Winterdone

Tara gave us "south" this week for the 100 Word Challenge. having finally gotten the peas in today (here in the north), this is where I went...



Bitter wind blew, raising goose bumps on the back of her neck. The long running winter had almost broken her will.

The stubborn daffodils, refusing to be held at bay kept her from giving up completely.

She stood in the yard, waiting for the dog to finish investigating the frosted grass. 

Her breath exited in cold cast miniature clouds. 

As she shivered in her light jacket, the dog raised a nose to the wind.

She curiously lifted her own muted sense to sniff the air.

Her eyes widened in delight.

Ever so faint, from the south, she smelled spring arrive.

Without the Letter Before B

Muddled through this week's 100 Word Chllenge without the letter before B. 

None of those. Not here. They’ll throw you out if you do.

I’m serious. Mustn’t do it!

How difficult could it be?

Terribly difficult.

See, words ditto-ing themselves so soon.

But, finished one fourth!

Trying to think thoughts without them.

Mind numbing!

Fingers fidgeting over the keys.

The first to come to mind, must be thrown out.

Shuffling through the options. 

Begin over.

Sighs upon sighs.

Over fifty percent now.

Ooh! Two thirds!

Heh heh, three fourths to the end.

Not much longer, four fifths.

I will do it!

Such silliness to nine tenths.

Relief!

I’ve found the end.

The Paper

Sneaking in to  The 100 Word Challenge  at the last minute with my offering; a memory.

It lay on the front walk. Wrapped in an orange plastic baggie. I watch it from the window, that bright beacon, begging me to rescue it. 

It calls to me. “Look! The Times’ Crossword, and don’t forget the sudoku.”

I gaze at it as morning slips to the afternoon. “I’m the Sunday paper; comics, sales stuffers, coupons and news!”

The afternoon wanes, still it beckons. “Editorials?”

Just before the sun sets, I rise from my chair and bring it in. 

Turning the pages hesitantly.

I gasp at his picture; though I knew it would be there.

Under the heading: Obituaries.

Luck

This week's word is 'luck' at  the 100 Word Challenge over at Tara's place.. 



Greta looked warily at the hand held out to her. It was large and rough; black dirt embedded under the nails.

She forced a smile to her lips as she allowed her carefully manicured fingers to be swallowed within its grasp.

He towered over her as he led her to the dance floor. she spied the perfectly matched couples swirling gracefully. 

Greta swallowed her sigh. The luck of the draw.

His arm encircled her waist and he twirled her into the music. Greta’s reserve fled as the crowd moved back to watch. 

That night, he danced her into her dreams.

100 Word Challenge

The Only Answer

This weeks  100 Word Challenge word is 'idea'.  

Toss and turn. Turn and toss. My head just wouldn’t let go. 

A senseless exercise, I couldn’t change the past. All the should haves and could haves, too late.

The moon rose, the moon set. 

At sunrise I dragged my weary body out of bed and trudged blindly for the coffee maker.

It was over that first cup that an idea began to form. 

With shaking hands I grabbed the phone and put my plan into motion. 

When you said hello I rushed into it, “Don’t hang up! I have to tell you something.”

“Ok, what?” you snarled.

“I’m sorry.”

Peculiar

I'm joining Tara on her inaugural hosting of  the 100 Word Challenge. I think I've missed writing within a specific word count. 

The cellar never bothered her. She wasn’t one to be spooked by dark corners or the peculiar smell of damp dirt. It was the perfect environment for jars of fruits and vegetables preserved for winter use. 

Recently, the trips left her rattled. Small noises emanating from the dark corners. The smell of damp dirt becoming more foul than peculiar.

She stubbornly shook off the idea she was being watched. 

She ignored the tingles down her spine, the raised hair at her nape.

Until she saw the eyes glowing from the dark corner. And the long claws scratching in the dirt.