Tattoo Not So Cool

“Do you see that?”


“What is it?”

“A big oven.”

“What do they cook over there?”


“What kind?”

“…mostly… bricks.”

“I’m Micky and you are….”

“…No. 7.”

Micky gave a puzzled look.

“Yah! That’s my name. See this,” said no.7 as he extended his right hand, “they tattooed it in my wrist.”

“That’s cool. My mom says I’m too young to get myself tattooed. You look my age. How did you convince your mom?”

“I didn’t. They just did it.”


“You ask too many question,” said no.7 and vanished like a smoke.

Micky screamed “Ghost! Ghost!” and ran like a weasel never to check this spot again.


Copyright – Marie Gail Stratford

Rochelle Wisoff- Fields-Addicted to Purple is the place where every Friday a photo is shared with an aim to write a fiction around it in 100 words or less. Anyone who wants to participate can click at FRIDAY FICTIONEERS to know about the rules.

Today’s photo is a contribution from Marie Gail Stratford.

A great thanks to both Rochelle and Marie for today’s Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to all my readers for their time and comments.

High Heat

I started cooking and it was a disaster.

Mom cooked on slow heat, and I wanted it quick so the flames were high.

high flames

high flames

High heat was my style of cooking.

It was quick.

The food quality was – burnt.

Still food was served, and everyone ate with a smile.

Lesson was learnt and so I’d let food simmer in low heat.

But there also, a problem arose.

I forgot about cooking until a slow burning smell would touch my nose.

It would make me run to kitchen.

Thank God! I’d say the food was not yet burnt.

When served everyone ate with great pleasure.

fish curry

fish curry

Sure the food would be good to taste, I thought.

OMG! I forgot to add salt to taste.

What would any food be without any sprinkle of salt?

It would certainly not be good, I thought.


Ratatouille is a French dish, however, I’m going to share the recipe for Writetatouille which is nothing similar to the original Ratatouille dish. I hope  that you enjoy cooking and eating the dish as much as I did.

As I see outside the window the weather seems to be pleasant to cook a mouth- watering dish. I decide to go, not with sweet gossipy dish but a filling meal for the heart.

So, I decide to make a wonderfully delicious recipe (so, I think every time). As I go not to the kitchen but to the writing desk which is placed right next to my window. It gives me the best view possible, while I’m cooking something in my mind. All, not dressed to kill, but just to write, with the most powerful ladle in my hand, I think.

This metallic ladle oozes out blue liquid in the form of ink is handy to intelligent and common people alike. It’s easily available and ranges in price from low to as high as possible.

While preparing the dish in the wok of blank white sheet of paper, I like to sip a cup of tea. I place the wok of blank sheet of paper in the low flame of my thoughts.

I add a little oil of incidents in the wok, and then I add the chopped vegetables that form the character of my dish. I keep stirring this with simmering thoughts in my mind. It goes on for ten, fifteen minutes or can carry on for half an hour or more than that depending on the colour, thickness and plotting of the dish.

For aroma I’d like to add wonderful spices of instances from my life or others. Let me tell you, these instances are not very difficult to find, as it is readily available in the garden of observation.

I like to give the dish a stir of life and cover it with the lid of thoughts. As the dish is being prepared I relax myself by looking out of the window.

After sometime I take off the lid and give the dish a last stir, and shake it with a good read. In the end I garnish it with leaves of videos, pictures and smilies (where necessary). The lovely dish is finally cooked with great care and tenderizing love.

You can serve it with friends or perhaps like me read it when alone.

You can serve it to the blogs or newspaper or just keep it in a diary for yourself.