Baz Baron

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    Baz Baron

    Well done Athers and everyone else. I do love these monthly competitions if only to keep the old grey cells rattling around but especially to see other interpretations of the prompts that always intrigue this reader. So, thanks to all for the pleasure and thanks, Squidge for a great idea.

    Baz Baron

    Je M’Appelle Missy (384 inluding title)

    A sweet voice announced, “Je M’Appelle Missy”.

    I looked up from the menu and immediately two sets of Brown eyes burned into each other.

    An awkward smile later and my schoolboy French produced a stunted smile from the young waitress which turned into a guffaw, like that of surprising a toddler with a loud Boo!

    The summer evening and warm sound of laughter drew me to the small café on the Champs-Élysées. Marie, her real name – looked over her shoulder giggling as she floated away to bring my order. All I could do was wave my hand like a wary five-year-old.

    After paying my bill and a hilarious conversation, Marie grabbed my arm and begged me to speak in English. It was then I discovered she was fluent in the language. Reluctant to end the tease I asked if she knew of the nightclub, Lo Hobo. She told me it was close by and if I could wait around for fifteen minutes she was going that way herself.

    We never made the club, instead we ambled along the Avenues’ hand in hand toward the Jardine des Champs-Élysées Park when she told me of a bridge nearby known locally as ‘The lovers bridge,’ which crosses the River Seine – apparently couples would attach engraved padlock’s to the railings then throw the keys into the river below as a sign of their devoted love.

    This is no longer the case as the authorities banned the gesture for health and safety reasons owing to the several thousands of padlocks placed there. The Parisian Mayor suggested taking selfies instead which is now what happens.

    And yes – you guessed it. We took it, in turn, a selfie on each of our mobiles.

    That summer morning I made my way back to the café on the Champs-Élysées. My encounter with, Marie seemed a world away. The empty tables, the sound of laughter had disappeared.

    The maître d’hôtel was in tears when he told me how Marie had been caught up in an outbreak of rioting on her way home soon after we parted. She died of her injuries on the way to the hospital.

    Under the moonlight, I stumbled my way to the Pont des Arts and attached a padlock to the railings.

    La fin.

    Baz Baron

    Interesting prompt. Some call me, Baz. Some call me, Chris(real name).

    Baz Baron

    Well done, @Squidge, great entry and well-done everyone it’s always good to read fresh stories from random prompts in order to find out how others’ cell receptors work (lol).

    Baz Baron

    Food for thought children. Sleep well tonight. 😉 400 inc title.


    In the womb, do we see white noise?

    Close your eyes. Tight shut. What do you see?

    I woke at four this morning agitated.

    In my horrid dream, I pictured the last of my treasured artifacts’ being scrapped into the trash.

    Lost forever.

    In the lounge and still in a quandary I poured myself a strong one.

    ‘Am I Master of my fate? Am I captain of my soul?’

    Similar words to those above were penned over a century ago in a poem by, William Henley. “I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul”.

    I poured another drink then walked onto the patio to stare into the early morning sky, zillions of atoms right?

    Blink and picture this. “Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup. They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe”. Not my words. The beautiful words in a John Lennon song.

    Both authors’ dead, gone forever. Their words of wisdom live on in the annals of time. What of your words floating around in the ether?

    It is said that everything in existence is made up of single atoms so in the illusion of time all we see and do will become extinct. Gone forever?

    Imagine the human body, billions of cells interconnected each with a receptor working in tandem passing electrical impulses one to the other which form shape, smell, feel, touch and everything we see? Vibes. But what of sound?

    Poles. Attraction. Everything has a positive and negative as do receptors right? Why do we fall in love, why do we hate? We can do one of two things. How many times can you remember when your interconnected receptors immediately respond to the positive or negative to another? You either have the hots for someone or your hackles go up at the juncture of your nervous system. Flight or fight in the animal kingdom.

    Think of this. When next you see a stranger do you see what they see in the mirror? Feel what they feel upon a brief touch. Get the picture.

    I leave you with another quotation “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust”.

    To all these questions, will the answer be found beneath the France-Switzerland border?

    As we draw our last breath do we ‘see’ black noise?

    Pour yourself a strong one and sleep well tonight.

    Baz Baron

    Great result @Sandra thanks for hosting a super theme and those comments for all – marvelous. Reading all the entries was a pleasure for me and makes me realize what I’ve been missing since the cloud succumbed to global warming ;-). Well done all and @Kate perfection with your prose and your take on the theme.

    Baz Baron

    Fantastic news @KazG so, so pleased for you.

    Baz Baron

    Hello everyone, couldn’t resist. I’ve been away too long.
    Hope you enjoy my offering – Wordcount = 196.


    “Bringing a gun into a house changes it.”

    I opened the door – wide. The light from the house flooded onto the gravel drive towards the parked Merc. In the passenger seat. A Goon. I saw a glint from his shades when he turned away from the glow.

    The man at the door had a bead of sweat on his brow. “Come, Mr. Smith”.
    A sharp whistle from me and, Jake pounded up the hallway and out of the door. Good dog. That should keep the Goon in the car.

    If Mr. Smith had taken the trouble to study my bio, he would’ve read that one of my previous clients frequented Saville Row. Check the cut of the suit, Mr. Mourakis. The personal dresser would insist, fluttering a manicured hand toward a full length mirror. Something I always do. Especially when I’m carrying.

    My lounge is warm and inviting. “Drink, Mr. Smith? Take a seat”.

    Smith, placed the briefcase on the oak coffee table between the two red leather sofas’ nodded then sat. Just where I wanted.

    I turned – less the drinks. Without a sound. My aim is shit hot. Middle of the temple.

    Baz Baron

    Good tip @John T I’ll try that.

    Baz Baron

    I downloaded a voice recorder app for my mobile so that when I’m out and about finding inspiration on my country walks, I can record ideas that pop into my head and save the mp3 files into their own folder for future use.

    Baz Baron

    Go for it, Squidge. x

    Baz Baron

    Eyup from up North, nice to see familiar names and faces once again.

Viewing 12 posts - 1 through 12 (of 12 total)