Tag: #weeklywritingchallenge

Posted in Fiction

The Fawn

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She watched him when he was a fawn. Come summer, he grew spikes. A young buck. He was unafraid of her. He grew accustomed to her apples. He came to the porch and snatched the food from her hand. She grew to love him that winter. She was alone.

The next summer, he was a four-point buck. He came to the porch. She tried to make him go away, fearful he was too accustomed to people.

It’s been ten years. An old buck comes to the porch. He takes the apples. She knows by his eyes that it’s him.

 

*Thanks to Charli Mills and the Carrot Ranch for this prompt that is so very appropriate.

Posted in Fiction

The Prisoner

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She doesn’t want them watching her. She has secrets. Secrets that could spell the end of her. She’s tried everything to insure her privacy.  She has instructed her crew to plant the tall grass. Maybe this will deter them and their prying eyes.

They want to destroy her. They are jealous of her. All the people buzzing around her door. All wanting a piece of her. She won’t have it any longer. The tall grass will make her home look uninhabited, run down.

Why does she have to go to these lengths? She knows who the prisoner will be – herself.

 

Thanks to Rochelle and Friday Fictioneers and to Ronda del Boccia for the photo prompt.

Posted in Fiction

The Yellow Tent

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It was fall. She and her friend were going on a weekend camping trip. They pitched their small, camo-colored pup tent in the woods.

Their first morning, she started to awaken. It was still dark, but a beam of sunlight seemed to be shining into their tent. She opened her eyes and their drab tent was yellow from that sunbeam.

As she went outside, she heard a loud, booming gunshot and felt a bullet whizzing by her ear. The hunter ran up to her and said, “Thank goodness your tent is yellow! I would have accidentally shot you otherwise.”

 

Thanks to Charli and the Carrot Ranch for the great prompt and photo!

Posted in Fiction

Track – #writephoto

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As she walked down the long, dark track in the Appalachian forest, she thought of the wild things that used to be so populous here and how few of them remained. The deer had once walked up on her porch and ate from the troughs surrounding her house. There were hundreds of species of birds. It was quiet, peaceful. Over the last few years, humans had stolen their habitat.

She thought of the author, Wendell Berry’s, poem, “The Peace of the Wild Things,” and wanted to lie by a tree and know their peace. She knew she never would. She hadn’t seen a fawn or a pileated woodpecker this year. This was the first year they were gone. All she had heard was the screech of chain saws and the clang of heavy equipment as they tried to turn the forest into a park or a crowded subdivision. Why did they move here and claim they wanted quiet and solitude and then make it like everywhere else? Was this progress? She didn’t think so.

The track wasn’t as deep in the forest and the wild things were gone. It had only taken twenty years in this small corner of the Daniel Boone National Forest. She had once loved it here. Now, she supposed she would have to leave in search of solitude once again. She had been young when she had come here. She wasn’t young anymore and this had become home.

She considered following this track where the wild things walked all the way to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan where her roots were. She felt she was too old now. Life wasn’t easy there. She couldn’t deal with feet, not inches, of snow in the winter. How could she live without seeing her beloved wildlife daily? She’d kept her blinds closed this summer so she could pretend they were still there.

Suddenly, she remembered that very old movie called “Elephant Walk,” starring Elizabeth Taylor. She thought it was shot in the 1940s. The characters built a home in the jungle and took the elephants habitat. The elephants returned the favor by walking right through the home.

Would the wild things take back their home here someday? Part of her hoped so.

 

Thanks to Sue Vincent for this writing prompt and photo!

 

Posted in weekendcoffeeshare

#weekendcoffeeshare – 7/28/2018

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Good morning to all! Thank you for joining me, virtually today, for our #weekendcoffeeshare. I raise my teacup to you and hope you are enjoying a good strong cup of coffee or tea right along with me. I’m waking up at a remote location. I feel like I’m sitting at the top of the world, but I’m not. I am in the Great Smoky Mountains at a place, dear to all Tennessee lovers, called Rocky Top. Had you driven up here in an RV, pulling a car, with a 4.5 month old puppy looking out the windows crying, you would know why I feel like I’m at the top of the world this morning!

If we were having coffee, I would tell you that to get to the RV campground here requires climbing up a mountain around a series of hairpen curves, no small feat for the RV that is towing. I wasn’t driving. Nope, not me. No way. It was scary as hell anyway. Just ask my puppy, whose eyes were as big as saucers. This campground is at Norris, Tennessee where Norris Dam and Lake are. My husband came here to fish. I joined him to try to socialize Tucker, the puppy, because I knew there would be plenty of people and dogs at the campground. What I forgot about were the bears. Yes, the black bear is prevalent in the park and I have just what they are looking for – a puppy. Going outdoors after dark is a bit perilous.

Other than being scared to death of the roads and the bear, it’s been a great trip so far. Lunch today in a fab little cafe in the town of Norris. The dam, which is awesome, was built back in the 1930’s and the Tennessee Valley Authority, who built the dam, provided housing in the form of an actual little town for its workers. Norris is one of only two such towns left. It is quaint and beautiful.

So far, Tucker has been walked to death. He has had a crash course in leash training, other dogs, and strange people. He has received an A+ in people skills, a C in leash training, and a failing grade in other dogs. That should tell you about the last two days of my life. He rides in the car like a champ. A pouting champ, but a champ nonetheless. The RV is too much for him and he hides in his crate. We’re expecting a lot of a puppy not yet five months old.

We’re here a few more days before we head home which is only a few short hours away.

Needless to say, making time for writing has suffered this past week. I have gotten a little work done on my novella and very little blogging done.

Before I close, I have to mention sports for a moment. I want to apologize to all my fellow UK Wildcats fans! Why? Because we are at ROCKY TOP. They will understand.

I’d love to hear about all of you! Wish me luck in the wilds of the Smoky Mountains!

 

*Photo Credit to Wikipedia

Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized

The Demise of Civilization

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The street looks peaceful doesn’t it? Palm trees, white fences, boys on bicycles going to school this morning. Could be almost any street in Florida. It’s not almost any street. It’s my street.

I live here alone. A 55-year-old lady. Retired. Trying to make ends meet on a small pension and my savings. I’m not nearly old enough yet to quality for social security. I had to retire early because of my vision. I’m legally blind. I’m also scared.

This used to be a wonderful place to live. I knew all the neighbors. We had a nice community. Then the hurricanes came and people moved away. I can’t afford to move.

My neighbors moved and some left their houses empty. Squatters moved in. Those boys on the bicycles? At night, they are part of a gang. They terrorize us by going up and down the street and stealing everything they can find. They spray paint our houses. The police have tried to catch them with no luck.

I don’t have anyone to help me. My family is gone now. What do people like me do? No money to go to a safer place. Is there a safer place?

 

Photo Credit to C. E. Ayr

Thanks Susan and SundayPhotoFictioners for the prompt!

Posted in Fiction

The Blueberry Pickin’

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“I hate picking blueberries.”

”Magnus, Ma said we have to get enough for a pie. Come on,” David insisted.

As they walked the path to the lake, they ran into a young lady. She called herself Fannie. She said she was at the fort to visit her sister.

Fannie grabbed David’s bucket and ran ahead. She said she’d help pick blueberries. The boys ran after her. They picked blueberries for a time. Fannie got farther away from them. The boys called for her. She didn’t come back.

A group of men searched for her all night. Fannie was gone.

 

Thanks to Charli and the #carrotranch for this wonderful prompt. This flash fiction story is based on the legend of Fannie Hooe and Fort Wilkins which is in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It lies in Copper Country, the Keweenaw Peninsula, in the UP. Visit the carrotranch to read the legend.

Posted in Fiction

The Broken Fence

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Every morning when she took her walk, she passed beside an old, weathered board fence. It didn’t seem to hold anything. No horses, no other livestock, not even a house. Every third or fourth board was missing.

She didn’t know why she came this way. She thought of her family each time she saw that old fence. The family that didn’t want her anymore. The family that was gone, that had left her alone. The family that didn’t care now.

Her feelings for them were gone. They’d slipped away like the wind slipped through the gaps in the fence.

 

 

 

Carrot Ranch prompt:

July 12, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a broken fence. You can mend it, leave it, or explain its place in a story. Go where the prompt leads.

Posted in Uncategorized

Hemingway and the Sea – #SoCS

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The “Old Man and the Sea.” One of my favorite books by my favorite classical author.

This isn’t a book review. Far from it. Who could review Hemingway? I wouldn’t presume to do so. I’ve re-read “The Old Man and the Sea” recently and I just want to make a few comments about the book and about Hemingway.

One reason I like Hemingway as a classical author is because of his writing style. It is concise, succinct, and spare. He writes in short, declarative sentences. There is nothing flowery about his writing, unlike some of his contemporaries. He keeps many of the adverbs and a large number of the adjectives out of his writing. That lets the reader see the real story. The succinct story.

The book is, quite simply, about an old fisherman and his struggle with his last big fish. Most readers will draw the conclusion that the book is about a man’s struggle to prove himself one last time, in his old age. Hemingway didn’t feel the need to clutter up his story with descriptive adverbs and adjectives. He just wrote the story clearly and sparely. It’s classified as a novella, a form of literature which is back in style in publishing today.

His writing style must have worked. Hemingway won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1954 for the “Old Man and the Sea.”

Posted in weekendcoffeeshare

weekendcoffeeshare – 7/12/2018

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Hello! Come on in and share coffee with me! I have both iced coffee and regular coffee for you since it’s so hot here. I also have tea, which is what I drink. Just help yourself. It’s on the kitchen island.

So glad you could all join me today for #weekendcoffeeshare! It’s been a busy week for me and I’m sure it has been for all of you too. I’ve had a lot of non-writing things I’ve had to do at home. Hubby and I have done some work on our home. I recently got a new puppy. I’ve mentioned him before in another weekendcoffeeshare post. Tucker is now 4.5 months old. He’s a Cardigan Welsh Corgi and big for his age. Twenty pounds already! He’s a wild and crazy guy and since he’s a member of the herding group of dogs, he thinks I’m a cow or a sheep, I think. He nips at my heels to keep me in line and he thinks my arms are chew toys. I have the scars to prove it!

Tucker and I are in training mode. He can now walk on his leash although he doesn’t like it much yet. We’ve started obedience commands. He learns quickly, but he thinks it’s stupid when I go over and over them. He is learning to ride in the car, outside his crate, and ride quietly in his car harness. So there have been some victories! He’s a rascal! You can see his latest picture below.

I’m in a transition period with my writing. I’m in the middle of one book and have started a novella. I’m also working on a memoir and have done some outlining for a non-fiction book. I have plenty to keep me busy. It may sound like I’m spread too thin, but I don’t think I am. I hope to have the novel and the novella done by year’s end. The memoir and non-fiction book are in the beginning stages.

When I say I’m in a transition period with writing, I mean that I’m finding myself interested in new genres and different topics. I’m thinking about serializing a novella or novel. As far as genres go, I’m still pondering.

Hubby, Tucker, and I are taking a short trip in a couple of weeks. I call it “Tucker’s trip” because we decided it would be good for him for the purpose of socialization. He needs to be around more people and dogs than he has access to when he is just with me on top of this mountain. We will only be gone for a week.

Tell me what you have been doing and your plans for the weekend and upcoming week!

Thanks to eclectic ali for the prompt!

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