Pushing Frontiers

for Fandango’s One Word Challenge(FOWC) of 31 October 2020, outlandish.

On Halloween, a brave desision,
Tattoist makes his first incision.
What prompted me to decorate?
Alas, I could no longer wait.

Appropriately, for the day,
A witch on broomstick, flaps away.
On her head she wears tall hat,
Behind her sits, of course, a cat.

The process starts. I tingle within,
The needle starts to tickle skin,
Tattooist waves his wand with verve,
As if to help me calm my nerses.

The tattoo done, this artist skilled,
I check my arm and sit there thrille.
Applies a bandage for protection,
“We have to guard against infection.”

Outside the shop, I’m thrilled inside,
I’m ten feet tall, I’m swelled with pride,
What fun I’ll have when to friends I’ll brandish,
My birthday present, so outlandish!

One of my friends posted on here about how, for their sixtieth(?) birthday, they got their very first tatoo. I smiled, but at the same time, I’m thinking “No, thanks.” Did you ever sleep with someone and, in the morning, look over at them and ///think “Oh my god, what have I done?” Well, that’s me and tattoos!

Punctual!

“Do you know where this restaurant is?”, asked Jane.

“Not a clue”, replied husband Frank.

It was not surprising. They had never visited this town before, and only chosen it now because it was a handy stopover on their way back from vacation. And because the hotel lay on the outskirts, they had not even been able to check their bearings when they had first arrived.

“I just saw it in the guidebook, it’s got three stars, so I thought it might be a nice treat for our last night away. We’d better give ourselves some time to find the place.”

“Make sure you bring the sat nav, so we can find it”, Jane responded.

They left their hotel a full thirty minutes before their table reservation. Just in case. Installing themselves in their car, Frank switched on the device and, while it fixed its location, he tapped in the restaurant’s address. As they left the hotel’s car park, opposite they noticed a small parade of shops, now all closed for the evening.

“You have reached your destination”, said a voice. As Frank looked up in surprise, one of the shop-fronts in front of him was transformed into light.


For no reason in particular. This is a true story which happened to us coming back from vacation one year.

The Long Arm of the Law

In days of Anne, this desolate inn,
Is where our story shall begin.
High upon deserted moor,
Strange goings-on attract the law.

Dispatched one day to apprehend,
‘Twas there the sheriff met his end.
Shot stone dead by smuggling gang,
If news gets out, they’d surely hang.

Buried there, beneath the trees,
The restless lawman yearns for peace.
And rumour has that each full moon,
Our ghost returns to guard saloon.

Today we’re knowing brighter times,
The inn still stands, no hint of past crimes.
And still today, it offers beds,
Where weary tourists rest their heads.

He pulls them in, our aged ghost,
A history which the inn can boast.
An apparition most bizarre,
A shadow standing at the bar.

All hocus pocus, we all might think,
As thirsty patrons sip their drink.
But tell me, if you have your doubt,
What force just blew this candle out

Queen Anne reigned in the UK between 1707 and 1714. I was thinking along the lines of Jamaica Inn, high on Bodmin Moor and made famous by Daphne du Maurier, when I wrote this, although it could be anywhere. The High Corner Inn is near to me and would fit the bill nicely.