As the World Turns



Reena’s Exploration Challenge #Week 58

Key Words: use at least 2 or more

  1. Whiner
  2. Patience personified
  3. Pessimist
  4. Testing Times
  5. Doer
  6. Jilted Lover
  7. Circumstantial
  8. Devoted

Sonia loves being in charge,  a member of St. Thomas Church she officiates all activities delegating duties to volunteers.

Her devotion is to the Virgin Mary.  Every afternoon, at 5:00 PM,  she leads the congregation saying the Rosary. Sonia is a doer; she is pleasant, never engaging with women in gossip.

Secretly she loves Father Lawrence, tries all she can to find herself alone with him.  Father Lawrence is not ignorant to her tricks; he laughs up his sleeve.  Those were testing times for Father Lawrence, it was not about Sonia, he already had a much younger lover.

At home, Sonia whines about everyone at Church. In her eyes, she is the only person who can do things right.  Most male parishioners are perverts who come to Church to pry on young girls; they will perish in hell; they are unfaithful to their wives, and on and on whining through her litany of the male species.

Women are not any better, they come to Church to show off in front of the old men, enticing them; especially seducing the young novitiate priest, and God only knows what they must be doing with him in the back room.

Of course, the world was coming to an end.  The scientists were now saying so.  After all the times Sonia said the world was doomed, finally, someone was acknowledging her wisdom on the world’s future.

Sonia did not like her husband. She endured him in bed, imagining it was Father Lawrence making love to her.

Her husband did not like her either.  He imagined he was with the tall blond girl who was in the pew next to him at Church on Sunday.

Sonia was sure that the reason for her husband’s reborn virility was that he found her very desirable…



evidence, why she

dumped her old husband


Hélène Vaillant©

Short Reign

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Twittering Tales #104 

Prompt: tell a story in 280 characters or less.

It is said that the son of God will rise in the West. He will be given the name, Trump. He will be recognized by his distinguished orange hair. At the end of his reign, he will be remembered for his Pinocchio nose. His famous nose could stretch all the way to Rocket Man’s Land.

278 Characters


And…that is what happened



Angels were summoned to guide a mass of tormented Souls out from a dark abyss dungeon.

By now the mortal bodies were but a pile of scattered ashes at the bottom of the dungeon and the Angels had come to the aid of the Spirits which lingered there still intricately chained to the snares of their butchers.

Assistant to the Angels, the ancient building exhaled, opening wide the doors and all its windows and with Herculean force, it blew out the resistant tormented remains, the building then immediately inhaled, upon which it gathered all the butchers’ Souls, it released a primal growl voluminous enough to strike all the damned butchers into the fire of eternal Hell.

Hélène Vaillant©

Hat Collection


Written for:  Twittering Tales #100 – 4 September 2018

…he was bald by then.  He died wearing his knitted cap.

His hat collection totaled 100.  None had ever been worn. 

At his viewing, he’ll wear a bowler hat with matching black suspenders.

A color scheme will be used to decorate the room with the remaining 99 hats.

Honoring his wishes you are asked to wear a hat to his funeral. 

Suspenders are optional.

The first person to arrive wins the hat collection.

Please wait until service is finished before claiming the bowler hat.


Hélène Vaillant©


Wave’s Blessing

Sue Vincent

Photo Credit: Sue Vincent


Reliving long ago forgotten memories, my body tight in a fetal pose, I trembled with spasms of anxiety.  At nightfall, the clouds covered the last departing seagull.  In the tiniest cove, with uncontrollable fears, I kept myself well hidden.

In supplication I lifted my head looking out to sea.  One of the waves reached out to me.  I could hear it’s soothing voice and feeling her gentle gift of cooling touch.  She spoke of letting go, to give My Self to the wave. With flowing tears mingling with the wave’s refreshing gesture I understood her message.  I stood up accepting this wave’s blessing.

Eventually, I heard the cry of my teenage daughter, “Mom? Where are you? The campfire is going strong, marshmallows are ready, Mom?”

Hélène Vaillant©





Written for the Sunday Whirl:  Prompt words in the picture above

He made a pass at me
sharing his smokes.
Though I knew his reputation was a myriad of mysteries
when his sensual lips came nearer to mine
I could hear my mother’s mean reproach.
We both knew we had to hide
from the old crow’s stare.
When we strolled by the nun
he’d howl at her.
We’d hurry and disappear through the green door.
In our hideout, we’d lie down on the rolls of foam.
With the balmy weather outside mist would come in through the broken window.
I would never speak of this to anyone…
He ended up making it a game to search me with his tongue.