Write on Wendy

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Spring Walkers – #WOW555

ACH!!! Forgot to post this in the morning so I could enter this week’s #WOW555 contest over at Wendy’s place. The theme is spring. Everything grows in the spring, right? Here’s a bit of a different look at Spring growth….

The old man scratched his grizzled beard and then threw back the hood on his parka. He wouldn’t need that parka much longer. The snow was melting, and then…. He looked at the boat arriving at the dock. It came every week with supplies, just like clockwork. He laughed a bit as he watched the boat come to the dock. In years past, Wyvernfield, was a tourist paradise in the spring. Now, the visitors waited until the cleanup; rather the “all clear” he sounded after the cleanup.

He walked towards the dock being careful to stay on the path. The flowers of Wyvernfield were well known and he didn’t want to harm one of them. They used to laugh when they said that Wyvernfield was so fertile it could grow anything. Now they said it with an ominous air to their voices. As he got close to the dock, his ears perked up. He heard laughter. Old Jake had forgotten how to laugh ever since… well ever since that day. He didn’t like laughter and yet there it was on his boat.

Gerald finally spied the source of the laughter. Two young men and a woman talking and laughing on the deck. He shook his head. “What in tarnation is Jake thinking,” he said out loud mostly to himself. His boots thumped on the dock as he grabbed the rope Jake threw.

“Afternoon, Gerald,” the skipper said. Jake hadn’t smiled since that day either. “Got some visitors for ye.”

Gerald tied the boat to the dock and Jake put out the gang plank. “So I see,” Gerald said. “What brings you folks to Wyvernfield?” he asked.

“Huntin’” the blond headed boy said, suppressing a giggle. “We heard you got an interestin’ huntin’ season startin’ soon.”

Gerald closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t really want to say something he’d regret later. “Jake,” he finally said, “tourist season doesn’t start for another couple of weeks. What’s up?”

Jake shrugged and pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. He looked at the visitors who were crossing the gangplank onto the dock and tapped his forehead. Then he shrugged again.

The girl came up to Gerald and held out her hand, “I’m Arliene Fennelly. Pleased to meet you. I hope you’ll lead us in the hunt. You’ve got quite a reputation.”

Gerald sniffed as he looked at the outstretched hand. He finally shook it. “Missy,” he said looking her in the eyes, “I don’t know what you heard, but I ain’t giving you any promises; not even that you’ll get out of this alive.”

“We understand,” Arliene said. “Henry and Egbert really wanted to come and try the challenge. They said it was the most dangerous game.”

“Tourists,” Gerald spat. “It’s all fun and games to shoot the walkers – until you run out of ammo or they come at you in a group from behind. You’d better pay me in advance – and know that next year, you may be one of the targets.” Gerald shook his head at the whole situation. Wyvernfield could grow anything in the spring; even zombies.

Voting begins soon!

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Hunting the Great Whites #WOW555

And here’s the rationale and the prompt for this week. “…recent events in the real world have made this month not quite a great one for me and I could use a little of your company if you can spare the time. Who knows? It might even help you stick to a writing resolution you might think of starting in a week or so!

This week, tell me something uplifting. A moment of kindness between strangers, a child experiencing the joy of giving, a happy surprise for someone deserving. It might seem a little sappy, but if it does, fix it to suit you. As always, interpretation is in the eye of the beholder. I always love to see the creative ways you drift. Hope you have a wonderful holiday celebration filled with light and love and togetherness! And hope to see you Friday with some lovely stories for everyone to read!”

What could be more uplifting than a father and son spending time together. This week’s story goes into a flashback as dad and son wake up early to “hunt the great whites.” Enjoy. Oh and you should still have time to create your own entry! Head on over to Wendy’s place and find out what you need to do to enter.

“’Vegetarian’ is just an old Indian word for ‘lousy hunter.’” My co-worker had been giving me a rough time for the last five minutes. That’s why I didn’t mention my eating choice very often. People just didn’t understand.

“I’m actually a very good hunter,” I said. I smiled as I thought about it. “I just don’t eat what I shoot.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s just disgusting. I can’t imagine killing an animal and just wasting it.”

I smiled. “I don’t waste any animals. And, you might like to know that I’m taking my daughter shooting this weekend.”

He looked at me suspiciously. “Well, I’ve heard about hunters donating the meat from their kills, so maybe you’re telling the truth.” He shook his head as he walked away. “I still don’t understand vegetarians.”

I smiled as he walked away. My mind drifted back many years.

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“Jesse, wake up.” My dad was whispering as he shook me gently.

“Mmmnn uhmmmm,” I moaned. I didn’t want to wake up.

“They’re here. We have to go now. We don’t have long to hunt.”

I let him drag me out of bed and threw some old clothes on. He handed me a Pop-Tart as we headed towards the car. I ate it slowly as dad drove us to our blind. As I began to wake up during the drive, I began to get excited. My dad had told me about these birds forever, and now I was going to get my chance to shoot them. Slowly I began to start talking to my dad as discussed what we might see and how we might shoot these birds.

We got to the parking place and grabbed our gear from the car. Our breath fogged the way in front of us as our feet crunched on the frosty grass as we walked to the blind. Talking not only wasn’t needed here, it would have broken the magic of the moment. We could see the birds dancing in the distance, but they were too far away to shoot right now. My dad has prepared for this night all year. The entrance to the blind had been set back far enough away that we could enter and get to the main area without disturbing the whooping cranes.

We got to the main blind area. I looked through the window before getting my gear out. “Whoopers!” I whispered to my dad. I was entranced with the beauty of their dance. I had heard about them ever since I was old enough to understand, and now my dad was taking me to shoot them.

I put the bag on the bench and almost reverently took the gear out. My dad had bought me a new Canon just for this shoot. He let me borrow his telephoto lens for this occasion. I slowly fit it to the camera and raised it to shoot. I clicked with abandon, making sure that I would get some good shots. No picture could capture the beauty of these animals and their dance. After a while I stopped taking pictures and looked up at my dad. “Thanks, dad,” I said. I wiped a tear away from my eye. We stood there watching for a few more minutes before it was time to head back home.

 

 

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Defending My Brother

This is my latest entry in the #WOW555 challenge. The concept was something to do with fighting. I thought about Black Friday as a background, but decided instead to focus on a concern. In so doing, I use a word that I find highly offensive. It comes out of the mouth of the antagonist. I guess there are times when you have use words that you are uncomfortable with to make a point as a writer. That doesn’t make writing them easier. That being said, here’s the story.

“Hey you!”

I turned and looked. This was the guy they warned me about. If I could keep my cool around him, I’d be ok.

“Yeah, you. I hear your brother’s a retard.” He laughed. “I think you’re retarded too.”

Before my therapy, before the change in schools, my reaction would have won me a free trip to the office. The therapy had helped. I didn’t get angry right away. “Well,” I said, “my brother is always happy and tries to make other people happy; he works hard at his job; and he’s dependable.” I paused for effect. “I guess being called retarded by you is a compliment.”

Just as I thought, he didn’t get it at first. Then, when those who had gathered to see the confrontation started laughing out loud, he got belligerent. He got into my face. He coulda used some gum. “What are you trying to say, re-taaarrrrd?” He drew the last syllable out to sound mean, I guess.

We were nose to nose, and it wasn’t my fault this time. “I’m saying that if my choices are to be like you or be retarded like Blaise, I’d prefer to be retarded.” His eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched in response. “But you are trash and you aren’t worth my time,” I said spitting out every word.

My Tae-Kwon-do training and therapy had taught me how to defuse situations; I wasn’t trying to now. I saw the punch coming and moved so it would glance off my head. “That was your last free hit,” I said. “You try it again and you’d better hope your friends know the number for 9-1-1.”

“Do you think you can last ten seconds against me, retard?” He snorted. “You’ll be down and we ain’t calling 9-1-1 for you.” He swung again.

This time I decided to duck the punch. As I ducked, I did a sweeper kick, taking out his legs. The look on his face as he slammed to the ground was quite enjoyable. I stood up and walked over to him while he was writhing on the ground. I turned him on his back and took out his wind with a punch to the solar plexus. He was gone. There was no more fight left in him; he gasped for breath. His friends stopped videoing since their champion wasn’t victorious. I looked at them and laughed. “About eight seconds. Your idiot friend was right. I didn’t last ten seconds against him.”

That’s when the school’s rent-a-cop came. I shrugged. I was used to this. It gave me a chance to get used to the office. I had hoped not to spend too much time there, but….

The Assistant Principal told me to sit down. “Jimmy, eh? I heard what happened. Isn’t Blaise your brother?”

That was strange. I nodded. “Blaise and my son Cam swim together,” he said. “Now, is it really your story that Brock slipped on the grass when he took a punch at you?” he asked with a knowing smile.

Head on over to Write on Wendy’s site to read all the stories and vote on your favorite!

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Hitting Brick Walls #WOW555

This week’s #WOW555 prompt fit in perfectly with what I was writing and what I was feeling: write us a scene that expresses how you are feeling about your writing progress. My characters were getting frustrated with their lack of headway. My female main character had just thought she had a lead, only to discover that what she thought might be a child kidnapping was a legitimate situation. This is her frustration…and mine at the time as I was making no progress myself. I am now within range of hitting y 50K goal. This was the feeling at the time, though!

 

Re’Lears got to her door. It was still wide open from when she had rushed out after the amou and his niece. She berated herself silently for leaving it like that. Anything could have happened. She pulled out her <weapon> and entered cautiously, closing and locking the door silently behind her. She looked around, but nothing seemed disturbed. No one had come in during her flight of frustration.

She flopped down on the couch, closed her eyes and shook her head. “Another dead end!” she exclaimed. “What else can I do?” Just then, the pain in her feet returned and she looked down at them with disgust. Running on the street barefoot would have been bad enough, but doing it during the time of dusting had really taken a toll on her feet. All the sand on the ground had cut into her feet and it was hard to tell where the orange sand stopped and the orange blood began. Not only was she at a dead end, she was in pain over it too.

She got up slowly and walked to the restroom. She’d have to use a lot of her precious water ration to take care of her feet now. She sat down on the toilet and put her feet in the sonic shower. “Maybe that will get rid of some of the dust,” she thought to herself. She turned it on and the sound waves washed over her feet and the leg sticking in the shower. Some of the dust and blood fell to the floor of the shower where the hydrostatic dust remover destroyed it.

She sat in frustrated silence and tended to her feet. She wouldn’t have to use as much of her precious water ration as she had feared, but she still poured some water over her feet and caught it in a bowl for the second pass. She wiped the water off, cleaning the blood with it, and recycled the water from the bowl with a second pass over her feet. She rubbed some antiseptic balm into her feet and they began to feel a little better.

She got up and walked gingerly to the couch. As she did, the morning light began breaking through her window. She shook her head. She had wasted the night worrying about the case; had gone off on a wild goose chase that yielded no results and now she needed to begin the new work day. “What a waste this night was,” she thought regretfully. She headed back to the sonic shower to get cleaned up to start the new day. At least today she could visit Seppe at home. Then she would talk with Shalisse. Somehow, they had to get a break on the case.

Check out the other stories at the link above. Get ready to vote!

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NaNo Prep – and a Challenge!

I just discovered that I won the #WOW555 Challenge about getting inside the head of my villain. (see previous post) Thanks to those who voted for me and for the tiebreaker system. This week’s prompt is going to be a challenge for me. I’m not that strong on descriptive writing. I have an idea, though!

In your NaNo project, or in a completely unrelated scene, what is a symbolic color or image you are using? Our prompt today is for you to provide us with a scene that uses a color or image symbolically.

Don’t forget, the call for entries will come out on Friday. You’ll have from 5-5 CST to submit your response.

Click the trophy to get to the site. Happy Writing all!

 

#WOW555 Trophy

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The Finalists Have Been Announced!

Yours truly is once again a finalist for #5MinuteFiction over at Write On Wendy. You can see my story in the post before this one. What you will really enjoy doing is reading all of the entries and choosing the one you like the best. Naturally, I like mine. You may like mine best or you may prefer another story. Either way, you’ll get a chance to read 5 good flash fiction stories and help choose a winner. So, head on over, enjoy yourself and vote!

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Dead Presidents and Things Like That….

Greetings! Some of you may have made your way here via a link or a tweet from Wendy Strain. Welcome! Wendy not only is a friend, she runs the #5MinuteFiction contest, and she is an editor, ghost writer and an author in her own right. (Or should I have said “write?”) She is working on a book now and is raising the funds using #crowdfunding to support her research.

I LOVE that idea. As writers, we should support each other. Her goal isn’t large and every little bit you can give to support her will be helpful. In short, send her some pictures of dead presidents! She’s got a lot of different incentives as she goes along…but the biggest incentive should be helping another writer in her quest.

 

PS – Edited because after the catchy title about dead presidents (aka money) I left it out of the original post!

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5 Minute Fiction – A Family Affair

The writings of three members of the James family made the finals tonight. The other two stories are also excellent! David is a friend who does a good job writing and Gwendolyn has had some amazing stories. So, go by and read, and vote for the story you like the best!

The prompt was describe a dramatic change either positive or negative. Here’s my story:

He trembled as he put the phone down. “They did it,” he said. He looked at his wife who had been waiting this answer. Either answer would have been fine, but now she knew the direction they would be going.

“YES!” she yelled.

“Yes,” he said with a broad smile. “I start training in two weeks.”

“Honey, I’m so excited for you,” she said. “You’ve worked your whole whole life for this chance.”

“I just hope you can deal with my absence during training.”

“You’ll be happy. What more could I want?” She looked outside as the sun was setting. The brilliant orange and pink hues joined the dark blues and grays of the clouds. She smiled at him. “C’mon outside for a sec.” She gestured to have him follow her.

He followed as they walked out the door. She gazed into the eastern sky. She caught a glimpse of the moon rising over the trees by the lake. She pointed at the moon. “You’ve always wanted to go there. You’ve trained and prepared for this. Now, you’ll have your chance to fly there.”

He smiled. “I can’t stop grinning. I couldn’t have done it without you.” He looked up at the moon. “To know that I’ll be one of the few men that have walked on the surface of the moon.”

She smiled back at him. “Just don’t bring back any dust. That stuff is hard to get out of the carpet.” They laughed together as they looked toward the sky.

Now get out to Write on Wendy and vote!