Got questions???
The answer is CHOCOLATE!
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WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge: Wall
Oh, I Remember That One: 100-Word Stories Revisited
Well, I am so grateful to the Lord for friends who specialize in computers and all their appendages. Thanks to one of those friends, my technological problems seem to be remedied this evening, and I shall go forward from here. But seeing that I was just too tired to start creating from scratch again tonight, I decided to take another little trip down memory lane and wandered through some of my old 100-word stories. (Some may have tipped a little over the 100 mark, but not too far over). Thought I’d just re-post a few of them on here and air them out again. Some of you will remember them, but many of you were not following at the time they were written, so they will be fresh for you. Either way, I hope each of you finds at least one or two that you enjoy.
CARRIED ON A SONG
I heard the song today. As I walked through Hilliard’s department store, a customer opened a jewelry box, and the melody tinkled across the room. My breath caught in my chest. Tears sprang to my eyes. But my heart smiled. Every time I hear it, I think of you.
Roger loves me, and our boys are treasures I’d never part with, but my heart still aches for you. All those years ago, Fate decreed us bitter enemies in that horrible war between our nations. But as long as I live, my love will seek and find you in the strains of that song.
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THE WRITTEN WORD
The quills were ancient. Mara had found them locked in a closet of the abby. But the points were sharp, the monks having taken great care of them. She sighed now. “Remember, Robert … computers and photocopiers? It was all so easy?”
“Yeah … life before the E-bombs. Who would have dreamed our electronic infrastructure was so unprotected!”
“If the new dictator hadn’t confiscated all the manual typewriters and pencils as well, we could at least communicate to some extent!”
Picking up a quill, Robert replied: “Well, this is how our ancestors printed letters and books. We come from the same stock. So –” dipping his quill into the ink – “let’s get started.”
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FABEL ABLE
“Hello!” Dickey Hendricks greeted the curious animal in the forest.
“Hello.”
“Boy, you’re funny looking! Who are you?”
“I’m Fable Abel.”
“Who’s that?”
“The main character in the fable about just being yourself.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, my author started creating me to be a zebra. He gave me these hind legs. But then I saw a tiger and insisted on becoming a tiger instead. So he gave me this body. But when I saw a giraffe, I begged my author to make me a giraffe. So he stretched my neck. But just as he was drawing my head, I saw an elephant and shouted, ‘No, I want to be an elephant with a looooong trunk!’”
“Oh my! So what are you now?”
“A lesson for boys and girls like you.”
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SURPRISE, HONEY!
“Okay, you can open your eyes. . . . Well . . . what do you think?”
“What do you mean, what do I think?”
“My surprise!”
“This . . . this . . . MONSTROSITY!!??”
“It’s a famous landmark.”
“You mean you invested ALL our money in THIS?
“It will make a grand hotel; you’ll see.”
“No . . . I won’t see. I’m going home!”
“But . . . I thought you knew . . .”
“Knew? . . .
“Well, I used the money from our old house to —
“You WHAT!”
He ran as he’d never run before.
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LOVE GROWS ON YOU
Virginia Creeper wasn’t beautiful and was generally considered a nuisance wherever she grew. But she had a kind heart, and when she heard sobbing out by the alley, she crawled over to investigate. She found Barney, the discarded garbage truck, soaking the ground with his tears. “Barney?”
“I-I-I’ve been thrown away! Dumped here; no one wants me now. Dead motor. And everybody says I-I-I stink!” His sobs were heartbreaking.
Virginia gathered her strength. Stretching, squirming, she pulled herself toward the unhappy truck. She reached up, grabbed his bumper, and curled around it, stretching higher and wider until she had completely embraced Barney in a comforting hug. “Don’t cry, Barney. I love you, and I’ll stick with you forever.”
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FOG
The fog’s especially heavy tonight. It’s a good time to stay inside and write this letter. I can’t see three feet past the door. The lighthouse on the island has sounded the foghorn every two minutes for hours. You remember the island, don’t you? Where we buried him? I often wonder what would have happened if the fog had lifted in time for someone to see us digging the grave.
I wish you were here with me. I’m always chilled and shaky when there’s fog. It feels as if something’s choking me. Nights like this, I wonder if that’s how he felt as we tightened that rope around his neck until he stopped breathing. I wish you were here with me. I hate fog.
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ONE LOOK WAS ALL IT TOOK
“The stone head at the very top of the building is what’s left of the king’s former messenger,” the guide explained. “Doomed by a curse to remain in that position, with eyes closed forever, seeing nothing. Punishment for looking lustfully at the king’s daughter.”
“You mean he’s still alive?” one tourist asked.
“Indeed, but he will never have a body or real eyes again unless the princess herself breaks the spell.”
“How?”
“She must publicly forgive him, then climb up and seal the forgiveness with a kiss.”
“And she refuses?”
“Oh, she’s willing enough, but … alas … she’s afraid of heights.”
~~~
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A MAN OF VALUE
Eddie couldn’t hold back the tears as he stood at the building site, his hand gripped by Tony, an ox of a guy with tears in his own eyes. “Thanks, Ed, for all you’ve done here.” Tony and his family had lost everything, including their house. But today they’d received the key to a brand new home.
Eddie, serving the 7th of his 25-year sentence, had worked in the carpentry rehabilitation unit for three years now, making prefab elements for these low-income housing projects. “I’m just so grateful the warden gave me permission to be here for the presentation,” he said. He’d considered himself scum for most of his life, but today – wiping tears away with his shirt sleeve – he felt like a valuable human being with something worth giving to life.
He grinned at Tony. “Dang, I’m actually looking forward to the rest of my sentence, helping to build a better life for a lot of people.”
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Release Your Inner Artist
Such wonderful words of encouragement and challenge. Everyone can receive something lovely from this article.
We are each of us born brimming with potential, creators in the making. But then something happens – at least for most of us it does. Somewhere between the childhood dreaming, and the adolescent wake-up call we make a decision. For each of us this will be the result of particular, often very painful circumstances, but the outcome will be the same. From that point on we will tell ourselves we are not goodenough, and what we do is not good enough and that even if we toil until the crack of doom, it never will be good enough. We give up. Surrender, often before we have given ourselves half a chance. Somehow – through repeated expressions of contempt, denigration, ridicule, bemusement from peers and elders – we learn that it is dangerous to be too extraordinary, and that if we persist in following our dream we will…
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Wordless Wednesday
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Tickle Me Tuesday — Week 6
Sorry I’m so late getting this week’s Tickle up, but I have been swamped with technology problems today. (I’m running way behind on my serialized story as well. But to quote a well-known character in English literature, “The hurrieder I go, the behinder I get.”)
Here’s today’s chuckle from me, and anyone else who has a chuckle, a giggle, a laugh, or a belly roll, just post your funny stuff on your blog and hop over here and paste your link into the “Comments” box. Keep it all safe for general audiences, and that’s the only rule you need to follow.
SPACED-OUT EXCUSES
“Johnny,” said his teacher, “where’s your homework?”
“Uh …” the child replied, “well, it’s like this.”
Then calling on his great imagination,
John recited his excuses like a list.
“I saved my book report until the last day
Because I wanted it to be so fresh;
I wanted to review again my story,
And to type it so it wouldn’t be a mess.
“But when I went to print it out on paper,
The printer said that it was out of ink.
So Dad said he would go to Wal-Mart for some,
And that he would be back in just two blinks.
“I waited and I waited with my printer,
And as the hours ticked by, I fell asleep,
But did not wake until the sun disturbed me,
So quickly from my chair then I did leap.
“I went in search of Dad, but found him nowhere.
My mom said he had called to say goodbye.
He’d seen a spaceship land not far from Wal-Mart,
And with those spacemen he’d agreed to fly.
“He said it was a chance for rare adventure,
And he was sure that you would understand,
And promised that when he returns with more ink,
My book report will be a story grand!
“I know you tell us life’s a great adventure;
Of opportunities to be aware,
So I was sure you’d want to wait ’till next week,
To have my book report to read and share.”
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Six-Word Saturday – 3/7/15
WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge — Orange
WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge: Orange
To be completely honest, I dislike orange very much. But it is, after all, a legitimate color, and I found loads of it in my photos just waiting for its share of attention. So here’s my offering.
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Well, I guess orange is okay — as long as it’s in small doses.
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I Love Birds
I love birds. They are so full of life, and we learn so much from them. I have a whole family living in my Blue Spruce tree again this winter, and I think they are Mockingbirds again. I had Mockingbirds two years in a row, but the following year, they didn’t come. Then this past year, I had Cardinals nesting there, and now (I think) another family of Mockingbirds — but I can’t tell for sure. Anyway, this group of pictures is a collage of several kinds of winged friends who came to visit today when I shared a box of crackers. What fun.
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Two Visitors Through the Snow
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A Light in the Snow
This little lighthouse sits on my front porch, which has a roof over it. But that didn’t stop today’s snow from blanketing it pretty thoroughly.
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Wordless Wednesday
Spring’s a’comin’
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Share Your World, 2015 – Week # 9
I haven’t had a chance to participate in Cee’s Share Your World the past few weeks, so I’m getting back into the swing of things.
Question 1: How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?
47
Question 2: Are you left or right-handed?
Right-handed
Question 3: If you HAD to change your name, what would you change it to?
Zoe Hannah Grace. Zoe means “life from God.” Hannah means “one who is favored and one who obtains favor by petition.” Grace means “the undeserved favor of God.” So anytime someone called my name, they would be pronouncing blessing and favor on me. Sounds good to me.
Question 4: Where do you hide junk when people come over?
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha ………… The laughter at my house is so LOUD that the neighbors from blocks away are coming to see what’s going on. What do you mean “hide” junk? I have so much junk that there IS NO PLACE to hide it. When people come over, they just have to look at it. If they don’t love me enough to do that, it’s okay. I have my junk to keep me company.
Bonus Question: What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?
Well, last week, I had an unexpected meeting with the sidewalk in front of my house, and my right knee made the first contact. Ouch! The last things to make contact with that same sidewalk were my nose and mouth. Ouch! Ouch! But I am thankful that the Lord protected me mightily, and I did not have any broken bones or teeth. My knee looks and feels almost normal again, and no one would ever know I virtually kissed the concrete on Friday. I have thanked God every day for that protection and healing.
This week, I am looking forward to getting some furniture that belonged to my parents moved into my living room. (Of course, I’ll have to move some of the above mentioned junk to get it in, but the end result will be worth the effort.)
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Tickle Me Tuesday – Week 5 — ‘The Tale of the Pretty Kitty’
Here we are again folks: Tuesday. And it’s time for you-know-what: That’s right — ‘Tickle Me Tuesday.’ If you aren’t familiar with this invitational series, here’s how it works. To join in the fun, just post (on your own blog) a picture, a poem, a quote, a story, a graphic, or anything else that’s lighthearted or downright hilarious. Then hop over here and leave us the link to your post in the “Comments” box below. You can post today or any day between now and next Tuesday. No other rules — except to remember that this blog is for general audiences.
I decided to recycle an older poem for this week. I like to go back into the archives and dig out the dusty stuff, shine it up, and sit it out for company to enjoy. So I hope you enjoy reading this little tale as much as I enjoyed writing it originally.
The Tale of the Pretty Kitty
Mary Lou was very pretty,
And she had a pretty kitty.
It was black with one white stripe,
And of its smell her folks would gripe.
But Mary Lou just loved her pet,
So it was with such great regret
That she agreed to have him fixed,
And have his smell completely nixed.
Now, sad but true the kitty died,
And Mary Lou, how she did cry.
But every night in spirit form
Her kitty did come back to home.
Poor Mom and Dad could not explain,
The smell that came each night again,
But Mary was content to know
Her white-striped pet still loved her so.
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The Happy Wordcrafter 