Cooking again!

by

Horrified to discover that the frying pan has been cold since February.  My excuse is I’ve been doing a lot of living.  What’s yours?   I was intrigued to see in the Herald of Saturday 23rd Aug that  ‘An Old Woman Cooking Eggs’ by Velazquez was chosen by four famous Scots as their favourite work of art from the National Gallery of Scotland’s collection.   Now there’s an incentive to creative endeavour.

Here is a new challenge.  Write a mini story in 100 words beginning:

‘I stood under the trees like a horse, motionless, patient, waiting for the rainstorm to pass.’

9 Responses to “Cooking again!”

  1. abf101 Says:

    It’s late and I still can’t figure out how to post an entry! So here it is as a comment. Please help!

    I stood under the trees like a horse, motionless, patient, waiting for the rainstorm to pass. I’d never seen trees like a horse before; but at least they were shelter from the windy wetness. What could they be for? The high command had been very cagey. “Just build it,” they said. Ours but to hew and cry – and get skelfs everywhere.
    Now it’s to get wheels. I ask you! I ask everybody. Silence and the occasional wink, as if somebody has a crafty plan. Ten years’ battling away and we end up with a wooden horse. Very funny, Odysseus!

  2. goforchris Says:

    Wonderful. I marvel at the resilience of your wit!

  3. rosemaryhannah Says:

    Very very clever – will give it a think, see if I can make an honourable third place.

  4. alisonwriting Says:

    Welcome back!

  5. Helen Says:

    Hello – newbie here! Alison, could you post this for me, please?

    I stood under the trees like a horse, motionless, patient, waiting for the rainstorm to pass.

    Patient?!

    It may have looked that way. Inside, I was seething. How can my own sister be too cheap to hire a tent?

    Shivering guests in soggy finery huddled together with the band, casually passing around bottles and plates they’d rescued from the picnic, while the photographer captured candid moments of camaraderie.

    And all the time my cake – my cake! – was out there in the downpour. Sugar petals drooped, icing leaves fell, swags lost their swagger.

    Forget the horse. My kingdom for a marquee.

  6. carolinevon Says:

    Hi there, Allison, another newbie here! (Thank you, Helen, for forwarding the link.)

    I couldn’t resist the opening line. Here’s my 100 words.

    I stood under the trees like a horse, motionless, patient, waiting for the rainstorm to pass. The weight of my sister on my back was a warm comfort.

    Having traversed the desert and the plain we had reached the lands of our forebears and were ready to join the society of adults. Never again would they cast us out, leave us to the mercy of our own skills and determination to succeed. Never again send us away, turn their backs without farewell. From this day, they would stand by us, judge us worthy members of the group.

    We would live.

  7. dinaht Says:

    I stood under the trees like a horse, motionless, patient, waiting for the rainstorm to pass. My companion paced around me, impatient, restless. I stroked her long, dripping fringe back and kissed her damp forehead. “There’s no hurry,” I soothed, “Let’s not get soaked. Dinner can wait.”

    She sighed gustily and shook off my caress. It was already almost twilight and lunch had been a shared sandwich hours ago. I peered through the canopy at the leaden sky. “ I think it’s abating.”

    We stepped into the lessening rain and I swung back into the saddle towards home and dinner.

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