Monthly Archives: October 2025

Blue Jai’s Vignettes #4

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Ellie really liked Joe, but she wasn’t sure how to tell him.

When he’d arrived at Crickwood High at the beginning of second term, heaps of girls had been interested in him: swarming around, waiting in clusters for the bus, all trying to figure out who he might be into.

Joe was tall. He was reasonably well muscled. He had curly hair which flopped in a slightly dorky but adorable way into his eyes. He looked nice, smelled nice, was nice.

And yet, not long after arriving at Crickwood, Joe had decided the gaggles of girls at the bus stop weren’t worth his time, and had apparently — inexplicably — chosen to befriend Ellie instead.

Ellie now suspected the fact she had been wearing a muscle tee saying “BOWIE” provided the biggest clue as to why Joe had slung himself into the seat next to hers on the bus one afternoon.

“You a fan?” was the first thing he’d asked her, nodding at the rainbow of letters emblazoned across her chest, which included — of course — a lightning bolt in place of the “I”.

Ellie had attempted a nonchalant shrug in response, deciding after one sidelong glance into Joe’s blue eyes there was no way she was admitting the Bowie tee was actually her mother’s.

“I guess. I like a lot of different music.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Hunky Dory.”

Joe had laughed — not at her, but with her — appreciating the fact that she had gone there, making the corniest of jokes. And ever since that day, they sat together as they rode the bus home.

Music was what they talked about. Mostly. There wasn’t a huge amount to do in Crickwood after school — apart from hitting the gym alongside all the girls attempting to squat their way to a backside rivalling one of the Kardashians, or working the check out aisles at the local Coles. On the rare afternoons they had homework, Ellie and Joe went to the library. But most of the time they just hung out, propping themselves up against the wall of the milk bar, talking about music and bands.

Ellie’s mum had said it was OK — even it she had been a bit distracted at the time, trying to get an assignment finished for the uni course she was studying part time.

“Can I hang out with Joe this afternoon?”

“The new kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’d they move from again?”

“Sydney, I think?”

“Christ on a bike. Why the hell would anyone move to Crickwood?”

“Probably the mine.”

“Mmmm…probably…can you pass me that green text book?”

As time went on, Ellie had just about run out of music-related things Joe might find remotely interesting, and reluctantly found herself asking her mum about what she listened to during high school. She felt simultaneously bemused and embarrassed by her mother’s enthusiastic sharing of Spotify playlists, but was grateful all the same. The Violent Femmes, Pearl Jam, REM, the Pixies, Massive Attack, Lou Reed, and the Ramones all found their way into her ears via her mum’s recommendations. And Bowie — always David Bowie.

Ellie realised conversations about music were bringing her closer to her mother as well as to Joe, which felt a bit weird.

Weird but good.

“Hey Ellie — how about you ask your friend Jo over for dinner this Friday? I’ve finally finished all my exams and assignments, so maybe we could get takeaway. It’d be nice to finally meet her.”

Wait, what — her?

This has been one of Blue Jai’s Vignettes — where I play with words to provide a pop of fictional colour in your day. If you have enjoyed this post, feel free to click the follow button at the top of the page. I’d also love to hear your comments, or for you to tell me how you would have responded to the picture prompt intsead.

Blue Jai’s Vignette’s #3

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Slap, slap, slap…

The clatter of her sandals on the cobblestones made Mariana anxious and jittery.

Rome was dangerous after dark.

The villa was being watched, and she had been warned attempting to be stealthy was more likely to attract unwanted attention. She understood she was almost certainly being followed, and was convinced there were eyes tracking her every move — not that she could see them.

Mariana carefully adjusted the palla concealing her face and tried to step quietly and confidently, the way her mistress, Calpurnia, would.

Calpurnia, who had loaned her the expensive palla beneath which she hid.

Calpurnia, who had entrusted Mariana with the message hidden deep beneath the folds of her stola, sending her out into the gathering darkness with a single unliveried servant bearing a swinging, sputtering lantern.

Calpurnia, wife of Julius Ceasar, whose husband had just been brutally murdered.

The columns of Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus loomed portentously above Mariana as she made her way down the Capitoline Hill into the Forum. She kept a cautious distance from the servant striding purposefully ahead of her, sticking to the shadows just beyond the circle of bobbing lanternlight. Never before had she been so accutely aware of the vast number of columns surrounding her — some decorating the facades of buildings, others displaying statues, all of them capable of hiding a well-armed man behind them.

The moon was rising swiftly above the Palatine Hill, a huge golden orb just past full. The Ides of March had fallen only two days prior, the same day Caesar had fallen.

Beneath her clothing, Mariana could feel the slip of parchment Calpurnia had handed to her minutes before digging into her skin, each sharply folded edge pricking like a knife…

This has been one of Blue Jai’s Vignettes — where I play with words to provide a pop of fictional colour in your day. If you have enjoyed this post, feel free to click the follow button at the top of the page. I’d also love to hear your comments, or for you to tell me how you would have responded to the picture prompt intsead.

Blue Jai’s Vignettes #2

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The early morning mist had not yet lifted when the bird alighted behind her, taking several elegant steps to join her at the water’s edge.

“Report,” she commanded.

The bird inclined his head.

The Vespyn armies are massing in the Borderlands, along the edge of the Forest of Andyr. We do not have much time.

She could hear his voice clearly in her head, as cutting as the icy breeze biting the bare skin between her shoulder blades.

“And the Messendyr? Will they come?”

I believe so, but the more pressing question is whether they can mobilise in time. We have requested archers and cavalry, together with a small detachment of Pine Riders, renowned for being best scouts within the Forest. Bastian flew south two days ago to press our case with General Tausten and is expected to return before nightfall.

Ariana considered his words in silence. She did not doubt Bastian’s powers of persuasion, nor the Messendyrs’ abilities in battle. When General Tausten’s forces combined with the troops she had already rallied beneath her blue-grey banner they should be able to foil an attack — provided they could cross the River Arden, navigate the narrow paths of the Forest of Andyr and take up an advantageous position beneath the pines and firs on the Forest’s edge before the Vespyns did.

Sullivan was right, as usual.

What they needed most was time.

Surreptitiously, she observed his reflection in the water. His posture was strong and sure, as always, but even in avian form she could detect a weariness around his eyes.

“How long is it since you resumed human form?” she asked quietly, folding her arms against the morning chill. Shapeshifting was as dangerous as it was difficult, mastered by only a few highly accomplished Adepts. Ariana was all too aware Sullivan’s position was more problematic than that of most Shapeshifters: he was nobleborn as well as Adept, a hazardous combination which forced him to choose constantly between conflicting loyalties. That said, she could not fault his steadfast allegience to herself and her cause.

Two nights, he responded eventually.

Ariana turned her head to look at him directly for the first time since he landed, accutely aware of the pair of servants crunching their way towards them over the wide expanse of gravel in front of the chateau.

“Be careful, my feathered friend.”

The bird dipped his head in response, opened his wings and took off, flying low above the slate coloured water.

Always, my Lady Crane…

This has been one of Blue Jai’s Vignettes — where I play with words to provide a pop of fictional colour in your day. If you have enjoyed this post, feel free to click the follow button at the top of the page. I’d also love to hear your comments, or for you to tell me how you would have responded to the picture prompt intsead.

Blue Jai’s Vignettes #1

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It’s time for something new on Blue Jai Creative. Rather than simply musing, the Daydream Believer is going to do one of her favourite things: play with words!

Here’s how it will work…I’ll find and post a random picture, then use it as a writing prompt. You can like it, scroll past it, comment on it, tell me what you would have done instead, or enjoy it as a pop of fictional colour in your day.

Welcome to Blue Jai’s Vignettes!

Dorothy Brownlow was not having it.

There was no way she would let Janice McNulty’s snide remarks get her down, just as surely she was not buying Janice a cup of coffee after aqua aerobics — even though it was almost certainly her turn.

So what if she had inadvertently picked up her shower cap from the hook on the back of the bathroom door? Hank had decided to leave early for golf, muttering something about having his putter fixed at the pro shop, and it wasn’t until he dropped her at the pool that she realised her error — not that it was a big deal. Dorothy had been to the hairdresser only two days before, and the shower cap wouldn’t squash her freshly-set curls the way her thick rubber swimming cap did. Besides, if Marjorie Guthrie chose to wear that ridiculous straw sun visor during class every week, how come Janice had never felt the need to comment on that?

No, Dorothy was not having it.

She had opted not to take up her customary place beside Janice in the front row of the class, even though it afforded the best vantage point for observing Donny, the aqua aerobics instructor, in his tank top and trim white shorts. Instead, she had tucked the arms of her natty catseye sunglasses securely beneath the elastic of her blue shower cap, and chose a position in the second row directly behind her so-called friend.

It was early spring in Florida, and begonias and black-eyed Susans were beginning to bloom beyond the neat row of white sun lounges beneath the pooside palm trees. Insects droned and buzzed above the red and pink petals, while in the pool the water was refreshing and cool. The second row, Dorothy considered, offered her a more than satisfactory view of the vibrant flowers and the handsome instructor. She felt a smug and satified smile turning up the corners of her mouth as she followed Donny’s commands, putting her hands on her hips and stretching backwards, tilting her face towards the sun.

As the class went on, the women raised and lowered their arms in accordance with Donny’s instructions, twirled in the water, kicked their legs and hopped from foot to foot. Still smarting from Janice’s nasty comments, Dorothy was periodically seized by a juvenile urge to pull a face behind her friend’s back, but found herself increasingly mesmerised by the back of her friend’s head. Unlike her plain and practical shower cap, Janice’s swimming cap was bedecked with chunky yellow and orange flowers, bobbing like a bouquet in the water in front of her, around which an alarming number of bees had begun to swarm…