Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the wonderful Rochelle, the undisputed master of what I call Sound Bite Fiction.
She sets the weekly challenge, and the standard.
Today’s photo by my old friend Al Forbes, a multi-talented blogger and a great guy, provides the opportunity to celebrate this momentous day in the Scottish calendar.
The idea, as always, is to write a story of around 100 words based on the picture, below.
© Al Forbes
Click here to hear me read the story, and more!
Of Mice and Men
‘Tis pity, thinks Rab, that the petrol engine is not yet invented.
Turning the rich Ayrshire soil with a horse-drawn plough is heavy work, even for a strong young man.
And Rab’s mind has a tendency to wander, as a braw lad’s does.
He does have an eye for the lassies!
The sound of tiny consternation before him brings him back to reality.
He is dismayed to see a family of mice fleeing from the destruction that his plough has wrought.
Seeing one of them hiding behind a daud of earth, he stoops and speaks.
Wee, sleekit, cow’rin, tim’rous beastie…
Robert Burns was born on 25th January 1759
Thank you for introducing me to this charming poet. I suppose, for you, it takes one to know one.
Happy Belated Birthday to Robbie Burns. This story was a fitting tribute to him, C.E. Good writing. 🙂 — Suzanne
Despite having quite a bit of Scottish blood in my veins, I hate haggis D: But I loved your story as it formed a wonderful set of images in my mind. It also reminds me that I once saved a wee, sleekit, cow’rin, tim’rous beastie — a hare — from a pack of hounds who had devoured its mum and siblings. It was a right rascal of a wee beastie to hand-rear, as well.
Hope you had a Happy Robbie Burns day. Unique piece, I liked how you based it around him. Hugs, no long comment for this I’m afraid 🙂
Lovely story CE, and (belated) happy Burns Night to you.
Even though I’m 100% English, and southern at that, haggis is one of very few things I miss since turning vegetarian
A few thumbs up … OK … 5 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻 for your photo prompt write. I read it and listened to it.
I immediately realized how American I am. I also was smart enough to read the other comments so I a learnt a few things before I added my comment. You audio’s with your unique enunciations and inflections are fascinating. I’m afraid I always want to hear more. I would be staring at everyone in Scotland each time they opened their mouths to speak if I ever visited. Did I mention I like accents?
Would yours be considered an accent? OK … I’ve gone off subject.
Have a fabulous weekend …
Isadora 😎
My dear Isadora, if I may explain.
I have no accent, it is the rest of the world who speak funny!
On this occasion it is just possible that I speak with more of a brogue than usual, particularly when reading the Bard’s poetry.
I am happy you enjoyed the piece in its entirety, and thank you again for your very kind words.
😎
The haggis was particularly good this year!
For a Scot, the haggis is particularly good every year!
I assume the last line is Chinese or something like it? 🙂
I am happy for unworldly colonials to assume whatever makes them happy, dear lady
Forgive me, English is not my mother tongue. I felt like a lost puppy when I visited Great Britain. Your last line made me think of that.
Ah no, forgive me, I thought you were American, and I love to tease them in this way.
The last line is, in fact, written in the the lowland Scots language of the time, which was Robert Burns natural tongue, although he could and did write beautiful lines in English:
But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white–then melts for ever;
From Tam ‘o Shanter, one of his most famous works
I was born and raised on the border between Austria and Italy. Came to the U.S. 30 years ago as a newly wed.
Thank you for your explanation. I learned something today, it’s a good day.
Thank you, LadyBug, I too have learnt something
Nice tribute. I do have to admit that I didn’t clue into Rab being Robert or Robbie being from Canada, still enjoyed the trip to Scotland.
Thank you, LLDL.
In Scotland Robert Burns is always Rabbie or Rab, and never Robbie or Rob.
I’ve always enjoyed Mr.Burns’ work. And I enjoy yours too.
You are very kind, sir
You sure know how to tell a story! Excellent.
And he sure knew how to write a poem!
Thank you, Honie
Cheers, here’s to the poets and the writers who love them.
I loved the sound of this piece.
Tracey
Thanks, Tracey
I lack the cultural context here, but how does your 18th century character know about the internal combustion engine (or am I being too literal here)?
Aye
This has put me right in the mood for my haggis and neeps at the weekend 🙂 Full marks for being topical!
Well, you are in luck, Mr Clements. I happen to have in an old cookbook a recipe “How to make a haggis” in case you’d like to make one. But as I recall, you have to soak the sheep’s pluck (stomach, for non Scots) for several days before you stuff it.
Moving quickly along now…
Bon appetit, Paul
Love the touch of Scotland, since my ancestors hail from Gallowayshire. Yes, Rab did have an eye for the lassies, I’ve been told.
Sometimes more than an eye, Christine, if truth be told.
Oor Rabbie was a bit of a lad indeed.
Of course – happy Burns Night. C. Will you be celebrating with a drop of the hard stuff and a haggis? Can you get haggis in France?
Burns was a farming man, wasn’t he? Hence his affinity with ‘tim’rous beasties’ and the like. He wouldn’t have been the only farmer to welcome the coming of steam ploughs and the like.
Nicely done sir. Slainte!
No hard stuff for me, Lynn, not my cup of tea.
The French are appalled at the concept of haggis, but what do they know of haute cuisine?
Haha! Well, they do eat frogs legs and snails, so I don’t really think they have any right to criticise. 🙂
A fitting tribute, and deftly executed. I take it you’ll be raising a glass or two yourself the night? Thanks for the reminder. 😉
Confession time, Sandra, I don’t drink any spirits, not even whisky, or Uisge Beatha, the Water of Life.
Happy Birthday Rabbie Burns, nice tribute.
Thanks, Michael
I should think on this particular day, a wee bit o’ cheatin’ be allowed… 😉
I have seen more tenuous links than that, even (or especially?) from our exalted leader!
True story.
Here’s tae us. Wha’s like us? Damn few, and they’re a’deid.
Indeed, Iain.
I love that link to the image haha. I have Rabbie’s Address to a Haggis hanging up on my wall in my hallway. I think Burns Night should be a national holiday. Or even an international one.
It is celebrated across the globe, Al, but really the 26th should be the holiday, or rest day, after the Burns’ Supper!
So very true. Maybe with an “anti memory wipe” so you can remember the night before. Although I’ve never had the problem of mind wipe from drinking. Wish I did sometimes though lol
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!
Does sound like one of your characters, actually 😉
Hmm, you think…
Dear CE,
Now I want a translation of the poem. Delightful story. Happy birthday to Rabbie. Cheating? Well your reading did seem to extend beyond what was written. On the other hand, we Yanks didn’t understand it anyway. 😉 <3 So I'll not fash mysel.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Yes, m’lady, the story ended on the regulation 100 words, but I read the whole of the first stanza just for your pleasure.
There’s no hiding in a cave with a spider, ’tis a fitting tribute to Robert Burns
Caves and spiders, Michael? I think you are confusing your Scottish Roberts!
But thanks, glad you enjoyed.
Wow, C.E. I SO love the Scottish stuff, aye. Bobby Burns was truly one of the greats. We study him here in America., too.
Five out of five red, red roses. Or pink elephants. 😉
Laughing again.
In all my years in Scotland, more than half of my life, I have never ever heard anyone refer to him as ‘Bobby’!
Glad you enjoyed it, Kent, but five out of five thistles up your kilt for that!
Yes, in America we have always known him as Bobby or Robert. But, it’s always been a sign of respect, so no thistles up my kilt, please. I DO wear underwear. 😀
That link to the prompt was serious cheating. But I loved Rabbie
Laughing.
For Rabbie, a wee bit of cheating is allowed!
I was fair scunnered