This week's prompt is straightforward, just something that came to me this week, and I liked the sound of it.
Prompt: She wore pale, unpainted lips and pearls ...
Enjoy!
**********************************************************************************
My response:
She wore pale, unpainted lips and pearls. For a moment her fingers trembled, so she clasped them together in her lap, her ankles crossed primly beneath her. Her white suit was neatly tailored to her slight frame, and the veil on her hat crossed her face just so. She was a picture of good breeding and perfection, and I wondered at her. Young ladies like her didn't make a habit of getting married in town hall.
He only added to the puzzle. I would have guessed the situation if he'd been a slouch, but he was far from shabby. The shine in his shoes rivaled the crispness of the pleats in his three piece suit. His teeth were white as snow, his skin right out of a fairy tale.
It didn't make sense. People like them had lavish church weddings, with bridesmaids and flowers and fondant cake. Then they handed me their IDs. It took a moment for my brain to wrap itself around the situation, and to realize the danger I was in. If I married this couple, there wouldn't be anywhere in Verona I could hide. If Mr. Capulet didn't get me, Mr. Montague never missed.
Monday, August 24, 2015
Monday, August 17, 2015
Writing exercises
I love to brag on great books, and recently I read something amazing: Sorcery & Ceceila: or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot by Patricia Wrede and Caroline Stevermer.
First of all, this is a lovely little Jane Austin with a hint of magic. The characters are charming and fresh and the plot is clever. The whole thing is simply delightful. (No, I don't usually speak like that, but there is no better description of this book than "simply delightful"!)
Then I found out how it was written, and I was even more tickled by it! It was a writing exercise! It is called the Letter Game and this is how it goes. The two players (writers) adopt two fictitious personas and write letters back and forth. The rules are simple: 1) the two players must never reveal their individual ideas about the plot to each other. 2) the first letter needs to imply why the two characters must write to each other and not meet in person (see, the letters must be their main means of communication, or it doesn't work to do it in letters).
In honor of Ms. Wrede and Ms. Stevermer, the prompt for this week is to write a "first letter" for the letter game.
Enjoy!
********************************************************************************
My response:
My Dear,
It is now eight hours since the excitement of the day has ended, and the clock on the touchscreen by my bed says it is time to sleep. I do not know how I will manage it.
I know you can quote these old stories - I've certainly told often enough - but I can't help reminiscing tonight. I used to sit and listen to my grandpa talk about the lunar landing. Every step, every moment, I celebrated as he told and retold that momentous trip. And I dreamed about when I would journey into the stars! I wish Grandpa could have been there this morning. He would have been so proud.
I did try to look out the window to where the officials and dignitaries (and you, my dear) were gathered to watch the launch. It was an awkward angle, though, and at such a distance, I could only just make out individuals. I can imagine how you looked in my mind, though, wearing the red pea coat I bought you for the occasion. Do not consider it wasted. I won't be able to buy you anything for three years, and it does look amazing with your hair.
We could not have hoped for a more perfect launch. The hoards of scientists and engineers are to be commended. The roar of the ignition was awesome, and we lifted off like a bird! Ten minutes later, only ten minutes, and we'd reached the outer atmosphere! We checked our trajectory, made adjustments, and now we're on our way. With a little bit of luck, we will reach Mars in just over seven months!!!
Now Alan and MaCraye have settled down into their sleep sacks, telling me to do the same, and are already snoring away. Eli, who has been a rock all this time, has vomited three times and looks pale, peering out of his sack like a mouse peeking out of a hole in the wall, fearful that the cat is watching. To think all his big talk was pure bravado. I flatter myself to think my current mental state is somewhere in between the two extremes, and I said so in my personal report, which I'm required to make every night.
I would continue, my love, but there is an alarm sounding, and I must see to it.
Yours,
Ty
PS. Do not be alarmed by my last line. There are forever small alarms. They set the acceptable parameters for most everything excessively tight, and we've already reset three life support systems. We have enough redundancy in the systems that there will be no problems.
PPS. I know the further we get from each other the longer it will be between sending and receiving email, so for now, I look forward to your prompt response.
First of all, this is a lovely little Jane Austin with a hint of magic. The characters are charming and fresh and the plot is clever. The whole thing is simply delightful. (No, I don't usually speak like that, but there is no better description of this book than "simply delightful"!)
Then I found out how it was written, and I was even more tickled by it! It was a writing exercise! It is called the Letter Game and this is how it goes. The two players (writers) adopt two fictitious personas and write letters back and forth. The rules are simple: 1) the two players must never reveal their individual ideas about the plot to each other. 2) the first letter needs to imply why the two characters must write to each other and not meet in person (see, the letters must be their main means of communication, or it doesn't work to do it in letters).
In honor of Ms. Wrede and Ms. Stevermer, the prompt for this week is to write a "first letter" for the letter game.
Enjoy!
********************************************************************************
My response:
My Dear,
It is now eight hours since the excitement of the day has ended, and the clock on the touchscreen by my bed says it is time to sleep. I do not know how I will manage it.
I know you can quote these old stories - I've certainly told often enough - but I can't help reminiscing tonight. I used to sit and listen to my grandpa talk about the lunar landing. Every step, every moment, I celebrated as he told and retold that momentous trip. And I dreamed about when I would journey into the stars! I wish Grandpa could have been there this morning. He would have been so proud.
I did try to look out the window to where the officials and dignitaries (and you, my dear) were gathered to watch the launch. It was an awkward angle, though, and at such a distance, I could only just make out individuals. I can imagine how you looked in my mind, though, wearing the red pea coat I bought you for the occasion. Do not consider it wasted. I won't be able to buy you anything for three years, and it does look amazing with your hair.
We could not have hoped for a more perfect launch. The hoards of scientists and engineers are to be commended. The roar of the ignition was awesome, and we lifted off like a bird! Ten minutes later, only ten minutes, and we'd reached the outer atmosphere! We checked our trajectory, made adjustments, and now we're on our way. With a little bit of luck, we will reach Mars in just over seven months!!!
Now Alan and MaCraye have settled down into their sleep sacks, telling me to do the same, and are already snoring away. Eli, who has been a rock all this time, has vomited three times and looks pale, peering out of his sack like a mouse peeking out of a hole in the wall, fearful that the cat is watching. To think all his big talk was pure bravado. I flatter myself to think my current mental state is somewhere in between the two extremes, and I said so in my personal report, which I'm required to make every night.
I would continue, my love, but there is an alarm sounding, and I must see to it.
Yours,
Ty
PS. Do not be alarmed by my last line. There are forever small alarms. They set the acceptable parameters for most everything excessively tight, and we've already reset three life support systems. We have enough redundancy in the systems that there will be no problems.
PPS. I know the further we get from each other the longer it will be between sending and receiving email, so for now, I look forward to your prompt response.
Monday, August 10, 2015
Let's go camping!
My family went camping this last week. We were surprised to realize that so many campgrounds take reservations these days. We hadn't bothered to make reservations, hoping to get one of the fifteen walk-up spots at our chosen place. We figured getting there at 2pm on a Wednesday, we'd have a pretty good shot at something ... but we were wrong.
Now that we're home and everyone I know is posting their camping pictures on Facebook, I'm thinking we might have just picked the wrong weekend. Next year, though, we will be reserving our spot a couple months in advance!
We did end up with a spot - a reservation spot that had two days free. We had to cut our trip short by a day, but in the end, it poured down on us anyway. Still, it was a lot of fun, and we'll be at it again next year.
In honor of learning a lot this week, our prompt is: Camping
Enjoy!
**********************************************************************************
My response:
"A snipe hunt?" I raised my eyebrows and gave Alyssa a flat look. "Right."
She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Yes! A snipe hunt. You have to come." In other words, even if you don't believe a word coming out of my mouth, you will still come.
I sighed and turned to Callie. She shook her head slowly. "This is stupid."
Alyssa frowned. "Go get your pillowcases. Now."
I shot a look towards the cooking fire, where the leaders sat in their camp chairs. Alyssa and the other junior leaders moved through camp, rousing all the first years and regaling them with the stories of the snipe we were going to catch. The leaders were supposed to enforce curfew, and they'd been strict about it the first two nights. But the junior leaders were being anything but discreet, and the adults made it clear they weren't going to intervene.
I wondered if I would be daft enough to believe the tale if I hadn't already been warned off by Alice, my big sister. She was a third year, and stashed away in her tent already with her friends.
I sighed again as Callie and I went to get our pillowcases. Then Alyssa led us into the forest to a little clearing where the other first years were gathered. We listened to an exaggerated tale of snipe and how to catch them, ending with how they turn into candy bars when light hits them (why the forest floor isn't speckled with candy bars every morning wasn't explained). I leaned against a tree, careful to avoid the pine sap. Callie sat down and cradled her head in her hands. When the rest of the first years scattered, clicking and chirping, waving toilet paper and fingers rubbed in toothpaste and looking like they'd escaped the insane asylum, Callie and I stayed put. I sunk down onto a pile of pine needles beside her.
"Do you think they'll let us go back yet?" Callie yawned.
Jennifer popped out of the trees next to us. Her eyes narrowed and she glanced around. "You guys aren't hunting snipes?" Jennifer was on the school dance team with Alice, but she was two years older, so she was at camp as a junior leader already.
Callie rolled her eyes. "You mean we're not dancing around like idiots, so you guys can laugh at us? We're not idiots and this is stupid."
Jennifer frowned. "You have to catch a snipe." She snatched Callie's pillowcase out of her hands. "Oh, look! There's one!" Jennifer crouched and jabbed her hand into a pile of leaves, sweeping the pillowcase down with the other hand. Leaves crumbled as she jabbed a handful into the pillowcase. Then she stood, shook the leaves to the bottom and handed the bag back to Callie, holding the top closed. "There you go."
Callie and I stared as she repeated the charade with my pillowcase. Then she smirked and stalked off.
"This is even dumber than I thought it would be," I said.
"I have pine sap on my pillowcase." Callie moaned.
A few minutes later, the junior leaders gathered us back up and shooed us back through the trees. The adult leaders were blind and deaf as we stalked back into camp. Then they lined us up, and all the junior leaders stood with their flashlights in a circle as the first years shook out their bags, one by one. Callie and I fell back. I turned my pillowcase inside out, shaking the leaves off and using my own flashlight to pick at the larger bits of dirt stuck to it.
Ella came running over, a handful of Halloween sized candy bars in her hands. "My snipe turned into candy!" She exclaimed. Callie and I stared. "What?!"
I pursed my lips, frowned at Callie, and shrugged. "Ella, you know snipes aren't real, right?"
Ella shook her head. "No, they are! I caught one!"
"Did you see it?" Callie asked.
"No ..." Ella frowned. "But I did see the leaves move. There was something there."
"You mean Alyssa's hand in the leaves while she pretended to catch your snipe for you?" I guessed.
Ella's face fell. It had been a good guess that Alyssa'd been the one helping her. "But it turned into candy ..."
I pointed back to the line of girls and the circle of light where the junior leaders stood. "You mean they drop candy when they dump the bags out and tell you the snipe turned into candy."
"Seriously, Ella, have you ever known an animal to turn into a Milky Way before?!" Callie was tired and ready for bed.
"But ..." Ella's lower lip quivered. I felt bad for her, but I also wanted to smack every single one of the first years upside their heads. I couldn't be sure, but I doubted I would have fallen for it, even if Alice hadn't said anything. Still, I was awful glad Alice had told me. I guess big sisters are good for something.
Now that we're home and everyone I know is posting their camping pictures on Facebook, I'm thinking we might have just picked the wrong weekend. Next year, though, we will be reserving our spot a couple months in advance!
We did end up with a spot - a reservation spot that had two days free. We had to cut our trip short by a day, but in the end, it poured down on us anyway. Still, it was a lot of fun, and we'll be at it again next year.
In honor of learning a lot this week, our prompt is: Camping
Enjoy!
**********************************************************************************
My response:
"A snipe hunt?" I raised my eyebrows and gave Alyssa a flat look. "Right."
She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Yes! A snipe hunt. You have to come." In other words, even if you don't believe a word coming out of my mouth, you will still come.
I sighed and turned to Callie. She shook her head slowly. "This is stupid."
Alyssa frowned. "Go get your pillowcases. Now."
I shot a look towards the cooking fire, where the leaders sat in their camp chairs. Alyssa and the other junior leaders moved through camp, rousing all the first years and regaling them with the stories of the snipe we were going to catch. The leaders were supposed to enforce curfew, and they'd been strict about it the first two nights. But the junior leaders were being anything but discreet, and the adults made it clear they weren't going to intervene.
I wondered if I would be daft enough to believe the tale if I hadn't already been warned off by Alice, my big sister. She was a third year, and stashed away in her tent already with her friends.
I sighed again as Callie and I went to get our pillowcases. Then Alyssa led us into the forest to a little clearing where the other first years were gathered. We listened to an exaggerated tale of snipe and how to catch them, ending with how they turn into candy bars when light hits them (why the forest floor isn't speckled with candy bars every morning wasn't explained). I leaned against a tree, careful to avoid the pine sap. Callie sat down and cradled her head in her hands. When the rest of the first years scattered, clicking and chirping, waving toilet paper and fingers rubbed in toothpaste and looking like they'd escaped the insane asylum, Callie and I stayed put. I sunk down onto a pile of pine needles beside her.
"Do you think they'll let us go back yet?" Callie yawned.
Jennifer popped out of the trees next to us. Her eyes narrowed and she glanced around. "You guys aren't hunting snipes?" Jennifer was on the school dance team with Alice, but she was two years older, so she was at camp as a junior leader already.
Callie rolled her eyes. "You mean we're not dancing around like idiots, so you guys can laugh at us? We're not idiots and this is stupid."
Jennifer frowned. "You have to catch a snipe." She snatched Callie's pillowcase out of her hands. "Oh, look! There's one!" Jennifer crouched and jabbed her hand into a pile of leaves, sweeping the pillowcase down with the other hand. Leaves crumbled as she jabbed a handful into the pillowcase. Then she stood, shook the leaves to the bottom and handed the bag back to Callie, holding the top closed. "There you go."
Callie and I stared as she repeated the charade with my pillowcase. Then she smirked and stalked off.
"This is even dumber than I thought it would be," I said.
"I have pine sap on my pillowcase." Callie moaned.
A few minutes later, the junior leaders gathered us back up and shooed us back through the trees. The adult leaders were blind and deaf as we stalked back into camp. Then they lined us up, and all the junior leaders stood with their flashlights in a circle as the first years shook out their bags, one by one. Callie and I fell back. I turned my pillowcase inside out, shaking the leaves off and using my own flashlight to pick at the larger bits of dirt stuck to it.
Ella came running over, a handful of Halloween sized candy bars in her hands. "My snipe turned into candy!" She exclaimed. Callie and I stared. "What?!"
I pursed my lips, frowned at Callie, and shrugged. "Ella, you know snipes aren't real, right?"
Ella shook her head. "No, they are! I caught one!"
"Did you see it?" Callie asked.
"No ..." Ella frowned. "But I did see the leaves move. There was something there."
"You mean Alyssa's hand in the leaves while she pretended to catch your snipe for you?" I guessed.
Ella's face fell. It had been a good guess that Alyssa'd been the one helping her. "But it turned into candy ..."
I pointed back to the line of girls and the circle of light where the junior leaders stood. "You mean they drop candy when they dump the bags out and tell you the snipe turned into candy."
"Seriously, Ella, have you ever known an animal to turn into a Milky Way before?!" Callie was tired and ready for bed.
"But ..." Ella's lower lip quivered. I felt bad for her, but I also wanted to smack every single one of the first years upside their heads. I couldn't be sure, but I doubted I would have fallen for it, even if Alice hadn't said anything. Still, I was awful glad Alice had told me. I guess big sisters are good for something.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Post apocalyptic
I've been on a post-apocalyptic kick lately. It seems whenever my mind drifts off into daydreams, I'm thinking about what kind of survival skills I have and if I have enough knowledge to get by without Google. I knew a guy in Virginia who could identify mushrooms and tubers. He regularly contributed to his family's diet by going for jaunts in the wood and gathering. (He also shot squirrels for squirrel stew, but I'm not going to go into that.)
I am not that cool, but I also like to think I wouldn't be too bad off. Then again, I think that's one of those things you never really know unless you try ... and I'd rather live my whole life without trying!
So the prompt for this week is: would you survive in a post-apocalyptic world? (Your choice, it can be zombies, natural disaster, whatever you can think up. Just go with it!)
*******************************************************************************
My response:
I crouched in the shade of the bushes, the wind blowing in off the river hitting the droplets of sweat on my skin and making me shiver. Upriver about a mile, I could see the bridge. From where I stood, I couldn't see anyone up there, but the couple I'd traveled with a week ago said there was no crossing it. Both sides had gangs camped out. Armed groups did alright, getting by with just a toll. A single woman ... not a chance.
I watched the bridge for a while, playing with the idea of trying. The Mississippi is no small river. But even if I didn't see movement on the bridge, there was too much cover on either side of the bridge. Fifty men could be hiding in the trees, and I wouldn't see them until it was too late.
With a frown and a sigh, I turned and worked my way through the brush heading south. I'd already made it from New York to Illinois. I'd figured out how to scavenge, and I'd even landed myself two guns and a fair amount of ammo to go with them. A guarded bridge wasn't about to stop me. If I had to cross the Mississippi, I'd find a way to cross it.
The Mississippi could be as far as one mile across. One mile. Could I swim that? I'd done swim team as a kid, but it wasn't my thing. I was a certified scuba diver, but I didn't have flippers or scuba gear. Then again, if I picked the right stretch, I might have a chance.
A slim chance. Every moment I spent on the east shore grated on my soul, but I knew if I just threw myself in, I'd never make it. For four days I worked my way up and down the river. I'd fight through the boggy bank for a quarter mile and then sit and watch the river. Then I'd move again. Up and back, up and back, until I found my place.
Mine was the spot just upriver from where the current seemed to dip and swirl towards the opposite bank. My best shot was using the current to work for me. I made sure the river was clear for two miles from my starting spot. I was going to go for quite a ride. Then I started the pep talk. Every stroke brought me closer to the west bank.
I found a shallow pool, protected by a sand bank and practiced. First I thought if I filled all the ziplock bags I wasn't using with air and put them in my backpack, it might work like a life vest, and if I wore it on my stomach, it would help me float. But with the bag on my stomach, my stroke was awkward. It wouldn't work. Leaving the backpack wasn't an option, so I settled for leaving enough full ziplocks to help offset the weight of the pack, without making it too bulky.
... I would love to finish this, but I'm out of time. If you're intrigued with this idea, as I am, here are two articles I found interesting:
http://www.outsideonline.com/1909766/anyone-dip
http://lacrossetribune.com/news/local/many-try-few-succeed-in-foolish-attempts-to-swim-river/article_1556282c-ee69-11e1-b895-0019bb2963f4.html
(Also, I'm horribly sorry for being late again. Honestly, I'm wondering if the time and season for this blog is coming to an end, and I'd like to take this time to invite you to comment and let me know if you read/enjoy this blog. I'm thinking about closing this out after three years, which would be the end of this year. I'd still leave it up, but three years of weekly quotes ought to be enough to satisfy anyone.)
I am not that cool, but I also like to think I wouldn't be too bad off. Then again, I think that's one of those things you never really know unless you try ... and I'd rather live my whole life without trying!
So the prompt for this week is: would you survive in a post-apocalyptic world? (Your choice, it can be zombies, natural disaster, whatever you can think up. Just go with it!)
*******************************************************************************
My response:
I crouched in the shade of the bushes, the wind blowing in off the river hitting the droplets of sweat on my skin and making me shiver. Upriver about a mile, I could see the bridge. From where I stood, I couldn't see anyone up there, but the couple I'd traveled with a week ago said there was no crossing it. Both sides had gangs camped out. Armed groups did alright, getting by with just a toll. A single woman ... not a chance.
I watched the bridge for a while, playing with the idea of trying. The Mississippi is no small river. But even if I didn't see movement on the bridge, there was too much cover on either side of the bridge. Fifty men could be hiding in the trees, and I wouldn't see them until it was too late.
With a frown and a sigh, I turned and worked my way through the brush heading south. I'd already made it from New York to Illinois. I'd figured out how to scavenge, and I'd even landed myself two guns and a fair amount of ammo to go with them. A guarded bridge wasn't about to stop me. If I had to cross the Mississippi, I'd find a way to cross it.
The Mississippi could be as far as one mile across. One mile. Could I swim that? I'd done swim team as a kid, but it wasn't my thing. I was a certified scuba diver, but I didn't have flippers or scuba gear. Then again, if I picked the right stretch, I might have a chance.
A slim chance. Every moment I spent on the east shore grated on my soul, but I knew if I just threw myself in, I'd never make it. For four days I worked my way up and down the river. I'd fight through the boggy bank for a quarter mile and then sit and watch the river. Then I'd move again. Up and back, up and back, until I found my place.
Mine was the spot just upriver from where the current seemed to dip and swirl towards the opposite bank. My best shot was using the current to work for me. I made sure the river was clear for two miles from my starting spot. I was going to go for quite a ride. Then I started the pep talk. Every stroke brought me closer to the west bank.
I found a shallow pool, protected by a sand bank and practiced. First I thought if I filled all the ziplock bags I wasn't using with air and put them in my backpack, it might work like a life vest, and if I wore it on my stomach, it would help me float. But with the bag on my stomach, my stroke was awkward. It wouldn't work. Leaving the backpack wasn't an option, so I settled for leaving enough full ziplocks to help offset the weight of the pack, without making it too bulky.
... I would love to finish this, but I'm out of time. If you're intrigued with this idea, as I am, here are two articles I found interesting:
http://www.outsideonline.com/1909766/anyone-dip
http://lacrossetribune.com/news/local/many-try-few-succeed-in-foolish-attempts-to-swim-river/article_1556282c-ee69-11e1-b895-0019bb2963f4.html
(Also, I'm horribly sorry for being late again. Honestly, I'm wondering if the time and season for this blog is coming to an end, and I'd like to take this time to invite you to comment and let me know if you read/enjoy this blog. I'm thinking about closing this out after three years, which would be the end of this year. I'd still leave it up, but three years of weekly quotes ought to be enough to satisfy anyone.)
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