In the comments, use the 10 random words below to create a cohesive, creative short story tying all the words together. And remember: after you finish, highlight your words and click the bold button to make them stand out and help you determine if you forgot any words (if you’ve missed some challenges, go back and try those too).
- sawubona – sah-wu-bo-na (Zulu for I see you. I recognize you as a worthy person in front of me. Hat tip to Chris Brogan for this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIRD5oosqIU )
- Nothing to lose
- Discover
- Concrete
- Yoga
- After Hours
- Home Alone
- Landslide
- Library
- Nap Time
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Years of yoga were doing nothing to help. Unless Desmond was able to discover some sort of secret super power, it looked as though he’d be stuck beneath the collapsed concrete pillar from the library for the foreseeable future.
It had been nap time when the volcano lost its temper, erupting from nowhere and raining a landslide of liquid terror down the side of the mountain.
Now it was long after hours and Desmond had nothing to lose.
Except his life, and maybe Maggie’s. He’d left her home alone – went out to get a pack of smokes.
“Back in 15 minutes,” he’d said.
Desmond remembered the look from the locals when they had greeted him with, “Sawubona,” the local Zulu praise.
He tensed the muscles in his leg and pushed. The concrete budged just an inch, but an inch was enough to give him room to wriggle.
He slipped from his prison and ran as fast as he could to Maggie.
Look up concrete jungle in the library and you’ll discover Southeast Washington DC in every book. It’s a realm where nobody says hi to others walking past, much less sawubona. It’s as if they drudge past each other in a yoga trance, but with a fuck-you type of Zen on their scowls. People have nothing to loose there; they believe they have nothing to win, except for a landslide of more suffering and oppression. After hours of experiencing such beauty, outsiders wish to be home alone, ready for nap time, and far, far away from such a fucked-up foreign planet. Seeing someone shot in the head also doesn’t make me want to go back, but I digress.
“Sawubona,” he said.
“Niebu,” I replied.
He invited me to sit on the yoga mat, and it was a relief after the concrete benches offered at the library. I set down the landslide of books I’d checked out, and decided that there were advantages to visiting him after hours.
“No meditation, please,” I grinned. “It isn’t my nap time yet.”
He tilted his head to the side and grinned back. “You should try it sometime. You might discover you like it. It beats being home alone, doesn’t it?”
I had to admit that. So I squeezed my eyes closed, then cracked one open to peer at him. “I guess I have nothing to lose.”
*Note that ‘nothing to loose’ was assumed to be a typo… and that my goal with these is to see how quickly I can write something coherent. Time for this post: 3 minutes, 11 seconds.
@Sean & @James
I love these things. I’m certain we did the right thing starting this blog. Seeing what other people come up with lets me know that creative ideas are everywhere; we just need something to spark them.
@James
Fixed! Thanks! *face/palm*
It was a warm, lazy afternoon and I had just returned from the library with a copy of Dr. Doolittle, one of my favorite children’s books. I was anxious to share this with my grandkids, but as I was home alone, I fixed myself a raspberry wine cooler and settled in under a shady tree. I flipped through the pages, giggling to myself at the illustrations of the silly jungle animals. All of a sudden, there was a thunderous, rumbling crash. I realized that my neighbor’s concrete fence had collapsed. As the dust from the landslide settled, there was Bob, dressed in a ridiculous safari outfit. I was soon to discover that he had been running an illegal after hours club . In the far corner were the gazelles, gracefully stretching in yoga moves. A large cluster of monkeys drinking banana daquiries and dancing around while discussing politics was the center of attention. In the other corner the raucous hyenas were laughing hysterically and playing poker. I had nothing to lose, so I thought I would join the party. I shouted “sawubona” to Bob, who tipped his hat and waved me in. But before I could order my jungle gardenia mimosa, I suddenly woke up and became aware that this was all a dream. Nature had just decided to give me an unscheduled nap time. Oh, how I wish I could talk to the animals.
Alright, Ma. That’s pretty funny.
@margaret
Can I call you Ma, too!
That was funny. I smile everytime I read one of these things.
As long as you don’t call me “large marge, chewbacca, or dude”! (Sean!)
@Margaret: How about all three – I’ll call you “Large Marge the Chewbacca dude.”
Will that work?
@margaret
Would Mabacca be out of bounds?
I don’t know if you can tell by looking at me , but I’m not much for yoga.
Don’t get me wrong- I stretched once. And I could definitely feel something. But as far as finding stuff to do when I’m home alone, I’ve come to discover that meditation is right up there with unclogging toilets; they both require me to think of something else while I’m doing it.
I wasn’t always like this. My girlfriend, who split shifts between being a librarian and a concrete finisher, was always trying to get me to “open my mind” and try new things. She used to take me to meet all of her insane friends when she got home from the library. After hours seances. Kundalini potlucks. Yarn tastings. Whatever.
But at the time I had nothing to lose. If I had to vote on hanging out with her or sitting around waiting for nap time, she always won by a landslide. Unfortunately, I was more like a bystander than a boyfriend. I’ll admit that much. I paid attention, but I wasn’t there for any reason other than her. I took notes as we went, but that was about all.
She left me. I can’t say I blame her, but that didn’t make it any easier. She left a card (made out of “free range paper”, the stamp on the back claims) with one word on it: Sawubona.
One day I’ll look it up. For now, though, it’s enough just to keep a little mystery around, folded up in a drawer I never open.
“Sawubonaaaaaaa!!” he yelled as he jumped off the cliff into the deep sea water. It was his first time, and he figured he had nothing to lose. Years of doing yoga after hours had made him fit. And what else was there to do while home alone? He got tired of going to the library and he’d had way too many nap times to count.
He swam to shore, skinning his knee on a piece of concrete leftover from some landslide ages ago. He didn’t care. He was having an adventure and loving it! What should he do next…what other adventure would he discover! Hmmm. Maybe sky diving next!
@Gina
Good one Ginaaaaaaa!
Are you hooked on these challenges yet?
Yes I am! I admit I did #2 but struggled with that one for some reason, so I didn’t post it. I’m just doing these to keep my writing brain working – I’m actually a songwriter (amateur – but looking for that big hit!)
@Gina
Me too! I mentioned the other day how I don’t like Dummy books but the Songwriting for Dummies was the best book I’ve ever read on the subject. I was a computer instructor for over three years and we had to create our own material, so I got to witness firsthand what works and what doesn’t as far as course material goes. That Dummy’s book was spot on perfect for a beginning student and I got the feeling that they would make great teachers. The authors did a great job.
It’s funny a song is only about 3 minutes long. Should be the easiest niche to crack, but without musical ability that I lack, it’s quite a challenge.
Go ahead and post #2 anyway. It might inspire someone else.
Actually, I started #2 a few times and never actually finished it.
I write music. I have a myspace page too – my full name is Gina Gibbins, look me up!
@Gina,
Putting my foot down – I like that.
After reading that book, I can’t listen to music without noting the rhyming structure of the song. I have to “turn off” the song writing student sometimes just to enjoy it.
I analyze every song I listen to.
Can’t help it.
Anyway…I don’t want to take away from this page — we’re getting off topic…sorry! Thanks for the listen.
No worries. All part of community conversation.
Hey, Shane, you didn’t comment on my submission for challenge 1. just curious…was I too sacriligious? I tend to go off on that subject which unfortunately is more based in truth than you know!
@margaret Sorry. I just posted a reply there.
@Ben
“meditation is right up there with unclogging toilets; they both require me to think of something else while I’m doing it”
That’s an awesome quote man. I’m stealing that one.
Somehow I get the feeling that parts of this aren’t fiction no!
Thanks for stopping by, and I like your blog design. I always tell my wife if I won any lottery, I’d spend the rest of my life getting degrees in subjects that interest me. The 1st would be some sort of creative writing degree.
Thanks for the thoughtful comments, Shane. I had a lot of fun writing the challenge. I’ll be back!
Three A.M.
Hours of waiting down the street in a non-descript car, now was the moment he was waiting for. Eric dashed across the open area towards the darkened building. His heart raced with each step over the concrete and rhubarb. He stopped short when the light from security light from the abandoned inner city public library came on.
The light blinded him and holding his hand against the brightness didn’t do much to remedy the situation.
“Can I help yous?” Boomed a scratchy voice from the decrepit speaker next to the door.
“Little Lilliana likes lopsided landslides!!” Eric answered.
After a moment, a rusted bolt clanked against a steel door and it slid open. Eric walked in with caution.
“Sawubona” came a voice to his left. Shadows hid his features. All except that pop mark.
“Sawubona” Eric replied.
The door slammed shut and the rusted bolt returned to its previous position.
“Yoga’ mah money, maing?” Pop Mark asked.
“Do you have my stuff?” Eric returned.
“Ya maing, eets right here.” Pop Mark lifts up a canister of white powder.
“How do I know this is the real stuff. I’m giving you real money. I don’t want to get screwed over.”
“Maing, what choo talkin’ about. This stuff is reals. If you don’t want eet. You can leave. Me, I got nothing to loose.”
Pop Mark started to move back to the door.
“No wait. I really need that stuff. I’ll take it.” Eric said desperately.
“Of course you will, maing. Enjoy.”
The transaction takes place and Eric runs back to his car. He immediately opens the canister to see his score.
“Perfect! I just need to get back home before they discover I’m gone. I should never have left Emma home alone with Nana in her condition. She’ll be up from her nap time shortly.”
Eric pulls into his driveway, only to be met by his wife.
Eric’s mind races.
“She must have gotten off early from her shift at the hospital. Great, I’m in for it now!”
“Where the hell have you been?” Kristie asked.
“I was just…Umm..” Eric searched for an answer.
“You were getting IT again weren’t you?!?”
“Yes, but this is the last time. I promise I won’t do it ever again.”
“I don’t know. How can I trust you? We have a baby in the house that could use her father.”
“I know.. I know.. This will be the last time that I buy baby formula off craigslist.”
He walks past her into the house.
@Eric
You SOB (I mean that in the most flattering way)! You got me, totally.
Great cliffhanger and change up at the end. Take notes people.
@shane i’m glad you enjoyed it. i was going off the original post that said, “nothing to loose” hence the usage of it by Mr. Pop Mark and his accent.
But it took me a while to do the story. First it started off as a secret agent doing secret agent things. But I couldn’t come up with an endings. Then I thought. Just write with what you know.
Midnight runs for baby stuff.
Had fun doing it.
@Eric
Having a toddler and an infant as I do, I could totally relate. I think that’s what made it even better for me.
Emily smiled and said, “You had me at sawubona.” It was part of their private language after Garrett got back from his LDS mission in South Africa. Jerry Maguire was the first movie Garrett had ever taken Emily to see.
They were pleased to discover that they were still compatible. They had dated in high school before he left but after being gone for two years they didn’t know what to expect. Garrett figured there was nothing to lose by calling Emily after he returned.
Emily had graduated and gone to massage school. She was also taking yoga classes. She had become interested in South Africa after Garrett left and had spent hours at the library learning about the culture. Garrett appreciated her efforts to connect with his experience but now he felt like a foreigner at home.
Garrett had been feeling oddly disconnected from his previous life in Utah and spent time home alone trying to come up with concrete plans for the future. Sometimes when it was his little brother’s nap time, Garrett would lay down to rest with him. At night he dreamt of epic landslides, and woke up in a sweat.
He got a job making sandwiches at Subway. After hours he spent time with Emily walking in the park.
@Loran,
Love the Jerry Maguire reference. Loved that movie.
ps. you have some great photos on your website. Where is that you live Mountain Mama?
Hi Shane,
I live in the northeast corner of Utah, about 13 miles out of Vernal on 20 acres up Dry Fork Canyon. I’m glad you enjoyed the photos. (By the way, I’m not Mormon, but I know plenty of kids who have gone on missions and returned.)
This is a really fun challenge. Are you doing it weekly? How do we know when the challenge is up?
@Loran
Cool. Never been to Utah. Want to though.
We’re trying to get a decent amount of submissions before we move on (anywhere in the range of 5 to 10 as we start out). As times goes on, we expect this number to get larger and larger, so it’s really a matter of getting a feel for when the volume slows to a drip, then we’ll post another one. I’ll be posting the next one tonight or tomorrow morning.
If you use the Firefox browser (which I tell everyone to do), you can:
1. Click on the RSS icon in the right of the address bar above.
2. A bookmarks dialog box pops up. In “create in” field, choose bookmarks toolbar and click “Add”.
3. Make sure your bookmarks toolbar is visible by clicking on View/toolbars/bookmarks toolbar.
4. Click on the text for the bookmark you added, and click on the post you want to read.
I handle my RSS subscriptions this way. Whenever I want to see if new content is added I simple click on the bookmark I added and the latest posts are listed. I click on it, and it takes me to the latest post. I do this with all the blogs I follow.
We’ll have to add a link so that you can subscribe by email as well.
Duh. I know how to add a bookmark to my feed, so I did. Good idea! Thanks.
So where do you live, Shane?
@Loran
Maryland for me.
I grew up in Alexandria, Virginia! I wondered when I read about SE DC, I remember that place. It scared me to death when I got lost in there, being a little blond-headed white girl and all….
@Loran
Try working down there where part of your contracts stipulate that two armed cops will be on the job with you. Not a favorite place of mine.
Uh, thanks but no thanks. I left the area for a reason.
I lost myself in the shower. Engulfed by the translucent violet beads, my body let loose a long sigh and my mind drifted from Song to poem, proem to prongs, District 9 to Home Alone, then back to Song. Her last words were still ringing in my ears.
“I just handle the recompiles.”
What the fuck?
I turned off the shower and the violet beads gathered at my feet for a moment then found their way to the drain.
The hanging bag that Song had left for me hung on the back of the bathroom door. In it there was a puce tee shirt with the words Nothing to Lose printed in yellow bubble letters, a pair of khaki trousers, white leather creepers, a charcoal corduroy smoking jacket, and a San Francisco Giants ball cap with traces of auburn dye on the inside band.
In the toiletry sleeve, there was a box of Cracker Jacks and a bottle of Nap Time. I shoved the Cracker Jacks into the inside breast pocket of the jacket and the pills into my trouser pockets. Then I made my way to the flat door. I was ready to be done with this place.
The flat door opened inward and I leaned outward expecting to find a long eggshell corridor of like doors. Instead, I found a small concrete slab enclosed by four padded walls. At the center of the slab was a wrought iron staircase. The spiral structure ascended to a circular rose metal door in the ceiling. I climbed the ironwork deliberately and with some effort slid aside the heavy disc to reveal an enormous library.
I climbed into the adjacent chamber to see what I might discover.
After hours of searching, I finally found what I was looking for. It was right there where it should have been, snuggled between a volume of yoga positions and a photo journal of Chelsea Clinton’s landslide defeat of Barack Obama.
Just then a panel of books on the far wall parted and a petite elderly woman in horn-rimmed glasses entered the room. Her silver hair was pulled back in a bun on the back of her alien-shaped skull and her ashen skin was screwy with deep creases. Still, she was quite attractive.
“Sawubona,” she said.
I had been made.
Troy, this would make one hell of a movie. It reminds me of the feel of the movie Blade Runner. Very, very good.
It was already after hours, and Little Fish was nowhere to be found. Mama knew she had nothing to lose by playing the child’s game, and that it would only make sleeping easier after a busy morning.
The two were home alone, with Papa gone to the market, so the young one could be anywhere.
“It is nap time, little one,” Mama gently called, peering behind the library of books and the landslide of toys strewn across the concrete.
She smiled, discovering her young one bent in yoga pose behind the pillow, squinting up at her.
“Sawubona,” Mama whispered.
Little Fish grinned.
Perfectly painted picture, Sara. Great job.
Thanks Shane!
“Sawubona. I have nothing to lose. Discover the concrete. That’s right. Just like yoga. Easy now. It’s after hours and you should be home alone. The landslide took out the library, and everyone’s over there. Careful now. One wrong move Bwana, and it’s permanent nap time for you.”
Well done short form master!
Brett Connors had been a homicide detective for 25 years. He couldn’t remember doing anything else, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had a day off.
His lieutenant had given him no choice – take the week off or cover the precinct’s front desk for the scheduled school tours.
Although he resisted, Brett decided to get the hell out of Dodge – or more accurately, San Francisco. He hopped on a plane and found himself sitting on a beach in Encinitas, California. Located in the north county of San Diego, Brett considered it as one of the few true beach towns left in southern California.
“Sawubona,” came the whispered voice.
Looking up from a book he wasn’t really reading, Brett responded, “Excuse me?”
“Sawubona. It is from my native Zulu language.” Her accent was slight, but her beauty knew no bounds. Standing nearly 6 feet tall, the soft-spoken woman appeared in her mid-20s with skin as soft and smooth as rich, dark chocolate.
Trying not to stare, Brett asked, “What does it mean?”
“It means I see you. I recognize you as the worthy person before me.”
“And how would you know that?”
She only smiled. “Do you mind?” she asked, gesturing to the blanket he sat on.
“Knock yourself out. I’ve got nothing to lose.”
Arranging her long, flowing skirt around her ankles, she raised kohl-lined eyes to gaze into what felt like his very soul.
“You have yet to discover it.”
“Okay, Mystery Lady, what have I ‘yet to discover’?”
“If I tell you, it is my discovery, and not yours.”
“Look, I don’t know what your game is but I am not big in the patience department right now. So why don’t you tell me what you want or take your pretty little ass off my blanket and move down the concrete path to the exit.”
Adjusting her legs in a yoga-like position, Mystery Lady reached out a long-fingered hand, covering Brett’s in a cupped shell of velvet warmth.
“Search your heart and you shall discover it.”
Captured in her hypnotic stare, any words he had froze in a throat gone dry. Slowly rising with the grace of a dancer, she smiled that sweet, knowing smile.
“Sawubona, Brett. Look to your heart.”
And then she was gone. How had she known his name?
“I’ve got to stop hitting those after hours bars.”
Shaken more than he cared to admit, Brett rose and shook out the blanket. Packing it, and the little he brought with him, Brett worked his way to his home away from home. Home alone – again.
A landslide of emotions crowded his mind. Had he imagined the encounter on the beach? Maybe his lieutenant knew how on edge Brett was, how much he needed the time away.
Leaving Moonlight Bay, Brett walked past Old Highway 101 and the library, tucked across from Viewpoint Park. Brett had grown up in Encinitas and it always felt like home. Maybe that was why he chose this place to heal.
Unlocking the door of his rented studio, Brett tossed the blanket across a chair. Puzzling over thoughts of his Mystery Lady, Brett decided it was time to shut it down. Like a kid in need of nap time, he stretched out on a bed designed for something smaller than his 6 foot 4 inch frame.
Closing his eyes, the whispered sound soothed him off to sleep – Sawubona, Brett.
If you see this, Shane, can you fixed my typo-thoughts-the 2nd to last paragraph-and any others you might find. Thanks. :-O
@Cathy, Done!
@Cathy, Zip-Zow!!!! It is indeed heating up! You’ve got some series writing chops, you know that?
@Shane-thanks. It’s the 1st time I ever tried it, and for that I am very grateful to you guys!
Finally I am trying to get caught up on some of the ones I missed.
——–
“Sawubona” said the dark skinned man, tipping his hat slightly. A mysterious persona emanated from him; an aura of elegance and mystique. Just his presence on the dirty night run of the subway seemed out of place, like an iris growing in the concrete jungle.
“Saw woo what?”, responded the weary woman, looking up from her newspaper. She had put in a very long work week and was looking forward to just sitting in front of the television with a tub of ice cream. It was a rare occasion when she got to spend some time home alone. Her husband, ‘ex-husband’, she reminded herself, had finally agreed to take the kids for the weekend. “I wonder if Sam remembered to take back his library books?,” she thought. “I hope that Kevin remembers that Allie needs to take an hour for nap-time, I wonder if I should take that after hours yoga class on Wednesday nights… it’s supposed to be good for stress, I have nothing to lose… except the weight of the world.”
“It means I see you and recognize you as a worthy person,” he replied, snapping her from her myriad of racing thoughts back to the present. “Have you discovered your worth?” he said without an ounce of arrogance in his voice.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Marnie questioned. She was normally very cautious on the subway and usually travelled with her co-worker as far as the 49th Street stop. Tonight however, she worked late and this car was empty except for her and this stranger. She didn’t feel his presence to be threatening or of any danger to her, but she was mildly irritated that he was interrupting her worrying about daily distractions.
His voice was gentle. “You do not know my physical being but we are two travellers crossing paths in the universe.”
“Oh great, another wack-job. Wait for it, next come the pamphlets on how Jesus is going to save my soul… and the second-coming will arrive with floods, locusts and the occasional landslide,” she heard herself think sarcastically, “Why does this always happen to me?”
The subway car came to a stop and the doors opened. The strange man tipped his hat again. “Sala kale. Ngiyakuthanda. Stay well. I love you.” And he stepped out into the night.
@Lisa: That was excellent. Really. I could read a ton more of this.
She had nothing to lose by going to the library and getting a book on Yoga. She needed something to do after hours with the landslide of home alone time.
She discovered that nap time was better spent with a tangible, concrete improvement to self. She found a positive new word to repeat and help her center herself at the beginning of each Yoga season. She wrote it on a piece of paper knowing that she believed it, at one time, but needed the Zululandian reminder to rebuild her: sah-wu-bo-na.
@Kathleen: That was real good. Had a nice rhythm to it, too.