This is part two of an invitation for reader participation in one of my stories. You can read part 1 here. I tried to follow one of the ideas given, but as my first grade art teacher no doubt remembers, I was never good at staying inside the lines. 😉
Zane’s hand reached out of it’s own accord and plucked it off the table. The blank card felt expensive as it rested heavily between his fingers. He flipped the card around to see and address printed in pink letters with an all-too familiar dolphin leaping out of imaginary water beneath the text.
A smile split Zane’s lips. As a lover of puzzles he knew immediately that he could not resist investigating. It would not take much effort to reschedule his plans for the day. Doing laundry and taking a nap before the game came on would have to wait until Sunday. (more…)
Removing his cap, Captain Tanner Shipley pulled aside the tent flap and entered the world of green and brown that some of the men called the turtle shell. General Saunders sat behind an Army issue desk studying the latest maps. All that could be seen of hard-nosed commander was his closely cropped silver hair.
“Sir, your requisition has come to my attention.”
General Saunders looked up for the first time and adjusted his spectacles to see his visitor more clearly. He waited silently for the Captain to continue.
“There appears to be a… oversight in the request.” (more…)
Interviewer: Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today Dr. Becker.
Dr. Thomas Becker: My pleasure.
Interviewer: I would like to start from the beginning, if we may. There are several different theories on the origins of Rating Inc., but as one of the foremost experts on the company, you seem to disagree with all of them, without offering a theory of your own.
Dr. Becker: I do not necessarily disagree with the theories themselves… I just believe that we should focus on what we know and not waste our time weaving exotic tales to fit whatever hidden agendas we might have.
Interviewer: The director of the C.I.A. was recently quoted as saying, “They know more about me than I do about them.” As one of the most secretive companies on the planet, what do we know?
The drumbeat of footsteps shook the floor announcing the arrival of my nephew seconds before his face appeared in my doorway.
“Uncle Joe! Uncle Joe! Tell me a story!”
This high-pitched request broke sanctity of my Saturday morning sleep. I would be lying if I did not tell you that my first thought was to teach the boy a lesson in courtesy involving a boot and a butt. As I sat up I saw that his eager smile lacked any mischief and it quickly melted my anger into a warm pile of compassion. (more…)
Mrs. Wonder smiled politely and started a gentle clap that prompted the rest of her first grade class to follow suit. Show-and-tell Friday’s had become a predictable time of slow talking and a round of letting all the students touch each object. This week’s theme of “What I Collect” had been a small parade of Barbie’s, superhero action figures, and for those who forgot to bring something… shoes.
Nick leaned against the passenger side window as his mom backed out of the driveway and tried fall back into the world of sleep he had been forced to abandon. His scruffy brown hair was just long enough help block out some of the morning light. If the judge had told him that waking up at 8:30 each Saturday was part of the deal, he might have opted for the jail time instead.
A constant jostle of stops and starts kept the dream world at bay, but thoughts of the day that denied him his sleep filled his mind. His dress shoes squeaked noticeably from lack of use in the quiet of the courtroom. Fear struck him like a sledgehammer to the chest when the bailiff would not let his mom join him in the front. That was the moment he knew the judge was going to treat him like an adult even though he had just turned 17.
Please forgive me as I set aside my attempt at witty prose and likable characters to share something with you. I understand that this post is breaking a pretty solid pattern and that is inherently dangerous, but I feel as though the message I have for you is worth the risk. It is simply this, THANK YOU.
When I was a little younger I realized a few things about writing. One was that, although I felt like I had a gift to write, that gift was just a seed and it needed many hours of practice to help it bloom into what it was meant to be. That is one of the reasons I started this blog. Another was that I knew I could not get there on my own. I had a deep need to know what others thought and felt when they read my words. I needed to know if I was making a difference. (more…)
The moment I stood up I knew there was no going back. Any courage I had felt drained away and was instantly replaced by a myriad of fears. I stared at my feet, willing them to move. Heads began to turn from the front rows, like a wave of dominoes that came crashing towards me. Slowly, I slid past the strangers sitting with me in the last row. That walk to the front of the funeral home was the longest of my life.
The minister motioned to the podium and I found my place behind it. I began to study the wood grain in an attempt to avoid meeting the hard gazes of people I had never met. Silence only fed my fears, so I took a deep breath and looked up. (more…)
(Author’s Note: Mood greatly effects the work that creative people produce. As you will soon find out, this piece was created when I was in a peculiar mood, to say the least. It is a different kind of story than I usually write. Whether that is good or bad I will leave up to you.)
Friday had always been the most popular day. Monday, being the nerdiest day, had always tried to be like Friday, but never met with much success. Tuesday and Wednesday mostly ignored the rest of the days and could often be found huddled up together and laughing at some inside joke between the two of them. Wednesday was the quiet one and Thursday tried to get along well with every day. Sunday was the oldest and most mature, but tended to be long-winded when it came to spiritual matters.