Wishful Thinking

Okay, so this is not exactly a Valentine's Day piece - but Trifecta asked for a 33 word piece about love gone wrong.  We had to avoid using the words love, sad, tears, wept, heart, or pain.  Here's my response.  Concrit, what there is to offer in a 33 word piece, is always welcome.

Blood, spraying everywhere.  The knife held in a white-knuckle grip.  His body cooling on the floor.

“You’re not going to cheat on me again.”

She shook her head, clearing her mind of daydreams.

Be sure to check out the other responses - they're short and quick!

Genesis of the End

Master Class had a great prompt.  I am not going to put it here because it is a long line from the book The Big Rock Candy Mountain by Wallace Stegner.  To be more precise, it is the last line of the book.  The scene that came to mind is in the same "story" as a 108 word piece I just wrote for Studio 30+ and Write On Edge.  Since it is so short, here is that piece in case you missed it:

“The bells of St. Brigit’s are calling tonight.”

“They must have gotten yesterday’s report.”

They both stood there listening to the sonorous tolling of the bells.  One unending string of beats, each beat a life that was lost.  He went inside to finish packing.  She paused on the balcony.  The clouds hung in tatters above her like the rotted remnants of shrouds hiding nothing but brittle bones of long dead souls.

She shook her head.  The daily ritual of ringing the bells for each Great Plague death was bringing her down.  She pondered how much longer the ringers would be there to ring.

And here is my take on the Master Class prompt.  This is another scene that came to mind based on the world suggested above, but does not necessarily integrate seamlessly with the piece above, if that makes sense.  Concrit is always welcome!  Please enjoy.

He was the only one left to fulfill that contract and try to justify the labor and the harshness and the mistakes of his parents’ lives, and that responsibility was so clearly his, was so great an obligation, that it made unimportant and unreal the sight of the motley collection of pall-bearers staggering under the weight of his father’s body, and the back door of the hearse closing quietly upon the casket and the flowers.

Their work had been brilliant, was supposed to have changed lives.  It certainly did that, just not in the way they thought.  His parents’ detractors insisted they were tampering with the natural course of things.  The supports cheered his parents on.  Either way, it spurred his parents to work harder with their viral DNA manipulations.  They were so convinced they could create the perfect virus.  It would attack just the harmful cells, consuming them, stopping the cancer from growing.

But it did more than that.  It consumed everything.  It was a plague, just like the ones from the history books.  His mother was the first victim.  His father lingered a few days longer.  He thought his mother had the better end of the deal.

While they may have been the first to succumb to the virus, they weren't the last.  And now it was up to him.  Up to him to make it right.  Up to him to stop the spread of the virus.

And be sure to read other great responses with the line I used as the opening sentence here by clicking on the badge below.

Random Sunday – Guilty, Teeth, and Spring

I have to confess.  I’m feeling rather guilty.  I am not making it back to some of the link-ups and writing prompts I participate in often enough to read other responses.  I try hard.  I really do.  And I feel bad when I don’t always make it over.  So, if I haven’t made it over to your blog in a while, I am sorry.  I promise I am working as hard as I can to read some of the other great responses to the prompts!

I think my son is getting a tooth again.  I thought we’d gotten through the worst of it.  He has 12 teeth already, including all 4 molars.  But, his poor fingers are really getting worked over again.  The bummer part is that his hand ends up getting so chapped from chewing on it in a Minnesota winter.  I hope he gets that tooth soon, or it warms up.  Nope – hoping for both.

Yeah.  This thought actually somewhat connects to that last thought.  I am tired of winter.  I think most people in this country can say that right now.  I mean, really.  Is anyone here in the US having a normal winter?  And I know elsewhere there are some weird winter things going on.  I don’t get to watch the news very often between work, grad school and an 18 month old, so I’m not entirely sure where all winter is messed up.  I just know I heard something on the news tonight about it being way warm in Sochi – warm enough the snow is melting and the skiers and snowboarders are really having a hard time.  But yeah.  I’m ready for winter to end.  Way to bloody cold here.

The Exodus

I combined two prompts tonight.  First, Write On Edge gave us a surprise prompt.  We were given the first line:

"The bells of St. Brigit's are calling tonight."

and were told to add 100 words to it for a total of 108 words.

Studio 30+ chose to reuse a phrase from a fellow blogger's entry last week:

"hung in tatters above her"

I give you a scene that kinda just popped into my head.  I know, the moroseness of my writing lately is a bit odd, but I'm just going along for the ride at the moment.  As always, concrit is most welcome.

“The bells of St. Brigit’s are calling tonight.”

“They must have gotten yesterday’s report.”

They both stood there listening to the sonorous tolling of the bells.  One unending string of beats, each beat a life that was lost.  He went inside to finish packing.  She paused on the balcony.  The clouds hung in tatters above her like the rotted remnants of shrouds hiding nothing but brittle bones of long dead souls.

She shook her head.  The daily ritual of ringing the bells for each Great Plague death was bringing her down.  She pondered how much longer the ringers would be there to ring.

Be sure to check out other great entries via the badges below!

         

Not A Normal Dinner Conversation, Part 1

This week Trifecta gave us the word "manipulate" as in "to change by artful or unfair means so as to serve one's purpose: to doctor".

I decided to revisit my One Night in Dusseldorf series for this prompt.  It’s been a while since I worked on it.  James, Kris, and Emma are in London.  Emma is still trying to get answers about who killed her sister and how her sister died.  James and Emma are out at dinner after Emma’s discovery that Kris is a werewolf for real.  Emma is still trying to wrap her mind around all of that.  Then James tells Emma her sister is still alive.  And this is the next piece in the story:

I dropped my fork.  The clatter of it bouncing of the plate and hurtling to the floor seemed deafening, loud enough everyone should be staring.  But they weren’t even looking at all.

“What the hell do you mean?  If you knew she was alive, why didn’t you tell me that right away?  Back in Germany?”

I never wanted to throttle someone, to beat the ever living daylight out of someone as bad as I wanted to pound Kris at that moment.

“Stop and think, Emma.  You were notified by the police of her death.  You saw the photos.  You said so when we first spoke over the phone.  You would never have believed me had I told you then.  You needed to see the world Lauren inhabits now.  Only then would you believe me.”

I took several deep breaths.  That James was right wasn’t helping any.  I needed to think.

“So you’re saying you had to manipulate me into a position for me to believe you.”

It was ever so slight, but I spotted the hesitation before he answered.  There was more to this than he was saying.

“That is a part of it,” he finally sighed.

“And the rest?”

“We need you, Emma.  I know Kris tried to tell you that.  I don’t know that you really understood.  I still am not certain you understand.”

“Kris said something about some druid something,” I conceded.

“Not just something.  You are one of a small handful of people alive on this earth that can help our people maintain control, maintain balance.”

“So you needed to manipulate me not only to get me to believe you, but to get me to agree to help you, too?”

“We needed to manipulate the situation, not you.  We needed you show you how important you are.  We need you.  To turn away from us now is a death sentence for me, for Kris, and our people.”

“What about my sister?  You haven’t explained anything about Lauren yet.”

Be sure to stop by Trifecta via the badge below to read other great entries.  And this week the entries are community judged, meaning you get to help pick the winners!

Book Review: The Accursed by Joyce Carol Oates

I have to confess.  The Accursed by Joyce Carol Oates is the first, and only, book I’ve read by her.  It is a fascinating book that goes back to 1905.  Woodrow Wilson is the president of Princeton University and not yet President of the United States.  Upton Sinclair just published The Jungle.  And the town of Princeton is about to be rocked by a lynching that triggers a series of events that lead the town to believe in a Curse.

From what I know, Joyce Carol Oates is a pretty high-brow, intellectual fiction author.  I know she has a tendency toward the morose.  In this, she does not fail to deliver in The Accursed.  I enjoyed the book in that it was a great fiction take on historical events.  I also think the mystery of the Curse was sufficiently complex that it took a while to figure out just what all was going on.  There were times I thought the level of detail went a little far.  To be honest, I’m still not entirely sure what the Upton Sinclair storyline in the book contributed other than further historical context.  The rest of the storyline, though, was spot on to me.  I loved the complex interplay between the townspeople of Princeton that fed the Curse beautifully.

All in all, make sure you have some time as this is a long one to get through, but read it.  It is an interesting “ghost tale” of sorts that plays off of an interesting time in history.  Be sure you haven’t read something heavy and prosaic before this if you’re like me and need a break from that at times.  Otherwise, just enjoy!

Random Sunday - Quilting, Flowers and Homework

I enlisted my mom’s aid this weekend.  I am trying to make a quick, simple, quilt to replace the one on my bed that is starting to get a little worn.  I don’t want that one to fall apart so I wanted to get this new one done.  But, as previously mentioned, I have an almost 18 month old son.  He likes to help.  Lots.  His help is not always very helpful for quilting.  Case in point: I had one strip of squares laid out and was working on laying out the next strip to be sewn to the first one.  It was in the way of his tractor.  So he had to move it.  Then he had to walk on it.  Then he was walking down the row of pins.  He got confined to Grandpa’s lap until I finished pinning it.  This is definitely a project I will need to ensure there is extra help around to keep an eye on my helper.

When I got home on Friday, my hubby gave me flowers.  I think he realized I was kinda freaking out last week.  It got to be a rough week at work.  There was a ton of stuff to do at home.  And I was behind on my homework for school.  I am still trying to decide if he was trying to make me feel better with the flowers or if it was preemptive self-defense.  Oh well.  I love them either way.

When I first started this current class, I thought the fact that I did not have a major project due by the end of the quarter was great.  I thought that dividing out some of the extra work throughout each week would be fine.  Boy was I wrong.  Holy cow do I have a ton of homework each week.  I keep hoping that I’ll get adjusted to it and be okay each week.  I’m almost half way through the quarter and still hoping.  Now I just want to survive to the end of the quarter.  And pass the class.

Dinner Date

Studio 30+ gave us the opening line this time - "What are you doing here?".  I used it to further my Weather Riders story.  If' you've missed pieces, click here, or follow the tab above to be taken to the rest of the story.  As always, concrit is most welcome.

“What are you doing here?  I thought you were off until Monday,” Joe asked me when I walked into the back door of the restaurant.

“I’m not working.  I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.”

“Oh yeah?  You got a date?  Damn.  Never thought I’d see the day Shay agrees to go out with a real live human being.”

“Shut up, Joe.  Just because I turned you down doesn’t mean I won’t date.”

“I ain’t giving you crap because you turned me down.  I’m giving you crap because we’ve been cooking together for the last two years here and I have yet to see you out with someone.”

“Well, now you know I do go out.  And don’t spy on me!”

Joe just grinned at me.  I knew he’d keep an eye out in between the rushes.  To be honest, that was part of why I chose to meet Caiden at my restaurant.  I knew Joe was working and I knew he’d intervene if anything bad started to go down.

Now I just had to wait until Caiden got here.  Tonight’s house manager knew to watch for him and seat him before coming to let me know he was here.  Maybe it was stalkerish of me but I wanted a chance to watch Caiden for a minute before sitting down to dinner with him.  Something still bugged me about him.

Turns out I didn’t have to wait for the house manager to tell me Caiden had arrived.  Something in me knew before I even saw him following her to a table that he was here.  I didn’t think I liked that I was that aware of this man.  I still had no real idea of who he was, aside from the fact that he and his kind were essentially the boogie man to most weather riders.  The ripple of stares and hushed whispers that trailed behind Caiden was also a dead giveaway.  After all, even dressed as roughly as he was earlier today, he was one hot man.  From the service area outside the kitchen I could see that, cleaned up and dressed for a fancy dinner, he was Hollywood gorgeous.

I really felt out of place now.  Joe leaned in from behind me and whispered, “Damn, woman.  Now I know why you accepted this date.”

I elbowed him in the gut just hard enough to get him to back off but not hard enough to really hurt him.  I heard the rush of breath come out anyway.

“You’re not helping.”

“You losing your nerve?” Joe wheezed still catching his breath.

“No.  Just feeling a little like the ugly duckling at the grand ball.”

“Way to mix your metaphors.  Now go mix with him.  You don’t want to leave a man like that waiting.  Any available woman in the entire house will be on him faster than you can dice a carrot.”

Joe was right.  Even as I took a deep breath to steel my nerves, I watched as Caiden turned one woman away.  Another was already making her way to his table.  I brushed past Joe out of the service area.  Possibly to my eternal humiliation and doom.  Certainly to dinner.

Head over to Studio 30+ via the badge below to see what others did with this seemingly mundane opening line.