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

Arthur’s comments from the Short Story Contests group.

Thanks. Write like that though.

I don't mind your song.

It was because I suggested to Clare about leaving the vote for last week a day longer lasting until Monday night, it appears there is one hour left to vote, and because of the holiday now that people may return and then we can finally start a new week. The new Short Story contest may appear Tuesday sometime. Sorry for the confusion everyone, etc. the holidays took a lot of people away. Thanks for understanding.

Janelle's story about Fishy, Paul's Running Away With It and Livi's The Day I Remember The Best...and my story too...are really really good, must read them everyone!!

I think we should stop for this week. Let's start the vote, and Monday will have a new topic to write new stories!!

Let's vote for your favorite story written this week...

These are stories that are ALWAYS less than 75 words. Today's topic is Window. The rules are flexible in this. You may write your story to be a really short mystery or about glass-covered openings letting in light. Or someone could say it was the display in a store window, or a place to exchange information, or experienced a rain coming in or a window screen. It can be anything

Zoltan and His Little Shoe Shop

Zoltan and his little shoe shop had been his big dream. His biggest success. His greater success was gift wrapping Christmas slippers he eventually gave to orphan’s during Christmas. But he had made the most beautiful footwear, possibly the very most beautiful in the whole world.
Once a year Zoltan closed his shop for the Christmas season, for most people Christmas would prove a chance again to sell their shop wear. But not Zoltan, he found few shopping in his shop all year round, it wasn’t his prices, he was puzzled because of the problem he knew as to who would buy such beautiful foot wears that had no magical powers. His shoes looked so magical.
The beauty of his shoe was so exquisite Zoltan learned a buyer had to come to touch with their fingers just to feel the down of the shoe, and while Zoltan knew from experience customers came into his shop and had they actually felt drawn to his foot wears, like magical powers, but they felt the materials and often went away as if always only mistaken that Zoltans shoes were the finest, of the best qualities, but still ordinary and beautiful.
They wanted more than beauty; they wanted what Zoltan put into the soul of his shoes, a promise of fantastic magic. If Zoltan could cut the cloth from a magic carpet and stuffed in place them in his shoes they may sell off his shelves, but if only magic carpets existed. Then they would have to think there was a quality about his shoes that had to be nothing but his magic. His customers knew once placing on the foot wears there was no magical feeling only the beauty of the fine soul, many so vain of beauty would want his foot but often did not perchance because there was nothing really special enough about the soul of the foot of his wears other than the beauty.
That was always the problem. That was the sad case of Zoltan and his shoe store. Buying material was far too expensive, especially because he sold way to few shoes each year. And fewer came every year too. But by the time Christmas was arrived, a torrent of wind that was sharp with cold had seeped its way into his shop every year on the same days and same nights.
For two weeks Zoltan would find he had to stop his work of shoes to make Christmas slippers without stop. He would close his shop to everyone, travelers or shoppers. He would not open his shop in the day to sell shoes, but made these special slippers, he felt them to be precious and maybe filled with the real magic his ordinary shoes had been missing.
Winter foot wear was the traditional thing for a shoe maker to be preparing for winter months, but not Zoltan.
The shoe maker last was covered with autumn dust. His garbage was littered in his store with old rotten shoes, boots, sandals, clogs and moccasins. He had collected them for his making Christmas slippers out of used material, all he could afford. Ever since the magic winds came to his door and he let the air in, Zoltan had the gift to make new Christmas slippers every year and in lightening speed fashion. As winter sets in, the winds returned every year knocking at his door and he couldn’t ignore the winds any longer and would always let the magic wind in and in a hurry he would make all sorts of slippers. "The shoemaker's children are often shoeless".
The handicraft shoe maker door shook, the winter winds had come again. The blowing wind crept it ways from behind the door under it going like magic on the shoe makers lasts. The wooden lasts used to shape shoes would fill with magic from a Christmas wind from outside and alter everything. Once it would blow into Zoltan room he would cease making shoes and bring out his material he would save all year and begin slippers for the orphans.
From under the door the best described wind will howled every night finding its way into the shabby house. The winds outside continue to howl. The wind inside curled from the winds outside and illuminated the room purchasing.

Zoltan had finished after weeks of labor. And he went out to do some Christmas shopping. He found he had no money, and wanted some so badly.
Zoltan found his favorite store, and knew he couldn’t afford like he could years before, now filled the bakery’s window where he stopped and stood with his hungered eyes. Zoltan had been looking into the window with his eyes stopping in the street for envy of food for months not daring to ever go in without any money. His purse was empty, his family didn’t lend, all he had was his shop to live in which would soon disappear as almost already, he was penny pyrite stricken instead of rich with gold. He ought to have been rich. He felt the hunger he knew he shouldn’t have felt. The hunger someone with his magic should not felt. If he could have sold his magic slippers he was willing. More than willingness if he could leave his business of no profit he was more than willing. His hunger was making him accept leaving his home and running away to another town where they will have not heard of his magic slippers at Christmas he gave to orphans, if a town like that still exists after all.
It was as if his fatigue and hunger was weakening him. As if he was going to stop, but he knew he was too old to move to another town. To old to worry if he had to stop. If it wasn’t because his magic only came at Christmas and for Christmas slippers instead of the deserved wealth.

Christmas Eve arrived and he found himself satisfied with his slippers. He had them bunched up in packages and in the big sack he used every year.
A boy named Little Timothy had been new to the orphanage. His parents had recently let him to the orphanage because Little Timothy couldn’t grow strong enough to grow straight legs. He was feeble and stout of size. He had a nice handsome boyish face and short hair that he was well liked. He had just come today to the orphanage. And Zoltan hadn’t realized until this moment the special making of slipper he would need to make a stronger slipper for this boy. He first thought his slippers would be inadequate. But the boy lurched himself up on a chair, releasing his crutches and first Zoltan place slippers on his feet.
The boy wiggled them until they fit tightly on his feet and smiled that he was very satisfied.
Zoltan was kind and appreciative, and smiled too to the rich looking crippled boy. And Zoltan felt a patter in his own heart that he did indeed treasure his Christmas slippers. That he felt at peace for once, he felt kind and then heard winds at the orphanage door just like at his shop. And the boy grew excited at the banging at the door and curious, that he got up suddenly on his own without help to see what was banging so loud against the door. He managed on his own getting himself up that everyone went into shock. Then two things happened, first Zoltan fainted when at the shock of magic in the boy feet then Zoltan did die, and second latter the boy grew up hearing the same Christmas wind blow at his own door every Christmas wanting in.

The End

http://www.triond.com/help

Congratulations Adrienne!! Winning this week’s short story with her story Christmas Spirit!!

Sure, I think any use of the word will work, you could add the word if you wish, or your story could be about saomething slippery...

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 http://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/6... 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 Slipper. If anyone has any objections to this topic, please go to the Objections post. The rules are pretty loose. You could write about indoor shoes, something slippery causing sliding, people who give the slip constantly or a person in your story having a difficult time holding something.

Weekly stories must be at least 500 words long to 2,000 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.

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 talons. 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.

Come to SLEEP tot SLEEP SHOPPING CENTER, see where there’s no limits on kegs of peanut butter, a solution grocery stop, a Christmas blow out sale on all Christmas stock, goods and boxing day specials, we have everything you want small flat HD TV’s, appliances, bed rooming peripherals, visit our Sleeping department for bedding wares.

Last chance to post a story *last chance to post for this weeks shory story contest* I will be posting the poll for voting this afternoon

Like battleships in the golden sea gold bells ring-a-ding-dong-a-ding-dong, like earthen angels in hearths set a flame like candles to elude the cold of winter silver bells ring-a-ding-dong-a-ding-dong, and here comes Santa Claus too to bring with great gusts of snow and gusts of winds a country sleigh ride filled with presents for every child believing in Christmas. Every child will be filled with love and surprise only by their parents who share to bring through the old year with a holiday that will bring the New Year to fill the holidays with seasons and greetings.

These are stories that are ALWAYS less than 75 words. Today's topic is Christmas. The rules are flexible in this. You may write your story to be a really short mystery about Christmas. Or someone could say it was their religious experience or it was a Santa kind of Christmas. It can be anything

At the top of the glass of the globe it pointed into two directions. Then the neon colors spread from the globe and flashed out into a distorted picture of the globe’s magical picture. There was more lights now then when Marilyn woke and the two felt fright. They disappeared from Marilyn’s home. And they reappeared in Merlin’s castle. And they could hear the crashing blows on his door. And the shouts of armed men seizing his home under his feet.
Merlin cocked his brow and blew off a sigh of grief as he dashed for a magical potion. Dave gave a fearful bark. And Marilyn hustled him. Merlin raced back. Then he held the potion, and realized he still hadn’t gotten it right.
He was a great and powerful man, but some reason the world was changing, even though with his powerful magic and wisdom, there wasn’t anyway to stop it. He grew sorrowful, and grinned. “I’m in the middle of a terrible seizure of England my young lady. Arthur has died, and he has lost his kingdom. And I’m afraid I will no longer be remembered. The universe sees me as Arthur’s wizard, though I am no man’s slave. I have helped children all my existence.”
“Like Santa Claus you help Arthur become king?”
“I assisted him, but he trapped me here because he was everyone’s favorite king of children in the centuries to come. The great men were forgotten of often.”
“I never knew.”
“Alas kings are easily saved to memories like the snow globe you have.”
He continued. “And I must send you back. Brace yourselves. Thank-you Marilyn and your silly little Dave. You released me from being trapped in time. And now I must save you,” He released his arms, that flashed, and Marilyn felt the floor return, and Dave wines brought Marilyn to look at him, then their time.
Seven thirty. And Bradley was coming around the corner, pulling his sleeper blanket and had a superhero pillow too, and looked at Marilyn then headed for the couch. He plunked down on it and closed one eye. “You know Marilyn, Mom is going to yell when she sees you’ve opened a gift early. She’s going to yell.”
“Yell about what?” She asked entering the room after Bradley but from the kitchen with a tray. “Where did the two of you come from?”
Marilyn looked up at her mother in a frightful state. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just wanted to open to see what Dad gave me.”
“Alright young lady. Alright.” She gave a sympathetic look, of warning though, then a sigh of relief, “But get your robe on Marilyn, you’ll get cold without it. And without the fire going, I’m surprised you are even out here. I’m giving this to your father. I’ll be out in a sec and start you two something. Well don’t just stand there, get going for your robe Marilyn.”
Her mother turned and Marilyn went to her room. She had the snow globe in her hands and Dave was following her wining in low short sounds.

The End

“Now please Marilyn let me explain a few things about time. It’s a tricky thing to explain. I am a cosmos magician, in books they just call it a thing now well known as a wizard. Do you have any idea what a wizard will really mean?” He smiled as he ended in a question because he hardly expected her to realize so much so young, but he still had known she was harmless, or more helpful that he was at first able to estimate. She had to help lead him around in an unchartered world that was in a far future and when the time had visibly stopped. But he didn’t know about the time. He had not seen a clock stop except the one when he left.
“So I am a wizard Marilyn. There…do you see?” He pointed to the clock. “Do you know when time will begin?” He asked.
“No.… Do you?” She realized from the sound of her voice that maybe she wasn’t asleep after all. There was only her and a figure that looked like Santa in her house. Where was her creative sleep’s imagination? And her mother and grandmother? Perhaps she ought to help Santa find his way out of this trap and time would just resume.
“No. It stopped before I left England. Is that where I am now?”
“England? Were you delivering Christmas presents with a sleigh and Rudolf in that country?” She woke up his old rusty imagination by answering his question with her own. She looked wise too.
“I take that I am not in England. Then where am I?” That pricked both their ears. How could Santa not know of America? In fact why did he say from another time? Was there no America yet?
“Did you bring Rudolf?” She asked. She had a harmless enough questioning grin that he wished he knew.
“No. I do not believe I have any knowledge of Rudolf.”
He was from another time indeed. Marilyn flinched from the fright. How would they save Christmas and get Santa back into his sleigh?
“You may think I am someone, young lady than I am. Who did you think I was?”
“Santa Claus”
“Oh, indeed. I do resemble him some. Perhaps I am. I will look into the matter soon as I may return. But hopefully I will not end up in the North Pole.”
“But why not, we need Santa Claus.” She kind of heard her own note of worry in her voice, and did not want to either confront him on the matter or frighten him. He was Santa because he said he would speak to whoever was responsible about the matter once she wakes up from her impossible save Santa dream.
“Marilyn, I would like to introduce myself, as Merlin the Wonderful Wizard. There I’ve said me and my name. And believe me my dear there is some reason why I kind of hide myself. And you found me. Thank you child for that. Now to get to the bottom of the matter, I know all about culture and the world’s myths and magic. And I am not really Santa Claus, but I wish I was, and I am not saying there isn’t such a thing, I’m just saying he may not be here to help us now. Nay in the universe we are together trapped until time begins to move. And I think we have to solve why I am here. Let me explain a wizard’s life.…”
She looked as though she accepted the difference in her dream. Santa had been released himself because Christmas must also go on, but time was still, stopped, and to explain this the wizard is now that legend other worldly traveler Merlin locked up like a prisoner in time in her house.
“You are not Santa?” She asked.
“No. Will you still help me?”
“Yes. Why not?”
The clock gave off a chime now that it was five, and then it repeated itself backward fives more times. They were trapped in time because it was just going on five AM.
“Are there unicorns and sea monsters?”
“Hum…some. They aren’t worldly creatures. But men have envisioned them for as long as I may remember and I believe those were meant to be put on display. Or monsters used in stories tell of men fighting great beasts in victory in great legends.”
She nodded. Merlin trapped, was that a display or will it be a victory soon marked in a great legend saying Marilyn my adversary who saved me from time and utter darkness and his own doom?
Just then David wandered into the room. He was just sniffing the floor. He trotted to the man in the cloak and sniffed him too. Then sensed nothing and continued to sniff the floor and wandered off on his own.
“A mutt?”
“Dad’s. He’s been in the family for generations, they have a new batch every so-often, and Dad’s family keep them. I think all my relatives have at least one. Some go outside. Some mustn’t. Dave when a pup broke free from me and slid into the ice and went in, he’s now almost deaf. And he isn’t allowed out much anymore. A walk once in a while, but its rare he will get outside. He seems bound to the house since he was saved. A gentleman passing saved Dave. And Dad thought we would need to replace Dave, but Dave has been real good since. It’s been three years.”
“Pups huh, where are you from, may I ask?”
“You don’t know? I’m not sure, but that’s a Basset Hound.”
“An English Basset Hound, I didn’t know, hum maybe a new breed. Then the whole family must have gotten your pups from there at one point too.”
“Something like that. Mom wants to wait till I’m older, maybe” She blushed. “married before she explains such things. She says too much of a good thing poisons young ladies minds some of the time.”
“I see, she’s very wise but old fashion.”
“I think so.”
They shared a small smile. They were bonding, she and um…Merlin.
Dave gave a bark.
“Sh…shhh. Dave. Shh… Don’t wake Mom or Dad. And don’t go…” Her eyes lighted up. If Dave kept barking, Dave may wake up Bradley. And that wouldn’t be ideal.
Dave barked a muffled hiccup. And dragged a package out from under the Christmas tree. Merlin went over to the dog.
“Dave? You find something you want us to see?”
Marilyn looked at the package. It was to her from her father. Odd. She didn’t see it there last night. And here it was now. She lifted it and gave it a firm hold to assess its contents. “If you open it, maybe Dave will stop.” Merlin said. He was right. And she tipped it over to one side and slid out a box. It was a handsome gift box wrapped in Christmas paper. She handed the box to Merlin. He held it in one massive hand. She opened the lid, and they looked together inside the box. It was a snow globe of Merlin. There he was standing with a glow in the dark staff in liquid, and if you shook it neon colors of snow swirled in the globe.
She took it out, and shook it. The dog grumbled, and gave out a low moan after it had groaned. The clock began to tick again. And everything went real quiet. They looked to one another. Was this some kind of magic? A snow globe with a figure of Merlin in the middle.

Title: Road of the Future
Author: Arthur
Words: Way over the limit 3100
Notes: I wrote this for this contest but can’t make it shorter. Season Greetings and may all have a Merry Christmas!!

* ** * ** * ** * ** *
Road of the Future

And the crystal that had faded and spun until it disappeared from sight reappeared. Seeking a safe place to return and finding safety in the far future. The glow like Christmas lighted the bedroom only and grew brighter and continued brighter.
Marilyn woke and watched her dream for a short moment. Either she wished too strongly to see Christmas or hall lights wandered into her room. Perhaps she left her door open. And Bradley would then wander in too by mistake, not likely. Yet there it was mystical and magical luminous Christmas lights in her room.
She slowly found balance and pushed up the rustic bed spread that her mother and grandmother had handmade only last year as their gift for Christmas. She had heard stories, had learned such gifts would mean marriage, or other reasons but she had not expected the luxury of handmade and expensive gifts for her own room. Her mother had laughed almost into hysterics as Marilyn explained why she took fright seeing her Christmas gift was for her and not something for a chest and for the future. The fright of the suggestion of needing a husband dissolved. She smiled. Her father laughed. Bradley not understanding at all began to laugh too.
Marilyn had to cry in relief, and at their laughter she tried merely to understand her family. She only nearly made a silly goose fool of herself. Her father will forget her and her fears maybe. She would come to understand. He spoke to his wife about it later. And Marilyn had gone to get a cookie and overheard them. She then had realized that there is a big difference between believing she had known of something and the urgency of something she wouldn’t expect. She would at least seek a husband who was charming as her father and was just as understanding.
Her clock anyway had been set for at least another hour. And the nightmare she just had about Christmas lights was enough that she didn’t want to try to sleep again. She saw her door was indeed set ajar. She winced. Her mother had been awake too at some time and looked in. Good thing she woke, or Bradley would have seen it as open and run in to tell her it was Christmas morning with excitement on his childish fat face. One thing Marilyn could not understand was Bradley’s energy. If you put him on a treadmill with mom he could convince her to run a mile. Poor child may be up already, and with the TV on. He really is not allowed this early to be up without someone else, but he gets the idea when it’s Christmas that Santa will visit, and maybe Santa is on TV.
Marilyn decided the crack in her door was merely a sweet peek-in by her mother and maybe an operative message that may mean she couldn’t sleep herself, and if by chance I took any faith in my life I ought to check on Bradley when I woke. Maybe watch him until her parents woke for breakfast always early enough to enjoy gift unwrappings.
Last year Bradley puked up his cereal. But dad just sent Bradley to his room to change his pajamas. We went on and finished. Dad knew Bradley was over high because it had been Christmas, and scolded him by saying just that, so of course Bradley understood that much, and returned with his bathrobe around him instead. He had forgotten where his clean pair was. We’re not suppose to laugh at him, not at him so to lead him to become embarrassed, but still it was ridiculously silly of him to have puked up on his pajamas on Christmas morning.
Marilyn had grabbed her robe and went out into the hall. Not expecting to find anyone other than herself up. No one. She was alone. She spun around to see that she closed her door without thinking. And that might alert Bradley that she was also awake. She looked into the bathroom as she passed it in the hall. Nothing. She slipped to the stairs and down without a thump or creak. She saw the Christmas lights of the tree crystal clear and began to hum a merry-go-round Christmas tune to herself.
Santa had indeed been there again as every year. And left an enormous pile of gifts for children. She was amazed. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed something strange. Even the clock down here said it was an hour before her alarm would have gone to wake her. But something else, the three dimensional man warming his hands over the burning coals of the hearth. He was real. At least the three dimensions of him. But why was Santa or whoever here?
The mysterious figure turned, with bright green eyes. She thought Santa would have crystal blue ones. But these look so wise, but who else would have crystal wise eyes and a great white beard, and a hood and a well smelling cloak warming his slowly over-worked fingers in the house’s hearth? As he turned she smiled.
“Marilyn, good morning. And may I apologize for my appearance here.” His surprise was only one of several questions leaping in Marilyn’s mind right now. She realized she may look faint or worried in her morning robe, as if she suspected something in her household and had come to investigate. Had she? Was that Santa? And was it the lights in her dreams had it been an invitation to see him? And why?
As he remained turned with his green eyes focused on the half lady, he had the most funny smile Marilyn had ever the chance to first see. This Santa was a way better actor than any she had seen on TV or the live one’s who had photo booths at the shopping mall. He was the most handsome and beautiful man with grizzled white hairs she has seen.
“I’m afraid I owe you an explanation my dear girl.” He began to say, Marilyn smiled because he was so perfect. If she was only in one of her dreams she couldn’t remember she wanted to at least stay asleep for at least to meet this Santa Claus.
“Are you real?” Marilyn asked.
“Let me warn you first Marilyn. I am a wizard. How else could I have got into your house?”
And Marilyn thought about the legends of Santa. This much made sense. Now what was left was Santa to explain why he needed Marilyn’s help at five in the morning. Three hours early before her parents would set foot out of bed. And maybe Bradley too.
“I love you Santa…” It was it she heard herself say aloud to the figure in front of her in her morning robe and slippers.
“Yes. Marilyn do you believe in wizards then? Good. Try not to be frightened. I’m a little lost. May I suggest…trapped in your house first before you make a joke of my predicament my dear young lady.” His beard flared up with obvious embarrassment. She was about to giggle. Was that something she would remember when she woke?
“But secondly may I tell you that I am from another time. And you may wish to help me because I obviously look friendly, harmless, and perhaps I am worthy to be your friend.”
The question made her gut turn to porridge. Mushy really, as if she would ever wake up, but that she would end up waking later in another world in the night after she helped Santa find his way home. She looked at the clock and it still had not changed. It was still and hour before she would wake. Even this made her feel funny. She must be asleep.

what about clearing your computer's browsing history, it can slow your computer down with many weeks of history, and some of the web pages wont show in this case

will our taxes go up?