Arthur’s Comments (group member since Oct 25, 2008)

Arthur’s comments from the Short Story Contests group.

You're an awesome writer rani.

Congratulations Clare, winner of this weeks contest!!

Instructions:
Please do not use a story previously used on goodreads. After the week's contest, you are welcome to put it on your profile writings, but please refrain from using stories you have already put on there.

You have until Saturday afternoon to post a story on here. Please post it directly onto this topic, rather than posting a link. Also, please do not discuss stories on here. You must go to Weekly Short Story Contest Discussion for that. This will avoid any clutter and confusion, so that people can simply come on here and read the story, without having to read comments on the story.

This week's topic is Ennui If anyone has any objections to this topic, please go to the Objections post. The rules are pretty loose. You could write about something that ((see **Heads Up**)) etc. Or you could just have the word in the story.

Weekly stories must be at least 500 words long to 2,500 words long. (if the whole story won't fit in one post, divide it into two)

Good luck!

Arthur [acting for Clare:]

P.S. PLEASE say if you would like to have your story on Short Story Galore, if you win. This way it wouldn't take me ages to get your consent afterwards. This includes adding a link to your stories. If you want to have your story on the Short Story Galore, but not the link, just say so.


**Heads Up**
Ennui may be a tough word to use and difficult to understand but you want to write right? Here’s a quick reference from my writer’s thesaurus which contains over a 1000 pages: Ennui noun an ennui bred of long familiarity BOREDOM, tedium, listlessness, lethargy, lassitude, languor, weariness, enervation; malaise, dissatisfaction, melancholy, depression, world-weariness, Weltschmerz.

And from my desktop dictionary:
en•nui [on w:]
n. boredom from lack of interest: weariness and dissatisfaction with life that results from a loss of interest or sense of excitement
[Mid-18th century. Via French from, ultimately, Latin in odio , in the phrase in odio est “it is hateful” (source of English annoy).:]
Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2004 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

You may also look it up on the internet if you know an online dictionary, Urban or otherwise, and check for access in a pocket thesaurus or dictionary you may have at school or at home.

You have until Sunday afternoon to post a poem on here before the Topic changes. Please post it directly onto this topic, rather than posting a link. You're welcome to discuss poems on here also.

This week's Topic is Fly. If anyone has any objections to this topic, please go to the Poetry Topic Objections post.


Poems can be as long and short as you want them to be. This is not a contest, it's just for fun and to show off our own poetry.

Holy catchfish, nice job H.

...remember it started before a show I watched on TBS a few times in the ninties.

I'm working on a story about a male and female companion traveling in space, or something. I'll post it soon.

****GO VOTE****

The poll is up for this contest. <>

Good luck everyone. Get to the poll and vote!!!

~

“Roger that.” Detective Jeremiah had said while thinking exactly the particular same thing, he had seen one murder since he became detective giving Jeremiah one chance of solving his first murder. Death of some person or possible homicide? It was an unsolved case still today. Its moral fiber of that entry as a mark did much to enforce his belief that crimes and homicides were dispersible. A manner of death with complication that lead the police to refuse to let it rest on its own without further investigation. After a deal of man power hours spent trying to solve his first homicide case there were not enough clues to obtain evidence whether it was murder or other and eventually filed in the unsolved cabinet.

Two weeks later the detective unit was not in an old but otherwise closed up abandoned apartment building over on the dirty Westside. Here earlier was found another dead guy baring sufficient marking of a possible homicide. Usually a dead person could mean a drunk stiff or druggie overdosed. Not sufficient to call homicide over to the Westside.

Detective Jeremiah stood leaning in a broken edge of a door way in a hall on the fifth floor. He could feel the urgency of panic of seeing death again. For a homicide detective he hadn’t acquired a stronger stomach each time he was required to see death. Instead he began to close his mind to shut it off. And he concentrated for clues when he turned away from the corpses. He found no admiration in death and seeing it.

“What do we have?” he asked.

“Looks like a homicide. Unidentified middle-aged male, white, well done on the neck, like he twisted when he fell, let’s go in.” the constable mentioned the truth before it appeared gruesome.

“bbb . . . bbb ça que bbb bbb . . .” asked Monsieur Sturgeon pointing to the wrist watch as evidence of well to do in social nobility. The man lay on his side as if he fell, but an angle suggested someone found him and turned him on his side to check his breathing. The children playing who say they found the dead man say they didn’t touch him.

“Is that gold Rolex? How much is that worth in American, five or ten thousand? I suspect he was not robbed.” The translator said speaking Sturgeon’s words in English.

“Let’s get a good look at it, constable slip that Rolex off.” Detective Jeremiah said.

They examined it while the investigation crew loomed around in the background. “Looks so; whatever, a bum wouldn’t wear one of those. He’s presentably dressed and has nice Italian shoes. Coroner will examine him but tell us he has a snapped neck. We measure it and suppose maybe he fell, but maybe it was snapped. We will know more after a coronary.”

They used fluorescing light looking for traces of hairs and finger prints, weapons and foot prints. There were a few left but it was impossible to indicate why the man was up here and whether this was where he died. They found no wallet suggesting the person had lost it already earlier in the night and had no way of getting home so came in here for the night but fell while looking at the building.

A constable entered Jeremiah’s office. “A missing persons report, sir.” Looked like Mace DeRoos a city well-known news reporter who had his own columnist article had been missing twenty-four hours. He had been last seen exiting his local favorite haunts and possibly on his way home. No one has seen him and his butler says he has not returned. Little is known about Mace DeRoos because he lived much alone and privately. A few social parties a year, and his column for The Journal Post had ran his column Art’s Nerd by Night as a local star gossip column digging news about celebrities and exposing scenes and new hang-outs plus he gave advice to people who wrote to his column. People with personal social problems could write in asking advice and Art Star’s a.k.a Mace DeRoos gave his edited opinions, sometimes hilarious crack ups other times just professional sounding advice.

Mace DeRoos’s butler and his personal assistant came into the morgue to identify the body but found it gruesome.

The butler identified him. The body found yesterday in the abandoned apartment was DeRoos. And the assistant had to back away and gasp for breath. Somewhere in his mind Mace DeRoos could still have lived or at least in jeopardy until the assistant saw his cold corpse.

Something glittered in Monsieur Sturgeon imagination. The dead body in the alley had the similar fatal marks of a broken neck and fall. But there would be no connection between a poor person who may have been robbed and then pushed out a car breaking it in the fall. Or there could be a strange coincidence. Since on death occurred a few days ago, why not another? Wasn’t it coincidence?

“bbb . . . bbb ça que bbb bbb . . .”

“Monsieur Sturgeon would like to see DeRoos’s residence and office.” The rookie translator stated for Sturgeon. “To look at possible break in entries.”

“The butler says he did not return home.” A constable shrugged to Jeremiah suggesting it was the obvious place to look only to not expect finding anything if he had not returned home. Not questioning the French detective or his motives they searched both premises. After their searching and finding the entire house was undisturbed through the night they then left satisfied that there was no sign of forced entry at either the house or his office.

“Well another dead end,” Jeremiah said, thinking about the coincidence of two broken necks. “What did you hope to see in the house?”

“bbb . . . bbb ça que bbb bbb . . .”

“He said, ‘I only think it a crime too. Back in my country where there is a mystery there is time to commit a crime.”

“What?” asked Jeremiah.

“He planted wireless bugs in each room.” Said the translator. “he suspects the assistant may have known an outside person who we triangulate the murder. Why if the assistant was to receive insurance would he not commit such a crime to a glitter gossip column writer.”

“We had a warrant to search the place; did we have one to place bugs?”

“I have an international interest in this investigation, by my waiver I got permission to ride this with my emissary people.”

“Oh that will hurry this up; huh they allow you to act as a spy as well as an investigator?”

“Something of its kind, yes.” Translated the constable to Jeremiah.

They sat for a few hours in a van listening to the talk between the assistant and the butler in the early twilight of the evening.

“bbb . . . bbb ça que bbb bbb . . .”

“What did that mean?” asked Jeremiah.

“He wants to get coffee after the couple’s confession.” The constable translated.

“Confession? What couple?”

Then suddenly they watched the assistant going into the house.

“There you are Frederick. My god. Do you think the police will now quit?”

“Barny, I will not tell you again to shut up. I don’t want to talk about DeRoos or the police. We have another week until I receive the insurance and you the assets then we can change our identities. Maybe go south together and live like free men.”

“bbb . . . bbb ça que bbb bbb . . .” said Monsieur Sturgeon.

“What does that mean?” asked Jeremiah

Monsieur Sturgeon tried again in English this time trying to phrase himself. “The cuckoo flews the coop.”

“Ah, I know what that means. We have them once they finish embezzling the money and they intend to leave we will have the evidence they did it together to steal the money.”

The ‘happy conclusive’ End

Name: Jeremiah’s Volcano
By: Arthur
Words: 1,788
Notes: I did not like my story. Oh well. And doubt it made sense.
………..

Jeremiah’s Volcano

Monsieur Sturgeon the French entrepreneur from France looked at the American detective and his eyes looked with deep fright. His usual eyes had been left in France where things looked normal. Not as they did to him in America where people fled each day in a ramrod fashion to show their patriotic freedom as well as lack of concern.

Standing over a half naked man in an alley obviously dead the detective still required a translator to understand Sturgeon’s explanations. Each explanation defied reason. Every problem defied the explanation. “You can tell by his nails.” The translator said. “They are bending in towards himself. And he was a dirty and strong man. Strong muscle strength! It looks like he had no diet and wore heavy clothing.”

“Tell Sturgeon thank you.” Detective Jeremiah American born and bread had little experience on the street. He had grown up in a quiet city and in that part of the well to do of town. His parents had been disappointed in his interests in the police force and concerned especially when he joined after his study in college. He showed interest because he saw everything. Seeing this dead man lying half naked in an alley was his second possible murder.

Why he had been assigned the visiting entrepreneur of France Jeremiah was not sure. He had other partners but since his last collogue Frank retired Jeremiah concluded he will spend most of his career behind a desk in a swamp of old and out of date theories derived by a century of police detectives he felt unconvinced could be important. Records flooded a wing of the building. His office had moved to be next door to it.

“Opps,” said Jeremiah. “I don’t see much but the lack of movement in his limbs.” He was trying to crawl into the alley by the appearance of the body’s direction. The head and arms and a trail of blood going deeper in the other end from the street. The alley lead down to old wooded up doors and was a dead end. Chains and gates were all along building in this neighborhood for night defense.

“bbb . . . bbb ça que bbb bbb . . .” said Monsieur Sturgeon trying to explain what he indeed decided was noticeable. The few clues did not make much sense. There was no way to total up anything conclusive this way.

“Indeed,” said the translator. “A man who could not have walked without shoes does not attempt to run down an alley he knows well to hide without clothes. He would have screamed for help. He must have lost consciousness left out of a car from being beaten and left for dead then crawled.”

~continue

I went along a path through the highlands and the low ones and stumbled upon a lantern glowing in the night along the graveyard. It was all alone. There were only three graves there marked. A man and his wife and his child to be crammed into the earth. I let out a cough and shivered while I felt the cold. I read the grave’s history, 'We rest in peace, for the people shall not perish from the earth."

These are stories that are ALWAYS less than 75 words. Today's topic is Path.

You may write your story to be a really short self story, personal mystery or experience. It can be anything

congrat g's, um a tie lolz

Thanks, Clare.

Looks interesting, Id like to read your story. Here I just found a link to click on to all of your writing: http://www.goodreads.com/story/list/2...
And moved your group comment you posted to the links topic heading to help others find your message.

These are stories that are ALWAYS less than 75 words. Today's topic is Happy Birthday Clare.

You may write your story to be a really short self story, personal mystery or experience. It can be anything

Thanks randi!

Oh right, Clare. I'm in huge support of Short story Galore, I'd like it there!!!

I won? My luck, oh well, I was going to give the clover to the winner as a prize this week.
Awesome story randi and H!! It seems a shame you know.Thanks everyone.

The following next day he had such bad dreams about it. What if something went wrong? What if someone found out he had been granted magical wishes? What if it was only in his imagination?

Today he went to the pet store to look at getting a pet. He wasn’t totally sure what he would wish for. But a type of pet came to mind. But he wouldn’t wish a pet into existence. Would he? Not likely. His decision although. But he wanted to go to the store to relax about his problem and see the cute animal faces.

When there he met that same girl he wished to have met, again. she mentioned she was staying only for the summer. She had come to look at the types of pets in the store to relax about her problem too.
Erin thought self consciously the urge to tell her about his clover and the things he wished for. But that would mean revealing he had wished to meet her – well – her.
She had come to learn to be a water life guard this summer. Without thinking about it, Erin wished to be a very excellent swimmer. Learning to swim and being strong. It would become true.
When he went home he thought about her. He never asked her name. But now that he knew she was at least here the summer maybe he would figure out a way that she could see him swim. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself, or the others of the other swimmers now that he was as good of a swimmer.

All night he dreamed about her. He wondered what it would be like with her. Suddenly he remembered he didn’t have parents of his own and that she probably did. That would work out to be awkward. Then in a trivial blinding flash there it was his fifth and final wish. That he knew who his parents was and they would send for him.
Nothing felt odder than that.
‘Soon.’ he thought and he would know who he was and why his parents abandoned him. A very nice choice.

Outside a flash of lightening and with big thunder came the sky. it appeared dark blue then grey – then safari green lights flashed from the sky in quick succession. Not ever before had Erin seen such a rain storm. Then in just seconds the horrid sounds of honking appeared. He went outside to see what was coming from the sky. He had wished something bad. Was god angry? Was there no way he was going to bring Erin’s parents? Were they dead? Was he now?

When he reached outside, he saw Neil protecting half-aunt May from the lights and the winds. Half-aunt May and Neil had been standing outside. Neil held his hands over his eyes to protect them from the blinding UFO’s light.
Half-Aunt May was waving at it. Why was she waving to a flying ship?
“What’s going on Neil?” Erin asked
“It’s . . . ” Neil said. “It has to do with you and Half-Aunt May,” Neil said. “Something to do with you two.”
“Aunt may?” Erin said. “What do a space ship have to do with Aunt May?” Erin then suddenly wondered if Aunt May was going away with the flying saucer; why was she being taken away?
“No you don’t understand Erin. Your parents didn’t just leave after they gave you to us. They left in their ship.” Neil said.
“They? There are people inside?” Erin asked.
Aunt May nodded her head back at Neil and Erin.
“Yes. I’m afraid it’s all true. I am so sorry Erin. But they are your parent and they came one day and they left you. For me to raise you. Here on earth. But they wanted to come back. And they said to give you those pills one day and you’d understand what to do with them. Knowing that you’d react the same they all do. You’d dislike the taste and throw them away. Once you did those things you see. One grew in the patch wherever they were and sprung up clover. They explained this all to me. You wished them here.”

The End.

Title: The Path Of The Five Clover Patch
Author: Arthur
Words: 2209

…………….

Erin “iron” Parker had been a boy once. He knew when he grew up without knowing who his parents really were that it had left a scar on him. He was raised by his aunt, an actual half aunt, for one thing. Erin did a little of his own research, to find his parents. He would need to know how his half-aunt had been the half sister to his mother. Of course he was never able to find that out about them on his own. No one spoke of his parents or his mother or about it to his half-aunt who took responsibilities of bringing up the boy on her own. Erin had two half cousins who were much older. His half aunt had two sons of her own.
Of course if Erin had really been related as his half aunt implied it would have been much easier to find out about his parents. Only now he did feel the need to confront his aunt with wanting to be told the truth.
His mind made up he simply was intended on getting in an arguing match with his half aunt to learn the truth of his real parents and who they were. Because he couldn’t find the half sister his aunt claimed all along had been his mother all these years. The name he had of his mother didn’t exist.
His half aunt didn’t have any sisters. So why did he believe all these years she had a half-sister. His half aunts relatives were all passed away. He husband was dead. She only had two middle aged sons. If worse came to worse, Erin would turn to the sons for answers.

The Path Of The Five Clover Patch

There was lightly wind which felt good. Erin kneeled his knee at the bench his Aunt May was sitting taking her hand in his. His was slow to begin his simple plan of confronting her which was hard for him. Really aunt May looked so frail in her old age.
“Is your back hurting again?” His aunt asked.
“Yes aunt. It’s nothing. Maybe I should see a doctor?” Erin asked. He had worked for his aunt doing the chores and keeping the farm. They didn’t have animals since after his half brother finished college they move away. Erin wasn’t a teenager yet. But they did have a garden and fences to mend, a huge amount of land to cut grass and fixing of the house.
“I have just the right thing my boy,” aunt May said. “I just come from the town and I brought you these muscle relaxing pills. The pharmacist said take these.” she handed it a large bottle, nearly a whole kg of pills from a shopping bag.
“Oh aunt, I don’t know what to say, but thank you. I’ll run in and get water, these do with water don’t they?” Erin asked.
“Read the label Erin. I think they might, I’m sure that was what I was told that you can drink water after each tablet. But if you don’t like these don’t give up, there are more kinds to help pain relief.” Saying this Erin nearly forgot why he can out here to greet his aunt.
They sat outside and that brought peace of mind. Now was the time to speak and get what he wanted out of her.
“Oh Erin, I’m sorry, I don’t feel very well, can you help me in and bring me tea. I’m going to take a nap, let’s talk about it tomorrow.” She said after he asked her about his parents. She planned to avoid him and possibly let it be forgotten.

Erin went inside, making tea. He stopped a few minutes and took a few tablets out and took one. Those tables tasted awful. He chucked the kg bottle out the door landing in an old compost pile near the garden at the back kitchen door. He would speak with his half brother tonight.

Erin only leaned a couple of things from Neil. All the things Neil said was true. He had been there the day Erin was brought to the house. What Erin found out about his birth and being placed in half-Aunt May’s was that his missing parents were a couple of teens from out of town looking for a free ride. The two who disappearance had been after the summer. Its secret wasn’t a shocking story, but Neil told Erin the teens had run away from the big city. Of course were unwanted by their own home if they were found out about the mother being her pregnant. No one in town knew them or from where they came from and they kept to them self as loners. They did hang out on the beach with other homeless. That was common then, years ago. But the night Erin appeared the two unknown teens disappeared.
Likely the couple whose disappearance had occurred after the end of the summer returned to their home.
His half-aunt may wasn’t his mother’s sister after-all. His shocked shook Erin putting his hands on his head. Erin went to bed early that night.

When he woke he shifted in his bed, and then looked out his window. One more ordinary unchanging uneventful inauspicious nightmare of a day. Erin went down stair, aching the way but not regretting his pain. Erin’s muscles needed the pills more than ever. Then he remembered, he through them out the door into the yard.
He went out to trough out the trash. As he stopped he noticed a huge new patch of ever green grown over the decompose compound. The composite was usually brown but not now. And strangely there were clovers all over it too. Then Erin noticed the large one in the middle. It didn’t have three clove leaves, it had five.

Ironically he suddenly imagined what it was. What if it was to grant five wishes? He was trying to have some fun after-all.

He made one wish. While his insides were feeling on edge. And his back ached. His muscles seized on him. A wish formed in his mind onto his lips. For all things of life-his had meaning.

His wish? His wish is to be able to hear the national ball games and hear their scores as they played whenever he wanted. He then smiled for his wistful thinking and ultimately was childish wish. But when it did make some sense, and it came true suddenly. Suddenly Erin knew the ball games and was altogether different. “If I have a five leaf clover and it granted my wish then I have four more.” He thought to himself.

And then his decision was to wish for four more things and let things end as that. Too choose four more were to choose wisely and choose smart.

The gift to tune into his favorite games had been his wish come true. And now it actually worked. He tuned in and out frequently knowing scores and plays. The next day he wished to meet the loveliest girl alive. Oh that was unwise. But he didn’t change his mind, he decided too late to, because to merely meet wouldn’t mean anything enough to either of them except a brief exchange of greetings. To be safe if it was possible to come true he would still want it to occur that way. No forcing any wish to change anyone’s future.

The next day he stopped and looked at his patch outside. It had not changed since he found his wish clover, except two clover leaf petal withered dry. He had almost hoped it would as a sign. Really, since after his brief encounter yesterday with a young lady he felt almost as if he could eventually as easily ask for her hand in marriage, maybe wish for it. His second wish had come true. Now more than ever he wanted to be wise and not ask for something he couldn’t enviably predict the outcome of.

For his third wish he wished to know how they build airplanes. That was a smart wish too. Then it too had sudden come into his mind like and almost just as mysteriously come true too.
That afternoon Erin tinkered with problems of aviation his mind could not work with before. Surprise none of it bothered him now.
Erin wanted to take a flight, just anywhere after all of his wishes was granted. Maybe he could only go economized for the fun of being on the plane. The plane with its simple maneuverable flight control appealed to him. Little planes like the Cessna caravan appealed to him, the light airframe and take off runway, air time, the very one with neat trinket seats and no no-class flight. Or maybe the big jets or whatever. anything! Erin’s third wish came true and made him more adventurous now. And now Erin would have to make a standard fourth wish. But now Erin had been on a standstill for his fourth wish.