I am right now."


More tears, more hugs, more respect, more tea and more memories were shared that night. The children went home to their children better people for knowing what they had learnt about their past.






Thanks for the inspiration Mr Cool... This story is based on an urban myth, although it may very well be true... I was really struggling to come up with something to write about for this prompt. But, over the washing up we were discussing that even though things are tight at the moment, it is just a season and pretty soon things will get better. It was good to be reminded that there is always food on our table and there are always clothes in our cupboards. I don't think we will ever appreciate how hard things were and are for those who work the land or who cannot earn enough to sustain a family... 






I am linking in with InkPaperPen for Write on Wednesdays...
The Write On Wednesday Rules: Get creative with the writing exercises - there isn't a right or wrong. Please do try to visit the other members of Write On Wednesdays and leave a comment of support and constructive criticism. 
Write On Wednesdays Exercise 25 - I heard a song on the radio during the week and I thought the lyrics would make an interesting prompt for WoW. So, write the words "The saddest thing I ever heard" on your page, set your timer for 5 minutes and write the first words that come into your head based on the given prompt.

10 Things - Vintage Sarcasm

Vintage Domestic Goddesses

These little pictures have been doing the rounds of Facebook for a while now - they crack me up! I have been collecting them over at Pinterest and finally have 10! I hope you enjoy the giggle....

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Okay - reader response time - you can leave your comment here or on my Facebook page...

What might this vintage domestic goddess be saying?

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RemembeRED - Peaceful Places

Peaceful Places...

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Alone at last. This happens so infrequently these days. Today, I am alone unexpectedly and it is like a cool repreive on a white hot day. It is like finding myself on a boat punting down a stream where willow trees lean in to meet and mingle in the middle. I am wearing a white linen dress and I am holding a parasol trimmed in lace, nibbling figs and pistachios, lying back and letting my fingers glide through the cool water. 


As I look up I see the sun playing peek-a-boo through the canopy of trees and birds clamber to catch their very own sun ray. The only sound is the lapping water on the sides of the boat and the swoosh of the oars as I am paddled down the stream.


I don't know where the boat is going, I don't know how long we will be travelling for, I don't know what I shall eat or what I shall drink. All I know is that at this moment, there is peace. There is time enough to worry about plans and eating and drinking. For now, not having a plan is a delight in itself.

This week, as we enter one of the busiest times of year, I say we take a lesson from these second graders and write about a (real) place that makes us feel peaceful.

Where is your quiet place? What does it look like? What happens there?

Word limit is 200. Come back on Tuesday to link up!