Tell Me A Story – New Writing Challenge

Okay, my dear readers, it’s time for a new challenge to your imagination and creativity! “Tell Me A Story” is my new writing challenge for all of you talented people, and it has only 3 rules:

  1. Tell me a story inspired by the picture below. You can use anywhere between 50 and 500 words.
  2. Make sure your story is appropriate for this “G” rated blog.
  3. If you use the photo with your story, be sure and link to Bob Mielke’s blog“Northwest Photographer” – because he is the terrific photographer who gave me permission to use his photo.

I’ll post a new challenge next Saturday, so try to get your story in by next Friday. And DON’T FORGET TO LEAVE the LINK TO YOUR STORY in my “Comments” section.

Have fun.

GIRAFFE W. TEXT~

A Story from the Artist Himself

TERRY'S GREEN PLANET 2 - resized, creditsThis week I sent Terry Valley, the artist who created “The Green Planet,” the link our stories based on his artwork. He was thrilled with them and, since he also writes, he was inspired by our stories to write one of his own. I’ve included his personal letter in this post because he expresses his sincere thanks to everyone who took the time to create a story from his picture. So here is his letter, followed by his own story.

“Thank you so much for alerting me to your writing challenge. I read every one of the entries and enjoyed every one of them. I was also floored by the creativity of each one. WOW! Our infinite God has created an endless variety of unique individuals that reflect his own infinite resources and aspects of personality. I was so impressed by the stories and the individuals. They all sound like people you would like to meet in person. Failing that, what a wonderful opportunity blogs present for getting to know all the variety of people.

“You know, I had forgotten that I even sent you that picture. I am so glad you alerted me to how you were using it and the writing challenge. It is very satisfying and thrilling to see such good use made of it and how the picture inspired people to be creative themselves. Here is some background about my own process in creating the picture (although it was done some time ago, during my drawing phase, so my memory is not the sharpest on details.)

“I had only vague ideas of what I wanted to create; making a planet was one of the main ones. I love drawing planets; the opportunities for wide-open creativity are many, since you are not restricted to what is known about this planet on which we live.

“But I also am fascinated by mushrooms, so it was only natural to join the two, planets and mushrooms, together. I had seen a photograph or drawing (can’t remember which) of a mushroom group like the blue ones in my picture, and they were so haunting with their semi-transparencies, 
like they were part of two worlds or in between two dimensions or worlds, that it seemed only natural to set them in such a space picture of other worlds.

“Then there was the matter of the disintegration of the planet. That wasn’t planned, as I recall; it came about because of an error in drawing the rings. I used a mechanical program to help me do that but had trouble matching the angles etc. to the planet. I noticed that the outer edge on one side was flaring away and did not match the ring angles on the other side of the planet. What to do? Well, what if the planet was disintegrating? That would explain the discrepancy. Voila! 

“The planet is disintegrating; that is why the rings mismatch on opposite sides of the planets. Why let a mistake, if it could be called that rather than a creative happenstance, ruin an otherwise good idea? Rather, turn it into an opportunity for greater creativity. In fact, that is what I did. Then I thought, OK, the place is falling apart; how can other parts of the picture emphasize that fact and make it more interesting?

“In that regard, your story is one example of how your creativity was sparked by someone else’s (in this case, mine). You see, you said that the person on the rope was descending. When I was making the picture, to me, that person was ascending, going up to join the other person on top of the mushroom. Funny how two people see exactly the opposite thing in the same picture. Hmm. Maybe like evolutionists and creationists looking at the world — or a hundred other examples.

“Anyway, it wasn’t just you. When I read all those stories, I was amazed at all the things that the authors found or at least got ideas for some aspect of their story that I had never even considered. I was just drawing a picture that grew and changed in my mind, just like they were constructing a picture-story in theirs. I am a writer as well as an artist, so I know how both work. They are similar in that regard.

“Speaking of writing, I guess maybe I should try my own hand at a story for the picture. I haven’t written fiction in a long time. I have been concentrating instead on spiritual blogs in a Christian community of bloggers. Maybe it’s time to refresh my spirit in this other avenue again.

“A final comment about the picture. Originally, I entitled it “LOOK!”.  I had none of the broader perspectives that your writing challenge authors came up. I was simpler in approach, but am so buoyed up by reading their stories and the broader and deeper and funnier approaches they took. Thank you so much and thank you to all who took the time to create their own contributions to this effort.

“As sort of promised (or warned), here is my contribution for your green planet writing challenge.     — Terry”

 

LOOK

“Look!” cried Larry, the lookout, from atop the giant, translucent, eerily blue mushroom. “Lookit-it!”

“What?” shouted Marston back to him, hanging for dear life by a slender thread beneath the same giant, translucent, eerily blue mushroom. (Marston, by the way, was his last name, not his first or middle–not that that made any difference just then, since his main concern at the moment was how to untangle the line and clip on his belt that prevented him from any further movement up or down the rope and thus preventing him from escaping the bombardment of the killer meteoroids.)

He knew he shouldn’t have bought their mushroom climbing supplies online; you just never know what you’re getting from those fly-by-night outfits.

He tried to untwist the tangled mess with his fingers, but it was no use; the thick gloves of his space suit were no match for the tight knot that had developed as he hung there suspended in space, who knew how far from the nearest civilization? “How had he ever come to such a perilous situation in the first place?” he thought.

Then, as he wondered why another tiny meteoroid was growing larger and larger, it suddenly hit him: He didn’t have the slightest idea! He knew only that ever since he had been a boy, growing up on the flat plains of North Dakota, he had wanted to be a spaceman, discovering and exploring new worlds. Now here he was, dangling from a rope from a giant, translucent, eerily blue mushroom, being threatened by a meteor shower that pummeled his body, his life hanging in the balance — and his partner in space exploration was yelling out to him to “lookit-it”.

“I’m lookiting!” he replied caustically from the midst of the acid fumes that were attacking his space suit.

Why are you still down there?” Larry asked. “Why don’t you come up here and look at this?” he shouted.

“You don’t have to shout, you know,” Marston responded. “I can hear you just fine through the radio.”

“Oh, right,” shouted Larry. “Sorry, forgot. What are you doing down there anyway?” he shouted.

“Oh, just hanging around,” muttered Marston, as the acid fumes continued to eat away at his space suit and the rope continued to fray, threatening to plunge him down to his death on the poisonous semi-giant, translucent, red mushrooms below, while there was no letup in the bombardment of the killer meteoroids. “How did I ever get into such a predicament,” he thought. Then he remembered that he had already asked himself that question. Maybe he should not be so concerned with the past and move on with his life. He was all for that –but just now there was a huge knot preventing him from moving anywhere.

Just then, the Nebulizer Emergency Replacement Device (NERD for short) kicked in and transported both of them to another dimension, where Larry found himself atop a giant, translucent, eerily blue marshmallow, calling out to his traveling companion below, “LOOK!”

~~~

 

Experimental Challenge 5/7/13 — ‘What If …?’

Well, even though I posted the “green planet” writing challenge on here Tuesday, I did not have a story of my own to go with the picture yet.  I was still thinking. Two other bloggers have jumped in with great contributions, though, and we are on our way. I finally dragged an idea out of my imagination this morning, so here’s my offering (along with a copy of the picture):

TERRY'S GREEN PLANET 2 - resized, credits

WHAT  IF  …?

What’s the latest report?” Oneida asked Tron.

The planet Verdure is still in a state of internal combustion,” he replied, his face pinched. He looked at the camera relay screen. “Watching that planet disintegrate right before my eyes and knowing I can’t stop it is tearing my guts out.”

How long do we have?”

I’ll know more when Beryl and Oma return. They’re out measuring the light levels in the power garden.”

That red gas is our main enemy?”

Yes, as our energy pods absorb it, the light energy that holds this planet together is drained off.”

He panned the camera across the power garden of mushroom-shaped growths from which the planet drew all of its life. “See, how many of the healthy purple pods have absorbed the gas until they have turned red and shrunk to half their original size?”

He panned to the pod where Beryl and Oma were still at work. Oneida spoke. “Look, Oma’s starting to descend. Maybe they’ll be back with their report soon.”

Yes, but I’m not sure I want to hear it. Sometimes, I think we should turn off all the surveillance equipment so we can’t see it all happening one step at a time. Perhaps we should all just gather in the communal hall and do our best to comfort each other until it comes.”

Until the end comes, do you mean?”

Of course! What else?”

She looked at him gravely. “I’ve been thinking ….”

Yes …?”

Well … I’ve been wondering … Did we just happen?” Tron looked at her quizzically. “I mean … well … I find it hard to believe this whole planet of Mushroom just happened – and that all of us who live here were non-existent one second and then – bang – here we were!” She looked at him hopefully.

I don’t think I’m following you. What does it have to do with Verdure’s decomposition and destruction of everything within its electro-magnetic sphere?”

Don’t you see? If we didn’t just … happen … then someone or something more intelligent, more creative, more powerful than ourselves had to have created us. And if that someone cared enough to make us, then wouldn’t it – or he – care enough to save us?”

Tron’s eyes grew large. Oneida could see that it was a concept he’d never imagined.  But now … with no other possible avenue of hope … perhaps even he thought it was worth considering.

She continued. “I guess I’m wondering if we were to look back in all the records of Mushroom – especially the copies of those old black books the leaders buried underground last century ….”

“You mean you think there might be answers to our origins in those books? But the leaders insisted that they were lies and made it illegal for any citizen of Mushroom to read them.”

But what if we could find out … and find a way to connect with our … creator —”

That’s impossible!”

Is it? Our survival is impossible as we are now. But, just think, Tron … what if ….”

~~~

100-Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week # 81 – A Woman Scorned

This week’s prompt: “… the unseasonal weather meant …” Here’s my response:

A Woman Scorned

The unseasonal weather meant she’d have to dig through the packed-away winter clothes for a coat and gloves. April … and 32º!

She hated winter!  Hated weddings!  She’d tried to find an excuse not to go, but no chance. And now this!

Suddenly, she stopped still … grinning. Exhilarating thought!  It was an outdoor wedding!  And no time to change it!  She’d stand there warm and cozy and watch that vixen who’d stolen her boyfriend shiver and turn an ugly blue in her strapless white gown.

White!

Of all the nerve!

She knelt: “Dear God, she wants a white wedding. Please send her a foot of snow!”

WEDDING CEREMONY - BLUE - SNOW ~

Join in the fun at “Julia’s Place” : http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2013/03/18/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week81/

Friday Fictioneers – Week # 77 — A Royal Love Story

This week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt is a photo by David Stewart of a statue in his home city in Korea.  My response turned out to be a love story — maybe because my focus this week is on Valentine’s Day.  Here’s David’s photo, followed by my take on the challenge.

The Wrong Tourist

A Royal Love Story

Once upon a time, a starving sculptor fell hopelessly in love with Princess Kameko.

He will have to create a great statue for the courtyard of my palace, and prove himself worthy of you,” the king said to Kameko. “It must exhibit his love for you in such unusual manner that people from many lands will travel to see it.”

The artist thought – agonized – for days, finally presenting himself to the king with tools in hand.

Three days later, the royal city gathered in the courtyard and gasped with pleasure at the unveiling of the oblique statue: Falling In Love.

Artist and princess lived happily ever after.

~ ~ ~

To take part in the fun visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ site.  She is the dynamic host of the challenge:
http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/02/13/15-february-2013/

Friday Fictioneers — February 1 — As It Was In The Beginning

Well, I am waaaaaaay out in left field on this week’s challenge.  It was fun getting here, but I don’t have enough words to get back.  This piece is definitely “stream of consciousness” writing.

Here’s the photo prompt that Rochelle gave us — courtesy of Claire Fuller, who created the sculpture and took the photo.

/copyright-Claire Fuller

AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING

Well, now, let’s have a look at this piece that has you so distressed, Maryann,” said Professor Rousseau, lifting the scarf that covered his student’s newest sculpture. His gasp of pleasure was audible. Then for several minutes, he stood silent. Finally he spoke, never taking his eyes from the work.

Tell me again what you told me on the phone.”

I … I sculpted the man’s head yesterday. I could feel it wasn’t finished, but I couldn’t seem to do anything else with it. So I went to bed. This morning, when I went into the studio to take another look at it … the woman’s head was there as well … and his hand on her head protectively … as you can see.”

The Professor smiled. “Aaahh, yes. I can see that the words of the Original Artist still hold true: “It is not good for man to be alone.”

~~~

To join in the fun visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ site here:
http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/

Friday Fictioneers — January 25 — A Place That Knew Him

Well, Friday Fictioneers is rapidly becoming a habit.  There are such wonderful writers out there who take part in this challenge. It’s an honor to be able to work with them on the same material each week, and it’s a privilege to see how wide and far-reaching the creativity can be when so many talented people look at the same photograph and set their imaginations free.

Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields is the hostess of this challenge, and if you’d like to join in the fun, you can find out all about it at her site:  http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/25-january-2013/

Now on to the challenge for this week:  The photo is the work of Renee Homan Heath and is copyrighted to her.  You will find my story below the photo.

Copyright-Renee Homan Heath

A PLACE THAT KNEW HIM

This weathered boardwalk felt familiar to him. So familiar that his feet tread the boards firmly and deliberately, as if they knew exactly where he was going and what he’d find at the end.

Yes … he definitely felt he was headed for a place he knew – a place that knew him.

He stopped beneath the palm, scanning the white beach, enjoying the way the turquoise waves teasingly caressed it. Yes … familiar ….

Just a dozen more steps now … and he would remember. He knew it. All the memories he’d been futilely chasing since the accident would coalesce at this shoreline.

He would remember!

~ ~ ~

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups — Week #74 — Freezing

Julia’s new challenge this week can be found at this link:100 WORD CHALLENGE LOGO
http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2013/01/21/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week74/

The prompt is the phrase:    “… the extreme weather meant …”

Here’s my contribution:

FREEZING

Dr. Corbet, from the U.S. Natural Disaster Center, is at the news conference to bring us up to date on what the extreme weather meant this past week. Dr. Corbet, what’s the latest report?”

Unfortunately, the reverse-magnetic dome forming around the earth is growing thicker and cutting off more sunlight every day. We’re getting hourly reports now from our scientists in all sectors. As of one hour ago, thermometers in New York registered 40 below zero, Fahrenheit, and thermometers at the equator registered zero.”

So you’re saying ….”

I’m saying the human race has about 3 weeks to live.”

~~~

Friday Fictioneers 100-Word Challenge – ‘Love’s Song’

I wanted to join in with the other Friday Fictioneer participants this week, but I have to admit that my contribution is ‘illegal’ — being closer to 180 words. However, since this is the little story that kept nagging at me from the very first moment I saw the picture below, I have written it anyway and edited it down as far as possible in the time I had available.

The challenge is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to take part, hop over to see her at this link:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/

The prompt is the following picture, which comes to us courtesy of Roger Cohen at http://betarules.blogspot.com.au/

TWO BASS VIOLINS - CELLOS

LOVE’S SONG

They’d met at a rehearsal in this very theater. He, with his polished coat of dark walnut, was instantly captivated by her honey-maple coloring – but even more so by the sweet voice she gave to every note assigned her in the performances. Bravely, he’d professed his love, and she’d responded. They had made exquisite music together for 74 years.

Now, with their respective masters in their graves, the two aging instruments rested against the wall of an old closet behind the stage. His coat was battered and marred significantly. But her luster still had the power to draw music from him every time he looked at her. They sighed quietly. They still had each other – and the music that lived within them. He kissed her gently. She kissed him back. They embraced.

Outside, people slowed their stride as they passed the old theater. “There it is again,” said one. Others nodded in agreement.

“Strange,” said a young woman. “Every night, I’m just sure I hear music coming from inside, but there is never anyone there ….”