I couldn’t get in touch with Thorey before the deadline. We’ll have to use my words and have her hopefully do another challenge.
BET YOU CAN’T do this writing prompt. Take the 10 random words below and, in the comments, crush writer’s block by creating a cohesive, creative short story tying all of them together! And remember: after (if) 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 previous writing prompts, we BET YOU CAN’T do those, either.)
- Wonder
- Unthinkable
- Weak
- Well
- Inside
- Walk
- Silent
- Erase
- Joke
- Watch
NOTE: Don’t copy and paste from MS Word. Use a program like notepad that removes formatting or just type in the comment field itself. Also, finish your submission, THEN bold the words. Thanks. (And don’t forget to tweet this and share it with your friends.)
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Resources you should check out:
Thesis: Best Damn Theme on the Web
Collective Ink Well: Personalize Your Thesis Theme
Third Tribe Marketing: Marketing done the right way
Story Structure Demystified: Best damn writing book out there
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I checked my email AFTER the scheduled post. Thorey sent me her words, but since this posted already, we’ll use her words next week.
For a male in his early twenties, living at the beach for the summer is an exhilarating experience of freedom and unbounded enthusiasm.
It’s easy to loose one’s self in all the sex, drugs, alcohol and fights.
It’s easy to become unaware of basic human dignity and the need to recognize it in others.
Some guys I know would treat girls they met like shit. Others would fight for no reason and do hard drugs for all the wrong ones.
Some 20 years later, a trip back to the beach with my family reminded me of this reality.
We drove down the boardwalk behind a truck with 10 wild, twenty-something males in the back carrying on and yelling at anything and everything nearby.
One of the guys looked to his left and shouted, “Free Willy!” to an overweight woman walking with her boyfriend. I watched as this woman’s carefree smile erased, going silent behind what must have been unthinkable pain inside.
I turned back to the guy and for a split second, just barely recognizable, noticed his care-free, I’m-cool-ain’t-I smile crack under the realization that what he just did to impress his friends was utterly cruel, pointlessly vicious. He quickly hid his true nature from his buddies, though, as they laughed along.
What this young guy didn’t know yet was he’ll face a tragic event down the road.
It will weaken him to his core.
He’ll ask God what he did to deserve such bad fortune.
Then he’ll remember that overweight woman and his joke, and wonder when his stomach will stop turning.
He’ll try to forget her, too, but conscious never lives well alone.
It needs these memories to remind us how to live better and become better human beings.
He’ll try to forget her again, but he won’t.
And as he looks into his daughter’s eyes, he’ll pray she never meets the 20-something asshole he once was.
But, she will.
And he knows it.
Free Willy, motherfucker…
Free Willy!
Very good Shane. I could feel the passion
@A: Thanks A.
@shane – yeah…. every parent’s nightmare, that our children will experience what we felt and/or did growing up. Good one.
@Kool Aid: Thank you kindly.
Nice work.
@Scott: Thanks buddy.
@Shane-simply beautiful-we are so judgmental-it’s something I work on every day to appreciate all that makes us unique. Love this!
Um. Okay, sorry, got carried away with this one…
The sound of their shoes on the sidewalk made her feel sick and weak. James’ pace was loose and easy, and his hands were in his pockets, his eyes clear, as if a walk at this hour of dawn was perfectly normal.
Only it wasn’t normal.
She squashed the twist inside her stomach and tried to school her own face into just as casual an expression as he wore, matching her steps to his own long, purposeful strides. She even shoved her own hands in her pockets, mimicking him.
The footsteps they took sounded so loud. And yet… they were both silent.
“So what now?” Her voice sounded just as loud as their footsteps. “I hope this isn’t your idea of a first date.” The joke she’d chosen to break the tension inside her came out sounding awkward but she couldn’t erase it now, so she forced a goofy grin on her face.
He glanced sidelong at her. And then his mouth curved. “Maybe it is.”
Damn him.
Well, that didn’t work out. Try again, smarty pants. The voice in her head was as full of dry sarcasm as her mouth.
“It’s a wonder you get any dates at all,” she tried again. Just a walk. Just two normal people in a crazy world.
And then the unthinkable happened. She laughed.
It was a short bark full of nerves, and once it started, she couldn’t stop it. Her feet had frozen, the laughter sank its claws in her and she couldn’t hold it in. Too high-pitched, a little insane and out of control.
Then suddenly she was crying and laughing and shaking all at the same time, her hands clapped over her face to hide it. And all James did was stand there waiting for her to stop.
“Don’t watch me.” She managed to get that much sanity out between the crazy sounds coming out of her. “Just… don’t, okay?”
And then James said the worst words she could ever have chosen for the moment.
“Are you okay?” He sounded concerned, genuinely concerned and somehow – damn him – she knew his face would have that look on it, the one that said he might actually care if she wasn’t alright. “Here, let’s…”
She felt fingers on the skin of her arm, gently tugging her, guiding her towards a bench just beyond the sidewalk. That nearly broke her for good.
“Shh. It’s alright,” he soothed, and now he was rubbing a shoulder. She shouldn’t stop sobbing. “We’ll just take a break. I have some Kleenex…”
And then a hand with white tissue in it was just in front of her, paired with a hopeful, boyish face peeking up into hers.
“It’s alright, you know,” he offered, almost cheerily. “I’m not going to kill you.”
And reality came crashing back. She’d tried to kill a killer.
@James: Get carried away any time you want! Well done.
I liked this, and don’t think you got carried away at all.
I try to keep mine short because, I am usually doing these on my lunch hour, so don’t have a lot of time.
Keep it up!
@James: Just when I thought I knew where this was going, it shifts direction once again! Good stuff
James — The voice in her head was as full of dry sarcasm as her mouth. I like this. I know I have felt it myself.
And I will have to agree with sefcug – I don’t think you got carried away. Glad you had time to spin a more of the tantalizing mysterious tale.
@James-the softer, gentler James-“It’s alright, you know,” he offered, almost cheerily. “I’m not going to kill you.” Love it!
Many times I would wonder out loud to myself while sitting in this car and just watch.
I could just walk behind her, like a silent assassin, scare her and then tell her it was a joke.
It was unthinkable that she was weak enough inside to give in and erase our relationship with one brief encounter with him. I just hope one day that I’m well enough emotionally for me to finally ask her a very important question….Why?
@SW Hood: Welcome to the CCC. Excellent 1st submission. What did you think of it?
Everyone welcome SW Hood to the fun and encourage him to stick around and do more.
I’ll add your name to the CCC Community Links page now.
Thanks Shane. I’ve been looking for something to get me writing more. I enjoyed it.
@SW Hood: Glad to hear that. We do a challenge ever Monday and Thursday. Take a look at some of the old ones and the series pages linked on our CCC Community Links page. Some incredible writing and writers here. How’d you find us btw. Always curious to know.
Wow! Short but poignant.
Hope to see more.
Well done!
Welcome aboard SW.
I like what you wrote! Made me feel… timid once again.
@SW Hood-Wow-powerful-can’t wait to see what else you have for us.
I’m a silent voyeur. I watch her pain. Her suffering is unthinkable and she is getting weak. I’m seeing things that no man should see, that I will never be able to erase from inside my mind and body.
But I can’t walk away.
Where is the wonder? There are rivulets of blood. There is sweat, and cries, and alarm. The joke has long since gone flat and the room is beginning to swim. I’m not well. I need a doctor.
‘It’s a boy’ the doctor says.
And faint.
@Gabriel: Fantastic! That’s quite a 1st submission. You should stick around for sure.
I’m adding your name and URL to our CCC Community Links page now. Everyone welcome Gabriel to the addiction.
Awesome Gabriel! Looking forward to seeing more of your writing here!
Gabriel — Welcome aboard. I love your submission. Thought I was reading about death… cool surprise. I can tell you’ve been bitten by the CCC bug.
@Gabriel-great story in so few words!
Someone tweeted it out (Sorry, can’t remember who) & I get the RSS feed.
@SW: I love those tweets. I’s say about half our traffic comes from Twitter.
I think that’s how I found this.
Here is what I came up with, in order:
I wonder why the word unthinkable is so hard to understand.
Is it because the mind is weak?
Well, my theory is that inside each mind are sections that are unable to be accessed unless; through meditation, a long walk, or some other means of silent introspection; you can erase the barriers of the section. Until the barriers are removed, you can not think about what is in there.
Suggestions:
Sometimes a good joke will break through the barriers, so watch some “Comedy Channel”, if your TV carrier provides access.
Alternately, download some old comedies from the Internet Archives, or similar web site. I have personally found that though old, they are still funny. My favorites: Laurel and Hardy, Abbott and Costello, and even Charlie Chaplin or Buster Keation.
@Steve: Awesome submission and in order, too.
Great message, and thanks for that Archive link. Never heard of that before.
Thanks Shane.
There is lots of good stuff there, video, text, cartoons, etc.
I can never get how you manage to use the words in order. That always amazes me.
MZ: These guys here are amazing. They do them in order, backwards, even then odd.
Sometimes I just look at the words and it just jumps out at me.
In order, reverse order, alphabetical, reverse alphabetical, all evens first or vice versa.
Whatever the words trigger is what I do.
sefcug– I like this one. It reads smoothly and bravo — in order!
@sefeug-love your ordered post.
Does it count against me that I had to cheat on “erase”?
—————————————————————————
Holly remains silent as we make our way through the park on the concrete walk. Her eyes remain trained down on the path, and her arms cross over her chest.
I plunge my hands into my pockets as I wonder if bringing her to watch a cello performance in an open field was a mistake. Maybe staying inside would have been a better first date?
As we approach the bend concealed by several old trees, I am thankful that there are other people walking the path with us. I would hate for her to think I’d brought her out here to take advantage of her. I curse myself for forgetting that such a thing was not unthinkable. Especially for a single girl living in the big city for the first time.
“It’s not much further,” I assure her, but know that it is a weak statement. Couldn’t you at least come up with a joke or something?
Holly simply nodds, still keeping her eyes down low.
We walk a few more minutes and finally arrive at our destination; the ampitheater. Following the natural roll of the land, the landscape is cut into steps for seats, with a round stage at the bottom of the well. The grassy steps are covered with thin, cushions dressed in white, indicating a seat for each audience member. The area is illuminated by white chinese lanterns dangling overhead, crisscrossing above the circle.
“Oh my!” Holly exclaims as she stops midstride, taking in the scene before us. “This is beautiful.” I relax as I see that the blank look she had earlier is erased by apparent delight.
I offer my hand for her to take as I see the artists walk toward the stage. “Shall we find our seats?”
@MZ: Not at all. We fly loose with the “rules” here. Great submission. Really.
@MZMackay: I loved the way the mood of the story changed at the same time the landscape/scenery changed. Great stuff
@Shane: Thanks.
@ Karetha – Thank you so much. This lifted my spirit today. Thanks again.
@MZMakay beautiful! and a lovely first date
Oh, and I “cheat” on the submissions all the time with prefixes and suffixes, so you’re not alone
@Kool Aid – thanks! I’m glad you liked it. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a first date so I had to dig deep for that one! LOL!
MZMakay — As Shane says… Rules?
Shane — did I miss the Rules? heheeeheheee I don’t see no stinkin’ rules.
MZMakay — I like the way you were able to quickly set the mood and then change it in a natural way. Good job. Nice effort. Many of us use the CCC words in any form they will come by. Creativity is the Challenge.
@MZMackay-we love it all-great write!
Part two (somehow I missed number 61)
It was a wonder that Jake had gotten as far as he did. Security was as tight as could be expected under the circumstances. But, the ultra-secret clearance required for anyone to even know about what was going down here actually worked in his favor. If his intel was correct there were only five people of importance at this meeting and they brought a minimum of protection. Bodyguards could be trusted, but only to a point, if the last President’s impeachment was any indication.
He was certain that his target and his cohorts felt safe. That anyone outside their circle knew about this was unthinkable. Power bred not only corruption, but under certain circumstances it also made you overconfident. He was weak in a lot of ways, but overconfidence was not something he struggled with. He knew that his life expectancy right now was measured in minutes, perhaps seconds. As he ran, he tapped into the deep well of calm that he had worked for years to develop. The trick was to be just confident enough in your abilities and let a slight edge of fear give you the push you needed to do what most people could only dream about.
Now that he was inside the secured perimeter of the meeting place, a patch of nowhere in the Canadian wilderness, he needed to think only about the next way point. When he got there he could focus on the next and so on. A few more yards through the trees and he would find the cabin where the cabal should be in mid-plot. His run became a walk and he breathed no harder than he would if he had been out for a midnight stroll. The knife slide into its sheath in the small of his back and he pulled the Sig Sauer P220 from his shoulder rig. The suppressor screwed into place with a few turns. It was hardly silent, but it would do.
As he closed the distance to the cabin, all senses alert for any more guards, he hoped that this act would erase the sins of his past. It struck him as funny, his own dark little joke, that one more act of bloodshed would make up for the oceans of it in his past. His watch vibrated, letting Jake know that it was time. Salvation or damnation waited for him just a few feet away.
@Scott: Well done. Jake and James should have an assassin’s meet up.
I know what you mean about missing the challenge. They are only twice a week, but they sneak up on you. Reminds me of a drinking game in college called Centure Club. You take a shot glass of beer every minute for 100 minutes. At first it seems like it takes forever, but by the 40th shot or so, it goes by so fast you can’t remember if you already did it.
Heh, yeah, maybe there should be some kind of crossover.
I’ve got this in my RSS reader which makes me doubly curious how I missed it. *shrugs* No biggie.
@Scott: I’m all for submitters having to drink the amount of shots that the challenge number equals.
My head’s splitting just thinking about it.
@Shane: I think 62 shots is quite a lot!
@Karetha: And to think I used to do a full Century Club before going to the bars, and another at 3:00AM just so I could go to sleep.
@Scott: Is there more to this story? I want to hear the conclusion
Stay tuned!
@Scott-love it-will definitely stay tuned.
“OK, Wonder Woman, do your worst.”
“You have got to be joking.”
“What, lost your nerve?”
“No, my patience.”
“Oh, come on! Failure to act is unthinkable!”
“Jerry, you are a seriously disturbed person.”
“Just admit it, you can’t hack it anymore. You’re weak.”
“And you are about to get your ass kicked.”
“Good attitude! But save it for the bad guys over there. Come on! Just walk inside, and kick their asses. I won’t even try to help this time. I’ll just be very silent and watch like a good boy.”
“Did you see a psychiatrist yet like I told you to?”
“Go, you great protector in the night! Erase the stain of crime from our great city!”
“I think you’re thinking of batman.”
“Oh, darling, don’t abandon us now. We need you.”
“What you need, is for someone to quietly drop you down a well.”
“And just where are you going to find a well in New York City?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find one.”
“You’re shattering my illusions, Wonder Woman. You’re just going to stand there and let them rob that poor man?”
“Jerry, I’m a horse!”
@Leah: Welcome to the CCC. That was so bleepin’ funny. I was chuckling out loud. You have to expand on this and give me some more background on it. Wonderful 1st submission. Everyone Welcome Leah to the fun. I pestered her on twitter and here she is. I’ll add your name and URL to the CCC Community Links page next.
Too cute. Welcome to the site!
Miss Leah– Welcome to our addiction.
Cute, funny, clever and all in believable dialog. Bravo! I too am looking forward to more.
@Leah-that puts the C in creative-love it!
The short one is first!
It was a wonder but we made it underground before the unthinkable happened.
“I feel so weak.” She said.
“All is well now, we are inside.” I told her.
“I have to walk.” She said and stood.
I remained silent.
“I can’t erase tonight can I?” she asked.
“No, “ I replied, “this is no joke.”
“I can’t wait to watch this.” She said.
HEHEHEEEEeeeehehheeee
@Justin…hmmmm…so many ideas
“I wonder what unthinkable acts that child is conjuring up now,” the woman sighed as she went hunting for her errant daughter. She loved the child dearly but sometimes the quick thinking and tendency to just jump right in exuberance the child had made caring for her difficult. “Oh well, at least she’ll grow up strong and independent unlike some of these weak imitations of life that society produces now.”
Having searched inside the house, she slowly made her way out and down the walk that lead into the enclosed garden. It was strangely silent as she entered, not even a creak of the gate to warn anyone of her presence. The gate was old and worn; it once held the family name embellished across the front but it had long since been erased after years of exposure to the elements.
As she stepped further in she smiled at the shrub her late husband had referred to as the sentry. Its shape reminded one of a guard, stiff and somber, watching carefully at all that transpired. It had been a joke between them that any who were in the garden were safe with their special guard. He would tell her, “I don’t have to worry about the goings on in there; our man at the gate will let me know!”
She paused as the memories pushed. It was amazing the pain that could still well up at an errant memory despite the passage of time. Catching sight of the time on her watch as she dashed away a tear she cursed silently then called out.
“Sally! Where are you?! Let’s go or we’ll be late!” She paused and was just taking a deep breath to yell again when she heard a rustle behind her. Turning she saw her daughter scrambling under the hedge clutching a bouquet.
“Sorry Mama; I wanted to get some flowers for Grammy!” Sally stood in front of her and thrust the bouquet at her with the wide eyes and happy look only a child can give.
“How very sweet of you. I’m sure Grammy will love them. Let’s be going now.”
She grasped her daughter’s hand and walked back along the path, smiling and realizing that future errant memories will bring a smile as well as tears.
@Melissa: I’d suggest typing your submission in Notepad, step away from it for a half hour, then edit it and submit. Works like a charm.
Amen Shane, Amen. I should do this more too.
@Melissa: Welcome to the CCC. A touching, lovely 1st submission. Well done. Everyone welcome Melissa to the fun.
I’ll add your name to the CCC Community Links page now.
ps. How’s you find us? Just curious.
Thank you!
I follow MenwithPens on Twitter and followed the link from there. (I believe I follow under all my Twitter identities. Zeute, MelsCreations, DMelissaG) I can’t remember how I found them originally.
Twitter.
@Melissa: Oh. I remember the Zeute tweet. Cool.
Melissa — Welcome back to the addiction.
Can’t wait to see more.
I’m not very disciplined when it comes to writing or reading long stories, but CCC #62 inspired me to write a piece of considerable length. I tried and I succeeded.
It was a wonderful, riveting story, possibly a Nobel in literature, that took the reader inside the mind of a sixteenth century pirate named Edmond Walker, who was the captain on the frigate, “Gale Watch.” For years Captain Walker ravaged and caused havoc to the King’s ships in the Caribbean.
There were passages whereas the reader could feel the hardships that made the crew weak and despondently silent. And yet, there were happier times when the crew would drink a well dry of rum and joke about the heads they had whacked off in their latest skirmish.
Unfortunately, the unthinkable happened. I mistakenly hit the erase key on my computer instead of the save key and all was lost. However, I did print out a hard copy of my piece, but my dog ate that.
@A. Hamilton: Okay, that was super, super creative. Love the setup, followed by the surprise ending #1, followed by surprise ending#2. Well done indeed.
thanks
I perpetuated the lie with an, “Erase,” key.
@A-love the twists & turns-well done!
It’s really quite unthinkable that our water will be drinkable..
if we sit, watch, and stay silent
as pollution grows more violent.
We know inside quite well
our environment’s going to hell.
It’s absolutely not a wonder
when we make blunder after blunder.
Big business and their greed
is not really what we need
and it is no kind of joke
our average family’s going broke.
Mistakes we can’t erase,
but a brighter future we can face
If we will walk enlightened
with our consciousness heightened.
It’s no time to be weak
to our government we must speak!!
(There, I’ve done my tree-hugging duty for the day!
)
@Ma: Careful hugging those sap-filled pine trees though. I moved a fallen branch back in 2004 and I’ll still trying to get the sap off. Nice write. Love the rhymes.
@Margaret-the rhyming Queen!
The silent walk
Mark always walked to work. It was only a 10 minute walk and it helped him to wake up and clear his mind before the demands of the day began. Every day at a quarter to eight he left the front door of the apartment building and dove into the bustle of a city waking up. His mind never failed to wonder at the regularity of human society. Every weekday morning his eyes were made to watch the same routines. Early shopkeepers raised shutters and cleaned windows and hosed front stoops to make their shops all the more attractive for the shoppers that were still unaware of the lures that would entice them to come inside. A city council street sweeping team cleaned up the debris of last night’s revelers. A drunk, a lonely left over from those revelers, realised that sleeping on a bench in the Cathedral square had seemed like a good idea at the time but in the sober morning light proved to have been a hard cushion for his throbbing head. These scenes were all part of the decor that had become so familiar during his short walks to work.
On this fateful morning Mark closed the front door and fully expected, even longed for the same acts to be played out. It gave his mornings the ease of routine. The building where his apartment was situated in, stood in a narrow alleyway that ran off one of the main shopping streets of the city. It was perfectly situated as it was in the middle of the city centre and yet stood back enough from the rush of city life to afford some degree of quiet. Mark walked down the short alleyway to the main shopping thoroughfare. Still half asleep he turned left and walked along the windows that failed to display their wares to this veteran denier of their lures.
Suddenly Mark realised something was different. Slowly awakened by the briskness of his step he was aware of something missing. He looked around him with a clearer eye. Something was indeed missing. In fact, everything was missing. There were no shopkeepers preparing for the day, no street sweeping teams and no drunks. The city was devoid of human presence.
Mark stopped and looked around. It’s not a Sunday, is it? He asked himself. To make sure he walked over to a news agent that opened earlier than Mark liked to believe. The shop was open but there was no one to be seen inside. He looked at a paper. It was yesterday’s, Wednesday. He recognised the headlines. He walked out again into an eerily silent city.
He crossed the Cathedral square and turned right into the main street leading out of the city centre. Surely the ring road, which he would just glimpse before he reached the office building, would display the normal stream of glinting metal?
It did not. Mark stood still in front of the building that had been the aim of his walk. He strained his eyes but not a single car was to be seen. Had the unthinkable happened? Had mankind succumbed to some global disease? He remembered the film he had recently seen in which a man wakes up in hospital finding that most of mankind has died or turned into zombies. Had this fantasy become reality? Only, in the film, mankind had had the good grace to lie around in the shape of mangled bodies or turn up as grunting zombies. At least the man in the film had had some hints at what had happened. Mark felt he was entirely alone. As if mankind had completely vanished. He felt weak at the knees. Not feeling well at all he sat down on the steps of the office building and he buried his head in his hands. Was he going mad?
“Good morning,” a voice said. “You’re not supposed to be here at all!”
Mark jerked his head up, shaken by the sudden break in the silence. A strange man stood in front of him. Robed in black, leaning on an enormous scythe, the figure looked exactly like every depiction Mark had ever seen of Death. The hands grasping the scythe were white and bony and the face was mere skin drawn tight over his skull. Empty dead eyes looked out from within deep sockets. Mark felt the blood drain from his face.
“D-Death,” he whispered through a throat constricted with fear.
“Yes,” Death said. “And who are you? You are not supposed to be alive.”
“Oh,” was all that Mark managed.
“Hmm,” said Death, looking down on Mark in a contemplative fashion. “Most extraordinarily odd.”
Mark tried to stand but his knees buckled as soon as he tried to put any strain on them.
“What happened,” he managed to bring out.
“Ah, humanity,” Death said with a chuckle. “Always asking questions.”
Mark looked at Death repeating the question with his eyes. Death looked at Mark and seemed to pity him. Using his scythe as aid he sat down heavily next to Mark.
“Creaky old bones,” he said, smiling a ghastly smile that none the less seemed amiable. “I will tell you what happened. As you are the last human alive I think you can be made a special case of.”
Mark looked at Death with unbelieving eyes. The last human alive? The unthinkable had happened. Death began to explain.
“A long time ago, God and the Devil had looked at the earth as it was then and had decided that the plants and animals were all fun in their own way but as creatures for good and evil to fight over they were not much of a challenge. So they decided that it would be a great joke if they would create a creature that would pose a bit more of a challenge. They created mankind: a thinking animal that tended towards good but would find it difficult to resist the temptations of evil.”
Death turned towards Mark and sighed. Pity showed in his dead eyes as he continued.
“The joke has gone on for millions of years,” Death said looking away. “In the beginning God and the Devil had a lot of fun. Mankind was tossed around like a paper boat on a rough sea. One day God had the advantage, the next day the Devil held sway. The score tallied up and time ticked away agreeably for God and the Devil. However, humanity became smarter and began to probe deeper into the mechanism of its existence.”
“Mankind lost its belief in Gods and Devils. Good and evil have largely overlapped, with elements of both governing the morals of humanity. The game is becoming smarter than the players. And so the Devil and God have grown tired of their game. They have decided that the score is equal. God and the Devil have instructed me to erase mankind. They want the slate clean for a new game.”
Without another word, Death rose. He smiled at Mark, sighed once more and before Mark could protest, Death swung his scythe.
I did put in the words of the challenge in bold, but after I posted it, the boldness was gone. Couldn’t put them back in an edit. Not sure what happened there. But they are all in the story, I guarantee it!
Henk
@Henk: I’ll bold those for you today.
@Henk: OUTSTANDING! That’s the best submission you’ve posted to date, hands down! Well done.
Thanks. I aim to better myself at every step. And I aim to please at the same time.
@Henk-Great write and even better reading.
The sunlight filtered weakly through the clouds, glittering across the dew of the early morning. As the gentle night was erased, life around the field awoke in the wonder of a new day. Mockingbirds, the jokesters of the avian community, sounded eerily like someone crying. A family of deer walked gingerly out from the tree line, ever watchful for danger. A pair of rabbits, unaware of the unthinkable, quietly nibbled near an old ring of stones, the only visible remains of an old farm.
Surrounded by the early morning symphony, inside the well was now silent.
@Kool Aid: Ohhhhh! The ending! I love how you tell of something sinister without saying it. Well done. I really like this.
@ Kool Aid: Now that was lovely, but some how sad in the end. That was great.
Shane says sinsiter, for me I feel something has died inside.
@MZ & Kool Aid: I do believe something (or someone) may die inside that well, ehh Kool Aid?
@shane & MZ ~ mwahahaha….
MZ, I’ve gone pretty dark with some of these submissions, so Shane was right in the “sinister” aspect; however, your comment guided me towards something not so dark. What if it was merely that the farm was no longer there… That the “death” was that of an old lifestyle no longer being lived? Ooooh, the possibilities!!
@Kool Aid: Either way, that sounds like a cool idea for the start of a series.
I love it when a story I write takes the reader somewhere other than I may have intended (so long as it’s a good place).
@Kool Aid-pure poetry-beautiful!
(@shane – I left out bolding “silent”. Would you mind fixing that for me? Thanks
)
@Kool Aid: I’ll do that today.
PROGRAMMING NOTE:
So, is everybody having fun with the CCC or what? How are we doing? Is the CCC increasing your creativity and writing volume? Let me know.
–Yes, having fun.
–Yes, loving what you’re doing!
–Yes, creative writing has definitely increased (from none to at least 2x per week).
Keep up the good work!
Absolutely LOVE CCC!!!!
CCC – yah’ll are doing GREAT!
CCC is drawing the story I’ve been writing in pieces together. Adding a bit here and there I may not be able to use… or maybe I can?
CCC is definitely increasing my volume of writing.
It’s getting my youngin’ to write! Great on a multitude of levels. My sister even pops up here now and again and plays with the words. :0
@Shane-just wish I could get here during the week-I have been stupid busy-I think you know how much I love CCC!
@Cathy: You are the CCC ambassador! Your devotion to the CCC is a blessing.
The Girl Who Stayed the Same (continued….)
The therapist was as good as his word — he made Jesse hurt. But ninety minutes into that first session Jesse was able to walk ten unsteady steps (and confident the man was every bit as good as he claimed).
Justin called that the end of the session, though, and wheeled Jesse back to his room. He left him with instructions to practice certain stretches two or three times a day, and a promise to come back by tomorrow.
It was getting toward afternoon by then, and Jesse sat on the edge of his bed feeling weak and worn, but hopeful in a way he hadn’t been since waking up with Taylor at his side. The ward was strangely silent, and Jesse had just enough time to notice and wonder at the cause before a knock at his door dispelled the notion.
It was his nurse, and she stepped up next to his bed all business, eyes scanning the chart on her clipboard. She checked her watch, scribbled something on it, glanced at his face, then erased something and wrote again. Then she set the clipboard aside and met his eyes.
“Well, Mr. Lane, how are you feeling? Good session with the trainer?”
“Painful session, anyway,” he said with a half-hearted chuckle. “But yes. I’ll be out of here in no time.”
Her eyes went back to the clipboard, and she scribbled something else before answering distractedly, “Thursday at the soonest, but your doctor’s guessing next Tuesday.” She flipped a couple pages, checked something, then nodded to herself. “Anyway,” she said. “I’ve got a bit of business for you.”
She slipped another sheet out of the pile of papers bound under the clip, and passed it to him. He started to ask, but the title was writ large across the top of the page. “Visitation Consent Form.”
She answered him anyway. “Mr. Jonas came back while you were in rehab. I told him you didn’t want to see him, but he seemed to think it was a joke. I promised to ask–”
“No,” Jesse said, awareness of his own generosity warming his heart, “no, let him in.” He grabbed for a pen on his bedside table, and scribbled his signature more neatly than he had last time. “I owe him a debt of gratitude, anyway. We got off to a rocky start, but….”
The nurse considered him for a while, almost long enough to make him doubt his own sanity for a moment again, and then in a heartbeat her demeanor changed completely. She smiled broadly, showed him where on the form to add a date, and then nodded happily to herself. “I suspect you’ve made the right choice, Mr. Lane. It’s not my place to say, but that man’s got your best interests at heart.”
And just like that, he understood. She’d apparently gotten in trouble for her first outburst, and everything since then — everything he’d read as his own insanity — had been her efforts to maintain a professional detachment.
That meant the ferocity was still there lurking, too, and he knew enough about long hospital stays to know he wanted to be on this woman’s good side. Jesse put on a careful smile and spread his hands. ”After everything he’s done, it would be unthinkable to turn him away so unkindly,” he said. “Is there any chance he’s still here?”
In answer, Jonas poked his head around the corner again. “As a matter of fact,” he said brightly, slipping into the room. “I’m right here. And I come bearing gifts.”
He held a wooden box — hand-crafted, by the look of it — with a strange folding top and the rattle of smaller wooden pieces floating free inside it. He smiled to the nurse, and said chastisingly, “I told you,” then watched her with a smile all the way out the door.
Then he turned back to Jesse, and his face flooded with a nearly comical sympathy. “I saw Justin in the hall. He called you a trooper. Was it really that bad?”
Jesse hesitated for a moment, then smiled a little and shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “The man works miracles. Thanks for sending him my way.”
“Anything I can do to help,” Jonas said, spreading his hands expansively and setting the box to a rattle again. He spotted Jesse’s look of curiosity, and said, “Aha! Yes.”
He placed the box on Jesse’s knees, then carefully spun the lid so its edges hung over the sides of the box, revealing an opening to the interior compartment, and Jesse could clearly see what was making all the noise.
A hand-carved figurine stared up at him. Cut from mahogany in exquisite detail and lacquered so it shone, a knight mounted on a rearing battle charger waved a pinioned lance threateningly at him, and next to that crouched a blonde peasant figurine in polished ash, a humble dagger at his belt.
Jesse reached for them, eyes wide, and when his gaze fell on the richly-appointed churchman off to the side, he finally understood. He laughed, and looked to Jonas. “Chess? Really? I haven’t played since I was eight.”
“Excellent!” Jonas said, rubbing his hands together. “Then I should have no trouble beating you. Set it up, would you?” He dragged the chair back to his preferred spot, and positioned the bedside table conveniently between them. “I’ll be white.”
@Aaron: I’m truly enjoying this tale. By all means, continue.
@Aaron: I keep trying to get inside Jonas’ head to figure out his angle…I haven’t yet succeeded. He’s complex, which is my favorite type of character.
Thanks, Karetha! He’s one of the funnest characters I’ve ever written.
@Aaron-we love complex-let it ride.
Leaving (continued from CCC #59)
Continuation of Ch. 5
Rachel wondered if the next place she visited would be as terrible as the first one. “Surely no place can be as disappointing as that first daycare. It is unthinkable that anyone would put their kids in a place like that, much less that anyone would work there! It was awful!”
Rachel tried to boost her spirits as she drove to the next daycare on her list. She pulled into the parking lot and silently sat for a moment, surveying the place. It looked like a nice daycare on the outside, with a brightly colored playground on one side and pretty flowers by the front door. She knew that the exterior didn’t necessarily predict what she would find inside, but she felt some hope welling up inside. She still felt some trepidation as she walked up the sidewalk toward the front door. Taking a deep breath, Rachel opened the door and walked in. Her eyes widened as her nose was assaulted by a terrible odor. Her first thought was “I’ll never erase this stench from my nose!” The scene before her eyes was hard to believe. Three young women stood in one corner of the room, huddling over a cell phone and giggling at what they saw. Ten feet from them stood several cribs containing squalling babies. The caregivers seemed to not notice the heart-wrenching cries. Judging from the smell, Rachel deduced that the babies’ dirty diapers were causing the crying. None of the girls looked up from their huddle to ask what Rachel needed. Squashing down her nausea, she strode over to the young women.
“Excuse me, are you in charge here? Are you supposed to be watching these babies? This place must be some kind of joke! I walked in thinking I might want to work here, but if you three are examples of the type of people working here, I want no part of it!” Rachel suprised herself with her angry outburst. The girls looked up in shock. One of them smiled weakly and opened her mouth to reply, but Rachel was already opening the door to leave. As she walked out, she added, “I’ll never send any of my future kids here, and you can be sure I’ll never work here!”
Rachel walked to her car and sank into the driver’s seat, putting her head in her hands. “Am I destined to visit all the worst daycare centers? This really doesn’t seem to be my day!”
@Karetha: After reading your posts, I feel better for my wife and I deciding to look after our young ones ourselves, even if we have to move to a smaller house to afford it. Powerful write. Girls like those should have shit rubbed in their faces; same with all shoddy day care providers. The thought of kids being mistreated gets my blood boiling.
@Karetha-wow-loving it.
Thanks for the welcome Shane. I’ve been out of town and still am, actually, grabbed a quick wi-fi spot to check in. I hope to get caught up on the other entries soon.
I love writing challenges/groups like these. I run one of my own Five Minute Fiction every Tuesday at 1:30 EST. Everyone’s welcome to join! http://www.leahpetersen.com
@Leah: I will give the FMF a try on Tuesday and I hope all the CCC gang will do the same.
Standing Up…. Continued
Mike had been packing all day; maybe for many days now, she wondered, but could not be certain. The six-horse gooseneck trailer was loaded with 95 percent of his belongings and although it was after 10 p.m. it was time to load the horses he had decided were worth taking with him and slip off of the ranch like a spineless jellyfish – leaving the explanation of “where’s daddy” to Isabelle. He chose one mount from each of the stallions and one he’d purchased as a gift for Isabelle.
He haltered It’s The One, a winning Pinto mare by his stallion Star Spangled. Isabelle watched her load-up like the well trained horse she was … not balking at the night time entry into the trailer. He returned to the barn and put a halter on CC, the chestnut Crabbet bred Arabian mare that he had given Isabelle just a couple of years before for her birthday.
There was a thud as her stomach came up to bump into her heart as he haltered the chestnut mare. Isabelle swallowed hard. This was a feeling that she hoped would be short lived. She had done her best to grow a thick skin, over the years, as it was his habit to giving and taking back gifts like they were carrots on a proverbial string. But it had still stopped her, momentarily just then. The personal sorrow surrounding the loss of yet another one of her horses, her pets, a creature that had wrapped its presence around her heart would be a long lived private suffering. One she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing, not tonight. Not ever again. She had come to learn that he derived an ill-begotten pleasure from things like this.
Her mind went quickly to her Governor, her personal mount – she had known for years she was more his human than he her horse; her hand absentmindedly trailed across CC’s hip as Mike walked her by. Governor was the one he sold without care. “He was the most salable horse we had,” she has often told herself, sometimes multiple times a day. Nine months later it still cut like a knife. She shook the Governor cobwebs from her mind as Rosie was the last to be put in a halter. Silken Rose was a daughter of “her” Ala Governor.
There was no arguing tonight. No raised voices, no tempers, no jokes to erase the awkwardness, just the sadness she felt for the uncertainty of life. They were standing by the barn in the brisk late September night air when he said, “I’d better get going or I won’t leave.” Isabelle silently snipped, You almost got it to sound like it matters. But futility was her old perfume.
She was glad for the dark of the night as tears flowed from her eyes like a brook. She silently struggled with confusion, anger, and loss as he hugged her good-bye. She did not reciprocate the embrace. Numb to what deep down inside she knew would inevitably come … someday. He’s been trying to prepare me for the day he would leave me since months after we wed. ‘If something happens to me, tell my mother I died in a car accident. Promise me that is what you will tell her.’ She could hear is words like they were yesterday. He wanted her to lie to her mother-in-law, it was unthinkable. Too much confusion filled her mind, her heart. She stood still, unable to move, as he got in the cab of the truck and drove off. She watched his taillights until they disappeared; it was a long three-quarter of a mile until he crested the hill of the driveway. She walked back to the house … slowly.
Drained and weak she poured herself into bed. Sleep came but not until she stared at the darkened walls for 30 minutes or so.
@Kathleen: That’s quite a story. As a horse husband (with two horses in the back field) I can relate. Great story.
@KathleenL: What a jerk!!
Shane — thanks. “Isabelle” (I) went from 25 head of horses to… hummm the kids and she live with zero horses now,,. I hope the big sigh is not too loud. No haired horses… some steel horses though.
Karetha — Yes a jerk, at the very least… it only gets.got… worse. Yes, worse. Stay tooned.
@KathleenL-give that jerk the what for!
@SW Hood, @Gabriel, @Melissa, @Leah – I have a collective welcome to the CCC!
The CCC is a wonder of creativity, community and charm. It is simply unthinkable to us what our world would be like without CCC. Whenever we feel our writing is weak and in need of creative jolt, we rush right over to CCC and take our shot at the challenging 10.
Here we find a well of delight, filled with laughter and tears, the scary and silly.
Inside the screen walls of CCC, we walk among the words of friends and marvel at the silent soul brought to life. Here we erase all troubles and share with our family of friends.
So, give us your words, your story or joke, and know that you are always welcomed at CCC. We will watch for your return.
Welcome to CCC!
@Cathy: Another dandy! Thanks.
John watched in wonder as the unthinkable happened. He felt weak with horror as frightening thoughts began to well inside him.
He could walk away in silent misery and try to erase the joke he had become. Or he could watch as millions laughed at his flop on Food Network Challenge.
@Cathy: That was real good. It read smooth enough that I had to go back and see if you used all 10 words.
Avenged in Blood Part 29
“GET UP YOU festering pile of worthless dog… “ My Drill Instructor was screaming at me. “ I see you and just want to scrape you off of my shoes now move!” I jumped to my feet in a reflex action and stepped on my watch, springing me back into alert consciousness. I must have fallen asleep after my shower.
I don’t know why I had been dreaming of basic training and my old DI. Maybe it was a subconscious kick in the butt that I needed. I had been sitting here for days now, getting weak both outside and inside. I had began to wonder when I would be able to get back into the swing of things, and maybe the time was now.
I think I was coming to terms with the unthinkable things that I had done and what happened afterwards. I was a civilian now, but at least I could walk with my head held high. I had been basically acquitted of a crime I sure as hell committed.
The silent condemnation of the dead had began to erase the sting off being fired from the force. I knew I would be a joke around there for a while but I would be back in good graces with most of those guys eventually.
It was too early to dig on that well yet. It is time to act and get back to society and cleaning up the bad guys.
@Justin: I could visualize that scene perfectly. Well done.
THIS DOG HAS FLEAS
Well inside the walkway, the silent jokers watch. It’s unthinkable to erase their wonder, yet
Weak to keep scratching my ——
Nevermind.
@Kelly: Awesome short form, Kelly. Don’t see this much from you, but I’m glad I did.
Shane,
^
^ short form response
Foreign Identity
Part 30
Jax stared at the image of himself, realizing he wasn’t watching a live video feed. Before he could wrap his mind around what he was seeing, the vision disappeared. For an instant he was back in the building, strapped into the chair. But then another scene appeared.
He was still looking at his own sleeping face, but something was different. The form was wearing different clothing, the room was lit, and he was lying on the floor. Suddenly, Jax realized where he was. The concrete floor, the doors, the chains.
He felt nauseated at the sensation of being back in the cell. The memory was too familiar. But something was wrong. Where was Kel?
And then before his eyes, her unconscious body, lying on some invisible platform with her hands folded over her chest in a funereal posture, floated down from somewhere above. He tried to find the origin but the vision was restricting his view of the ceiling. He felt weak, watching her descend and land gently on the opposite side of the cell. As if by magic, the four chains on the wall behind her simultaneously leapt up and bound her limbs.
For a long moment she was still but then her arm twitched and she blinked and opened her eyes. But it was only a split second before it all vanished.
He was in the woods, soaring through dense foliage. He broke through the trees and recognized the cabin in the center of the clearing – their home for the past several weeks. He felt nothing as he was pulled forward towards it and through one of the small windows. He was in the kitchen.
Kel sat at the small table with her back to him but she had craned her neck to look at the window. She stared directly at him with a puzzled expression. Her eyes followed him without blinking as he glided through the room and past her. Then, he sank into the opposite wall of the room and the vision dissolved.
Another scene. Back in the woods. He saw a man sitting on the ground – it was himself – with a pencil and notebook in his lap. The man raised an eyebrow, gazed at him, and then stood and began to walk toward him. It was all so familiar. He could remember every detail, but this time he was experiencing it from the opposite perspective. He cringed as the man did the unthinkable – reaching out his hand.
Jax wanted to flinch away as the man’s hand encroached on his personal space, as if it were going to stab him in the eyes. The pain was still fresh, raw in his mind, making him feel unwell as he anticipated the fated outcome of the scene. But then the picture flashed and was gone, replaced with a new one.
From a distance far away and above, he watched a lone car drive along a curving two lane road through a desolate landscape. Almost as if he was parachute-clad, floating down from the sky, he slowly descended until hovering just above the car. The convertible’s top was down and he had a clear view of the backs of two people inside.
The view rotated slightly, allowing him a profile shot. Both the man and woman, dressed in business attire, looked straight ahead, not joking, speaking and or allowing even the hint of a smile to pass in between them. In the driver’s seat, the man pulled his eyebrows taut and his mouth was set in a silent frown. The woman’s face was similarly grim.
Spotting something white fluttering in the backseat of the vehicle, Jax’s wonder at watching himself was momentarily overcome by curiosity. As he strained to look closer, the picture seemed to infer his desire and zoomed in, allowing him a clearer view. The breeze flapped a stack of papers, a binder clip keeping them from blowing around the car. Despite the movement, a phrase at the top of the first page popped out at him: “Dissolution of Marriage.”
He was confused. Was this an actual scene from his life? One that had been erased from his memory?
Distracted, Jax didn’t at first realize that the vision continued to advance on the couple in the car. They rode on, oblivious to the fact that they were being watched…no, stalked. He kept expecting the monochromatic scene to flicker and die away again, but instead it kept growing closer. Unable to scream a warning, he watched helplessly until the only thing in view was the man’s skull. At the moment of impact, the scene went black.
@Becca: I think I enjoyed that scene more than any other. What a neat ride that was.