Musty wet leaf odor fills my nose. I anticipate a sneezing fit before I”m done. Load after load of molding or crispy leaves laying since last autumn’s fall. Ninety percent oak with generous helping of maple. Salted with leaves from redbud and cottonwood. The entirety dusted with a sprinkle of cedar twigs dropped for pleasure.
I silently curse the dryads for finding it a necessity to place the dead falls a foot deep on my flower beds. It is some hours of rake and splinters and a break or two before I finally see the earth.
Previously hidden puddles seep around the fresh green that earlier today was buried under the warmth of decay. Protected from early spring’s fluctuations of temperament new growth begins.
I continue to work as damp dirt embeds the creases of my hands and gathers under my nails. The air seems suddenly hearty and gloriously fresh. My muscles move smoothly with no ache or strain.
After the chore, I lean back in a lawn chair to survey the results of my efforts. A temperate breeze alternates with sun on my face as I plot. Need a small pruning here. Reseeding there. Some bare spots require new plantings. The budding limbs of the old oak wave approval of my progress and maples whisper inspiration for future projects.
And I silently curse as I realize, I am the dryad of this urban parkland.
Showing posts with label amwriting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label amwriting. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Wednesday, August 29, 2018
Cobwebs
The cobwebs are thick in this space. So long since I've entered.
More than two years of life and new responsibilities.
And death.
When I unintentionally abandoned this keeper of my words, I'd just begun a new job. Learning and trying not to stress over new things. Within the year I was fortunate to receive a promotion. More learning; and accepting I will always stress over new things.
I kept the words in my head. After so long the voices got bored with the wait. They'd start a story, then forget to tell what came next. Not that I took the time to record all they said. Too many other things.
A year of continual car trouble. An air conditioner that stopped working.
Then a year ago my husband of thirty years was diagnosed with cancer. Bone cancer.
We went to all the appointments. Started all the new medications. Things seemed stable.
First part of this year,the furnace broke.
The roof needed replaced.
Those issues were attended to. The words were forgotten before I could write them.
Suddenly things were not so stable. The meds for the cancer not working. Switch to a new one.
The voices kept the stories to themselves.
We stumbled into summer. Saying to each other all the things that needed saying. That we wanted to make sure we said. Every day. Multiple times a day.
The past few months were exhausting for both of us. His pain increased almost daily.
We cried together. We still found things to laugh about and clung to them. We said "I love you," every day. Multiple times a day.
Watching him in pain and unable to do anything to help was awful. I am eternally thankful to hospice care for the 24 hours nurses that final five days. The family and I would never have survived whole without them.
On August 7th, 2018, the battle ended. My husband passed peacefully at home with my daughter and I at his side.
There was sadness, and relief. The majority of grieving, we did together over the past year.
Now some time has passed. I hear the murmur in my head.
I'll try now to find the time to listen and let the words return.
More than two years of life and new responsibilities.
And death.
When I unintentionally abandoned this keeper of my words, I'd just begun a new job. Learning and trying not to stress over new things. Within the year I was fortunate to receive a promotion. More learning; and accepting I will always stress over new things.
I kept the words in my head. After so long the voices got bored with the wait. They'd start a story, then forget to tell what came next. Not that I took the time to record all they said. Too many other things.
A year of continual car trouble. An air conditioner that stopped working.
Then a year ago my husband of thirty years was diagnosed with cancer. Bone cancer.
We went to all the appointments. Started all the new medications. Things seemed stable.
First part of this year,the furnace broke.
The roof needed replaced.
Those issues were attended to. The words were forgotten before I could write them.
Suddenly things were not so stable. The meds for the cancer not working. Switch to a new one.
The voices kept the stories to themselves.
We stumbled into summer. Saying to each other all the things that needed saying. That we wanted to make sure we said. Every day. Multiple times a day.
The past few months were exhausting for both of us. His pain increased almost daily.
We cried together. We still found things to laugh about and clung to them. We said "I love you," every day. Multiple times a day.
Watching him in pain and unable to do anything to help was awful. I am eternally thankful to hospice care for the 24 hours nurses that final five days. The family and I would never have survived whole without them.
On August 7th, 2018, the battle ended. My husband passed peacefully at home with my daughter and I at his side.
There was sadness, and relief. The majority of grieving, we did together over the past year.
Now some time has passed. I hear the murmur in my head.
I'll try now to find the time to listen and let the words return.
Friday, April 15, 2016
Tuesday Flash Fiction Train R4W3
I didn't get a chance to play at Kat's TuesFlashFicTrain last week, but Stacy'sentry was perfect. Here's what I came up with to follow.
Gloria backed out of the room never taking her eyes off Harvey’s back. With nowhere else to go, she returned to the supply closet. She ducked inside and pulled the door shut.
She kept one ear to the door as she lit one of the candles she’d just collected. “I don’t know what’s going on,” she whispered to the flickering taper, “but if Harvey thinks he can ‘take care’ of me, he’s got another thing coming.!”
Squinting in the restless light, Gloria scanned the overflowing shelves. “Ah ha!” she grabbed a small pouch tucked neatly between two jars.
“Won’t be quite as powerful without my wand, but it’ll have to do.”
She poured just a pinch of silver powder from the pouch into the palm of her hand. After reciting a short incantation, Gloria blew the shimmering dust into the air; then walked beneath it.
She exited the closet again, shutting the door with a firm hand. Gloria walked back to the office to see Harvey expectantly awaiting her, having heard the door close.
“There you are, Glo.” Harvey smiled, “I thought I’d catch you before you went on break, get this over with.”
Gloria smiled back, the candles clutched in her hand. “Sure, Harvey. What’s this meeting about anyhow?”
“Oh, just some security measures we need to go over.”
Gloria kept smiling. “Okay, your office?”
“Yeah, that’s perfect!” Harvey grinned as he gestured for her to precede him.
Harvey and his companion exited the office and strolled down the narrow hallway past the supply closet and turned the next corner.
A few minutes after they passed, the closet door opened a sliver; then wider as Gloria stepped out. She ran quickly to her desk and snatched her wand and a book of basic spells. Her pocket bulged with what she hoped would be the most useful ingredients to find out what the two men and her sleazy supervisor were up to.
She also carried a shimmering invisibility shawl. Before she left the office again, she threw it over her shoulders. As soon as Harvey figured out the ‘Gloria’ he was escorting to his office was actually the janitor’s dust mop, he’d be back.
Gloria backed out of the room never taking her eyes off Harvey’s back. With nowhere else to go, she returned to the supply closet. She ducked inside and pulled the door shut.
She kept one ear to the door as she lit one of the candles she’d just collected. “I don’t know what’s going on,” she whispered to the flickering taper, “but if Harvey thinks he can ‘take care’ of me, he’s got another thing coming.!”
Squinting in the restless light, Gloria scanned the overflowing shelves. “Ah ha!” she grabbed a small pouch tucked neatly between two jars.
“Won’t be quite as powerful without my wand, but it’ll have to do.”
She poured just a pinch of silver powder from the pouch into the palm of her hand. After reciting a short incantation, Gloria blew the shimmering dust into the air; then walked beneath it.
She exited the closet again, shutting the door with a firm hand. Gloria walked back to the office to see Harvey expectantly awaiting her, having heard the door close.
“There you are, Glo.” Harvey smiled, “I thought I’d catch you before you went on break, get this over with.”
Gloria smiled back, the candles clutched in her hand. “Sure, Harvey. What’s this meeting about anyhow?”
“Oh, just some security measures we need to go over.”
Gloria kept smiling. “Okay, your office?”
“Yeah, that’s perfect!” Harvey grinned as he gestured for her to precede him.
Harvey and his companion exited the office and strolled down the narrow hallway past the supply closet and turned the next corner.
A few minutes after they passed, the closet door opened a sliver; then wider as Gloria stepped out. She ran quickly to her desk and snatched her wand and a book of basic spells. Her pocket bulged with what she hoped would be the most useful ingredients to find out what the two men and her sleazy supervisor were up to.
She also carried a shimmering invisibility shawl. Before she left the office again, she threw it over her shoulders. As soon as Harvey figured out the ‘Gloria’ he was escorting to his office was actually the janitor’s dust mop, he’d be back.
Saturday, April 2, 2016
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.
Friday, March 4, 2016
Blown Away
My offering for this week's Coldly Calculating prompt at Our Write Side.
Sherry sat on the back porch listening to the newly opened leaves shuffle against each other in the gusty spring air. She loved the smell of fresh growth. Though this morning it was tainted with the strong flavor of bleach..
She sighed, it couldn’t be helped. In the end, bleach was the only answer. Some things just couldn’t be washed away with soap and water. At least not entirely.
She rose from her seat and headed for the garage. Once there, she searched the neatly organized shelves. “Ah! There you are!” she grinned as she bent to retrieve the mason jar filled with the soft blue hue chosen for her bedroom. “And he thought I was silly to save some of the paint.”
Rummaging further, Sherry found a paint brush. it had been carefully cleaned and stored after use. She glanced around the garage contentedly. Everything neat and tidy. Just as it should be.
She took the brush and jar inside. Refusing to be distracted by the clutter in the kitchen, Sherry strode purposefully into the bedroom. It would only take a few minutes to touch up the spots left by the scouring pad.
After she finished, she scurried through the kitchen once more; only taking time to toss the blue tinged brush at the sink. Once the jar was tucked safely back on its shelf in the garage, she took a deep breath. The kitchen would have to be tackled next. The longer she left it, the more stressed she’d get.
As Sherry crossed the yard, she was momentarily mesmerized by the movement of three sheets waving lazily in the breeze. They were secured to the line with her grandmother’s old clothespins. She smiled. No hint of stain was visible in the bright spring sunshine.
Now, on to the kitchen she told herself. With lips pressed in a determined line, she stepped into the space.
He’d thought he surprise her with a spaghetti dinner. It had been thoughtful of him she supposed. But what could he have been thinking? Leaving puddles of sauce on her normally spotless stove. And so many pans crusted with filth in her shiny sink.
Sherry swallowed the bile and dove into the task.
Well, at least it wasn’t a mistake he’d make again.
Sherry sat on the back porch listening to the newly opened leaves shuffle against each other in the gusty spring air. She loved the smell of fresh growth. Though this morning it was tainted with the strong flavor of bleach..
She sighed, it couldn’t be helped. In the end, bleach was the only answer. Some things just couldn’t be washed away with soap and water. At least not entirely.
She rose from her seat and headed for the garage. Once there, she searched the neatly organized shelves. “Ah! There you are!” she grinned as she bent to retrieve the mason jar filled with the soft blue hue chosen for her bedroom. “And he thought I was silly to save some of the paint.”
Rummaging further, Sherry found a paint brush. it had been carefully cleaned and stored after use. She glanced around the garage contentedly. Everything neat and tidy. Just as it should be.
She took the brush and jar inside. Refusing to be distracted by the clutter in the kitchen, Sherry strode purposefully into the bedroom. It would only take a few minutes to touch up the spots left by the scouring pad.
After she finished, she scurried through the kitchen once more; only taking time to toss the blue tinged brush at the sink. Once the jar was tucked safely back on its shelf in the garage, she took a deep breath. The kitchen would have to be tackled next. The longer she left it, the more stressed she’d get.
As Sherry crossed the yard, she was momentarily mesmerized by the movement of three sheets waving lazily in the breeze. They were secured to the line with her grandmother’s old clothespins. She smiled. No hint of stain was visible in the bright spring sunshine.
Now, on to the kitchen she told herself. With lips pressed in a determined line, she stepped into the space.
He’d thought he surprise her with a spaghetti dinner. It had been thoughtful of him she supposed. But what could he have been thinking? Leaving puddles of sauce on her normally spotless stove. And so many pans crusted with filth in her shiny sink.
Sherry swallowed the bile and dove into the task.
Well, at least it wasn’t a mistake he’d make again.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
There's a Monster Under the Bed
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Bobby’s blankets lay on the floor again. The monster under the bed pulls them off every night as Bobby sleeps.
The monster lives among the dust bunnies and one shoe that's whisked away in the middle of the night. Bobby knows it’s a monster. He hears it at night grumbling and mumbling. He dares not get up to look. Bobby has no wish to join the shoe.
Even in the morning light it’s all he can do to dive under the bed and quickly grab the stray.
If only the monster wouldn’t mess with his blankets. Bobby knows if he pulls them off the floor at night he’ll drag the beast with them. Then the monster won’t be under the bed. It will be in the bed with him.
So, he shivers through the night because he's cold without his blanket, and he's afraid of the monster under his bed.
Mommy doesn’t believe him.
Mommies never do. They're stubborn that way.
But Bobby has a plan.
It’s a great plan and he spends the day putting it into action.
He borrows the stapler and the glue from Mommy’s desk.
He makes the bed himself, then glues the blankets tight and staples them into place.
He smiles as he shimmies under the covers.
But Bobby should have taken the stapler and the glue back to Mommy’s desk.
Because he can hear the monster grumbling and mumbling as it walks around the bed, gluing and stapling.
Coming closer and closer.
Stapling and gluing.
Friday, February 5, 2016
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.”
Eight More to Go
Can you stand another tale of Joe and Charlie, the two slightly inept demon's? I just can't help myself sometimes
Linked up with Coldly Calculating at Our Write Side
“Where we going Joe?”
“Home Charlie, the Boss finally got us outta that witches nest, and I need a break.”
“So…what're we doing in limbo land?”
“What? What are you talking about”? Joe looked around. His partner was right, the land was hazy and soft, no recognizable landmarks. “Oh man. This just isn’t right.”
“You're tellin’ me! I didn’t like this place the first time, it ain't got no better.” Charlie stumbled over a step hidden in the gray swirl that flowed through the landscape in random patterns.
Joe tried to remember the first time he was stuck here. It had taken forever to get out. As his memories coalesced, his eyes widened. “Charlie, you remember where we came in?”
“No, I’m just lookin’ for a way out.”
“Don't look too hard Charlie,” Joe backed up, he peered through the fog looking for the door he’d just entered.
“Uh, why?” Charlie stopped exploring and edged closer to Joe.
“Do you remember what happened when you found your way ‘out’ the first time?”
“Um, let me see, I found a key somewheres, then tripped a dozen times on all this crap laying around. Busted my snout more than once.” Charlie had a bad habit of reliving his memories while he talked, “Ow! Dammit! Just like that,” he said as he pushed himself off the ground.
“Hey! Look Joe, I found the key!”
“No Charlie! Throw it away! We don’t want the key!”
“What?”
Before Joe could grab the key and throw it, a doorway gleamed red-gold two yards from them. “Oh no.”
“There Joe, just like last time, the way out!”
Joe rolled his eyes, “Charlie, that’s not the way out.”
“It’s not?”
Joe walked toward the door, resigned to the inevitable. The Boss was evidently still mad at them.
“No Charlie, it’s the way in. This is limbo?”
“Yeahhh…”
Joe just sighed.
“Oh. OH!, Joe I don’t wanna!” Charlie wailed.
Joe grabbed Charlie's arm and pulled him forward. “C’mon. No going back, which one’s next? Do you remember? Lust or gluttony?”
Linked up with Coldly Calculating at Our Write Side
“Where we going Joe?”
“Home Charlie, the Boss finally got us outta that witches nest, and I need a break.”
“So…what're we doing in limbo land?”
“What? What are you talking about”? Joe looked around. His partner was right, the land was hazy and soft, no recognizable landmarks. “Oh man. This just isn’t right.”
“You're tellin’ me! I didn’t like this place the first time, it ain't got no better.” Charlie stumbled over a step hidden in the gray swirl that flowed through the landscape in random patterns.
Joe tried to remember the first time he was stuck here. It had taken forever to get out. As his memories coalesced, his eyes widened. “Charlie, you remember where we came in?”
“No, I’m just lookin’ for a way out.”
“Don't look too hard Charlie,” Joe backed up, he peered through the fog looking for the door he’d just entered.
“Uh, why?” Charlie stopped exploring and edged closer to Joe.
“Do you remember what happened when you found your way ‘out’ the first time?”
“Um, let me see, I found a key somewheres, then tripped a dozen times on all this crap laying around. Busted my snout more than once.” Charlie had a bad habit of reliving his memories while he talked, “Ow! Dammit! Just like that,” he said as he pushed himself off the ground.
“Hey! Look Joe, I found the key!”
“No Charlie! Throw it away! We don’t want the key!”
“What?”
Before Joe could grab the key and throw it, a doorway gleamed red-gold two yards from them. “Oh no.”
“There Joe, just like last time, the way out!”
Joe rolled his eyes, “Charlie, that’s not the way out.”
“It’s not?”
Joe walked toward the door, resigned to the inevitable. The Boss was evidently still mad at them.
“No Charlie, it’s the way in. This is limbo?”
“Yeahhh…”
Joe just sighed.
“Oh. OH!, Joe I don’t wanna!” Charlie wailed.
Joe grabbed Charlie's arm and pulled him forward. “C’mon. No going back, which one’s next? Do you remember? Lust or gluttony?”
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
After Shock
Living alone means you always know where your things are. There’s no one to put the sugar on the wrong shelf. Nobody to fold the kitchen towels, then stack them in the linen closet. Or, leave every light on in the house.
Living alone simplifies everything. No opposition when picking a movie. Meals made easier with only one set of taste buds to consider.
Daily routines are never compromised by the needs of another.
Then one day you stand motionless in the middle of a room and realize you’ve lost your way. It’s such an odd thing to lose.
Why is the daily routine so important? You have no schedule to follow, no reason to have lunch exactly at noon. Or supper at six.
Is it truly necessary to get out of bed by seven? Is it necessary to get out of bed at all?
Old habits keep you moving. Hunger pangs remind you to throw a plastic tray into the microwave.
The dark tells you it’s time to go to bed. The sun insists it’s time to rise.
One day you find you’ve lost your voice. It’s such an odd thing to lose.
Good morning no longer falls from your smiling lips. No one asks what you want to do today.
You look in the mirror at eyes that cried through the night while you slept. The lips in the reflection no longer to smile at you.
The silence of the house surrounds you. Every movement you make echoes through the empty rooms that used to be your home.
Finally, you just lose it.
It, is such an odd thing to lose.
Where's the Cheese?
“Where is the damn cheese?”
The cat replies with a knowing wink before slipping away to its feline agenda.
A glance at the dog provides no answer.
Then a blur of gray crosses the floor.
“Squeak!”
“Eek!”
Guess who stole the cheddar.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
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.
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Running Free
Another stab at Master Class Monday at Our Write Side
Fiona ran through the forest. A stark landscape of naked trees and fresh snowfall kept her within full view of her pursuers. Her breath blew puffs of steam as her feet crunched the ice crusted snow. She didn’t dare look behind her. If she could see their eyes she knew it was the end of her run.
Her feet were numb, the boots not tall enough to keep the snow from soaking her socks. Bushes and fallen branches conspired to throw Fiona to the ground. Fear was her friend, it gave adrenal fueled strength to her tiring legs. But fear couldn’t change the landscape.
While Fiona scanned the ground in front of her, she failed to mark the sudden end of the tree-line. She tumbled down a steep bank and hit the frozen river hard. Scrambling on the icy surface, she regained her feet. Finally, she turned to look behind.
Most of the hunting party stood at the top of the bank. Two of their number carefully descended to the river’s edge and tested the footing before moving toward her.
She uttered a hopeless moan, then turned toward the opposite bank. She moved her feet in an awkward sliding run as the watchers laughed at her attempt to elude them. The two behind her didn’t move any faster. As she crossed the center she glanced between her feet and gasped at the view of running water only inches below the ice.
A groan sounded from beneath, ending her wide eyed stare and she pushed her body forward. Fiona threw herself across the ice as an ear shattering crack echoed along the river. The treacherous heaving of the failing ice propelled her forward. The water roared as the river broke through the frozen blanket. She raced the free flowing water across the ice. The small floe she stood upon tilted back toward the frigid depths. In terror she thrust her arms forward, grasping for a miracle, and found a low-hanging branch. She gripped the rough bark and dragged herself up the empty bank.
Over the sound of the rushing water she heard the screams of the pair that had followed her. Their cries punctuated by fainter curses from the other bank. She looked back as the river embraced the men and carried them downstream. She met the eyes of their captain across the gap, felt the hatred sharp as a physical blow.
Panting with exhaustion, Fiona broke the gaze and ran into the next forest of naked trees and fresh fallen snow.
Fiona ran through the forest. A stark landscape of naked trees and fresh snowfall kept her within full view of her pursuers. Her breath blew puffs of steam as her feet crunched the ice crusted snow. She didn’t dare look behind her. If she could see their eyes she knew it was the end of her run.
Her feet were numb, the boots not tall enough to keep the snow from soaking her socks. Bushes and fallen branches conspired to throw Fiona to the ground. Fear was her friend, it gave adrenal fueled strength to her tiring legs. But fear couldn’t change the landscape.
While Fiona scanned the ground in front of her, she failed to mark the sudden end of the tree-line. She tumbled down a steep bank and hit the frozen river hard. Scrambling on the icy surface, she regained her feet. Finally, she turned to look behind.
Most of the hunting party stood at the top of the bank. Two of their number carefully descended to the river’s edge and tested the footing before moving toward her.
She uttered a hopeless moan, then turned toward the opposite bank. She moved her feet in an awkward sliding run as the watchers laughed at her attempt to elude them. The two behind her didn’t move any faster. As she crossed the center she glanced between her feet and gasped at the view of running water only inches below the ice.
A groan sounded from beneath, ending her wide eyed stare and she pushed her body forward. Fiona threw herself across the ice as an ear shattering crack echoed along the river. The treacherous heaving of the failing ice propelled her forward. The water roared as the river broke through the frozen blanket. She raced the free flowing water across the ice. The small floe she stood upon tilted back toward the frigid depths. In terror she thrust her arms forward, grasping for a miracle, and found a low-hanging branch. She gripped the rough bark and dragged herself up the empty bank.
Over the sound of the rushing water she heard the screams of the pair that had followed her. Their cries punctuated by fainter curses from the other bank. She looked back as the river embraced the men and carried them downstream. She met the eyes of their captain across the gap, felt the hatred sharp as a physical blow.
Panting with exhaustion, Fiona broke the gaze and ran into the next forest of naked trees and fresh fallen snow.
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Cause Way
She hesitated before she left the bridge a second time.
The first crossing had led to her destiny. A lifetime of rigorous physical training and endless mental preparation culminated in this second crossing.
One last step unleashed her upon an unsuspecting world.
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
Masterpiece
Linking again with Master Class Monday at Our Write Side with a bit of bizarre art.
Buddy supposed he ought to clean out the cellar. He'd left it it go far too long. It was part of the job he wasn’t going enjoy. The rest of the work was so fascinating. Watching the process happen kept him rapt with wonder and fair amount of pride.
The steps he followed with such meticulous care, from choosing the perfect specimen to knowing when to end the project. Over thinking and the subsequent tweaking had been the source of much disappointment early in his career.
Now he knew when to leave it alone and let nature finish the job. That was so evident in his latest work. Buddy stood in front of his masterpiece basking in the pleasure that results from a job well done.
He wanted desperately to share this one, it was that damned good.
Before he could set up the display he would absolutely have to dispose of the others. They would be too shoddy next to his latest.
He sucked a deep breath of resolve and grabbed his cleaning supplies along with a large stack of trash bags then bounded down the steps.
When Buddy flicked the light on its glow shone on the tangled pile stored in the corner. He released a sad sigh at the sight. How could he ever have thought them beautiful.
He reached the first of the pile. He'd had hope for this one. Her petite frame and sassy red hair had survived the drying process well, but as time went on her skin had continued to shrink. The result was protruding joints, particularly knees and elbows. As she shrunk, her body hair proved to be difficult to maintain.
He shook his head, over thinking had been his downfall. As he toiled through the pile he giggled. His works resembled a mound of gnarled monkeys. Knobby joints on withered limbs covered in coarse hair.
He had finally realized the obvious, remove the hair right after death. And the most important part, make sure to let them drink all the water they wanted before killing them. Keep that hide plumped and then dry them out slowly. That kept the natural shrinkage to a minimum.
Yes by golly, the round figured blond upstairs was the perfect specimen. The rest? Well, they'd just have to go.
Buddy supposed he ought to clean out the cellar. He'd left it it go far too long. It was part of the job he wasn’t going enjoy. The rest of the work was so fascinating. Watching the process happen kept him rapt with wonder and fair amount of pride.
The steps he followed with such meticulous care, from choosing the perfect specimen to knowing when to end the project. Over thinking and the subsequent tweaking had been the source of much disappointment early in his career.
Now he knew when to leave it alone and let nature finish the job. That was so evident in his latest work. Buddy stood in front of his masterpiece basking in the pleasure that results from a job well done.
He wanted desperately to share this one, it was that damned good.
Before he could set up the display he would absolutely have to dispose of the others. They would be too shoddy next to his latest.
He sucked a deep breath of resolve and grabbed his cleaning supplies along with a large stack of trash bags then bounded down the steps.
When Buddy flicked the light on its glow shone on the tangled pile stored in the corner. He released a sad sigh at the sight. How could he ever have thought them beautiful.
He reached the first of the pile. He'd had hope for this one. Her petite frame and sassy red hair had survived the drying process well, but as time went on her skin had continued to shrink. The result was protruding joints, particularly knees and elbows. As she shrunk, her body hair proved to be difficult to maintain.
He shook his head, over thinking had been his downfall. As he toiled through the pile he giggled. His works resembled a mound of gnarled monkeys. Knobby joints on withered limbs covered in coarse hair.
He had finally realized the obvious, remove the hair right after death. And the most important part, make sure to let them drink all the water they wanted before killing them. Keep that hide plumped and then dry them out slowly. That kept the natural shrinkage to a minimum.
Yes by golly, the round figured blond upstairs was the perfect specimen. The rest? Well, they'd just have to go.
Saturday, December 12, 2015
The New Best Friend
I chose the "nefarious playmate" from Master Class Monday over at Our Write Side.
This one is longer (much) than my norm.
Barbie was sick of it.
“Hey, Hot Pockets! Can I git another hot kiss here?” The guffaws from the rest of the old men at the table finally pushed her over the edge.
She pasted a simpering smile on her face, grabbed the coffee pot, and sashayed to the table. “Sure you can, Joe.” She whispered next to his ear as she poured the contents into his lap.
Joe’s screams and the hollering of his cronies summoned Harley, the manager, into the dining room at the same time Barbie slammed the pot on the table. As glass shards flew into the midst of the men she untied her apron. It dropped to the floor scattering quarters and dollar bills underfoot. Before Harley could open his mouth she shoved her fist into it.
She took time to smile at the group before saying, “I quit!” as she flipped the bird at the now speechless men; excluding Joe who was still bawling in pain. Then she calmly walked out the front door.
She walked the three blocks to her walk-up apartment unlocking the door just as an ambulance sped back toward the diner. Her roommate, Christie was sprawled on the stained couch eating chips. Looking up as Barbie slammed the door she quickly wiped the greasy salt on the arm and sat upright.
“You're home early.”
Barbie checked the opposite end of the couch for crumbs and bugs before she threw herself down. “Yeah. I am.”
Christie settled back with another handful of chips, “Dirty old man disrespect you again?”
“Yep.”
“Did you tell him to knock it off?”
“Sorta.”
“So, your grease ball of a boss fire you?” Christie asked.
Barbie snorted, “I quit.”
“You quit? How you gonna pay your share of the rent?” Christie sat up again spilling chips on the filthy rug.
“My share? How about you get off your lazy ass and pay the rent for a change.” Barbie cast a scathing look at Christie. “Seems I’ve been paying more than my share for quite a while.”
Christie frowned, “you know I been lookin’!”
Well I know where you can get a waitress job today.” Barbie jumped from the couch and headed to the kitchenette. As she expected the cupboards were empty. “Thought you were going to the store today,” she yelled into the other room.
“Yeah, I am, but I need more cash than the ten I got.” Christie poked her head cautiously through the doorway. “You make good tips today?”
“Don’t know, I left them behind.” She settled for a warm can of soda and returned to her corner of the couch. “If anybody knocks don’t answer the door.”
“What?” Christie looked at the door then back to her roomie. “Who are you expecting?”
“Cops”
“Aw, shit, girl, what did you do?” Christie crossed to the door and peeked out the front window. The street in front of the walk-up was empty, for the moment.
“I mighta poured coffee on ol’ Joe’s hardware.” She grinned humorlessly as Christie’s eyes widened.
“Oh, lord.” After another peek out the window, Christie turned back to Barbie. “He was a good tipper, you sure it was worth it?”
Barbie replayed the multitude of sexually inappropriate remarks Joe had spewed regarding her butt and boobs over the past four months. Each time he spoke his fan club of wannabe perverts laughed at her blushes and stammered appeals to him to please stop. Her eyes narrowed as she answered Christie, “It damn sure was.”
The young women stared at each other for several minutes before bursting in fits of giggles.
Christie grabbed Barbie’s soda and took a long gulp before clapping her on the back, “I’ll bet he hollered, wish I’d been there to see it.”
“He didn’t just holler, he screamed like a, a girl!” Barbie swiped the laughter induced tears from her eyes and yanked the drink can back and drained it in one swallow.
Catching their breath after the fit of glee was over, they sat silently. Barbie knew getting another job would be tough, it had taken forever to find the one she’d just left. She knew Christie really had been looking, but the Podunk town they lived in didn’t have much to offer. And after her own stunt, it was unlikely any of the locals would hire her.
Christie considered going to the diner next morning and filling out an application, but the minute she wrote her address down, she was sure it would end up round-filed.
“Maybe we oughta just leave this shit hole behind and go somewhere new,” Christie suggested.
Barbie rolled her eyes, “Like where?”
As Christie shrugged a rap on the door made both girls jump. “Shh, don’t answer!” Barbie whispered frantically.
Christie nodded as she sidled to the window and carefully peeked out. “It’s that grill cook from the diner!” she told Barbie quietly.
Barbie’s face screwed into a snarl, “That loser? What does he want?”
Christie cracked the door open, “What d’ya want?” she asked the lanky boy on the steps.
“To see if Barbie is alright.” He craned his neck to look past Christie and seeing Barbie he waved and said, “Nice work back there! They hauled that old fart out on stretcher, he was still holdin’ his balls and cryin’ like a baby.”
Barbie joined Christie at the doorway, “Yeah, I'm fine, they really called an ambulance? Hey, you didn’t bring the cops, did you?”
“No, just me.”
Christie opened the door wider and let him in, “Well get in here before they show up.”
“They ain’t goin' to. I told 'em Joe was playin' grab ass and the coffee got spilt accidental. And then Barbie ran off embarrassed.” He grinned and told Barbie, “Those two old ladies that you hate was in there, they backed me up.”
“Why’d they do that?” Barbie figured the old hags disliked her as much as she did them.
“'Cause they don’t like Joe more than they don’t like you I guess.”
“Huh. Well, hey, thanks.”
The three stood awkwardly looking at each other. Finally the boy said, “I’m Luke by the way, don’t know if you knew my name or not. You gotta beer or pop?”
“Uh, yeah, I knew your name, and we don’t have anything to drink, we just finished the last soda.”
“Oh. Then let’s go get some! My truck’s down there, we’ll get a six pack or two and go celebrate.”
Barbie noticed when he grinned he was better looking than she remembered. While Christie tried to think of an excuse to refuse Barbie smile at Luke, “Okay, let’s go!”
Soon the three were driving around on gravel roads outside the small town. Halfway through the case of brew they had decided on Luke made a suggestion. “I got keys to the diner, we can go raid the cooler…and maybe the till.”
Christie yanked her gaze away from the scenery outside the passenger window, “Oh that sounds like a very bad idea…”
“I think it sounds great!” Barbie slurred. “Serve that scuz Harley right! I tol’ him Joe was a pervert and he never did nothin' ‘ bout it.”
“Yeah I know, and you know what else? I know where Joe lives. An’ he’s got money at his place too. He owes you girl!”
Barbie leaned into Luke’s shoulder, “Yeah, he does. He owes me.”
Christy looked at the pair, “You guys are wasted, and crazy! Barbie, you didn’t want cops and this sure sounds like a good way to attract them. Let’s just go back home and watch TV, OK?”
Luke shot Christie a curious glance, “you wanna go home, fine. We’ll drop you off.”
Christy nodded, maybe she could talk them into the apartment once they got there.
She let herself in as the truck’s tires squealed off carrying Barbie and her new nefarious playmate into the night. She hadn’t been able to convince them to give up on Luke’s plan. Christy curled into the corner of couch and waited for Barbie to come back.
A shove on her shoulder prodded her from sleep. Still on the couch she looked up expecting her roommate to be frantic about breaking into the diner. Instead Barbie and Luke were grinning at her. In the dim light she could see Barbie swaying,, a beer clutched in her hand. As her sight focused she could see both were covered in spatters of red.
Luke swung the hammer nonchalantly, “You shoulda come with us. It was awesome.”
This one is longer (much) than my norm.
Barbie was sick of it.
“Hey, Hot Pockets! Can I git another hot kiss here?” The guffaws from the rest of the old men at the table finally pushed her over the edge.
She pasted a simpering smile on her face, grabbed the coffee pot, and sashayed to the table. “Sure you can, Joe.” She whispered next to his ear as she poured the contents into his lap.
Joe’s screams and the hollering of his cronies summoned Harley, the manager, into the dining room at the same time Barbie slammed the pot on the table. As glass shards flew into the midst of the men she untied her apron. It dropped to the floor scattering quarters and dollar bills underfoot. Before Harley could open his mouth she shoved her fist into it.
She took time to smile at the group before saying, “I quit!” as she flipped the bird at the now speechless men; excluding Joe who was still bawling in pain. Then she calmly walked out the front door.
She walked the three blocks to her walk-up apartment unlocking the door just as an ambulance sped back toward the diner. Her roommate, Christie was sprawled on the stained couch eating chips. Looking up as Barbie slammed the door she quickly wiped the greasy salt on the arm and sat upright.
“You're home early.”
Barbie checked the opposite end of the couch for crumbs and bugs before she threw herself down. “Yeah. I am.”
Christie settled back with another handful of chips, “Dirty old man disrespect you again?”
“Yep.”
“Did you tell him to knock it off?”
“Sorta.”
“So, your grease ball of a boss fire you?” Christie asked.
Barbie snorted, “I quit.”
“You quit? How you gonna pay your share of the rent?” Christie sat up again spilling chips on the filthy rug.
“My share? How about you get off your lazy ass and pay the rent for a change.” Barbie cast a scathing look at Christie. “Seems I’ve been paying more than my share for quite a while.”
Christie frowned, “you know I been lookin’!”
Well I know where you can get a waitress job today.” Barbie jumped from the couch and headed to the kitchenette. As she expected the cupboards were empty. “Thought you were going to the store today,” she yelled into the other room.
“Yeah, I am, but I need more cash than the ten I got.” Christie poked her head cautiously through the doorway. “You make good tips today?”
“Don’t know, I left them behind.” She settled for a warm can of soda and returned to her corner of the couch. “If anybody knocks don’t answer the door.”
“What?” Christie looked at the door then back to her roomie. “Who are you expecting?”
“Cops”
“Aw, shit, girl, what did you do?” Christie crossed to the door and peeked out the front window. The street in front of the walk-up was empty, for the moment.
“I mighta poured coffee on ol’ Joe’s hardware.” She grinned humorlessly as Christie’s eyes widened.
“Oh, lord.” After another peek out the window, Christie turned back to Barbie. “He was a good tipper, you sure it was worth it?”
Barbie replayed the multitude of sexually inappropriate remarks Joe had spewed regarding her butt and boobs over the past four months. Each time he spoke his fan club of wannabe perverts laughed at her blushes and stammered appeals to him to please stop. Her eyes narrowed as she answered Christie, “It damn sure was.”
The young women stared at each other for several minutes before bursting in fits of giggles.
Christie grabbed Barbie’s soda and took a long gulp before clapping her on the back, “I’ll bet he hollered, wish I’d been there to see it.”
“He didn’t just holler, he screamed like a, a girl!” Barbie swiped the laughter induced tears from her eyes and yanked the drink can back and drained it in one swallow.
Catching their breath after the fit of glee was over, they sat silently. Barbie knew getting another job would be tough, it had taken forever to find the one she’d just left. She knew Christie really had been looking, but the Podunk town they lived in didn’t have much to offer. And after her own stunt, it was unlikely any of the locals would hire her.
Christie considered going to the diner next morning and filling out an application, but the minute she wrote her address down, she was sure it would end up round-filed.
“Maybe we oughta just leave this shit hole behind and go somewhere new,” Christie suggested.
Barbie rolled her eyes, “Like where?”
As Christie shrugged a rap on the door made both girls jump. “Shh, don’t answer!” Barbie whispered frantically.
Christie nodded as she sidled to the window and carefully peeked out. “It’s that grill cook from the diner!” she told Barbie quietly.
Barbie’s face screwed into a snarl, “That loser? What does he want?”
Christie cracked the door open, “What d’ya want?” she asked the lanky boy on the steps.
“To see if Barbie is alright.” He craned his neck to look past Christie and seeing Barbie he waved and said, “Nice work back there! They hauled that old fart out on stretcher, he was still holdin’ his balls and cryin’ like a baby.”
Barbie joined Christie at the doorway, “Yeah, I'm fine, they really called an ambulance? Hey, you didn’t bring the cops, did you?”
“No, just me.”
Christie opened the door wider and let him in, “Well get in here before they show up.”
“They ain’t goin' to. I told 'em Joe was playin' grab ass and the coffee got spilt accidental. And then Barbie ran off embarrassed.” He grinned and told Barbie, “Those two old ladies that you hate was in there, they backed me up.”
“Why’d they do that?” Barbie figured the old hags disliked her as much as she did them.
“'Cause they don’t like Joe more than they don’t like you I guess.”
“Huh. Well, hey, thanks.”
The three stood awkwardly looking at each other. Finally the boy said, “I’m Luke by the way, don’t know if you knew my name or not. You gotta beer or pop?”
“Uh, yeah, I knew your name, and we don’t have anything to drink, we just finished the last soda.”
“Oh. Then let’s go get some! My truck’s down there, we’ll get a six pack or two and go celebrate.”
Barbie noticed when he grinned he was better looking than she remembered. While Christie tried to think of an excuse to refuse Barbie smile at Luke, “Okay, let’s go!”
Soon the three were driving around on gravel roads outside the small town. Halfway through the case of brew they had decided on Luke made a suggestion. “I got keys to the diner, we can go raid the cooler…and maybe the till.”
Christie yanked her gaze away from the scenery outside the passenger window, “Oh that sounds like a very bad idea…”
“I think it sounds great!” Barbie slurred. “Serve that scuz Harley right! I tol’ him Joe was a pervert and he never did nothin' ‘ bout it.”
“Yeah I know, and you know what else? I know where Joe lives. An’ he’s got money at his place too. He owes you girl!”
Barbie leaned into Luke’s shoulder, “Yeah, he does. He owes me.”
Christy looked at the pair, “You guys are wasted, and crazy! Barbie, you didn’t want cops and this sure sounds like a good way to attract them. Let’s just go back home and watch TV, OK?”
Luke shot Christie a curious glance, “you wanna go home, fine. We’ll drop you off.”
Christy nodded, maybe she could talk them into the apartment once they got there.
She let herself in as the truck’s tires squealed off carrying Barbie and her new nefarious playmate into the night. She hadn’t been able to convince them to give up on Luke’s plan. Christy curled into the corner of couch and waited for Barbie to come back.
A shove on her shoulder prodded her from sleep. Still on the couch she looked up expecting her roommate to be frantic about breaking into the diner. Instead Barbie and Luke were grinning at her. In the dim light she could see Barbie swaying,, a beer clutched in her hand. As her sight focused she could see both were covered in spatters of red.
Luke swung the hammer nonchalantly, “You shoulda come with us. It was awesome.”
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
Final Farewell
Another prompted piece with Master Class Monday at Our Write Side
We sat on the shore. No moon lit the night, as we nestled against each other shivering as the lake rippled in front of us. Its wavelets invisible in the dark.
There was no where left to run.
Our arms bruised by scraping against the trees behind us. Knees bleeding through our jeans from multiple falls while tripping through the underbrush.
Pursuers just steps behind away.
It had begun so routinely. A night out, no celebration, just a trip for something to eat. We hadn't reached our destination when we became aware of the footsteps behind us.
We stopped to look back, nothing to be seen. The steps stopped, just like in the movies.
We’re just imagining things, we said to each other. And started on our way again.
As did the steps.
We picked up our pace from a stroll to a fast walk. Finally to a run.
There was no traffic, the light from street lamps seemed dimmer than they should have been. They gave nothing away of the beasts behind us.
We pounded on doors. Though we heard movement inside, no one answered our screams for help.
So we continued to run.
The tiny woods enclosed us before we realized it. Initial panic was relieved by the thought we could lose them in the darkness. Until the branches cracked too close behind us.
Then came the race to escape blindly through the maze of trees.
By the time we reached the lake we understood they had just been toying with us. They could have had us at any time.
So we sat shivering on the shore. Holding each other, we whispered tearful goodbyes.
As we waited for the opulent sunrise to burn our flesh away.
We sat on the shore. No moon lit the night, as we nestled against each other shivering as the lake rippled in front of us. Its wavelets invisible in the dark.
There was no where left to run.
Our arms bruised by scraping against the trees behind us. Knees bleeding through our jeans from multiple falls while tripping through the underbrush.
Pursuers just steps behind away.
It had begun so routinely. A night out, no celebration, just a trip for something to eat. We hadn't reached our destination when we became aware of the footsteps behind us.
We stopped to look back, nothing to be seen. The steps stopped, just like in the movies.
We’re just imagining things, we said to each other. And started on our way again.
As did the steps.
We picked up our pace from a stroll to a fast walk. Finally to a run.
There was no traffic, the light from street lamps seemed dimmer than they should have been. They gave nothing away of the beasts behind us.
We pounded on doors. Though we heard movement inside, no one answered our screams for help.
So we continued to run.
The tiny woods enclosed us before we realized it. Initial panic was relieved by the thought we could lose them in the darkness. Until the branches cracked too close behind us.
Then came the race to escape blindly through the maze of trees.
By the time we reached the lake we understood they had just been toying with us. They could have had us at any time.
So we sat shivering on the shore. Holding each other, we whispered tearful goodbyes.
As we waited for the opulent sunrise to burn our flesh away.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Mission Canceled
This time I linked up with the Coldly Calculating prompt from Our Write Side.
I may have missed the "chilling" mark, just a little.
Joe and Charlie huddled together in the corner. Ears tuned to the distant footsteps and mutterings of their pursuers.
It seemed they’d been slipping from one hiding spot to another for hours. Scurrying from room to room trying to stay one step ahead.
“We need to move again soon, Joe!”
“I know, man. They’re closing in again. I can smell the stink of their torches.”
The pair looked around wildly, seeking another safe place to hunker down. They stifled gags induced by the overwhelming odor of the leader’s smoking brand. Their hearts lurched as she screeched to her minions, “They’re in there! We have them now!”
With moments before the hunting party cut off their retreat, Joe and Charlie darted across the floor to the door.
“C’mon Charlie, down these stairs. We’ll lose them in the cellar.”
Coughing through the foul haze, the escapees stumbled down the steps.
“Where to now, Joe? We’re trapped!”
“Shut up! Here get under the stairs.”
The floor boards creaked overhead. Voices filtered down, “Where’d they go? Did they get out?”
“No, they’re still here. Up to the second floor! We’ll find them, they can’t hide from us forever.” Rushing footsteps faded farther into the house.
In the ensuing silence Joe and Charlie crept out from under the stairs. Listening intently for any movement they quietly climbed the steps and peered into the empty hall.
Joe whispered, “They're on the top floor now, Charlie. I think we lost them.”
“I don’t know Joe, it still reeks down here. I don’t think we’re outta the woods yet.”
“Shh, this way, c’mon.”
They stepped cautiously into a library. Over stuffed chairs cluttered the floor. Bookcases lined all but one wall filled by a massive fireplace.
The pair jumped in unison at the scream outside the door, “Aha! We have you now!” Pounding feet filled the room.
Charlie shrieked, “Joe! What now?”
Joe grabbed Charlie’s arm, dragging him to the hearth. He scattered ashes as he leapt into the flue, Charlie on his heels. Reaching the top, Joe pulled himself out the chimney and onto the roof.
“Hurry Charlie!”
“I’m stuck, Joe! I cant get through!”
“Give me your hand!” Joe pulled mightily, finally freeing his partner. Charlie’s release from the chimney resulted in an audible pop. The two slid down the roof and tumbled to the lawn.
“You could use to lose some fat there, Charlie.” Joe brushed himself off then sped ahead, Charlie right behind. As they ran for the street they heard the triumphant bellow of their hunter.
“THIS HOUSE IS CLEAN!”
Joe paused to turn around and make an obscene gesture before trotting on down the road.
Charlie puffed to keep up, almost tripping over his forked tail. “What now, Joe?”
“I don’t know yet, Charlie. Hey! Look over there, that place looks likely!”
Charlie sighed, “Back to square one.”
I may have missed the "chilling" mark, just a little.
Joe and Charlie huddled together in the corner. Ears tuned to the distant footsteps and mutterings of their pursuers.
It seemed they’d been slipping from one hiding spot to another for hours. Scurrying from room to room trying to stay one step ahead.
“We need to move again soon, Joe!”
“I know, man. They’re closing in again. I can smell the stink of their torches.”
The pair looked around wildly, seeking another safe place to hunker down. They stifled gags induced by the overwhelming odor of the leader’s smoking brand. Their hearts lurched as she screeched to her minions, “They’re in there! We have them now!”
With moments before the hunting party cut off their retreat, Joe and Charlie darted across the floor to the door.
“C’mon Charlie, down these stairs. We’ll lose them in the cellar.”
Coughing through the foul haze, the escapees stumbled down the steps.
“Where to now, Joe? We’re trapped!”
“Shut up! Here get under the stairs.”
The floor boards creaked overhead. Voices filtered down, “Where’d they go? Did they get out?”
“No, they’re still here. Up to the second floor! We’ll find them, they can’t hide from us forever.” Rushing footsteps faded farther into the house.
In the ensuing silence Joe and Charlie crept out from under the stairs. Listening intently for any movement they quietly climbed the steps and peered into the empty hall.
Joe whispered, “They're on the top floor now, Charlie. I think we lost them.”
“I don’t know Joe, it still reeks down here. I don’t think we’re outta the woods yet.”
“Shh, this way, c’mon.”
They stepped cautiously into a library. Over stuffed chairs cluttered the floor. Bookcases lined all but one wall filled by a massive fireplace.
The pair jumped in unison at the scream outside the door, “Aha! We have you now!” Pounding feet filled the room.
Charlie shrieked, “Joe! What now?”
Joe grabbed Charlie’s arm, dragging him to the hearth. He scattered ashes as he leapt into the flue, Charlie on his heels. Reaching the top, Joe pulled himself out the chimney and onto the roof.
“Hurry Charlie!”
“I’m stuck, Joe! I cant get through!”
“Give me your hand!” Joe pulled mightily, finally freeing his partner. Charlie’s release from the chimney resulted in an audible pop. The two slid down the roof and tumbled to the lawn.
“You could use to lose some fat there, Charlie.” Joe brushed himself off then sped ahead, Charlie right behind. As they ran for the street they heard the triumphant bellow of their hunter.
“THIS HOUSE IS CLEAN!”
Joe paused to turn around and make an obscene gesture before trotting on down the road.
Charlie puffed to keep up, almost tripping over his forked tail. “What now, Joe?”
“I don’t know yet, Charlie. Hey! Look over there, that place looks likely!”
Charlie sighed, “Back to square one.”
Friday, October 16, 2015
Moonlight Mime
My offering for Master Class Monday, from Our Write Side
Donna couldn’t sleep. Too much on her mind. Too many decisions left undecided.
After lying awake staring into darkness, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her toes rooted about the carpet seeking her fluffy gray slippers.
Feet embraced, she shrugged into her robe and shuffled to the kitchen. As she filled a glass of water from the tap, her gaze was drawn out the window.
The meadow behind the house was aglow with silvered moonlight. Enchanted, she let herself out the back door into the early fall night. The air was crisp, but not uncomfortably so. A light breeze carrying bits of leaf and pollen became a magical shower of light as the full moon reflected from countless surfaces.
She sipped her water, eyes captured by the meadow. There, a seductive sway of moonlit foxtails allowed to grow wild through the last lazy days of summer. Bowing into shadow with each gentle breeze, springing back to bathe in the sterling light.
Donna left the glass on the deck rail and tiptoed down the steps. She crossed the manicured back lawn and into the meadow.
The breeze wafted, grass swayed, silver and ebony. A dance of light and shadow. She unconsciously began to move with them in silent rhythm. Arms outstretched, she wove through the blades. Light and shadow. Her body responding, bowing to the shadow, lifting to the light.
Her eyes closed as she mimed the shush of leaves and whisper of foxtails.
She didn’t see them gather, wings spread to the caress of breeze. Iridescent spans reflecting the luster of the full moon.
They watched, timid of her presence. Then curious. When they discerned no threat, they joined.
Weaving and bowing. Swaying and bending. Silver to ebony, moon light to moon shadow.
As the dregs of wakefulness left her, she lay down amid the grasses and let sleep claim her. They covered her against the dew in blankets woven of spiderweb and thistledown. While she slept deeper than dreams, the Fae danced guard around her.
Donna couldn’t sleep. Too much on her mind. Too many decisions left undecided.
After lying awake staring into darkness, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her toes rooted about the carpet seeking her fluffy gray slippers.
Feet embraced, she shrugged into her robe and shuffled to the kitchen. As she filled a glass of water from the tap, her gaze was drawn out the window.
The meadow behind the house was aglow with silvered moonlight. Enchanted, she let herself out the back door into the early fall night. The air was crisp, but not uncomfortably so. A light breeze carrying bits of leaf and pollen became a magical shower of light as the full moon reflected from countless surfaces.
She sipped her water, eyes captured by the meadow. There, a seductive sway of moonlit foxtails allowed to grow wild through the last lazy days of summer. Bowing into shadow with each gentle breeze, springing back to bathe in the sterling light.
Donna left the glass on the deck rail and tiptoed down the steps. She crossed the manicured back lawn and into the meadow.
The breeze wafted, grass swayed, silver and ebony. A dance of light and shadow. She unconsciously began to move with them in silent rhythm. Arms outstretched, she wove through the blades. Light and shadow. Her body responding, bowing to the shadow, lifting to the light.
Her eyes closed as she mimed the shush of leaves and whisper of foxtails.
She didn’t see them gather, wings spread to the caress of breeze. Iridescent spans reflecting the luster of the full moon.
They watched, timid of her presence. Then curious. When they discerned no threat, they joined.
Weaving and bowing. Swaying and bending. Silver to ebony, moon light to moon shadow.
As the dregs of wakefulness left her, she lay down amid the grasses and let sleep claim her. They covered her against the dew in blankets woven of spiderweb and thistledown. While she slept deeper than dreams, the Fae danced guard around her.
Monday, August 31, 2015
777 Challenge
I have been tagged by Amanda N. Butler for the 777 challenge! The challenge is to post seven lines found on the seventh page of your work in progress, and tag seven writers.
I'm always hesitant to do these things. Mostly because I'm going to annoy seven other people. But...here goes.
The lines are from the story I'm trudging through on Wattpad.
"Jonah crept out of the ragged forest as the sun began peering through the trees behind him. He would have liked to have the cover of leaves, but autumn had set in, and the trees were all but naked. He looked back at the trees, soft pastels, muted further by early morning fog silhouetted the bare trunks with the promise of light.
I'm always hesitant to do these things. Mostly because I'm going to annoy seven other people. But...here goes.
The lines are from the story I'm trudging through on Wattpad.
"Jonah crept out of the ragged forest as the sun began peering through the trees behind him. He would have liked to have the cover of leaves, but autumn had set in, and the trees were all but naked. He looked back at the trees, soft pastels, muted further by early morning fog silhouetted the bare trunks with the promise of light.
In the encroaching dawn he saw the road leading to a cluster of buildings. The last thing he expected out here was a town. He stopped at the outskirts, indecisive. Hunger rejoiced at the thought of finding food."
And here is my list of seven victims.
Cameron Garriepy
Stephanie Ayers
Patricia Lynne
Rose Ketring
Of The Wilds
Thomas Marlowe
Lyssa Medana
Forgive me.
Friday, August 21, 2015
Hunt for the Red Wolf
My offering for Master Class Monday at EatSleepWrite I chose the prompt; Red Wolf Hunting.
Madaline raced across the meadow, her scarlet cape fluttering behind her. The thud of her heart made it difficult to keep track of the footfalls closing the distance between herself and her pursuers.
Her eyes fixed on the treeline only a few yards ahead. A desperate burst of speed propelled her through the brush. She kept up her pace while grabbing the edges of the cape to keep it from the tangled mass of branches and undergrowth as she scrambled deeper into the trees.
The pursuit slowed once she reached the forest. She knew it was only a mometary pause. Stepping behind a large trunk, she pulled the fabric from her shoulders. Had it been fall the bright color may have been an aid, however among the bright green growth of mid spring, she may as well stand and wave at her trackers.
Behind her, she could hear jays and squirrels angrily announcing the trespass of the group chasing her. Bundling cape as compactly as she could, she jogged farther into the dense forest. She no longer travelled a straight course, weaving first one direction, then another. She used the chatter of the wildlife to keep apprised of the position of the hunting party.
The light was dim under the canopy of leaves, she'd been moving through the forest since just after noon. She guessed it was close to evening. Winged residents were making their last forays before taking to nest, small creatures of the brush and treetops had already disappeared. Those that foraged at night would soon be stalking.
Madeline ignore the growing exhaustion of her flight and kept her steady pace as twilight sucked the last light away. Tiny singers of night tuned their throats and stretched wings. It was with relief that she climbed a grassy hummock barely visible in the brush and dark. Sliding down the opposite side, she found the overgrown opening and crawled inside.
She laid her head on her bundled cape and immediately fell asleep.
She woke abruptly, momentarily disoriented by the darkness, she scrabbled in the dirt of her burrow. Finding the cape, she tamped down the panic and cautiously approached the exit. The singers of early night had finished their set, stillness enveloped the forest. She silently slid from her hiding place, ears alert for unnatural sounds.
Climbing to the top of the hummock she strained to see through the darkness. Her breath caught as she spied the low glow of a campfire. They'd come much closer than she'd been expecting. Using the darkness, she carefully made her way toward the camp.
Close enough to smell the burning embers. she shook out the bundle, releasing the cape Madeline threw it across her shoulders and dropped to the ground. She then crept forward on all fours, stopping a few feet outside the circle around the banked fire. six bodies lay close to the fire, two more leaned against trees, their watch thwarted by snores and drooped heads.
Madeline smiled to herself. The weak glow from the camp's center reflected in her eyes. Lifting her muzzle high, she howled. The ensuing panic excited her.
Time for the red wolf's hunt to commence.
Madaline raced across the meadow, her scarlet cape fluttering behind her. The thud of her heart made it difficult to keep track of the footfalls closing the distance between herself and her pursuers.
Her eyes fixed on the treeline only a few yards ahead. A desperate burst of speed propelled her through the brush. She kept up her pace while grabbing the edges of the cape to keep it from the tangled mass of branches and undergrowth as she scrambled deeper into the trees.
The pursuit slowed once she reached the forest. She knew it was only a mometary pause. Stepping behind a large trunk, she pulled the fabric from her shoulders. Had it been fall the bright color may have been an aid, however among the bright green growth of mid spring, she may as well stand and wave at her trackers.
Behind her, she could hear jays and squirrels angrily announcing the trespass of the group chasing her. Bundling cape as compactly as she could, she jogged farther into the dense forest. She no longer travelled a straight course, weaving first one direction, then another. She used the chatter of the wildlife to keep apprised of the position of the hunting party.
The light was dim under the canopy of leaves, she'd been moving through the forest since just after noon. She guessed it was close to evening. Winged residents were making their last forays before taking to nest, small creatures of the brush and treetops had already disappeared. Those that foraged at night would soon be stalking.
Madeline ignore the growing exhaustion of her flight and kept her steady pace as twilight sucked the last light away. Tiny singers of night tuned their throats and stretched wings. It was with relief that she climbed a grassy hummock barely visible in the brush and dark. Sliding down the opposite side, she found the overgrown opening and crawled inside.
She laid her head on her bundled cape and immediately fell asleep.
She woke abruptly, momentarily disoriented by the darkness, she scrabbled in the dirt of her burrow. Finding the cape, she tamped down the panic and cautiously approached the exit. The singers of early night had finished their set, stillness enveloped the forest. She silently slid from her hiding place, ears alert for unnatural sounds.
Climbing to the top of the hummock she strained to see through the darkness. Her breath caught as she spied the low glow of a campfire. They'd come much closer than she'd been expecting. Using the darkness, she carefully made her way toward the camp.
Close enough to smell the burning embers. she shook out the bundle, releasing the cape Madeline threw it across her shoulders and dropped to the ground. She then crept forward on all fours, stopping a few feet outside the circle around the banked fire. six bodies lay close to the fire, two more leaned against trees, their watch thwarted by snores and drooped heads.
Madeline smiled to herself. The weak glow from the camp's center reflected in her eyes. Lifting her muzzle high, she howled. The ensuing panic excited her.
Time for the red wolf's hunt to commence.
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