Check out her site and get the simple rules for participating in the challenge.
My story is below:
THE SECRET GIFT
My saddest Christmas ever. Jobless now; no money for food or rent; no family to help. I’d cried myself bleary-eyed for days. Government assistance was unthinkable. As I put Grandmother’s decorations away, I thought of how much I missed her – courageous woman, widowed, raising six children on her meager seamstress income. I missed her sorely and wished I weren’t such a failure in comparison.
The tiny envelope bearing my name was taped inside the bottom of an ornament box. I’d never noticed it before. It held a diamond necklace and a note from Grandmother: “I prayed you’d discover this when you need it most. It’s worth $25,000. Use it wisely. Merry Christmas.”
I’ve posted a ton of articles/stories/poems/photos on here the past 3 years. And as I’ve progressed into 2015, I realize that there are a few of those “old” posts that keep pushing their way back into my thoughts even though I’ve moved on. They were the ones I enjoyed writing and sharing so much that they keep drawing me back to read them myself — even though I already know what they say. But every writer has that experience from time to time, and I have to admit that I enjoy looking back.
As a result, I got to thinking that there may be some of my readers — especially those who have come on board the past few months — who may not have had an opportunity to read some of those oldies from previous years, and they might enjoy them as well. So I’ve put together a list of 13 (certainly not all) of my own favorites from the past, and I’ve included the links — with a tiny blurb of explanation. That way, if any of them sound interesting to you, they’ll be easy to find, and you can travel back in time with me. ENJOY!
LOVE WILL FIND A WAY — a modern-day short story that borrows some of its plot from the legend of Kaw-Liga, the wooden Indian who fell in love but never made his move. Don’t know why I like this story so much, but it’s been one of my favorites ever since I originally wrote it in May of last year.
BIRD ON MY TREE AT SUNSET — a photograph that is a special treasure to me — mainly because I can almost never get a good picture of birds. They move too much. But this particular evening, I captured this bird with the light just right, and it will always be one of my favorites.
2014: THE YEAR OF THE AUTHOR – PART 2 – the second installment in a 4-part series about writing. I enjoyed writing this whole series, and I use this material all the time in my creative writing classes, but this particular post was about publishing in today’s writing market, and it has some very helpful information and advice, especially for new writers. It’s my favorite article of the series.
THE TRIAL OF MARYBELL WESTMORELAND – a short, short story that didn’t come from a plan to write. I just started writing, and, next thing I knew, Marybell was on trial — and with a surprise testimony to offer.
TELL ME A STORY WRITING CHALLENGE: ‘THROUGH GEOFFREY’S WINDOW‘ – a short story based on a totally unique picture by my Portland Oregan friend Bob Mielke. The reason this is one of my favorite posts is that the story was literally born out of the picture — which is an original graphic creation of Bob’s, using his own photos. I couldn’t seem to stay away from that photo. It kept calling me to write it’s story, and I loved doing it.
WHERE DID I MISS YOU? –– a searching look at how simple choices can affect our entire life and how “finding” a person at the “wrong” time can be frustrating yet rewarding at the same time.
SNOWCHILD– a poem about my terribly ambivalent feelings concerning snow.
LOVE ON THE LINE – a light-hearted poem based on the true story of a WWII sailor and his very, VERY difficult task of proposing to his girlfriend while home on leave.
AZALEAS ABOUNDING – a slideshow of my glorious azaleas from the spring of 2012. The original slideshow was created using a different theme for this blog, and unfortunately, now that I’ve changed to this current theme, the pictures don’t show up as large. I’m just too busy with other things to take time to re-make the whole gallery to fit this theme correctly. However, I still enjoy going back to look at them again and again.
SEPTEMBER IN THE RAIN (‘I AM A RAINDROP’) — a post containing my original poem, “I Am A Raindrop,” and a video. This was one of the most fun poems I’ve ever written, and I often re-read it just to re-live the fun.
A QUIVER FULL OF ARROWS – an entire novel — one of three of my novels that I have offered for free reading online. I am a fan of every novel I’ve ever written, of course, but I have to say that A Quiver Full of Arrows is one of my favorite favorites. I originally posted the story one chapter a day until it was complete, and readers commented on it one chapter at a time. However, this link takes the reader to the page that hosts the novel in its entirety.
I just want to say at the outset that my writing this particular story is Doug Macilroy’s fault. If you readhis contributionto this week’s Friday Fictioneers, you will find a charming, romantic piece that melts your heart. How he got romance out of this picture I could not begin to fathom, but by the time I had tried to figure it out, I was caught in the web of romance and could not get lose. However, not being possessed of the imaginative insight that Doug has, I could not seem to get free of the subject of cars, so my love story is of a slightly different caliber than his. Nevertheless, love — as they say — is where you find it — and an old, abandoned car lot is as good a place as any.
Our picture this week is courtesy of Jean L. Hayes. (Sorry, no link available). My story is below the photo.
Revvin’ Up The Love
“Hey, Babe, wanna take a spin?”
“You talkin’ to me?” Ethel Edsel looked across the abandoned-car lot at the ugly yellow Edsel with the bulldozer attached to its nose. What was that contraption anyway?
“Yeah. You wanna go for a run?”
“You wouldn’t want to run with someone nicknamed Rusty Ethel.”
“Hey, they call me Bull, but it’s what’s inside that counts. Take me: sort of ugly outside, but inside I got a heart a’ gold. And I bet your little engine still purrs like a kitten.”
Ethel giggled.
Bull grinned. “Come on. Rev ‘er up and let’s make it a date.”
I’m going to try to jump back into Friday Fictioneers today with a poem. If you’d like to join in and write your own 100-word story/poem based on the picture below, hop over and check out the details. Today’s picture is courtesy of Janet Webb.
NARCISSUS
It’s true you quicken heartbeats when you enter rooms.
And every girl around competes for you.
The wilting sighs escape when you are passing by,
And “gorgeous” comes to mind describing you.
Your smile – it’s dazzle ‘lectrifies fair maiden hearts,
Your voice – it has a timbre all its own.
And when you stay away, we girls all miss you so;
That you return to find our love has grown.
But all our smiles and sighs have no effect on you.
And year by year you manage to stay free.
Well, I, for one, know why you never choose a love:
You’re lost in love with what your mirror sees.
Friday Fictioneers prompt this week is this photo by Roger Bultot. (Sorry, there was no link for him.). My story is below the picture.
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 to 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.”
~~~
Join the fun over at Rochelle’s Place. Write your own 100-word story based on the picture prompt.
It’s been a heavy-thinking day. This piece is just a little whimsy I engaged in to clear my head — although I have experienced something similar, as have others. Maybe you have too. Let me know.
Will I Know Him When I See Him?
“Some enchanted evening, you may see a stranger; you may see a stranger, across a crowded room … and … you’ll know even then that somewhere you’ll see him again and again.” It does happen: you notice a person across a room. You’ve never actually met him. You may not know anything about him, or you may know who he is only in an objective sense. There’s absolutely no logical reason to believe that he will become an important part of your life, or that one day there will be a strong relationship between the two of you. But regardless of the lack of logic, you do know, somehow, that your destiny is tied up with his.
He leaves. You leave. Months go by, and you don’t set eyes on him; you don’t hear his name mentioned; you don’t even think about him except in the most fleeting way. Then suddenly, one day you hear someone talking about him, and everything in you comes to attention. You think, I want to know what they’re saying, because he’s special to me. He’s going to have a special place in my life. So you listen carefully. It isn’t anything particularly important … just words that included his name … but you made a mental note because you know he’s important in your life.
More months go by, and suddenly you see him walk into a store. You feel like you need to go up to him and say something, because, after all, he’s an important person in your life … but you don’t know him. He doesn’t know you. If you say anything, he will look at you as if you’re crazy. So you let it pass, but you feel as if you’ve missed something good. You go home a little sadder because you didn’t connect … even though you know you are connected.
A few weeks go by. There he is again, walking down the same grocery store aisle as you. This time, the need to say something is more than you can rein in. You still haven’t met. He’ll still think you’re crazy. But you speak. Something inane, but certainly non-threatening. And sure enough, he looks at you, and you can see the question in his eyes: “Who are you?”
And your immediate reaction is to answer, I’m the person who’sgoing to have a really important place in your life! Your destiny is tied inwith mine! But, of course, you can’t say that. So you walk on down the aisle as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened.
Weeks pass. Now you’ve had an opportunity to talk to him briefly in the natural order of doing your job. It’s been fleeting, but at least there’s a connection. You don’t know why you want that connection. Most of the things about him are definitely unlike anything you have thought you might want in life. In fact, you aren’t looking for a new relationship at all right now. But it was important that you connected.
A couple more weeks pass. You hear from him. Again it’s related to your professions, but a door has opened a very tiny little crack. So you walk through it. Maybe he’ll still think you’re crazy, but you might as well take a chance. Chances like this don’t come often.
More weeks pass. You come to the conclusion that he has closed the door again and intends to keep you out. Oh, well. It’s probably better that way. You don’t really find him attractive, and you know you wouldn’t want a serious relationship with him. It’s just that there’s something … something … there is something special that’s supposed to happen between the two of you.
More weeks pass, and now you have managed to talk some sense into yourself and decided to let go of this screwy idea that there is something special between you and this stranger. You move on. You focus your attention on your work, your friendships – real friendships – and the possibility of other new relationships —- if you can ever get to the point where you are sure you really want a new relationship.
Months pass. You hear his name, and, even though you’ve convinced yourself that all of it was a figment of your imagination, your mind centers in on the words being spoken about him, and your heart tells you – once again – that your destiny is connected with his . . .
My great-niece, Lucy, is 3 years old. She has two older brothers, but she has been wishing, this whole past year, for a little sister. When I was with the family recently, her mother told me how serious she is and how fervent is her wishing.
After I returned home, I was still thinking about little Lucy and her wish — and about how happy my sister and I were to have each other. We got along admirably together from the time we were mere toddlers, and have shared each others joys and sorrows all of our adult lives. I am so blessed to have her and cannot imagine my life without a sister.
So as my heart went out to Lucy, I began to write this poem. I gave her a copy, of course, but I thought I’d share it here as — well — just as a way of celebrating sisterhood.
Photo by Brenda Calvert
LUCY’S WISH
I wish I had a sister who could play with me.
But all I have are brothers; there are two.
A sister, though, would understand me perfectly,
And want to do the things I like to do.
We’d surely play with dollies and have them to tea,
And make believe we’re mommies, she and I.
We’d clean our house and cook our food so pleasantly,
And after working sit down with a sigh.
We’d both pretend that we were princesses so fair,
And dress up in high heels and crowns we’d wear,
And dream that someday we’d each meet a darling prince,
And, with them, happiness forever share.
I love my two big brothers; I’m so proud of them,
And to them with my love I’ll always cling.
But, oh, to have a sister of my very own —
Why, that would be an almost perfect thing!
Julia gave us a picture prompt this week for our 100-Word story. If you’d like to challenge yourself and take part, hop over to Julia’s Place and get the details
THE DANGLING DECISION
I’ve lived on this bayou all my life. Habitually sitting on this pier, dangling my feet in the water, thinking, dreaming, planning new adventures in sophisticated environments.
But when I was 16, sitting here, dangling my feet, Daniel kissed me, and I knew all my dreams were wrapped up in him, and we’d share those adventures.
Well, today, Daniel bought this property that includes this crumbling, unsafe pier, and his fondest dream is to rebuild it and live HERE the rest of his life! He proposed.
I must decide, but … darn! … I have no place to dangle my feet and think …….
I’m a couple hours past the deadline – on my own challenge – can you believe it? But, be that as it may, I have finally finished my story, so I’m ignoring the deadline. If anyone else out there still wants to write for this challenge, please feel free to do so any time this week as well – and be sure and post your link on the original challenge page.
LOVE WILL FIND A WAY
“Gabriel Bay Lighthouse: Antiques and Unique Gifts – Martee Somersby, Owner.” Those words were music to the ears of Gabriel Bay’s newest entrepreneur. And this business, in the renovated lighthouse, was a life-long dream come true.
The grand opening had been a huge hit, and business had been brisk ever since. She even sold fresh fruit and vegetables from local farmers, and that drew even more customers. In fact everything had gone exactly as Martee had dreamed until about three months ago, when she’d walked into the store and found the huge wooden Indian maiden gone.
The sheriff and his deputies had searched the whole store and every inch of the property. Nothing else was missing, and there had been no sign of forced entry – but not another living soul had a key.
“Why?” she asked the sheriff. “Why would anyone want to take just the wooden Indian? It wasn’t even worth much money, but I bought it because it was such a lovely piece and meant something to me.”
“Well, beats me. But I guarantee you we won’t stop until we have the thief, Miss Somersby.” He stopped and cleared his throat. “I understand you keep a gun on the premises.”
“Yes, I do.
“Well, m’am, I don’t think I have to tell you to be careful with it, but if you have any more trouble, I’d sure like to think you’d call on us instead of trying to handle things yourself with a gun – if at all possible.”
“You can count on it, Sheriff,” she’d told him. “I have no desire to become some kind of heroine.”
Weeks passed, and she’d pretty well given up the hope of recovering her property. Her real sorrow wasn’t so much the money involved, but the fact that she felt particularly attached to that one item. She’d loved wooden Indians since she was a child and had seen her first one outside a modern trading post in Arizona. She’d been amazed by it, and her Grandfather had told her the history of the life-size carving.
A couple years later, while listening to the radio, she’d heard the song “Kaw-liga” — the story of a wooden Indian in front of a store who fell in love with a wooden Indian maiden in front of a neighboring. But he never declared his love — even when she was sold. Martee’s childish heart had imagined an entire story about Kaw-liga and his Indian princess, and from that day on, every place she traveled, she made it a point to look for and visit every wooden Indian statue she could find. When she’d discovered this particular carving of an Indian princess, she’d bought it without hesitation.
More weeks passed, and still the crime was not solved. Martee missed her Indian princess so much that she got out her copy of “Kaw-liga” and played it over and over. In fact, she often played music in the store and included that song in the mix. People from the area sympathized with her and stopped by periodically to mull over the possibilities of what could have happened.
Today old Benny Briggs sat with her. Benny was something of a legend in his own right, known throughout the county as a “mighty-fine storyteller.” He often told of the old Indian tribes who had inhabited the region and shared many of their legends – updated a little in Benny’s own style. He sat, drinking coffee with Martee on this particular day and listening to her tell the story she’d made up in her own mind as a child about Ol’ Kaw-liga.
Finally, he said, “Well, Miss, did you ever think that maybe this here Indian maiden you had was the one Ol’ Kaw-liga was sweet on?”
“What do you mean, Benny?”
“Well,” he said, rising from his chair and putting on his hat, “I been thinkin’ about it a lot. Woudn’t surprise me none to learn that Ol’ Kaw-liga finally got tired of livin’ a life without love and came lookin’ for his maiden. Once he had his courage up, when he found her, he’d have just whisked her away.”
“You know what, Benny: no matter how many times I imagined that story, I never could end it until Kaw-liga had married his Indian maiden.”
“Well, Miss,” Benny said, opening the door and then turning back to give her a wink, “I’d say maybe you managed to believe your story enough that it came true.”
~~~
Below, you will find a video of the song “Kaw-liga.” Hope you enjoy it.
The prompt for this week’s Friday Fictioneers 100-Word Story is the photo below: Copyright: Erin Leary. Hop over to Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields’ site and learn how to get involved and share your own story. My story’s below the picture.
THE FORK IN THE ROAD
Kelsey drove along the fence, ignoring it, his thoughts battling. He’d be at the fork in the road soon. The south branch would take him to Barclay; he could hop a bus to the other side of the country.
The north branch would take him home, with his invalid wife to take care of. The neighbor tended her when Kelsey worked. And work was his only freedom.
It was hard to love a woman who couldn’t be a real wife anymore.
But he’d promised: “… for better or for worse …” And she’d trusted him.
Day # 2 of NaPoWriMo gave us a prompt that called for a poem based on a myth. But I just couldn’t seem to get my muse in gear for anything mythical, so I hunted up a part of a poem that I started writing almost a year ago. For some reason, I just never could seem to finish it, but I decided that today was going to be the day. I guess my muse was okay with a poem about love, so here it is – just below the picture.
THE LOCKET
I found a locket nestled 'neath a tree.
It sparkled, and it twinkle, and it surely winked at me.
It looked forlorn, forgotten, skimmed with dew,
And I felt an intruder as I wondered what to do.
At last I reached and plucked it from the grass.
The chain was fragile – I could tell – and had a broken clasp.
A lovey heart, engraved on back and front,
Showed me it was a gift of love that someone still would want.
I opened it with tender, loving care,
And found, all safe and snug inside, a single lock of hair.
The curly tress was of the darkest brown,
And I felt so entranced by this small mystery I'd found.
But I was in a quandary what to do:
How to locate the rightful owner I had not a clue.
Then finally I thought, “I'll advertise,
and if the owner sees my ad, there'll be a nice surprise.”
I tucked it in my pocket, nice and warm,
And, eager to relay my news, I headed quickly home.
I couldn't help but sing a little song,
So happy I could have a part in helping love along.
Velvet Verbosity this week presented us with the word “Smack” as our prompt for a 100-word story. Below the picture is my story. I didn’t have any choice but to write it. The concept SMACKED me in the head and wouldn’t go away.
THE SHORT ENGAGEMENT
“Daphne, for weeks I’ve fought against the whole idea of loving you. I’ve argued all the reasons I should never even consider marrying you. You’re too unsophisticated and uneducated to fit into my social set. And your looks – well – you know what you see in the mirror. I need a beautiful woman beside me – who matches my looks. So you can see how I’ve struggled.
“Yet … I’ve lost the battle, Daphne. I am in love with you and cannot escape it. I’ve decided to marry you and suffer the consequences. Here’s the ring.”
SMACK! The black eye lasted a week.
~~~
(My apologies to Jane Austen for borrowing and abusing her unique “love” scene idea from Pride and Prejudice. I just couldn’t pass up the perfect fit of that concept with this prompt.)
I haven’t taken part in the Velvet Verbosity writing challenge previously, but I read Dawn Miller’s entries all the time, and it always sounds interesting, so this week I decided I should jump in as well. The prompt was the word “Lunch.” If you’d like to take part, you’ll find the host of the challenge and the rules at this link: http://www.velvetverbosity.com/blog/2014/2/24/100-words-367-more-on-trains-and-writing
LUNCH WITH XAVIER
Victoria had a lunch date – in a city where no one knew her. Sweating hands, butterflies – it was guilt. But why? After all, her husband Arnold had stopped making love to her, even stopped talking to her. She had to look for love and excitement elsewhere – like the Internet — and she’d used a fictitious name.
Excitement replaced fear now as she remembered that Xavier was the complete opposite of Arnold. Every word of his e-mails made her feel like a real woman again. Her heart pounded as she followed the maitre d’ to Xavier’s table for their initial meeting. Xavier stood and faced her:
THE SECRET GIFT
The Happy Wordcrafter 