Haunted Blog Hop, Part I

Last year, my friend Gina invited me to join her for a haunted blog hop. It was so cool. None of us knew what we were to write until we got the piece before us. It's was a very cool event! This year, I didn't hesitate one moment to join in again. And, I'm starting! snuggle in, dim the lights and enjoy!

Ruby limped. The fact that both of her halluxes were half the size of her second toes was to blame for this awkward movement. It was also the reason she never took off her socks in gym class. Her feet stank. They truly did, but she couldn't bear to have her classmates laugh at her deformity when they didn't even talk to her under normal circumstances.

On any given day, she was content being the limping girl that no one talked to. It wasn't that she was happy with having so few friends, it was that she would rather be ignored than teased and mocked. So, it was with great concern as well as excitement that she accepted Eli's offer of a clandestine meeting on Saturday night. She stared incredulously at his beautiful penmanship on the parchment paper, which had been carefully folded and handed to her as she left school for walk home on Friday afternoon.

Eli was the smartest boy in their class. She was certain that he'd be named most likely to succeed, and he was quite possibly the most handsome boy in Douglas County. And now, he had asked her to meet him at the County-Line creek. In the back of her mind, she knew that this could easily be a set-up. But, her heart, the one that had never held a love for another, told her that this may be her one and only chance to have a boy ask her out.

She didn't tell her mama where she was going. She was certain that her mama would never approve of her meeting a boy after dark by herself. And since her papa had left and never returned several years before, mama rarely let her out of the house except to go to school. And she only let her go to school because Pastor Timothy encouraged her to let Ruby get as much schooling as possible.

Ruby waited until mama was asleep on the couch in the parlor and was snoring loud enough for Ruby to hear in her room before she tiptoed down the stair, painstakingly skipping the third from the bottom step. It always squeaked. She held tight to the rail but found herself falling to the floor when her left food wouldn't cooperate. She pulled off the finial from the bottom of the rail. Mama snored on, and Ruby blessed the fact that mama often sampled a little Vanilla Elixir before going to sleep.

It was mama's sound slumber that allowed Ruby to leave the house and walk as quick as her deformed feet would let her travel to her meeting with Eli.

To be continued tomorrow with Gina...

Confession Story: Spicy

I entered several pieces in the OWFI contest last weekend.  Only one won.  (Say that three times fast.)  I hadn't intended to enter the "Confession Story" because I would have to "make it up."  See, here's my problem with writing fiction:  It's not true.  I like to write my humor; I like to write my essays and commentaries; I struggle with fiction because it's not true.  And really, I don't have much to confess because - read my blog - I keep no secrets!   But one night in January, I sat down to write a confession story.  It made me laugh.  It made my hubby laugh.  I submitted it.  I didn't win. Shocker.  The comments from the judge were this, and I quote, "I really don't know what to say about this since it's not a confession story.... It wouldn't take a lot of work to make this into a good humor entry."  That made me laugh all over again.  Thanks for the confirmation, O Wise Judge.

At any rate, Enjoy!

Friday Fiction: The Grass Beneath My Feet

The Grass Beneath My Feet

I vaguely remember the first dream.  I was 7 years old.  At 7 years old, dreams are just stories in your sleep and nothing more.

Friday Fiction: Granny's Hands

This short story won second in the Bartlesville Friends of the Library Creative Writing contest:

GRANNY’S HANDS

            I had so many better summer offers.  Therese and her family had invited me to go camping with them in Colorado for a week.  Sister Johnson had offered to pay my way to church camp in July.  Patty and Polly planned on spending every sunny day at the public pool on West Lamar Ave. 

Friday Fiction: Bon Appetit

Stella woke at four AM. She had a feast to prepare, and if it were to be done by noon, she had to ignore the screams of her body and get busy. She had to have the ham baking before the sun peaked over the eastern horizon on this glorious Easter morning.

Stella was a chef de cuisine. She’d devoted her life to studying the finer culinary artists in the villas of Italy and the bistros of Paris and even the best bed and breakfasts Vermont had to offer.

Since she was six years old and added a half of a jar of processed parmesan cheese to her blue box of macaroni and called it gourmet, she was hooked on creating foods and delicacies and juicy morsels.
READ THE REST OF THIS STORY HERE.

Where Summer Never Ends for Us

For all of her life, Berndette always got whatever she wanted. After her mother’s untimely death when Berndette was only 10, her father never remarried. He dated several women who wanted to marry him for his money. He dated several women who wanted to marry him for his kind heart. He dated several women who didn’t want to marry him but liked to have fun with him. None of them did he date for any length of time, though; Berndette wouldn’t allow it. And, Berndette always got whatever she wanted. ...


To keep reading, check out this week's Clever Fiction HERE.

Fiction Friday: Obligatory Night Out

She told me it’d be fun.  She told me I’d have a blast.  She told me she’d pay for all the drinks, and that’s what sold me.

Just to be a pain, I ordered a crown & coke, a scotch on the rocks, and a pitcher of Bud.  If I was going to be out with her, she was certainly going to pay. 

“Why are you being a jerk?” she questioned.  “If you didn’t want to come out with me, you could have just said so.”

“I did,” I reminded her then chugged a frothy mug.

“Well,” she started.  I could tell she’d be easy to beat down this evening, “You’re here with me now, you might as well have a good time.  Besides, there’s not much else you could be doing.”

I downed my scotch before cutting my eyes to her.  “Really?”  I asked.  It was rhetorical for her, but I answered in my head.

I could be at the gym.  Not that I’d been to the gym in months.  I could be at Mark’s playing Halo.  Not that I’m any good at it since I’d started my new job.  I could be at the movies.  Not that there was anything worth paying $10 a ticket for.  I could be at the stadium, but their losing season didn’t make the trip through the traffic worth the effort.

I finished my scotch and then slammed the glass down on the bar.  I heard her heave a giant, resigned sigh.  “Fine,” she said, and I was pretty sure I heard a familiar catch in her voice:  The tears were on their way.  “You don’t have to be here.  You can leave.  I’ll pay up, and find my own way home.  I just thought we’d have a fun time tonight, ya know.  Just the two of us.  But never mind.”

“Look,” I said, feeling like the jerk that I really was, “I’m sorry.  It’s just that I’m not used to this.”

“I know,” she said, sniffling, “That’s why we should do this.  We never get to see each other.”

“I’ve been in college!” I countered.

“And I’ve missed you,” she whined. 

“OK,” I said, wondering if it’d be like this for the rest of our lives, “I’ll stay.  Anything you want.  It’s still weird, though,” I said looking for that last dig, “You’re my baby sister, after all!”

Friday Fiction: Day One - Relationships & Recovery

The Second Campaigner Challenge was more involved than the first.  You can read all about it HERE.  I chose to write one sentence for each photo prompt.  I'm not really feeling that this is my best work, but it's my work!  I'm COMPLETELY and TOTALLY open to critiques (criticize away!) and if I get enough response, I may rework this!  Enjoy!

Day One - Relationships & Recovery

After our half-hour journey, we stood watching the children as they pawed through the rubble that was once their village; they were completely oblivious to our being there, and we were completely enthralled with their innocence contrasted against the disaster that surrounded them.  We had hiked to our destination from the drop off point, the rest of our group was following behind with our supplies; as we leaned back against the remains of the bridge that linked this spot to any other area of civilization, my guide wished he had a first aid kit to patch up his leg, and I poured a modest amount of water from my canteen over my head to cool myself from the trek.  I smiled as I reached into my pack and removed the soccer ball, rolling it toward the children; they glanced up, grinned at each other, then raced toward the ball, kicking, smiling and laughing, and, upon recognizing the insignia on our shirts and backpacks, they began jabbering in their native tongue.  I unzipped my pack the rest of the way and pulled out the balloons that we filled using my partners camel pack and shared with our new friends the absolute joy that a bursting water balloon can bring to both the thrower and the now-very-wet receiver.  Slowly, as we were escorted then welcomed to their village, the light of our new friends danced around us all driving the shadows of the tsunami away for that one moment in time.

Fiction Friday: Frozen

I'm part of a writer's platform campaign and one of the challenges was to compose piece using the following guidelines:

Write a short story/flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “Shadows crept across the wall”. These five words will be included in the word count. 

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), do one or more of these:

• end the story with the words: "everything faded." (also included in the word count)

• include the word "orange" in the story

• write in the same genre you normally write

• make your story 200 words exactly!

So... Enjoy!

Shadows crept across the wall, and I felt lost;  I would not be frightened.   I walked slowly not knowing what my feet would find.    My right hand showed the twists and turns of the path; my left hand preceded me.

As I rounded the corner, I knew where I was.  With my arms still projected from my sides, I quickened my steps.  I was now certain I could reach my destination with no problem. 

But I was too cocky.  Just as I let a smile sneak onto my face, my feet became tangled with a backpack.  I let a yelp escape my lips, and kicked the backpack to the side then continued my journey.  Eventually, my hands excitedly felt what I instinctively knew to be true:  I had reached my destination. 

I securely grasped the handle and I pulled only to have my face flooded with a white light.  I clamped my eyes shut. I hadn’t gotten my bearings when I heard his gravely voice behind me.  “Really?” he groggily asked.

“Just a scoop,” I argued.  “I want just one scoop of orange sherbet.”

“Just come to bed,” he sighed pushing the freezer door closed.

I pouted as everything faded.