Julia’s back into the swing of things with her 100-Word Challenge for Grownups this week. The prompt is the following phrase:
“… and just when Harold thought it couldn’t get any worse …”
Visit Julia’s blog to get the details of participating.
YOU CAN’T WIN ‘EM ALL
Harold slapped the alarm, grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV as the lottery numbers came up. Grabbing his ticket, he checked off the list.
“I won! I won!” He jumped out of bed, stepping on his boxer, Dolly.
“Woof! Woof!” Dolly joined in the excitement.
Barely thinking, Harold threw on clothes and started downstairs. Dolly ran under his feet, and Harold tripped, rolling down the flight in record time. Rubbing is head and his tailbone, he made it to the kitchen to warm up yesterday’s coffee.
The microwave blew a fuse, so he opted for juice, which he spilled on the floor. He bent to wipe it up and dropped his winning ticket into the puddle. And just when Harold thought it couldn’t get any worse, Dolly snatched up the ticket and chewed it to bits.
Well, I seem to be in some kind of MOOD today. Julia posted her 100-word story challenge this morning, and chose a light, springy, happy subject: April. So what did I do with it? See below, but please don’t ask me why? I simply have no idea.
A DIRGE FOR APRIL FOOLS
April. Marcus had promised to come to her in April. She’d have a white gown and bouquet of pink azaleas.
February. She’d believed Peter when he’d told her of Marcus’ infidelity and comforted her grief. So she’d married Peter on the last day of March – mere hours before Marcus’ brother arrived, bringing her the coffin containing her beloved’s body – slain at Peter’s hand.
April 1st. She buried Marcus and planted a pink azalea bush upon his grave. That night, as Peter slept, she drove a knife into his heart – and then into her own – her final breath a benediction: “Rest in peace, Marcus.”
It’s nice to be able to participate again this week in Julia’s 100-word story challenge. It’s been a while since I got a chance to take part, so I’ve enjoyed this time around, and I hope the rest of you are enjoying coming up with your own stories as well. Here’s my offering:
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. Whenever 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. Fate may have decreed us bitter enemies in this horrible war between our nations, but as long as I live, my love will seek and find you in the strains of that song.
To get the scoop on how to participate, visit Julia here:
Julia’s prompt this week is one word: “Silence.” Her instructions say that she does not want us to use the word itself, but just write about it. However, as soon as I saw the prompt I was reminded of a poem I wrote last April that is so perfect for this one word. The word “silence” is used in my poem, so I am going a tiny bit astray, but I like this little poem, so I’m submitting it as my offering for this prompt anyway.
Nothing stirs the air.
No vibration oscillates.
No frequency receives or carries movement.
No sensation touches auditory nerves.
There is no deafness;
There simply is no hearing,
Because there is no sound.
There is only
I couldn’t resist jumping in this week. Thanks to Julia for all these great challenges. They help so much with the “discipline” of writing, don’t they? This week’s prompt is “… the notes from the piano ….” So here’s my take:
THE SILENT NOTES
Lucy couldn’t understand. One whole octave silent … dead. She’d been gone 20 years, but surely someone else played ….
Lifting the lid, she spotted the wad of papers — old — torn — wedged under the strings. Prying the papers loose, she studied them: Letters! Letters and notes! And all signed by … him!
One whimper escaped. Then a sob. He really had written! Father had hidden them, and when she’d gone, he’d stuffed them here. Cruel joke!
Twenty years suffering a broken heart, and all that time ….
That’s what Father had meant when he’d whispered his dying words: “The notes … from the piano ….”
To join in the fun, hop over to Julia’s place and check out the challenge. (You’ll also enjoy her terrific header photo. It just pulls you in and makes you want to stay awhile just looking at it.)