I had a moderate level brain fart when posting chapter 6 and ended up putting 2 copies of it on both the home page and my stories page. I have the impression it caused a few headaches to sort out, and from the number of hits this week (400 compared to last weeks 800+) I'm wondering if some people may have missed it. If that's the case, here's a direct link to chapter 6.

Helping Mum wasn’t as dire as it sounded. She took charge, which was only right since she knew a lot more about the running of her kitchen than me, and preparation for lunch took less than half the time it usually did. The happy bonus being that Mum calmed down rather than becoming her usual frazzled self. With twice as many hands available, it was easier to wash up as we went, so there wasn’t much in the way of dirties in the sink by the time we were ready to serve up.

Parking in the village was never an issue. The drive took place in stony silence with Dad’s grim expression inviting no conversation. There was something I needed to say before we went much further though.

“This isn’t going to do any good, Dad.” He glowered at me, but I pressed on regardless. “He was as surprised and upset as I was by the changes in my appearance – more so. He’s not going to have any idea how to reverse this. Besides, even if he does, I’m not going through with it.”

“Irish Dancing? Isn't that the rubbish where they keep their arms straight by their sides?" Nick peered myopically at the bulletin board. The poster actually showed a line of girls high kicking in unison, ponytails flying and, yes, arms held rigidly at their sides.

I shook my head, more to myself than anything. It really was a mystery to me how he'd made it to college with so little going on between his ears.

A morning's musings from my muse.

Fool. From the French fol (or folle for the girls) or Latin follis meaning mad. There are other possible root words, but they seem unlikely.

But what is madness?

Einstein famously said, ‘Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results,' which is – typical of the man – genius, but it doesn’t quite work.

Maeryn Lamonte Copyright ©️ 2024

Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
On the high shoes
Of the old friends

A gentle song. Lesser known perhaps but familiar to us both. The single hadn’t gone anywhere, but the album made it to the top of the charts.

I remember the last time I saw her perched on the far end of the bench. I’d walked about as far as my aching bones could carry me so asked if she would mind my joining her.

Maeryn Lamonte Copyright ©️ 2024

You never expect Hollywood to get it right, do you? I mean not in the slightest. Because why let reality get in the way of a good story? Pure escapism, which isn’t to say pure rubbish. I mean we all need to get away from the real world every now and then.

So anyway. Time loops. More common than you might think.

Maeryn Lamonte Copyright ©️ 2024
I doubt this’ll count as it’s about a thousand words short, but just for the fun...

“Mr Smee! What in blue blazes do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m steering the ship, captain, like you said.”

“Then why, pray, are we going in the wrong direction?”

“No sir. I beg to differ sir. Not the wrong direction at all. You said, ‘Second star to the right and straight on till morning, sir.”

“So do tell me, you imbecile, why it is that we’re steering for the third star to the right?”

Maeryn Lamonte Copyright ©️ 2024

"You know that film?”

We all looked at Caitlyn expectantly, but that seemed to be all she had to say for now. Her focus was on the varnish, and using it to paint my toenails, and that seemed to be limiting her capacity elsewhere.

“Oh, you mean the one with, erm...?” Alice tried. Sometimes all it took was a verbal nudge.

“Yeah, Jim Carrie. You know?” Caitlyn looked up from her efforts at the blank faces surrounding her.

“Ace Ventura?” I hazarded a guess.

I wrote this in response to a comment about nasty dads. I've included quite a few of them in recent writings - Seven Dresses, Candy Crush etc - and I'm not sure I can justify it, apart from a mentioning the general impression I have that rigid attitudes and unbending beliefs are more of a masculine trait than a feminine one. I realise this isn't true in all cases, so I wrote a story with a father who's more supportive than the mother, although she doesn't do too badly. Of course that dad's a bit trans, so not a typical male.

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and the Amazon US author page is here
Or just search for Maeryn Lamonte on Amazon

This one is pretty rough and ready. I only just finished it this morning and haven’t had a chance to proof-read it yet. Since I wrote most of it on my phone and have a constant battle against the stupid autocorrect, there may be some unusual sentences in there, but hopefully you’ll be able to make out what was intended. Please message me when (rather than if) you find any and I’ll correct as quickly as I can.

and my Amazon US author page is here