Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
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Thanks for your nice comments, Garrison. I'be got a couple of writing projects on the go so I don't get to submit stories as often as I'd like to, unfortunately. I always try to read the entries, even if I don't always get a chance to comment. I'm amazed at how you and the other regular contributors are able to submit quality stories week after week. I'm glad you liked the bit with my name, I was hoping it would come across as a joke and not arrogance ;)
(Sits on a beanbag chair reading "American Darkness" by Garrison Kelly)I'm sorry, did you say something? Hehe! Indeed it is a joke. :)
Can't wait to post soon and then read everyone's story!(A little self rule: I don't want to read somebody else's so that I get some unfair influence and make a story that is similar or have borrowed themes. I don't think I have ever done that sort of thing but it's some rule I made up anyway).
Happy writing, CJ! And then once you're done, happy reading! :)
I have the exact same rule for myself, CJ. Looking forward to it ;)
Title: The man with no name.Genre: Fantasy – in a world where magic is used in war.
All comments welcome.
He breathed slowly though his nose, ear pressed to the rough wood of the door. He waited until he felt sure no one was outside. There was a war on. There had been a war on for twenty five years. The border to his homeland was a four day horse ride away. The clock was ticking and he had a job to do.
Pernicus was the kind of slender man that could be mistaken for a woman were it not for the fact he lacked feminine curves. It made tonight’s job a little less risky than it might otherwise have been.
He eased the door latch upwards to avoid making a sound. The knuckles of his other hand pushing on the door, opened it a crack. The dark of night, gifted with a milky glow by the smile of a crescent moon greeted him. It was relief after the suffocating atmosphere of the hut. A warm light flickered across the wooden walls of the hut emitted by a wood burning stove. He fastened silver buttons on a well-fitting blue jacket, all the while listening at the door.
Pernicus’s ferocious haggling had won him the jacket in the main market two weeks ago. Other stall holders stared, painting a picture of his face in their minds. They would remember him the next time he came to market. Pernicus’s eyes carried the same shade of blue as the jacket, and those eyes looked out from under a trimmed mop of blond hair. So engrossed in his bargaining, Pernicous never noticed one pair of brown eyes in particular looking at him. They belonged to a quiet man of a similar stature to himself selling belt buckles and other works of metal.
Pernicus expected no form of approval when he next appeared before his master. The response he did get was not expected either. Clutching at his temples and storming out of his study Master Usan growled “Fetch me tea now, I have a headache… What’s that thing you’re wearing?”
Usan tore a hand away from his head pointing at Pernicus, the sleeve of his purple robe flapping like a flag in a storm.
Pernicus hurried away to prepare the aromatic tea ignoring the question. Drinking the tea always seem to calm Master Usan if he had been working too long. Pernicus never wanted to know what he worked on, but he had ideas. The other week he’d watched Usan directing two strangers carrying a hessian sack the length of a man into his office. One of the strangers startled him a glare from brown eyes that seemed to say ‘Mind your own business’. What really alarmed him came after the strangers left. Sounds like strangled words that no man could normally speak escaped from Usan’s office. When the sounds ceased a figure walked out of Usan’s study. Its body was concealed in the sacking worn like a hooded cloak. Each step the figure took made a sound like the wooden leg of a chair striking the floor.
“Follow me.” Usan had intoned leading the figure upstairs. Pernicus caught a glimpse of the figures foot as it climbed. Toes, just dull white bones sticking out like knurled twigs flexing as it walked. Pernicus stood for a full minute before he rediscovered the presence of mind to move, all the while the ‘tock’ ‘tock’ ‘tock’ of the grandfather clock standing guard at the foot of the staircase echoed in his ears. A ‘tock’ almost like the figures foot falls on the stairs.
With the grace of a dancer on stage the man stepped into the narrow road, turned and closed the hut door. The sensation of a tiny worm burrowing into his scalp sharply announced the presence of an itch. He screwed up his eyes, hand jerked to his head digging trimmed finger nails into the blond mop. He let out a sigh as his hand dropped back to his side. Walking on he soon left the dark of the narrow road like a man slipping out of his lover’s bed. Stepping into the open market place felt like entering a deserted battle field. When not treacherous, wet and muddy the surface was sun baked and hard as it was now. Row upon row of hard mud walls caused by ruts cut into the ground by wagon and chariot wheels. Few roads in this city were more than just compacted mud surfaces. He skipped across the walls of the ruts exposed in the dim moonlight. Pausing briefly at the far side of the market place, he reached behind and adjusted the position his contingency measure. The job would work out so much better if he could avoid using it. The long serrated dagger tucked into his trousers and under the jacket was not ideal for comfort.
He headed west out of the market place towards two men standing in the gloom. They were right on schedule. He could barely see them but he knew they wore leather and chain armour and carried short swords at their sides.
“Pernicus.” One of the guards grunted a greeting.
He replied with a grunt of his own “Mmmm, mmmm” and a dismissive wave of his hand.
Usan’s house materialised out of the night and the man started to close his eyes for several paces at a time, then opening them again to check his course to the house. He checked the road outside the house, rutted like the others. His nose pulled in the foul odour of nearby tanneries that hitched a ride on every breath. He imagined himself running across the ruts into the dark alley opposite the house attempting to capture the route in his memory. Looking back at the door he closed his eyes once more and reached into the pocket of the blue jacket and found the hard length of the door key and withdraw it. His fingers caressed the door searching for the cold smoothness of the metal around the keyhole. He pushed the key in, turned it and the lock clacked opened. Pushing the door he stepped through and opened his eyes. Little moonlight made it into the house, but his eyes now forced to adjust to complete black interrogated the dark and extracted some of its secrets. The picture held in his mind filled some of the gaps, he had been in here before. He pushed the door slowly with is back not allowing it to click shut leaving the key outside in the keyhole. A grandfather clock greeted him with the ‘tock’ ‘tock’ ‘tock’ beating of its mechanical heart. At the foot of the stairs the man looked through the glass door into the clocks inner workings. A soft light painted onto the man’s face by a gentle stream of moonlight from a window allowed the man to see his reflection in the glass. Brown eyes looked back at him and unlike Pernicus’s eyes they did not match the blue of the jacket he wore. He stepped up the stairs in time with the grandfather clocks beating heart.
Master Usan was master of more than just this house. He was a master of magic. The man on the stair’s General would call him a battle mage. The man had watched battle mages on both sides of this war immersed in their craft many times. A snarl of angry words with a sound like no voice a man can make. Hands thrust skyward like a demand from the gods and the mage fire is summoned from the ground. Erupting flames burning soldiers hundreds at a time. When he thought of the scene their shrieks still pierced his ears. It was said a man’s bone marrow sizzled in the instant before merciful death. Archers always tried to pick out the battle mages first, only for their arrows to be turned aside by an unseen shield. The man admired a duel between battle mage’s. A violent show of sound and light from the traded magic energy, which at best obscured the vision of the opponents. All battle mage’s conjure shields to keep out flying weapons and the magic of their enemies. Like water dashed against a rock. Bolts of energy, fire and other unseen magic strike in a flash with the energies racing around the globe shield in a spectrum of pulsing color. The frantic stalemate only broken when one mage or the other finally succumbs to the side effects of raging energy scorching through their mind. The head pain and stress often left survivors a delusional shadow of the mage they once were.
“How do you kill a battle mage quickly?” The man’s General had growled whirling around the castle briefing room grooming his beard with one hand.
The greatest of the General’s battle mage’s went silent for a while. He stared out from under the hood of his blue-green robes into a place that only existed in his mind. He did that sometimes and the room went silent with him, knowing it would be worth the wait.
Eventually the mage had sighed, his shoulders collapsing.
“All I can think of… in their beds while they sleep before they reach the battle field.”
The General had gripped his mage by the shoulders and said “Yes… yes, this has potential.”
And then the General had turned and looked into the brown eyes of the man now on the stairs.
Step and ‘tock’ and he reached the top of the stairs. He continued his steps in time with the beating of the grandfather clock until he stood before Usan’s bedroom door. He fished a small bottle of oil out of his trouser pocket and pulled out the stopper. A gentle tap and a few drops of oil onto both of the door hinges. He stoppered the bottle and put it back in his pocket.
Closing his eyes he rehearsed in his mind his next moves thinking again of the ’contingency’ pushed into the back of his trousers. Pernicus was inclined to vent the frustrations he had with his master when suitably relaxed. A girl called Meredith knew just the right way to relax him. She didn’t object to a bit of pillow talk time with Pernicus after the main event. Pernicus had manners, blue eyes and blond hair after all. Pillow talk was far removed from some of the less tasteful things some people paid her to do.
The man was about to find out if Pernicus was right.
He slowly lifted the door latch.
A sparkling wave of adrenalin washed through his body as every muscle tensed.
He pushed the door open on its silent hinges and made a single bound to the bedside his arm outstretch. His fingers reached out and found the cold hard hilt of Usan’s own dagger under the pillow. Pernicus was right. To his left he heard a thumping sound like a wooden chair hurled in rage across the floor. He focused thrusting the dagger aloft, his own breed of precious holy symbol. Fixing his eyes on Usan’s pulsing throat he struck down with the blessed dagger and a warm splash struck his hands. A gurgling sound fought its way out into the room.
Now the man looked left. Flying out of the dark, milky bone, black hollow eye sockets, and a toothed mirthless grin frozen in time by the moonlight from the window. The hessian sack cloak pealed back revealed the skeletal killer and its silvery blade clutched in bony fingers ready to stab. The man twisted and wrenched the dagger free from Usan’s throat ripping the mages soul from his body. The bony assassin’s flight ended crashing onto Usan’s now lifeless form. And there it laid to rest, skull lying cheek down on Usan’s chest, white stick arms offering its creator a loveless embrace.
The man whispered into the night, may be Usan’s soul still floated nearby and would hear.
“The problem with your new bodyguard, Usan, is that when you die so does the magic that holds it in un-life.”
Then the man thought to himself ‘And if you ask around for something strange like a skeleton, I’m going to hear of it and arrange to be the one that delivers it to you.’
The man remembered carrying the hessian sack wrapped skeleton into Usan’s office, and remembered seeing the fearful look on Pernicus’s face.
Continued…
He turned and propelled himself from the room, crashed down the stairs and stopped at the front door. A yellow glow grew in the doorway to the kitchens spreading its light across the walls and the cook appeared holding an oil lamp. The cook gasped “Pernicus” at the sight of the knife blade picked out of the dark by the oil lamp. The man who was not Pernicus dashed out of the door, slammed it behind him locking it and removing the key. Outside he scanned the gloomy road for the two guards. Their backs were to him and they were ambling back to the marketplace. The man crossed the road skipping from the tops of the ruts then vanished into the dark alley. A short run and he turned left down a road that seem to have appeared by accident rather than design. Buildings and fences jutted into his path like giant packing boxes tossed into a warehouse. Before long the buildings parted exposing him in the open market place. He began a calculated stumble over the ruts. Holding Usan’s bloody dagger above his head he balance himself, the moonlight hurled a dull gleam onto the blade. He looked around and found the guards at the western entrance to the market place. They yelled, he stumbled on. Back in the narrow road leading to the hut he glanced and saw the guards making jumbled progress after him. He resumed his agile sprint across the tops of the ruts wrapping the blanket of dark in the narrow road around him.
Opening the hut door he passed through it as easily as he slipped through disguises. He looked down at a sleeping man with blond hair on the floor by the wood burning stove. It wouldn’t be long before the sleeping draught wore off and Pernicus would awake. The man set aside the bloody dagger, unbuttoned and removed the blue jacket and redressed Pernicus in it. He flipped open the stove door, pulled the blond wig from his head and stuffed it into the flames. Retrieving the dagger he leaned over the sleeping Pernicus, placed the dagger in the palm of his hand, wrapped the fingers around it and wiped as much of the sticky crusty drying blood onto Pernicus’s hands as he could. Grabbing his own jacket off a hook on the wall and he pushed both arms in and did up just two buttons for now. He poured a jug of water he’d left by the stove over Pernicus’s head, then span around and burst out of the hut door.
Leaping across the narrow road he landed, feet on the window sill of the opposite building. He reached up grasped a rope hanging above his head then hauled himself onto the buildings flat roof pulling the rope up after him. Lying flat on the roof the slender man lost himself in shadow cut into the moonlight by the taller building at his back. He pulled the hood of his own black leather jacket over his head and relaxed like a man returned home after a day’s work. The guards came down the road in a stumbling run, one pointing at the hut’s open door. Acting on their decision both guards disappeared into the hut and the man in the shadows listened to their muffled voices, a small smile creeping onto his face. Pernicus appeared at sword point confused and protesting as the guards marched him off back towards the market place.
The man imagined the fate awaiting Pernicus. That fate would pounce on him like a pack of prairie wolves bringing down a Buffalo calf. Pernicus probably didn’t deserve it, but the man felt no guilt. This was all part of the cold war between the heat of battles.
The only record of the man’s real name was in his own memory. He had watched from the shadows when the General himself informed his parents he was lost in battle years ago. There are some things a man can watch that will harden his heart to almost anything. Now he had scouts under his command all over both Kingdoms spying on who needed to be watched, and like tonight, sometimes more. The only people he answered to were the General and his Queen, and they called him the Scout Commander.
His job was done. It was perfect. It had run like he workings of Usan’s grandfather clock. Tomorrow the man had another job to return to. Tomorrow he would slip back into another disguise and spend the day selling belt buckles and other works of metal. And he would always be watching for another Pernicus.
Ryan,Not seen any of your stories before. Very evocative writing I enjoyed reading.
I'm going to run out of time to comment on all stories tonight. They've all been fun and intriguing in different ways. I think the time travelling cuckoo clock is in interesting concept.
Adrian wrote: "He turned and propelled himself from the room, crashed down the stairs and stopped at the front door. A yellow glow grew in the doorway to the kitchens spreading its light across the walls and th..."
Incredible story, Adrian! Very detailed and well thought out. Poor Pernicus, I feel so sorry for him... I'll pretend there's more magic waiting for him so he can escape :)
Anne wrote: Incredible story, Adrian! Very detailed and well thought out. Poor Pernicus, I feel so sorry for him... I'll pretend there's more magic waiting for him so he can escape :) Thanks Anne, so glad you enjoyed the story.
Now that you've made me think of Pernicus's fate I think I have an idea what it would be. Knowing the Scout Commander the way I do (he's a character in a novel I'm 2/3rds and 100K words into writing with events set years after this short story) I would say:
He learns that Pernicus's punishment is to be the subject of a new form of magical experimentation which he needs to uncover. So he infiltrates proceedings, learns what he needs to learn, take's an opportunity to liberate Pernicus, fake his death and spirit him a away to a new life in a wealthy port city ten days ride away. Here Pernicus has to learn the new language of this new country, then using connections he makes after marrying the petite daughter of a rich merchant sets himself up in business as an agent for valets and butlers which become popular with the rising wealthy classes of the city.
Pernicus is never aware he is dealing with the Scout Commander who revisits him from time to time in disguises with reminders of his past in order to "pursued" him to reveal information he is learned about the wealthy classes he serves...
Thanks, Adrian. Unfortunately I don't get time to submit as much as I'd like to lately. I really enjoyed your story this week. It is totally immersive and most enjoyable. I was interested to read your last comment about it relating to a much longer story, it had that feel to me as I was reading - well imagined characters and world. This can be hard to achieve in a short story but, perhaps due to that, you have really passed on the feeling of depth nicely.
My only suggestion when you do your next edit is to look at your apostrophe use. You've included some where they aren't required and left some out where they are. I love fantasy and read a lot of it and this definitely qualifies as an engrossing fantasy tale. Well done, mate, a fine read.
Ryan wrote: I really enjoyed your story this week. It is totally immersive and most enjoyable. I was interested to read..."Thank you very much Ryan, adding "check apostrophe use" to my list of things to review in this and my novel. I've been lazy and relied on Microsoft Word spell checker to correct apostrophe use so far. I'll need to go and study the rules properly again to remind myself.
When I started writing my novel seriously end of last year (dabbled before) I had a sense that I needed to get my head around what the right story structure really is. A bit of searching and I found a book called "Story Engineering" by Larry Brooks which gave me a real epiphany moment. Taught me how to define characters "in 3 dimensions" and the story structure rules we see at work in feature films and many novels.
I have to keep working at my day job so I only get about 10 hours a week of writing time. I should be able to move onto to editing and revisions by March next year.
If you (or anyone else here) ever have the time and the desire to read my novel let me know. I'll probably self publish and be eager for review readers and some point. Also thinking seriously about paying for a professional editor to review it before publishing. My volunteer proof readers of early chapters have shown me things I couldn't see myself. They've also used words like "amazing" "very impressive" and "powerful" in relation to my first chapter which gives me a real confidence boost.
Cheers A.
Melissa wrote: "Adrian, Very nice. I can't say that the fantasy-genre is really my thing but I could almost imagine being inside the story and watching the goings-on as I read. Great job!"Thanks Melissa. My reading horizons have broadened a lot in recent years and at least half my reading is outside fantasy fiction now. Regardless of genre, it is finely draw characters with realistic (in the context of the setting) psychology, behaviours and actions driving an engaging plot with some unexpected twists that excites me. There is too much fantasy fiction around that goes overboard with selling a setting at the expense of plot progress in my view. I don't have the tolerance for ponderous plots the way I used too.
Adrian wrote: "Anne wrote: Incredible story, Adrian! Very detailed and well thought out. Poor Pernicus, I feel so sorry for him... I'll pretend there's more magic waiting for him so he can escape :) Thanks Anne,..."
I like! Thanks for sharing.
This week was fun! Hope I get to post the entire thing in an hour or so.
Criticisms, comments are welcome...Title: What can you do?
Length: Approx. 2,900 words
By CJ
Young Gracie stepped in and with a thud of the door let her mom know she was home. She shuddered with anticipation to finish her art project; she felt she could get this project done at the end of this day and all worries in work were over.
She needed to do nothing more, nothing less.
She ran into the kitchen to pop a few grapes into her mouth and made a quick turkey-mayo sandwich.
Gracie felt to just excuse her work for a moment and so trounced into the living room plopping into the couch, her bread and food nearly somersaulting on her plate.
Shutting on her digital box by her remote she hoped to watch some television when like clock-work her mother started coming down the steps.
"I need to watch that show at 9:00." The voice echoed, followed by careful creaking as she took one step patiently at a time.
"Mom, I didn't get to see anything today! I thought you were going to just watch the news."
"That's on at ten..." Her rough tone of voice came out sternly between tiny gasps.
"But why do you always have to watch t.v.? And why now?"
She asked figuring her mother knew the reason she was annoyed at her. Like a robot forced to the same thing day in and day out she knew her mom was going to whip out a cigarette.
Her television and cigarettes went together almost as close as the clouds and sky. Gracie constantly told her to go outside on the small back porch to avoid stinking the house up with dank, burning air but she didn't seem to ever want to be empathetic about that.
The mother must have known this was a little thing that bothered Gracie. Why must she have to come home to see her mother do just the same internal schedule? And why was it her mother tried not to break the norm instead of just settle into the comfortable.
She huffed defiance as her mother spoke. "Where were you anyway, honey?"
"I was at youth group. Like pretty much every Wednesday. You know that..."
"I forgot."
Gracie crossed her arms. "Yeah. don't you say that every week?"
Her mom loudly whapped a pack against her palm as if she didn't hear it, then, "I don't forget every week!" Thump, whack, whack.
With spite Gracie clanged her plate onto the coffee table, leaving her half-eaten meal. Then she handed over the remote.
"Here you go..."
"Do you want to watch something with me?"
"No. I'll just go upstairs." She went up the stairway slowly just as her mom's semi-wide frame heaved into the furniture. She waited as she heard the sound of a lighter, plastic and metal flicking out a spark so Gracie made her footsteps echo, deliberately thumping through the hall.
Her try of creating guilt failed. She imagined her mom with glee dragging on that death stick and it made her nearly hate her.
She cried out a scream and slammed the door.
God, why does everything have to be the same for me? Same old, same old. Does she even care about me?
Her project, she felt, would wait another day. She didn't at the moment want to deal about the extra-credit assignment.
She seethed with hurt and anger so to drown it out, blasted music on her worn stereo until she had to turn it off to sleep.
The next morning brought a cold draft through her bedroom window. She put on a pink sweater and brushed then combed her wet hair.
After a moment, she ran down the steps just to get the heck out that door; her mother, while would never get up this early wouldn't ever say goodbye anyway as she left for school, she felt. As if it wasn't lost on her Gracie's anger came back in a flash.
Stepping out of the row-house, she happened to catch Jennie along the way. With upbeat stride, the girl pal held her hot yellow backpack strapped to one side and the always present earbuds that looked as if white wires poured out of her canals.
"I like your shirt." said Gracie.
"Thanks. I got it last week. Black is my favorite color."
"And where did you get those pants?"
Jennie glanced down as a bud popped out. "Uhh... they were on sale. Don't know."
Gracie handed Jennie her loose earbud back and touched the bangs behind her ears. She liked how her gold-blonde strands nestled around her ears while her bangs drifted and nestled to her face.
"Hey come on. I just got my hair the way I liked it!"
"Sorry. I just wish I had your hair."
"I should dye it brown like yours."
Gracie stuck a tongue out.
"Don't. I hate the color of my hair."
"Oh you fuss about everything." Jennie said pushing out a laugh.
At least, Gracie wondered pointlessly, they shared their love of ponytails!
Gracie breathed a thought aloud. "I can't stand being at home."
"Your parents... er, your mom getting to you?"
"Yeah."
There was a pause. Then Jennie said, "Your dad left your mom, didn't he?"
"Jennie!"
Jennie shrugged defensively then spoke as her voice went up. "I'm just asking. You probably told me that... once, I guess. Or something."
Gracie remembered her father leaving just one month shy of her tenth birthday. That month came but there was no birthday card from him to give her any encouragement or praise that his daughter was growing up. Nearly shack-less and hungry her mother gave up and went on welfare. Gracie would clean her place and her mother sat. She loved her mom and cared about her but it seemed all she could do after a while was to sit and send smoke signals to the air. It became her job to sit either upstairs or in the living room. Not much else to do it seemed.
"How far are you in your project?"
"Eh, I don't feel like talking about it. I will do it later I guess."
"Don't do it by the deadline week. That could be bad Grace. You were using paper mache?"
"Yeah. And I wanted to make it into, like, a mini-float. You know like if there was a small parade?"
She laughed. "Okay?"
"Yeah, it would be a pretty big project."
"You do have some time but you've gotta make a goal to keep busy."
Gracie became inquisitive. "I don't think it's that important."
They ran into the rest of the group waiting for the bus. Amongst all the "gang" of varied texters, chatters, and some dancers there was Amia. With a big smile across her beautiful, dark face she spoke to them.
"Hey, guys."
She gave out hugs. Though Gracie could tell she was a fellow Christian she wondered why she turned down her invitation to go to her youth group (could Gracie be able to do anything right, she felt?).
Amia claimed the town the church was in, Perkins, scared her. Was that area really that dangerous?
While she embraced Gracie Amia seemed offended when she didn't give a strong squeeze back. She moved back to look into her eyes.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"It's nothing."
"You know I think that you and I should hang out sometime, Gracie. I have a feeling you're tense or something anyway. You want to talk about it?"
She felt on the spot. "Nah... uh, I just think a lot."
People suddenly alarmed Gracie when they started strapping on their packs which let the uninformed know the bus was coming (she could never see the bus from that far away).
The big yellow machine had soon rumbled down the horizon and the kids tossed their food they got from the convenience store into the trash. Half-eaten desserts and sandwiches flew one by one right into the can.
Amia glancing saw it just as she did. "Eek." quipped Gracie. "What a waste."
She clattered onto the bus's dark steps and went straight to the end in the back. She couldn't help wondering why she stared out the back of the window in a haze as it took off and barreled down the road.
Part 2 of "What Can You Do?"School had ended and Gracie had no choice but to go home. She was greeted by the smell of dead ashes and vague sprays of Febreeze that filled the room.
This time she felt a little guilty for being so spiteful. She wanted to talk to her.
Gracie saw that she was absent from the living room but something still didn't feel right at the moment.
There was a twang of worry that stung her heart as she ran up and knocked on the bedroom door. Nothing.
"Mom?"
Opening it, she spotted her mother asleep, her cig still in the corner of her mouth, doing a balancing act. Its end had gone out; there had been at least one good thing about cigarettes those days!
She pulled the tube from her gaped lips and then nudged her.
With a little stir and a small shake of her head, Gracie watched her mother come to life. She squinted at her daughter in the dark room and took a glance around until reality had settled in on her. "Oh. Hi."
"You okay, mom? I was so worried."
"Yeah I am good. Just a little case of the sleepies, hon."
"You don't like to move around or anything?"
She swung a leg up like a spasm as she hacked out a titter. "I don't look that bad, do I, hehe?"
"I wasn't knocking on your weight."
She gave a cough then another laugh.
After a pause and the unintentional offense had been given time Gracie spoke up again. "You hungry, mom?"
She made silence but Gracie figured her mother meant to say yes. She eyed her laying atop the bed, fingers weaved and resting atop her stomach.
"I'll get you some food." and with flair she flew out of the room, down the steps, swung and nearly toppled into the kitchen.
She got out two pieces of bread to make a potted meat sandwich. The tiny can's lid popped off with ease and she slathered it onto Gracie's favorite bread: wheat.
Then on a whim she grabbed a plastic water bottle, unhinged its top, and filled it with water and powdered Ensure. "Hope she drinks this. She hadn't used this stuff in a while."
Her youth leader Jim Stavies suggested it would be good for her mother's health. Gracie worried that she would end up losing a foot to diabetes and she secretly added to the grocery list one day, hoping she would give the drink a try.
Balancing the two things like a semi-neat waitress she threw her body up the stairs not even losing a drop or slice of brown bread.
It was a miracle Gracie never tripped on trash along the way. Through there were scattered bits along the floor (her mother's courtesy) she managed to almost clean the place out every chance she got as she knew clean meant no bugs nor mice.
She presented the little feast to her mom. She looked suspicious. "What's in the bottle?"
"I put in some Ensure."
"Babe, I'm feelin' like a baby now."
Hey, you said it I didn't. Gracie joked to herself. "Have you had any time to do anything?"
"Let's see..." she took a swig of the container, made a wretched face, then quickly set it down with haste. "I wandered with my eyes to count the many spots on the ceiling, and then with a swirl of wonder and regret pondered how I got myself in this state."
Sometimes Mom's dry humor tickled Gracie but it was lost on her this time. She was concerned.
"Mom. 'Babe.' Take better care of yourself. Please. Are you depressed?"
The older woman darted her eyes back and forth like she was just watching a mental game of tennis. Then she broke out a cig.
"Hey, how 'bout you smoke that here, then we can watch t. v. downstairs. That sound okay, Mom?"
She gave a tiny nod as her eyes were not on her daughter's then with a one, two, three, she thrust her arms forward a final time to get up. "Ahhh. Ow!" She slunked back down and squatted on the side of the mattress.
"Mom. You alright?"
---
The doctors at least didn't tell Gracie and her mother the older lady had diabetes. But it wasn't good news either.
"You have gout in your foot?"
"Yeah. I am sorry that I have been inactive."
"Why be sorry to me? Don't apologize. I kept telling you that you should watch your diet."
"I thought I just wasn't feeling it."
The thought floated in the air like an invisible cloud of smoke. It must've stayed and trailed and lingered but no one in the exam room had said a word about it.
---
It was about a week later as the group of young teens were sharing fellowship and laughing with each other.
Gracie was over to the side of the pew, staring into space, seemingly more toward the stained-glass window portraying a dove peering from a great light.
She could see in her small field of vision Jim the leader heading to her lonely corner.
"I heard about your mom. Is she okay?"
With faded words, she spoke like she was in another time zone while she stared forward. "Yeah. She uses a cane sometimes and she walks around more now. Isn't that funny? Why couldn't she do that before?"
"I have a feeling that is not what you are thinking about though, huh?"
"There's this girl at school."
"Amia?"
"No, Jennie."
"Oh."
"And she was smiling at me when she asked me a question about personal things. I told her what I believed."
"Uh huh. Was she offended?"
"Yeah because I gave her my honest truth."
She sighed and then slunk further into her padded spot in the row. "But what can you do?"
She said it an a tone like she was whistling it in a low register. She added sadly, "I just can't do anything right."
"Well... you know, maybe that's your problem."
In a snap she turned to him and became human again. "Huh?"
"You keep doing things in your power. You probably assume 'if I can do this' 'if I can make this happen' but do you know if in your walk with God if that is what He wants?"
"I don't get it. You think my mom can't get better and I can't help people."
"You have the kindest heart Jennie but it seems you are trying to do everything in your power."
"What do you mean? I let you tell me the boys I can't date, if any, the times I talk to you about a guy at school when I see you here in church and you tell me 'Keep him on the phone, girl' in that weird voice you do."
Jim laughed. He knew his jokes were pretty terrible.
"I know somewhat what is best for you. I am trying to keep you from getting into a situation you might not be able to walk out of."
"But that is in your power!"
Some heads had turned to look over at her. After a moment they went back to their chatting, knowing the time they had couldn't go to waste.
He gave a gentle laugh. "You kinda got me there."
"So that's on you."
"Uh huh."
"So what can I do in this situation, teacher?"
"Let God take over."
She blinked in surprise. She almost thought the truth would hit her hard but instead like a gentle wind it blew deep in a place only something holy could go, in the fathoms of her heart.
She realized she was being aggressive in trying to do things. While her heart was in the right place she kept depending on her own power to work them out but they never really had.
"Now are you gonna do the normal, same old, same old thing during our prayer group time or are you gonna stay."
She did notice she would slink away during prayer. It seemed anytime she did pray it wasn't real fervent speaking to Him just blaming the One that had only wanted to help her.
"Yes. I want to pray with everyone again!"
"Alright. After we all sing, we will get into our prayer time."
"Wonderful."
"Aaalrighty then!"
"Come on. How old is that movie....?" and giggled heartily. It was a bad joke but it still got to her funny bone.
---
She spent more time chatting with her mother who was when sitting leaning on her cane like the set-up to some vaudeville act. Her mom had actually shared a lot with her this time.
And she began chewing anti-smoking gum. It wasn't a good transition to Gracie but it was at least a start.
"You know, I don't think I'll ever forgive myself."
"What? What do you mean, mom?"
Between labored chews she stopped to take in a breath and sigh and Gracie got a scent of orange zest just for a moment.
"I told your father to leave a month before your birthday."
Gracie couldn't help jarring her eyes open. The feeling of shock turned to a rolling wave of surprise then it ceased. "You know I think I heard that conversation. I must have forgotten."
With a look of anguish her mother started to twist her face in grief and huffed out a few sobs. She hugged her shoulder. "Mom, I still love you. What happened?"
"I thought that I could go on cleaning houses for a living. I know what you are going to say: 'You clean a house?! You don't even clean your own dern room.' I told him to be a father to you because he kept skipping out for unclear reasons, then when he came back he didn't seem to want to see you as if you hadn't mattered to him. He said he'd pay child support or some form of it since we never took it to court but I turned it down."
With a look of haze she stared at her. Gracie realized this was the key to the depression she didn't want to admit.
"I said 'Adios, muchacho' and that I never wanted to see him again."
Here all this time was a thinking woman. Maybe Gracie felt that she had lost care on her when all she was doing was being like a mother hen keeping the "predator" or guy who only wanted to see Mom at bay.
With a smile she saw her in a different light. Though Gracie couldn't see far it didn't seem so hard to broaden her own perspective and see something in a new outlook.
"You know what, I think we should see Dad sometime." said Gracie. "He may not be like a father but at least I could be like a daughter more to you and maybe to him."
She gave a wrinkled smile. Joy was sensed in her face. "Yeah, and he could see what he's been missing all this time." Then they shared a laugh together as the television between them faded in importance.
--
Sorry Part 3... short, near endWalking home with Amia was enthralling to her. They had a lot to chat about but best of all they each had something to say from what they read in the Bible. Like sister to sister, they were sharing what they each had read.
"Amia, I used to think the pastor was just scaring the hell out of me, but I realize he was warning us when he was going through Revelations."
Amia giggled.
"I think from what he said is that we should shine His light to the world, be a beacon as long as God allows us to still be here and so it won't be too late and we regret we hadn't done more."
"You know we could show His love to more than just people we know. I have an idea that could get us a chance to do something you might not even be thinking about. We could help deliver meals on wheels, feed the homeless, just do whatever and this just out of the gratefulness of God."
"Uh huh." Then a spark gave life to her eyes. "Yeah. That's a great idea!"
After they headed down another trail, Amia stopped. They had gone to an area where a small river led to a huge creek. The beauty of the river, the sun shining the hill seemed to give her some kind of grace.
"You know I might visit your church someday."
"Oh?"
"Yeah." Tears started to flow but instead hung as big circles of shimmering globes beneath her eyes.
"I just... I had a bad experience at a church once."
"Uh huh."
"It made me not want to go back."
"Well that was just one church."
"Yeah but there were a couple of guys that harassed me there. They were pretty immature."
"Sounds like it."
"I only went to 'church' at school. You know that club?"
"Yeah."
"If that makes any sense." Then they laughed as they went along the trail.
---
Jim was surprised to notice Gracie had brought a friend that Wednesday night.
A girl ran over to see if she would introduce her.
"Hey. Joanna, this is Jennie."
"Hi Jennie." and she was suddenly given a big hug.
Jennie looked uncomfortable as Gracie tried to hold back a huge fit of laughter. She forgot that Joanna didn't have much of a comfort zone.
She loved her friend and was proud she came on her own will.
Give her time, Lord... Gracie said in her heart.
---
It was just a few critical days before the deadline. Gracie figured the world should have ended the task was so hard to get through. She worked her fingers to the bone (more like digits through yucky newspaper mess) as she had it in the shape she wanted.
After painting she had a mini-float. It was a huge, yellow ribbon and it filled her with satisfaction she had completed.
But then a twinge made her giggle deep inside when she realized her work would never be done. Not this work but after. And she was fine with it.
(So what can YOU do...?)
:)
Wow beautiful Anne! A poignant story of a woman who has had the greatest event of her life and she gets to see it passed down to her next generation. Short and sweet. Love it.
Wow, Garrison! It starts with a compassionate worker for animals and then there are twists and turns along the way for her. She is such a tender-hearted person; I've noticed she shows great love no matter the appearance of the little critters. I hope that the character goes on to do greater things. Great job.Melissa's "Oblivion." Some plans don't really add up to much if they're not being done in the today and now. Great story about a store clerk. Sad that he didn't understand that to be a people person one must need to be with or interact with people. That was a great story.
Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback, CJ! Twists and turns are what I'm all about! :)
CJ wrote: "Wow beautiful Anne! A poignant story of a woman who has had the greatest event of her life and she gets to see it passed down to her next generation. Short and sweet. Love it."Thanks CJ!
Ryan, I truly loved your story. It was beautiful, sweet, sentimental, sad and hopeful all at once. The ending was perfect. I loved the poignant poem you wrote also--and that you put your name in the story too. Very clever! As a lover of love stories, this one is now high on my list! Thank you for sharing!
Hi, Brenda. I'm reading your comment as I sit with my morning coffee - thank you so much, I'd be hard pushed to find a nicer, more satisfying way to begin my day. It is great to be in such a friendly, supportive group and very good for my motivation. Thank you again, I hope your day is as happy as you've made mine :)
I say it all the time when I wake up, Ryan: there's no better way to start the morning than by reading cool comments. That positive energy will be used throughout the rest of the day, so it's always important to start the morning right. :)
Where is M or Guy to read all the stories? And I guess mine was too long to be noted about oh well. No biggie, haha.
You're very welcome, Ryan! CJ and Adrian, I just saw your posts. I am fairly new to being involved in this group and apparently I didn't look at the second page where your stories were! I look forward to reading them.
CJ wrote: "Where is M or Guy to read all the stories? And I guess mine was too long to be noted about oh well. No biggie, haha."
Hi CJ, you haven't made it clear you welcome feedback / critique on your writing. See group rule number 3 here:
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
If you would like some constructive feedback on your writing make it clear in this weeks story topic where you have something shorter that I would find easier to comment on.
I did read all of your story this week and found the picture you were painting of Gracie's mother interesting and you obviously think hard about your characters and how they are thinking and feeling about the situation they are in. I also got a good "sense" of Gracie and a group of young friends together which really impressed me.
I did at times have a bit of difficulty following the writing. Some more "showing" and not "telling" the story would really help immerse me as the reader in what is going on too. If you like, we can talk more and I'll be more specific about what I mean by this with next weeks technophobe story. Just my opinion too of course.
All the best A.
Garrison, wow, I don't know what to say. Though your story didn't have a happy ending, it definitely moved me and out of all the stories you've submitted here, I like this one the most. The build up is right on track and the twist made your story better :)
Melissa, your story is short yet you were able to deliver a powerful message-compassion. Just like what Mark said, you repeated the theme several times like a clockwork, I found it effective. Thank you for sharing this story.
Mark, your story shocked me, in a good way. You painted a good picture of Santa Fe and I could almost see the place in my head. Paul strike me as odd, especially since the story was written in his point of view. Interesting and well-written :)
Adrian, I'm amazed at how you were able to write a well-detailed story in a short span of time. Your descriptions are vivid, reading it felt like watching it.
CJ, your story is encouraging and inspiring, a much-needed reminder for me too. Though the ending seemed a bit rushed to me, Gracie's change of perspective helped make things work out in the end.
Adrian wrote: "CJ wrote: "Where is M or Guy to read all the stories? And I guess mine was too long to be noted about oh well. No biggie, haha."
Hi CJ, you haven't made it clear you welcome feedback / critique ..."
You probably saw the very first version of the beginning of the story. Note: I realize now that I must've edited it after a little while to put in there I welcomed any criticism or comments. My bad, sorry. I think I must've done this at least a few days in so that was my fault.
Thank you so much for the feedback, Leslie! I'm glad you have a new favorite of mine, because it tells me I keep improving every week. :)
Leslie wrote: "Anne, you wrote such a lovely and evocative story. You were able to convey the feelings really well and the past and present story shift wasn't confusing at all.Garrison, wow, I don't know what t..."
Thanks Leslie!
CJ, I really liked the message of your story: We can only do so much, the rest is up to God and His timing. I was glad to discover the ending was a happy one. =)Adrian, it's been a while since I read Fantasy, and I enjoyed your story! Poor Pernicus. I was also interested in learning that you have ideas to make it into a bigger story. Sounds so fun and interesting!
Brenda wrote:Adrian, it's been a while since I ..."
Hi Brenda, thanks for comments. A couple of posts later I outlined how I think the Scout Commander gets Pernicus out of trouble.
This short story is set in a fictitious world where many of the characters already exist in my mind. Pernicus and Usan were new for this story. The events of the novel I am writing start a few years after this short story. I am currently writing chapter 23 of 32 chapters. Long chapters, there will be about 150K words.
In this story the Scout Commander is off camera most of the time so I wanted to take him out for a spin and se him at work. My wife also likes this character having read a little about him in chapter 1 so another reason to show him at work.
Sounds excellent, Adrian! The constant ongoing stories in your head is a true sign of a writer. =)
