Category: Uncategorized

5.22.21

Genre: Historical Fiction
Action: Preaching
Word: Rabbit
Word Count: 100

Medieval Spirit

Not noble-born but a peasant called to preaching by a holy vision. Speak the gospel to those starving to hear, those like him, shunned by the church for their lack of coin and unsavory squalor.

Serfs gathered with the birds and the rabbits, eager, as if he were St. Francis himself.

“You have direct access to God. You don’t need the church to receive His guidance and blessings. You are as worthy as any king.”

Displeased this heresy was gaining momentum, the Pope sent troops to arrest him in the square.

Shackled, imprisoned, without trial, he hanged the next day.

5.21.21

Genre: Ghost Story
Action: Mowing the lawn
Word: Basement
Word Count: 100

Lonely

Midway through the cut, the blade snapped. Furious, repair would derail his happy hour plans. But he couldn’t leave the lawn half shorn.

He trekked to the basement with foreboding. Despite the warm, bright day, his skin crawled stepping into the dank, dark cavern.

Where’s that blade?

Something brushed his cheek. A cobweb? Crosswinds blew. How does that happen indoors? Pondering the mystery, the cellar door slammed; the bolt clicked.

Terrified now, he froze. His heartbeat was a jackhammer. Objects began to fly, some dangerously close to his scalp.

What do you WANT?

I want you to visit more often.

I was not successful in incorporating the random word “oil can” in this piece, and it’s not really fitting the fantasy genre, but it’s what came this morning, so here you go!

5.20.21

Genre: Fantasy (not really)
Action: Knitting
Word: Oil Can (couldn’t fit!)
Word Count: 100

Celtic Legend

Perennial damp rattled her bones. Rocking in dim candlelight, spinning a yarn for her granddaughter, gnarled fingers knit the girl’s mittens.

Tomorrow will be cold.

They travel to Newgrange, Ireland’s ancient temple, to celebrate the winter solstice and witness The Illumination.

What’s that?

Before St. Patrick brought Jesus, the Sun was God. Hibernian ancestors erected Newgrange in homage to this Light, which penetrates the tomb on the shortest day, promising eternal radiance in the new year.

Unfortunately, history omits what happens to the worshippers present. Their interior tombs are illuminated, too!

Tomorrow we will become living temples of the Son.

5.19.21

Genre: Fairytale
Action: Blowing bubbles
Word: Candle
Word Count: 100

Safe Bubbles

Mommy!

Just another nightmare, honey. Lighting the candle, I grabbed the bottle of bubbly and blew.

Which one?

She picked the most colorful orb.

Jump!

Pressing through its membrane, we tumbled into a vibrant wonderland, shaking off goo like wet dogs.

Where was he?

Fairies appeared, guiding us to a dense forest. Skies blackened. A blood-curdling screech sliced the darkness.

We froze.

Remember dear, claim your power.

Tremulously: “go away.”

He froze. Wasn’t she afraid?

Bolder: “I ORDER YOU TO GO!”

Her wish was his command.

Safely tucked in her cozy bed, I snuffed the candle, leaving her to dream.

5.18.21

Genre: Drama
Action: Dancing
Word: Tulip
Word Count: 98

The Last Dance

An atypical gesture: tulips, not roses. But they were her favorite flowers. Delight in the pretty pink buds reassured him.

Enjoying the gala honoring recruits shipping out tomorrow, he held her especially close during the last dance, savoring the moment.

Promises were made. It was a sad but hopeful farewell.

Three years gone by and two limbs shy, he watches unseen as she corrals a toddler, juggles an infant, and wrangles groceries into the beat-up Olds.

Grieving unkept vows as she drives away, tears flow down his cheeks, landing in his empty lap.

He mourns their last dance.

5.17.21

I have to practice all the different genres of storytelling because I don’t know which one will be part of the contest’s Round 2! Below is a “crime caper” – meant to be a silly escapade with flawed characters.

Genre: Crime Caper
Action: Driving
Word: Tool
Word Count: 100

Robin’s Hoods

The idea hatched on poker night. Lamenting the world’s economic injustice and fantasizing ways to set things right, Jerry rigged the plot.

Tim’s tools would bust the locks.
Jerry would mander the cash.
Robin would drive Batman’s getaway car.

Waiting at the wheel, Robin pondered the plan’s absurdity. How could they deliver money to the needy if they get caught? Who, exactly, ARE the needy, anyway?

Go!

Doors slamming, Robin pressed pedal to the metal. They sped down the deserted highway, eventually stopping at a vacant lot to count their blessings.

And book their flights to the Seychelles.

Ahhh…sweet justice.

5.16.21

Genre: Comedy
Action: Taking a test
Word: Busy
Word Count: 99

Karma

God: So, you wanna go to school? Face difficult tests and final examinations? Many levels must be attained to achieve your diploma.

Me: Oh, yes!

God: Don’t forget you ASKED. Busy living, it will be challenging to remember.

Me: I won’t.

Whoosh…

Me: Waahh…I’m in pain. Lost. Confused. Struggling. Where am I? What is happening? Help!

God:

Me: Why am I here? Where are YOU? Why won’t you help? Get me OUTTA here!

Whoosh…

God: Welcome back. You decided not to complete your education?

Me: I forgot to remember.

God: So, you wanna go to school?

Me: Oh, yes!

5.15.2021

This past month I have been practicing writing a story a day that can be told within 100 words and incorporates a random action and word, to prepare for a writing contest that began today. The following story is based on the contest’s assignment:

Genre: Action/Adventure
Action: Hanging Laundry
Word: Start (can be included in a larger word)
Word Count: 100

7,000 writers are participating in this contest. I am in a group of 63 people from which 15 writers will be chosen for the second round. I will know in July if I make it or not.

This is the story that emerged from the given parameters:

Escape

Springs or sliders? Springs had better grip but inflicted pinch marks. Sliders risked slippage but left no trace. This conundrum, the thrill in my day.

Halfway down the line, mind lost in mindless reverie, I startled as a Porsche pulled up the driveway.

Lilly!

“Let’s go, girl.”

Speeding down the freeway we giggled, reminiscing. That midnight train to Naples with sailors met in Rome. Skiing the Austrian Alps. Dinner at the Paris Ritz.

I was home rescuing pinned clothes before he pulled in the driveway asking: “What’s for dinner?”

Secretly thrilled I had chosen the sliders.

They left no trace.

5.14.21

Action: Itching
Word: Sign
Word Count: 93

Body Talk

My body was on fire! And not in a good way. Red flaming boils were busting out all over my lower torso and legs.

What the hell?

Fierce competitors, itching and burning jousted for my attention.

They won.

Relentless pain endured for two weeks. Amid this torment, an inner torture flared up to amplify my discomfort. A particular relationship needed to end.

Surely, the broiling blisters were a sign, warning me this person was no longer good for my health. My body was screaming: Danger. Danger.

I cut the cord.

Voila. The welts vanished.

5.13.21

Action: Cooking a meal
Word: lighthouse
Word Count: 97

Flame Keeper

The lighthouse keeper loved solitude and simplicity. His modest needs were met: a hot plate for cooking beans and rice, a cot for intermittent sleep, a woodstove for warmth.

His sacred responsibility – to man the lights 24/7, ensuring seafarers safe passage home.

Little else to occupy, his daily entertainment was Nature’s free concerts.

Waves slapping against the rocks set the tempo. Seagulls cooed the melody and squawked its counterpoint. On stormy days, their harmonies’ accompaniment: rolling drums and clashing cymbals.

Holy music to his ears.

But what he loved most was the light, the light, the light.