3rd Write Campaign Challenge

And here we are wrapping up the 3rd and final Campaign Challenge. Rachael Harrie is one amazing woman to do this. I want to thank her for her hard work and dedication. This undertaking sure has made it a challenge just for her. Please stop by her blog and thank her too. 


Here are the rules for the 3rd challenge:

Write a blog post in 300 words or less, excluding the title. The post can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should show:

• that it’s morning,
• that a man or a woman (or both) is at the beach
• that the MC (main character) is bored
• that something stinks behind where he/she is sitting
• that something surprising happens.

Just for fun, see if you can involve all five senses AND include these random words: "synbatec," "wastopaneer," and "tacise." (NB. these words are completely made up and are not intended to have any meaning other than the one you give them).

*******

Source

A Proposal

“Couldn’t you have found another program?” Liz rested her chin on her knees as she drew them to her chest. With her finger, she swirled the black sand at her feet. 

Patterns of chaos mimicked the pinks and purples that bled from the sky into the water. The first sun was about to peek over the horizon. Liz watched as the water swelled across the distance, gaining momentum but not height, until it tingled their feet and fizzled away her marks. A small sigh escaped past her lips. 

A BUZOT! from behind made them both jump to their feet. A thin stream of white smoke filtered through the sand dune, exposing a control panel. Salt mixed with burnt sulfur danced at the back of Liz’s throat and almost made her gag. 

“Synbatec westopaneer tacise?” Matt shook his head. 

“What?” Liz cocked her head and scrunched her brow.

“Synbatec westopaneer tacise?” Matt’s face began to flush. He fidgeted with the silver plate embedded behind his right ear. As his finger slid over the plate, the hologram squelched and flickered. He clapped both hands around his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fheskkha!” 

Liz knew that pain all too well. Her universal translator was always on the fritz. 

“Here, let me.” Liz scooted closer and took her tiny sonic screwdriver out of her belt. It clicked on and a blue light coursed with the high pitch whirl. She touched it to the plate behind Matt’s ear. “Now, keep talking.” 

“Synbatec westopaneer tacise? “Synbatec westopaneer tacise?” 

Liz upped the pitch of the screwdriver as Matt continued. “Synbatec westopaneer tacise? Will you westopaneer tacise?”

“Almost got it.” Liz hit the screwdriver against the palm of her hand. 

“Will you westopaneer me?” 

Liz added a second frequency and the screwdriver sung.

“Will you marry me?”

*******

300 words, excluding the title. I think I've covered all 5 senses. Did you know they were on a beach? It was morning? Could you tell Liz was bored? At first at least? And did you notice the stench behind them? And how about that ending? Was it a surprise?

Hope you like this. If you do, please vote for #62. And if you want to read the other entries, don't forget to visit Rachael's blog post. I'm sure there will be plenty more before the challenge closes. 

They Blame The 6 Year Old!

There are certain expectations parents have when our children start school. We place our children on the school bus and hope that the bus gets there in one piece, that there are no accidents, no incidents, no one gets hurt. We expect the bus driver to be attentive and respectful. Once they get off the bus, the responsibility shifts to the school and we expect that they are protected, looked after and cared about until they get back on that bus and come back to our waiting arms.

I believe we can no longer make these assumptions. We just need to hope and pray, each day, that our children are safe when they are in school. Please take a moment to read the news story and watch the accompanied video.

On October 6th, 2011 my cousin and her husband got the scare of their life. Their youngest daughter decided to leave school and go home by herself, in the middle of the day. She left her buddy and walked out the front door. No one noticed her leave. And no one noticed she was missing. The school is located on a very busy two lane road. There are no sidewalks and the trees crowd the streets, leaving very little area to walk. The traffic is constant and there are always speeders.

Her safety was threatened, not only by the traffic, but according to the 911 taped calls, by passers-by as well. She could very easily been picked up and taken, never to be seen again. Luckily, a good Samaritan stopped and helped Kiley home. When my cousin took her back to the the school, they thought she was checking her in for the day. When she told them that she had left and she was returning her, they were stunned.

When Kiley returned home, she brought with her a letter from the school office stating that "A student choose to leave the school property alone , she was helped her home by a good samaritian, the parents returned to school with her, she is safe. Please talk to you childern about NOT leaving school grounds without adult permission." In essence, they blamed a six year old. Here's the school's response to the news inquiry:

All the school wants to do is reinforce the procedures that didn't work. Why not change the procedures? When my cousin's husband tried to call the school safety officer that day. Even though they knew he was calling them, the safety officer left for the day. Just goes to show just how much they really care about the safety of our children left in their care. Another hint to how much they care is if you read the comments to the news story you will notice that someone associated with the school, or school board has made some rather nasty comments then deleted them. Very professional, eh?! I would love to know what he wrote!

Yes, she did do something wrong. She got punished for it. But it is not entirely her fault! She's six! How is it that the school can blame the child and get away with it? Where were the ADULTS? Why didn't the "buddy" say something to an adult? Why were they not supervising?  How can the front office not notice a child walk out the front door? How can a teacher not know she is missing a child? How can no one notice?

It has now been almost a week. My cousin is still heartbroken. Her oldest daughter is now having nightmares. An alternative school is an option and she is hoping the School Board will allow her to go out of her district (but we all know how bureaucratic red tape is). She has not allowed her children to return to the school until something is done--change in policy, disciplinary action of the adults involved. But what is the school doing? Nothing, not even a simple apology. They still place the blame on a six year old. The Sheriff's office is at least looking into disciplining their officers for not responding in a timely manner.

My cousin and her family do not see the sense in a lawsuit. The school board has taken enough cuts to their budget as it is, no need to add to their financial difficulty. (Still does not excuse the lack of caring and safety!)  However, I am one to believe that no action on their part will not solve the problem. Maybe a lawsuit with no compensation would be the necessary slap to the face of those in charge and get them to notice that no one seems to care about the children.

Honestly, how can you blame a six year old for the mess this is? How can no one care about a child?

I Had Forgotten My Dream

My dream had always been to write. Not just write, but to write books, stories, like the ones I loved to read. But somehow along the way, I forgot that dream.

I have been reading since as long as I can remember.  I've been writing since high school. In college, my first two years, I had no clue what to major in so I bounced from Accounting, to Psychology and finally settled on English with a Writing Concentration. My junior year, I got married. I realized I was a little behind in my credits if I wanted to graduate on time and start contributing to the family finances. I had to take a double load my last year. All upper level English classes. I was reading and writing like a mad woman! At the very least, I had a five page paper due every day. Yay, go me!

I guess I got burned out. Blinded. Lost.

I began to struggle with the questions, "What is my purpose? What am I good at?" I've always said that "I am a jack of all trades, master of none." Over the years I went through spurts of doing a little of this, a little of that, and never really finding my niche. I am pretty OK at quilting. In fact, I've made some pretty good ones if you want to check them out. I've designed web pages on occasion. But, honestly, I haven't updated mine in years. I get on an xBox binge and start playing games and getting into the gaming community. I never really got into anything full time and stuck with it. My interests always go in spurts.

Now that I look back, I think I have been that way all my life. I can remember a time, I think I was 5, when my parents enrolled me in ballet. I attended a few sessions, and when I found out I couldn't wear a tutu I was done. My parents later enrolled me in swimming lessons and I was more interested in playing in the water than learning. When I first got married, I expected a lot of things. I wanted a house, a car, and all the nice things my parents had. Even later when I was all excited to try something new, if I couldn't accomplish it on the first try I became discouraged and gave up. I have a lot of unfinished projects around the house and throughout my life.

I realize now, that I have always wanted the end result before I made the journey. I'm impatient and lose site of the path.

I'm trying to learn (and remind myself). "Writing doesn't work that way."

Last year around this time, I was speaking with an artist friend of mine and remembered my "dream". THAT was my purpose. It HAD to be.

She introduced me to #NaNoWriMo. She told me I could write a book in a month. The whole idea was to "just write". Don't worry about editing. Don't worry about the book. Just write the words. "WOW!" I thought this would be really cool. I signed up for it. I thought I could do this. I thought this was a good step in the right direction, back on track with my dream. But the more I learned about it, the more I thought about writing a novel, well, the more overwhelmed I became. Eventually, I got scared and felt like the failure I always was.

Towards the end of October 2010, I found #PiBoIdMo, hosted by Tara Lazar. #PiBoIdMo is the Picture Book Idea Month, their answer to #NaNoWriMo. Instead of writing 50,000 words on a novel for the entire month of November, you come up with an idea for a Picture Book every day for the month of November. Sounds pretty easy, right? Well, yeah, the ideas were easy to come up with. It got me in the mindset to get back into writing. And I thought, hey, a Picture Book might be a great stepping stone to the ultimate goal. Start small, work my way up.

It got my mind, and my fingers cranking again. In the past year I've written two and a half Picture Books. I've always jumped forward, prematurely as usual, and submitted a few queries, only to be rejected. I'm still plugging away, though, as I have learned that rejection is a part of a writer's life. However, I am now more cautious.

Over the last year, I've written picture books, poems, and short stories. I do not have any one particular genre I write in. My genres are what strikes me at the moment an idea comes to my mind and fingers. My short stories are sci-fi, fantasy, paranormal, dystopia with no hopeful ending, to general. I am horrible at classifying them. And, thus, I have no idea where to submit the ones that I feel are complete. So they sit on my hard drive.

Waiting.

This month, I've really been mulling my idea that has haunted me for years for the novel. I just have little bits. Nothing all encompassing. But I have bits. I've been reading more and more about how to outline and I am still lost. Last week I sat down to do a character worksheet on the main character but realized I have no clue who she is. She keeps changing. Maybe next year I can start that novel. I'm still learning right now. As long as I keep writing, and never give up, never lose site of that dream, I might be able to achieve it.

I am still plugging away at the dream, even a year later, which makes me happy. Yes, there are days that I just want to give up and scream, "I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH! WHY DO I BOTHER?" But I have to remember that writing is all about writing. I write for me, mostly. It is my therapy session. But sometimes it's just so frustrating when I can't get it all out of my head. Eventually, I will come to the end of the stories, revise and edit. And maybe, just maybe, one day I can share them with everyone. And, maybe you'll like them.

I have to remember my dream.

Night Shade -- #FridayFlash

I was introduced to the #FridayFlash on Twitter only 2 weeks ago. I had to do some research as to what it is and how it works. But basically, you write a flash fiction (1000 words or less) and post it on Fridays. Simple as that.

If you are interested in learning more, or reading other stories, here's the official website for #FridayFlash.

This is my first attempt at something like this. In fact, I wrote this before I wrote my 2nd #WriteCampaign Challenge but I figured I would post that first.

I would love to hear your comments. Anything I could have done better? different? Anything you particularly liked?

Thank you!

Night Shade

Wisps of clouds hung in the sky in front of a full moon. Shadows etched on the ground below my open window. I leaned out over the ledge in hopes of finding a breeze in the heavy air.

            In the moonlight I could see the mountainous grooves left by the day’s travelers etched in the dusty road in front of our house. I looked down the road for comfort. Annie’s house was not that far and I could make out the lantern in the window. Annie always left it on for me, in case I woke in the middle of the night and needed her. It was her way of letting me know she was there for me.

            I never liked the night. SHE came in the night. Only Annie believed and comforted me. She understood. 

           A full moon was less chilling than a new moon, but still I shuddered. In the fields between our two houses, I watched a shadow move across the fields between our two houses. I strained to make out the shape. My heartbeat drummed in my ears and my eyes widened in realization. It was HER! She was coming!

            Frozen to my window, I watched as the shadow skimmed the tops of the grass making its way towards Annie’s house.

            No! I thought. Not Annie! Please, not her!

            Annie’s lantern dimmed.

No, Annie, No! Don’t go! I screamed in my head.

Annie’s shadow darkened her window as the Shade paced the ground below. I watched in horror, fear gripped my heart, as Annie climbed out her bedroom window. I refused to breath as Annie disappeared into the darkness that was the Night Shade. 

#TuesdayTales -- The Devil's Darning Needles

I stumbled upon the #TuesdayTales hashtag on Twitter a little too late last week. I've been really getting into this flash fiction challenges. It truly is a challenge to be able to write a story in such few words. and it's so much fun! Don't forget to check out @GlitterLady's #TuesdayTales and join the fun!

Here's my entry:

Source: http://www.whatsthatbug.com

The Devil's Darning Needles

The Devil’s Darning Needles hid just beneath the waters of Shoal’s Lake—always at the ready to erupt at the precise moment when the weary traveler’s eyes should close. Anticipation swept through them as a glint passed through the surface. All eyes watched the Knight remove his helm. He slipped off his gauntlets and placed them at his knees as he bent to scoop the cool water for a drink. He leaned against the willow tree and let the summer breeze lull him to sleep. The Needles swarmed out of their watery hive, weaving over and through the Knight’s eyelids.

The Preacher's Bride -- A Book Review

The Preacher's Bride by Jody Hedlund
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This was not my first time reading Historical Fiction. However it was my first read of Historical Christian Fiction. Skeptical at first, I didn't quite understand the genre and half expected preaching to be involved. As I delved in, I quickly realized that this was not the case.

Pious Elizabeth Whitbread looked only to serve God and those in need, accepting what she thought was her lot in life. When God called upon her through the cry of a baby, Elizabeth put her life and marriage on hold and answered. Little did she realize that her path had now diverged.

Jon Costin, tinkerer by trade preacher by calling, never suspected God's ulterior motives.

The Preacher's Bride was a true example of God working through mysterious ways. Strong willed, quick to wit, and God serving characters perfectly matched from the beginning. Both struggled through the persecution of the Royalists and their own personal struggles with God. Their relationship between each other and with God grew throughout the entire book.

Jody Hedlund captured my heart in her first book with her perfectly executed writing. She took the true story of John Bunyan and wove her own of "the woman behind John Bunyan". It was not preachy, it was not mushy. But it sure was moving! The reader got into the head of Elizabeth from the very first moment and felt the pull of emotions throughout.

I cannot wait to read her next book, The Doctor's Lady.

View all my reviews

Psycho Imago - 2nd Write Campaign Challenge

 

Rachael Harrie has done it again. Here are the guidelines:

"Write a blog post in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should:

• include the word "imago" in the title
• include the following 4 random words: "miasma," "lacuna," "oscitate," "synchronicity,"

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional and included in the word count), make reference to a mirror in your post.

For those who want an even greater challenge (optional), make your post 200 words EXACTLY!"

Completed all the above, including 200 words exactly AND used the mirror!
Here's my entry into the 2nd Campaigner Challenge if you like it, please vote for #24!

(Source)

Psycho Imago

            I bashed my foot against the dresser as I moved across the bloodied room. A sharp, glorious pain seared through my ankle. A smile crept across my face.

I leaned against the edge of the dresser to get a better look in the shattered mirror. Her listless body reflected back with many angles to investigate. I licked the coolness of the glass that reflected her untouched breasts, slicing my tongue on its sharp edge.

Like the mirror, she was shattered, broken. Blood pooled in the lacuna my cleaver created. Her hair matted. Her porcelain face caved in. Exposed bones peeked through her jacket and jeans. It teased me from all directions. My daughter was now perfect.

Time had stood still in my dance. I didn’t care. I could do this forever. Shivers of pleasure pulsed in the pit of my groin and my lust got the better of me. I played the death scene out—perfect synchronicity between memory and motion. I danced with death again and again.

Her body began to decay. I drew in a deep breath. The stench of her miasma rose from her battered body. I fell on the bed in exhaustion and began to oscitate.