Love of Writing discussion
Monthly Short Story Contest
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JUNE 2020 Challenge: ODE TO SUMMER
Congrats, Terry. I guess you got it right. (But what do I know...). Good choices to work on.
I regret that I will not be able to submit a story. I had rather write.
Mirta wrote: "Congrats, Terry. I guess you got it right. (But what do I know...). Good choices to work on."
Mirta wrote: "Congrats, Terry. I guess you got it right. (But what do I know...). Good choices to work on."
From what I have seen before, you can write your story and post it after the deadline. It will not count for votes but you'll have it on record. Please double-check the posting time.
CAMPING WITH MY AUSTIN AND OLIVERBy Mirta Oliva
During most of my adult life, I dreamt of buying a camper to travel throughout our beautiful country but there was always something preventing me from pursuing my dream. I had to further my education while working on productive hobbies and managing a permanent job. Then I realized I had to seek companies that could broaden my general knowledge… and that variety opened my horizons. My end goal was to settle in one place to begin a career of choice. Finally, I ended up in an organization where my job required learning and working on what I had detested the most. Weird as it may seem, I got to love the institution and the path I had to follow to grow within the organization.
I guess I forgot to interject love among the above pursuits. And yes, somewhere in the art world I met the right man. After a six-month courtship, we got married and sometime later we were packing along with our adorable beagle to commence a round-trip on our huge camper—towed by our big SUV. Although we had selected safe places with utilities where we could park overnight, we were prepared to be off the grid since we had solar power, plenty of water, and foodstuff. We had marked alternate routes on our map with the GPS taking care of the rest. We had a plan but made no compromises.
Years ago I had driven from North Atlanta to Miami from dawn to dusk so on our first day, we planned to get to Georgia before dark. Not too many stops, just the necessary ones to relax plus the scenic or historical ones. We planned to get to know Florida well since we had to traverse the long peninsula many, many times to reach this and future destinations. In order to visit new states each time—and counting on the weather--we chose to start with the ones abutting the border, going North or West depending on the circumstances.
It is day three and we wake up in Mississippi’s Tombigbee National Forest. We had been by the Tombigbee River; the Owl Creek mounds site, and other scenic areas. Out of the forest, we decided to park overnight in a valley—far from everything and lacking vegetation but beautiful nonetheless. We were able to sleep well despite the torrential rains that poured over our roof all night.
The morning blessed us with a bright sun which assured us we could continue our travel plans. As we got out of the trailer, we noticed that the SUV’s right front wheel was stuck in the mud. My husband realized it would be better to bring some leaves and twigs from the few trees nearby to prep the wheel before forcing the vehicle to move the big load it was carrying. After a few failed efforts, Austin decided to free-up the passenger truck from the trailer. Once the SUV was out of the mud, we could dry-out the mess before connecting the vehicles. In a couple of hours, Austin was able to drive away from the muddy area, parking the truck on solid grounds.
As we were picking up new twigs and leaves to repair the damage, we were surprised by a new downpour. Back inside the trailer, we decided to have breakfast and watch the weather report. Although it announced heavy flooding in some areas, our surrounding terrain appeared to be solid; we had just been unlucky to park in a muddy area. It rained for two more days and we preferred to wait for the mighty sun to come out to dry the soft soil in front of the trailer.
Saving water and energy was a must since the powerful Helios had not visited us for a good while. Luckily, we carried battery-powered lamps and cooking provisions. Far from panicking, we were intuitively thinking of how blessed we had been by having prepared us well for unpredictable situations such as this one. We sensed our Lord was watching over us and that gave us comfort.
In between rains, we took Oliver out. We were glad he was with us. Beagles are caring, watchful dogs despite being professional hunters. I was walking him around with the leash when suddenly Ollie stopped and barked frantically. Very close to us a snake was coming our way. I picked up Oliver and began running toward the trailer when I tripped on a rock. As my young dog began running after the snake, I shouted frantically for him to come back. Luckily, Ollie returned to me and we made it safely to the camper. Was the reptile venomous? I do not know but I usually do not befriend animals who are unknown to me. Seriously now, we’ll have to watch for snakes as we dig for fallen leaves or twigs.
Austin, wake up! Look at the bright sun! Without having our usual cup of coffee, we ran out to see if we could cover up the mud with more tree discards. And we did. Wasting no time, my husband backed up the truck, we hooked it up to the trailer, and off we went. We were extremely lucky to have been able to drive out of there quickly, ending in the main road. It was time to get out of the Mississippi plains.
The way back home posed no problems. We view the unpleasant though brief portion of the trip as part of the adventures of traveling. If anything, it was a warning for us to be prepared for possible mishaps. Thank God we were!
Terry, I got my story out before I got involved in other matters. Since writers tend to incorporate true life happenings into the plot, I will advance that the first paragraph is true as well as some other travel-related instances--except that I never bought a travel trailer. The rest are pure lies... they never happened. LOL
Loved your story Mirta. I even loved the lies. Lie to me all you want.
Thanks, Terry. In real life, I don't lie but I love to create plots with half-truths or total lies. In official matters or those related to humanity, civility or God, I am as truthful as I can be. And Oliver was my first and caring dog. And all the above is true.
Mod
Rejoice Denhere
Copyright 2020
818 words
One thing truthful people don't understand about people who lie is that they do it for a reason. Obviously. And that reason? To be truthful I don't know. All I know right now is that the woman sitting in front of me is a liar. She's not qualified to do her job. I could report her but what good would that do without solid evidence? Also, I don't want to be the one responsible for the department manager suffering from a heart attack. I can just picture the inquest into the COD (cause of death) - "Did someone give him a terrible shock?" No, I am not going down that route.
"Now, where were we?" Sheila asks as she spins her chair round to face me. She's been in accounts a whole month and still hasn't got a clue on how we do things.
"I think we'd finished that conversation," I reply.
"No we hadn't."
I ignore her and start tapping furiously on the keyboard so she'll know I do not want to be disturbed. The woman asks the oddest questions. If she asks another question I'll… Never mind! But seriously how would I know why the accountant can afford an S Class Mercedes? He's a numbers guy!
Thankfully the universe has a way to get one out of sticky situations. The whole team is summoned by the department manager for a meeting.
"All remote working authorisations have been revoked with immediate effect," he announces. I notice that Sheila has gone pale. She stumbles out of the room with one hand over her mouth and the other clutching her stomach.
Unphased the manager continues. "The company has decided to make Fridays social days. No formal dressing, work in the morning and barbeque in the afternoon. And it's all happening in the Director's own backyard!"
It's Thursday morning so I pipe up, "That's tomorrow!"
"YES! And it's also the Director's birthday!"
I glance at my colleagues. Horror is plastered all over their faces.
Friday dawns sunny and cloudless. There is a gentle breeze. Everyone is dressed in summer clothes. I almost don't recognise some people. At noon we all pile into different cars and head for an afternoon of fun, food and games. I notice how each worker is protectively clutching a package. A birthday gift for the director no doubt. What a sneaky way to steal from your underpaid workers.
Sheila is nowhere to be seen. Apparently she called in sick this morning. I am not surprised. She really looked unwell yesterday.
We're all admiring the beautiful house, garden, the pool and enjoying the food when someone asks, "So where is the director? It's his birthday after all." No one knows. I don't think they really care either.
Everyone is having such a good time no one notices that the sky has suddenly turned an ominous grey. The ensuing storm takes everyone by surprise and we all dash into the house for shelter.
Can a surprise be described in words such as minor or major? I ask because a major surprise is waiting for us inside the house. No joke.
But let me backtrack a little. Did I mention that we all felt we were underpaid? Well it turns out the director has a gift for everyone too. Everyone receives a performance bonus equal to 10% of their annual income. I hadn't seen that one coming! Not in a million years.
Everyone, that is, except for the accountant. I watch him shifting from one leg to the other a look of confusion plastered on his face. Sighs of relief go up on his behalf when the director finally turns to him.
"Now for the real star who is the real reason for, not the season, but the gathering. I have no words so I'll let my wife do the honours."
A stunning dark haired woman appears from the side door. The accountant gasps as the blood drains from his face. His mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out. I watch as, at the same time, my co-workers' hands fly to their mouths.
Something weird is going on. Everyone except me seems to be in on the joke. I take a second look at the Director's wife. There's something familiar about her but I can't quite put my finger on it.
A sound escapes from my mouth but it sounds like it is coming from somewhere else.
"Sheila?" I croak.
She smiles. Yes. It's Sheila. She moves to the middle of the room and faces us.
"I have been working undercover for the last month. Huge sums of money have been disappearing from the company but we have never been able to catch the culprit. Until now."
As the accountant is led away in handcuffs by the police I find myself faced with the age old dilemma. When is lying a good thing because I still don't know.
Mod
Mirta wrote: "CAMPING WITH MY AUSTIN AND OLIVER
By Mirta Oliva
During most of my adult life, I dreamt of buying a camper to travel throughout our beautiful country but there was always something preventing me f..."
A few story starters to consider.
As it was nearing the end of Summer, I felt a strong urge to go up the mountain to look for her before the early Autumn snows blanketed the rocky peaks.
____________________________________
The moonstone and pearl bracelet dazzled against the black evening dress she was wearing. She was most likely a Gemini, the one sign we Virgos should avoid.
_________________________________________
The backyard BBQ was not going so well. The flies and mosquitoes were uninvited guest.
As it was nearing the end of Summer, I felt a strong urge to go up the mountain to look for her before the early Autumn snows blanketed the rocky peaks.
____________________________________
The moonstone and pearl bracelet dazzled against the black evening dress she was wearing. She was most likely a Gemini, the one sign we Virgos should avoid.
_________________________________________
The backyard BBQ was not going so well. The flies and mosquitoes were uninvited guest.
Rejoice!!! Love it. Very creative and weaved together. Sorry just now reading your story. I am not getting notifications. Got to check my settings.
Mod
TERRY wrote: "Rejoice!!! Love it. Very creative and weaved together. Sorry just now reading your story. I am not getting notifications. Got to check my settings."
Mod
(930 words)
Eureka, Nevada is a small town in the desert. Nothing ever really happens there. But I opted to stay at a cheap hotel there instead of camping. Call me a city slicker, but there is no way I’m going to spend the night among tumbleweeds and rattlesnakes. I received a call the night before that my grandfather had suffered a heart attack. He and my grandmother live just outside of Salt Lake City, Utah. Since the drive is long, I decided to go the rest of the way in the morning.
I walked into a diner next door to my hotel and sat at a small table with a view of the street. A cute young blonde waitress came to take my order.
“What can I get for you?” she asked as I quickly scanned over the small menu.
“How are the barbeque ribs?” I inquired.
“It’s our most popular item. I’ve seen many a satisfied customer order this.”
“Good! I’ll take an order of that plus a side of slaw.”
“And your beverage?”
“I’ll take lemonade please.”
“Coming right up,” she said with a wink as she spun around to place the order.
I was distracted by a huge black pickup truck that was jacked up with a suspension lift. It came to park across the street. Although it was getting dark, I could see the driver well enough. He got out and stood there staring at me. After an uncomfortable moment for me, he entered the bar establishment where he had parked. I thought nothing more of it. I turned my attention to photos and décor on the walls that surrounded me to pass the time.
“Here you go, sweetie,” my waitress exclaimed cheerfully. She placed my dinner and beverage on my table. “Just howler if you need me.”
“Thank you!” I responded as I ate in silence.
Afterward, I returned to my hotel room to turn in for the night. After I managed to go to sleep in my strange surroundings, my sleep was interrupted by the black pickup parked outside the bar. The driver kept gunning the engine as the song Highway to Hell blasted from his stereo system and subwoofer. There were a few people toting bottles of beer and dancing in the street. Some of them even howled at the moon like animals. Just as I was about to open the window to yell at them – I know. A lot of good that would’ve done – a couple of police cruisers came to quiet and dispel the crowd. I wouldn’t need my earplugs after all!
At dawn, I decided to get an early start. After I put my suitcase in the trunk of my Toyota Prius, I started up my car and drove down Highway 50. My breakfast consisted of a protein drink and a doughnut that I ate while driving. My Prius loped along at 70 MPH which is the legal speed limit. It was turning out to be a beautiful day with rolling hills dotted with low growing shrubs and mountains on the horizon. There were no truck stops or any signs of civilization for many miles. The view of the mountains began to change. Just my luck! A dust storm was coming in my direction. Visibility was becoming very poor.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, the huge jacked up pickup truck from Eureka was tailgating me. He was revving his engine and blowing his horn.
“Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed in disgust. I hit my breaks to send him a message. Boy that was a bad idea! The pickup quickly accelerated and rear-ended my Prius. My car hit some rocks, ran over some embankment, and flipped on its side. The black pickup sped away through the dust storm.
I don’t remember how long I laid there in my upturned car. My eyes were closed. The sound of the wind was oddly soothing. When I opened my eyes, I saw the feet of two strangers.
“Are you okay, Sir?” one of them called out.
“I think I’m okay. I don’t know about my car though.”
I managed to get to the passenger window to climb out.
“Here, let us help you,” the other person said as he grabbed my hand to pull me out.
When I was standing next to the car, I could see the two men better. They were both wearing dark clothing and hoodies.
“I’m pretty sure we can help you with your car.”
Before I could answer, both men reached up to grab the bottom of the car and lowered that side to the ground. They did it with ease without even straining. I got in and turned the key in the ignition. The engine started right up on my first attempt. In my excitement, I bolted from the seat to thank them. They were nowhere in sight.
Had I imagined them?
I continued my trip to Utah. The haze of the dust storm was lifting. I slowed my speed when I saw police cruiser lights flashing up ahead. As I neared, I could see that the huge black pickup that had rammed me now sat smashed up near the road. Boulders had come loose and killed the driver on impact. The body of the driver lay near his truck with a sheet covering him completely.
I didn’t rejoice over the fact that my tormentor now laid dead near the road. It saddened me. I also contemplated the way the Almighty sent his angels to help me in my time of need.
Mod
Mod
Glenda wrote: "Strangers in the Desert
(930 words)
Eureka, Nevada is a small town in the desert. Nothing ever really happens there. But I opted to stay at a cheap hotel there instead of camping. Call me a city s..."
Mod
Glenda wrote: "Strangers in the Desert
(930 words)
Eureka, Nevada is a small town in the desert. Nothing ever really happens there...."
Thank you!
Glenda, you gave just enough information to keep me reading to the end. A lesson in Karma.
I know any member can vote event if they did not post a story BUT can the Host vote also?
Mod
Thank you, Terry. And as far as I know, yes - a host can vote. They just can't submit a story to be voted on. If they wanted to post a story it would be after the deadline.
Mod
By Mirta Oliva
...Luckily, we carried battery-powered lamps and cooking provisions. Far from panicking, we were intuitively thinking of how blessed we had been by having prepared us well for unpredictable situations such as this one. We sensed our Lord was watching over us and that gave us comfort...."
My thoughts exactly when I reflect on our provisions after Hurricane Michael with no electricity or running water. And I don't check to see if snakes are venomous either. :)
Mod
Rejoice Denhere
Copyright 2020
818 words
One thing truthful people don't understand about people who lie is that they do it for a reason. Obviously. And that reason? To be truthful I d..."
I was wondering if your main character / protagonist would've reported to her supervisor or HR that the co-worker was not qualified to do her job what would have happened in that scenario. Enteresting. I have a memory of a coworker being lead out of my place of employment wearing handcuffs; there was a smile on his face. This happened in South Florida back in the late 80's or early 90's.
Did I read the story prompts correctly - story length - 750 to 12,000 words???Wow - this group has advanced in the time I've been absent!!!
Mod
Wow - this group has advanced in the time I've been absent!!!"
I did catch that earlier, but I must've been too busy to message Terry about it. Most likely a typo.
No, it was not a typo. I wanted to change things up a little. They may never let me host again. wink Plus, I plan to post my own story during the voting time. Would love to read a story from you Todd.
Todd wrote: "Did I read the story prompts correctly - story length - 750 to 12,000 words???
Wow - this group has advanced in the time I've been absent!!!"
Glenda wrote: "Todd wrote: "Did I read the story prompts correctly - story length - 750 to 12,000 words???
Wow - this group has advanced in the time I've been absent!!!"
I did catch that earlier, but I must've ..."
Todd wrote: "Did I read the story prompts correctly - story length - 750 to 12,000 words???
Wow - this group has advanced in the time I've been absent!!!"
Glenda wrote: "Todd wrote: "Did I read the story prompts correctly - story length - 750 to 12,000 words???
Wow - this group has advanced in the time I've been absent!!!"
I did catch that earlier, but I must've ..."
Oh, duh!!! I just catch it. Yes, it was a typo. Sorry, 1200 words everybody. No wonder more stories have not been posted. Some of you are working on a very long story. I'll see if I can edit the post.
Now everyone knows I am not good with numbers. lol
Mod
Thanks. I will do that tomorrow - too tired tonight.
Glenda wrote: "No problem-O, bro. Also you may consider broadcasting to the group. You do that by clicking on "members", scroll to the bottom of the page until you see the word "broadcast". Make sure that your me..."
Glenda wrote: "No problem-O, bro. Also you may consider broadcasting to the group. You do that by clicking on "members", scroll to the bottom of the page until you see the word "broadcast". Make sure that your me..."
Terry, what other hosts have done is to post a message with a link in FB. Then I always share that link. If others do the same, the message will go to more viewers and there will be more chances of waking up a writer or two from the virus somnolence.
Where does the FB link lead? Not sure how to do that. Thanks for the tip though.
Mirta wrote: "Terry, what other hosts have done is to post a message with a link in FB. Then I always share that link. If others do the same, the message will go to more viewers and there will be more chances of..."
Mirta wrote: "Terry, what other hosts have done is to post a message with a link in FB. Then I always share that link. If others do the same, the message will go to more viewers and there will be more chances of..."
Terry, Glenda, or one of the prior hosts can guide you. This is a good time to post it.
Mod
TERRY wrote: "Where does the FB link lead? Not sure how to do that. Thanks for the tip though.
Mirta wrote: "Terry, what other hosts have done is to post a message with a link in FB. Then I always share that l..."
This is what I will post on Facebook. You can also tweet on Twitter. Make sure that you have the correct web address (note the address that is in response to a message).
Writers, submit your short story at Writers 750 Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
TO INCLUDE IN THE STORY: PICK TWO OR ALL
1. A BIRTHSTONE (THE BIRTHSTONES FOR JUNE ARE PEARL, MOONSTONE, AND ALEXANDRITE)
2. CAMPING or BACKYARD BBQ
3. MOSQUITOES
4. A STORM
5. AN ANIMAL
6. SOMETHING LOST or FOUND
Theme: ODE TO SUMMER
Glenda, I just shared your link to the public with my encouraging message. I hope many insiders and outsiders will do the same. I'll wait a few days and will share it again.
Mod
Thanks Rejoice.
Rejoice wrote: "I have shared the link on my Facebook page."
Rejoice wrote: "I have shared the link on my Facebook page."
Ode to Night and Day by Todd Folstad (317 words)A moonless night creeps in, stealing the sunlight.
A moonless night where all is lost in a silent storm of tranquility and mystery.
Blackness so deep you can almost cut it with a knife.
Blackness so thick it is as if a piece of moist black velvet has been wrapped around your head.
Darkness so completely peaceful ~ totally void of sound, or wind, or temperature.
Darkness so heavy that none but the sunrise may lift it.
Night so calming you can fall asleep with your eyes open, not fearing the blackness around you.
Night where even the animals of the forest and the bugs in the air, dare not move for fear of reproach.
Luna, the moonstone in the sky, unable to assist us.
Luna, the goddess of the night glow, switched off, unable to illume the earth below.
Erebus calls us to worship all that is dark and foreboding.
Erebus, the son of Chaos, bids us slumber with our eyes wide open.
Chaos, rumored to be the true foundation of reality, spawned the day but chose the night.
Chaos, which lived between the heavens and the underworld, eternally the gatekeeper.
Children of the night and children of the day, followed where the celestial creations dwelled.
Children of the day and children of the night, separated by birth and creation to forever be parted.
Singing an Ode to Summer, to Winter, to Fall, and to Spring
Singing from the highest of highs and bellowing from the lowest of lows.
Hitting chords of unimaginable beauty.
Hitting chords of unimaginable fear.
Gazing into the blackness for any sign of life, of light, of beauty.
Gazing into the coming sunrise, for any sign of forgiveness, of rebirth, of truth.
As comes the sunrise, thereafter falls the curtain of night.
And what we see in the sunlight should be just as illuminating as what we see in the darkest night.
A bit shorter than the required length, and if that disqualifies me, so be it - I was feeling poetic for this one and did not have an epic in me at this time. I hope you enjoy it. Poetry is where I really began to cut my teeth in writing, and every now and again, I feel the pull to work a little verse.
Todd, I hear you about the pull to work verse but I stink at it; especially rhyme. Your verse penned here makes me think. Thanks for posting.
If I weren't the host this month, this would be my story:
THE LAST DAY OF SUMMER
tturner 2020
The more I thought about it, lying awake in my sleepless bedroll, the angrier I became with Paul. I woke up early, still seething, and went for a walk in the woods. It seemed our camping trip on the last day of summer was turning out to be a mistake.
With my mind on the argument of last evening, I failed to pay attention to where I was going and after two hours of walking, I was lost. Luckily, I had taken my cell phone but, alas, it had no signal. I knew the sun came up in the East so I began walking West with my back to the sun. After thirty minutes or so, I realized nothing looked familiar. I was about to turn around when I saw a house through the trees.
When the house came into view, I discovered it was abandoned. Though I was disappointed, I thought there might be a map of the area, mail, or something, inside, that would give me a clue to my location.
The steps to the porch were simple fieldstone and very sturdy but the wooden porch was a different story. At both ends, where the rain had blown in over the years, the wood was rotted but the middle area to the front door was solid enough to support my weight.
I stood in the doorway transfixed as a bad feeling swept over my body. A little voice in my head told me I shouldn't be there. I was about to leave when the first clap of thunder rolled up the valley below. I turned to see dark ominous clouds rapidly approaching that blocked the sun making it dark outside and even darker in the room I had entered. I knew I would have to ride the storm out there in the house so I dismissed the voice in my head and moved into the center of the room for safety.
While the rain pounded the tin roof, flashes of lightning lighted the room. As I looked around, I noticed the house seemed to be fully furnished though a deep layer of dust and cobwebs covered everything. There were some family photographs on the mantel over the fireplace. I wondered why anyone would move and leave such personal items behind.
By the time the storm had abated to a soft steady rain, I was feeling a little better about the old house. There was no mail or map to be found in the front room so I decided to try the kitchen area. There were dishes in the sink and a pot on the stove that looked like it might have had food in it at one time. Two place settings were arranged on the wooden table. It seemed to me that whoever lived there simply walked away leaving their life behind.
I wandered into another room. There was a single sleeping cot pushed up to one wall, a dresser with a mirror and a wardrobe. Next to the window was a tall table and stool with an old manual typewriter with a sheet of paper as though someone had been typing.
My curiosity got the best of me so I walked over to check it out. There was the beginning of a letter on the paper that had, over the years, turned yellow and the black fonts faded to a pale grey. However, the letter was still legible.
As I read the words printed on the paper, the hairs on the nape of my neck began to stand on end.
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID AND YOU WILL NOT GET
AWAY WITH IT. I AM GOING TO THE COUNTY SHERIFF
TOMORROW. YOU WILL PAY FOR
The letter was unfinished. I could only speculate as to why. I stood there with my eyes glued to the yellow sheet of paper as fantasy after fantasy flashed through my mind. I looked around the room and noticed, for the first time, a dark stain on the floor near the table. My imagination was running wild by then and a gripping fear was creeping into my bones. I felt the urge to run.
As I passed the mirror, I saw not only my reflection but an image of a young girl with long blonde hair. I screamed as I whirled around to face her.
“Please, finish my letter,” she said to me.
I stood there, petrified in horror, staring at her bloody face.
“Please, finish my letter,” she said again.
I turned to run but the door of the bedroom slammed shut in my face and I could not get it open. I felt the girl's presence in my body. I could hear her thoughts and see her memories. I could feel the cold blood on my face. Her name was Molly. I walked to the table like a zombie where the typewriter was sitting and began to type where the original letter had ended.
WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. YOU KILLED MY MOTHER TODAY IN THE BARN.
YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR CRIME. YOU WILL SEE.
The terrible and tragic scene played like a black and white video in my mind. The mother and daughter were working in the barn when a neighbor lady jumped from the shadow with a shovel and hit the girl's mother in the head killing her instantly. When Molly ran to her mother the enraged neighbor hit her as well, leaving them both for dead but, Molly regained consciousness, after the killer had left and staggered to the house. In her room she started typing the letter but before she could finish, the neighbor returned and hit her again and again until she died.
I felt the apparition's spirit leave my body but I retained her memories mixed with fear and sadness. I trembled and cried at the same time. I heard the lock click as the bedroom door opened on its own. I took the letter out of the typewriter and left the house. Once outside, I remembered an app that Paul had installed on my cell phone called GPS. I had never used it before but this couldn't be a better time, I thought. The map on my screen showed a road not far away so I headed in that direction.
When I reached the highway I saw a sheriff's vehicle coming toward me so I frantically flagged it down. It is impossible to describe the relief and joy I felt when I handed the letter to the officer on that last day of summer, 2018.
THE LAST DAY OF SUMMER
tturner 2020
The more I thought about it, lying awake in my sleepless bedroll, the angrier I became with Paul. I woke up early, still seething, and went for a walk in the woods. It seemed our camping trip on the last day of summer was turning out to be a mistake.
With my mind on the argument of last evening, I failed to pay attention to where I was going and after two hours of walking, I was lost. Luckily, I had taken my cell phone but, alas, it had no signal. I knew the sun came up in the East so I began walking West with my back to the sun. After thirty minutes or so, I realized nothing looked familiar. I was about to turn around when I saw a house through the trees.
When the house came into view, I discovered it was abandoned. Though I was disappointed, I thought there might be a map of the area, mail, or something, inside, that would give me a clue to my location.
The steps to the porch were simple fieldstone and very sturdy but the wooden porch was a different story. At both ends, where the rain had blown in over the years, the wood was rotted but the middle area to the front door was solid enough to support my weight.
I stood in the doorway transfixed as a bad feeling swept over my body. A little voice in my head told me I shouldn't be there. I was about to leave when the first clap of thunder rolled up the valley below. I turned to see dark ominous clouds rapidly approaching that blocked the sun making it dark outside and even darker in the room I had entered. I knew I would have to ride the storm out there in the house so I dismissed the voice in my head and moved into the center of the room for safety.
While the rain pounded the tin roof, flashes of lightning lighted the room. As I looked around, I noticed the house seemed to be fully furnished though a deep layer of dust and cobwebs covered everything. There were some family photographs on the mantel over the fireplace. I wondered why anyone would move and leave such personal items behind.
By the time the storm had abated to a soft steady rain, I was feeling a little better about the old house. There was no mail or map to be found in the front room so I decided to try the kitchen area. There were dishes in the sink and a pot on the stove that looked like it might have had food in it at one time. Two place settings were arranged on the wooden table. It seemed to me that whoever lived there simply walked away leaving their life behind.
I wandered into another room. There was a single sleeping cot pushed up to one wall, a dresser with a mirror and a wardrobe. Next to the window was a tall table and stool with an old manual typewriter with a sheet of paper as though someone had been typing.
My curiosity got the best of me so I walked over to check it out. There was the beginning of a letter on the paper that had, over the years, turned yellow and the black fonts faded to a pale grey. However, the letter was still legible.
As I read the words printed on the paper, the hairs on the nape of my neck began to stand on end.
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID AND YOU WILL NOT GET
AWAY WITH IT. I AM GOING TO THE COUNTY SHERIFF
TOMORROW. YOU WILL PAY FOR
The letter was unfinished. I could only speculate as to why. I stood there with my eyes glued to the yellow sheet of paper as fantasy after fantasy flashed through my mind. I looked around the room and noticed, for the first time, a dark stain on the floor near the table. My imagination was running wild by then and a gripping fear was creeping into my bones. I felt the urge to run.
As I passed the mirror, I saw not only my reflection but an image of a young girl with long blonde hair. I screamed as I whirled around to face her.
“Please, finish my letter,” she said to me.
I stood there, petrified in horror, staring at her bloody face.
“Please, finish my letter,” she said again.
I turned to run but the door of the bedroom slammed shut in my face and I could not get it open. I felt the girl's presence in my body. I could hear her thoughts and see her memories. I could feel the cold blood on my face. Her name was Molly. I walked to the table like a zombie where the typewriter was sitting and began to type where the original letter had ended.
WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. YOU KILLED MY MOTHER TODAY IN THE BARN.
YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR CRIME. YOU WILL SEE.
The terrible and tragic scene played like a black and white video in my mind. The mother and daughter were working in the barn when a neighbor lady jumped from the shadow with a shovel and hit the girl's mother in the head killing her instantly. When Molly ran to her mother the enraged neighbor hit her as well, leaving them both for dead but, Molly regained consciousness, after the killer had left and staggered to the house. In her room she started typing the letter but before she could finish, the neighbor returned and hit her again and again until she died.
I felt the apparition's spirit leave my body but I retained her memories mixed with fear and sadness. I trembled and cried at the same time. I heard the lock click as the bedroom door opened on its own. I took the letter out of the typewriter and left the house. Once outside, I remembered an app that Paul had installed on my cell phone called GPS. I had never used it before but this couldn't be a better time, I thought. The map on my screen showed a road not far away so I headed in that direction.
When I reached the highway I saw a sheriff's vehicle coming toward me so I frantically flagged it down. It is impossible to describe the relief and joy I felt when I handed the letter to the officer on that last day of summer, 2018.
Voting starts tomorrow. Send your votes to: myretiredlife@gmail.com
Mod
TERRY wrote: "If I weren't the host this month, this would be my story:
THE LAST DAY OF SUMMER
tturner 2020
The more I thought about it, lying awake in my sleepless bedroll, the angrier I became with Paul. ..."
Thanks, Rejoice. Glad you liked it. I do enjoy this group. Gives an old man something to do.
Rejoice wrote: "I loved your story Terry. It would make a great novel.
Rejoice wrote: "I loved your story Terry. It would make a great novel.
BTW - I wanted to use one of those survey sites because it makes it a bit easier for voting. I tried two sites but was confused and in a hurry so I gave up. I should have worked it out weeks ago because I noticed the survey can be saved. However, I will try again (not for this month) to get it right for future voting.
One more thing about the voting. As a voter, you can include Todd's poem/prose even though it didn't meet the required minimum word count. I will leave it up to you to decide.
Mod
THE LAST DAY OF SUMMER
tturner 2020
The more I thought about it, lying awake in my sleepless bedroll, the angrier I became with Paul. ..."
Enjoyed your creepy story! I'll be sending my votes soon. And thank you so much for hosting this month.
My goodness, Terry! What an intriguing story. Stories must keep the reader engaged until the end which is not easy to do. Mission accomplished. This one and the Red Coat are memorable stories. Thanks for sharing.TERRY wrote: "If I weren't the host this month, this would be my story:
THE LAST DAY OF SUMMER
tturner 2020
The more I thought about it, lying awake in my sleepless bedroll, the angrier I became with Paul. ..."
Mod
TO INCLUDE IN THE STORY: PICK TWO OR ALL
1. A BIRTHSTONE (THE BIRTHSTONES FOR JUNE ARE PEARL, MOONSTONE, AND ALEXANDRITE)
2. CAMPING or BACKYARD BBQ
3. MOSQUITOES
4. A STORM
5. AN ANIMAL
6. SOMETHING LOST or FOUND
Theme: ODE TO SUMMER
SETTING – Any, Past, Present or Future
PLOT – your choice
LENGTH: 750 to 1200 Words
DEADLINE: Saturday, June 27 , 2020
Voting will take place between June 28 through June 30. Winners will be posted in this thread on July 1st.
CHALLENGE GUIDELINES – Skip over this comment section if you are familiar with the Writers 750 Challenge.
GENRE: Fantasy, Thriller, Sci-Fi, Mystery, Crime, Comedy, Romance, or a mixture (BASICALLY, anything but erotica)
PURPOSE -
Some fiction writers are looking to win a short story contest, keeping in touch with making deadlines, and/or simply sharpening the skill of writing fiction. The main purpose of this contest is to sharpen plot and character skills, collect your own short stories, receive good feedback, make a good connection with other writers, and take a short break from your current novel to get a fresh view when you return to it.
RULES & DIRECTIONS -
• Type in English - a minimum of 750 words; a maximum of 1,000 words; no erotica, no profanity.
• Post your title, byline, and word count total in the first line of your story posting.
• Writers are responsible for their own copyright. Authors keep all rights. PRIVACY POLICY IS ENFORCED. COPYRIGHTS AND INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY RIGHTS BELONG TO INDIVIDUAL AUTHORS. THIS CONTEST DOES NOT GRANT ANY PERSON THE RIGHT OR LICENSE TO COPY OR USE OTHER STORIES. EACH STORY IS PROTECTED BY THE COPYRIGHT OF THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR.
• ONE entry per person must be the writer's original work, a final revision, and a new piece of writing. Please do not delete and re-post since this becomes confusing to the readers. Try to post your final revision.
JUDGING: The story will be judged on creativity, proper grammar, good punctuation, and overall good quality for the story.
VOTING: Please vote for first, second, and third place. You are not allowed to vote for yourself. If posting this month, you MUST vote for your story to remain eligible.
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