A Real Story

I saw this article on-line, and I couldn't help myself.  I could write half a dozen different stories about how this came to be.  (I can't help it!  It's intriguing, and I have a big imagination!)

http://www.accuweather.com/en/features/trend/medieval_human_skeleton_discovered_unearthed_uprooted_tree_winter_storm_sligo_county_ireland/52525123

The prompt for this week:  How did the body end up under the tree 1,000 years ago.
(extra points for actually reading the story and picking up on some of the little details.

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My response:

Mae Robbins was still there when Brett got home that night.  She sat hunched in the rocker by the hearth with her bony hands wrapped around one of Mary's carved, wooden cups. 

Mary shot Brett a look and rolled her eyes as she pulled the pan of bread out of the brick oven.  The stew simmered, and three pairs of bright eyes watched from the table. 

"Thou ought best be on thy way, Mae," Brett held the door open behind him.  "Thou knowest by now I tolerate no nonsense in my house."

Mae placed the cup on the floor and rose, but she raised a finger to Brett as she moved towards the door.  "And thou wilt learn one day that I'm not so crazy as thou thinkest, Brett Wallace.  Forget not, I was there when thou wast born, and I'll likely be there the day they lay thee in the ground."

Brett frowned and held his breath, but Mae made her way out.  "Maybe so.  But until then, thou wilt stay out of my house ... off my land, too, and away from my family!"

Mae paused on the doorstop.  "I only came to warn thee.  There is a witch around.  Thou shalt need to be careful, or she'll take thee for a fool!"

(Ahhhh!  I can't stand the thees and thous ...  And I'm not entirely sure they're accurate for the time period ... Moving on ...)

Mary pushed the pan of bread onto the table.  "I thought you would never get home ..."

Brett sat down in the chair at the head of the table.  "Why do you let her in, Mary?!  She does nothing but stir up superstition and trouble."

"You know that, and I know that," Mary said, taking her seat at the other end and smacking a small hand that reached too soon for the bread.  "But one of the hands called for her to make a poultice for a swollen ankle, and once she was here ... she just doesn't listen to me the way she listens to you.  I can tell her to get gone until I'm blue in the face, and she just stares at me with those creepy, blank eyes."

No sooner had Mary finished, then the still of the night shattered with a cry from behind the house.  Brett sprang to his feet, his hand flying to the sword on his hip.  He shot Mary a look.  "Get yourself and the kids in the loft and stay down."  Then he stood and flew out the back door.

Clouds covered the moon, and shade trees cast dark shadows over the farmyard.  Brett headed towards the extra cabin, where the three hired hands slept.  There should have been lights in the windows, they cooked their own supper in their hearth, and they were known to use a candle or two to work by in the evening.  But the windows were dark. 

Another scream, and Brett knocked open the front door.  Across the room, something dark flew out the back door, just a silhouette of darkness flapping away.  A figure on the floor choked and sobbed.  Something in the corner moved.

"Mr. Wallace?" a thin voice called out.  "Is that you, Sir?"

Brett strode over to the hearth and grabbed the flint and steel from its place.  In moments, he had the fire going again.  From the corner, two of the young men moved towards Brett.

"Did you see it, Sir?!  Did you see the witch?!"

"Superstitious nonsense, boys.  Witches aren't real." Brett grumbled.  He turned from the fire.  The third boy lay on the floor in a puddle of blood.  His gasping and sobbing had ceased, and his still eyes stared up at the rafters.

"Oh, she was real, Sir." The hired hand whispered.  "As real as Tommy's dead."

Picture Prompt

I'm going with another picture prompt this week.  This one is intentionally vague, just look at it and see what it brings to mind.

 

 

 

Enjoy!

 

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My response:

 

I stepped into the hall, my head held high, my stomach in knots. 

First, greet Lady Bensen ...

My aunt's voice hissed in my mind. 

Don't goggle like a hick ...

I was glad I'd learned enough to take her seriously.  The Bensen ballroom was the largest I'd entered in my life, and if I hadn't been warned, I would have stopped in the doorway, staring like the country raised innocent I was.  Luckily, I had more sense than that. 

The people.  Focus on the people.

I turned to the doorman, who gestured towards Lady Bensen, indicating she was free for introductions.  I made eye contact with her and stepped forward, holding my hand out to her. 

Grasp firmly, smile politely, but do not break eye contact.  Lady Bensen despises simpering.

Maybe she despises it, but she definitely inspires it.  Her steely gaze moved up and down my dress, taking in every pleat and pearl.  My face, jewelry, and hair received the same attention.  I knew I was flawless.  Otherwise I would have been tempted to check myself in the mirror.

Lady Bensen did not smile.  She did speak.  "Miss Ange Le'Mark.  Recently returned from the frontier, I believe.  Your aunt must have had quite the time getting your outfit up to par in time for the season."

Do not break eye contact.

"Not at all.  We Le'Marks are always very particular about our wardrobes.  We have a family tailor, and he keeps us always in the highest fashion."

Her eyebrow twitched.  "Is that so?"  She waited like a spider, ready to spring if I were to flinch or falter.  I did not.

Then she gave a slight nod and motioned towards the dancers.  "Do enjoy your evening."

I turned away, moving into the crowd. 

I'd passed the first test. 

Now for the second.



Grab a book #5

I like these prompts because I get to see what other people are reading.  So, grab the nearest book (or the book your mind is most obsessed with right now, whichever works for you)!

Find page 142, first full paragraph, first sentence.  That will be your prompt for the week.  (If there's nothing on page, try 143 ...)

Remember to share in your response what book it is and what your prompt line is.

Enjoy!

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My response:

I have Ally Condie's ATLANTIA on my shelf by my computer.  On page 142, it reads, "It's a terrible story," Maire says. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

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McKay held the half-door open, and I stepped into the swaying gondola.  The chaos and music of the fair melted away as we rose into the night sky.  From above, the lights of the fairway shone like fireworks.  McKay slipped his arm around my back, and I leaned against him.

"Worth the drive?" He whispered.

I chuckled.  "Yes.  Definitely worth the drive."  I'd been skeptical when he'd told me where we were going, but he was right.  This little county fair had been just the thing to raise my spirits.

We watched the lights glide by, and McKay handed over another set of tickets, so we could ride again.  I didn't expect his next question.

"It's been nearly a year now."  I could hear the hesitation in his voice.  "Are you ready to talk about it?"

There was no question what he meant.  But no.  I wasn't ready.  I pulled away from him.

"No."

He pressed further.  "You refused a therapist, even though the college would have provided one.  You won't let your Dad pay for one.  I know you're not talking to Sara about it, and you're not talking to me.  You can't keep it bottled up forever."

That was where he was wrong.

Dream the Dream

Most of the writing blogs you read will warn you from starting out with a dream.  It's overdone and cliché.  In most cases, I agree.  But for the purposes of today's prompt, we're going to pretend we've never heard that advice. 

This week's prompt: Write a dream sequence.

Enjoy!

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My response:

I ran my hands over the knobby walls.  Somewhere in the whorls and creases was a switch, and I needed to find it.  Why they had to design hotel rooms like this, I didn't know.  I might have been able to appreciate the gimmick ... if I didn't have to go the bathroom so bad!

I felt the bit under my hand move and give a solid clunk as it sunk into place.  My heart cheered.  And a bed unfolded from the wall.

Darn it.

My hands kept searching.  I moved away from the bed, towards the far corner.  This time, when I felt the switch, a door swung open.  To my relief, the light revealed a modern, sleek bathroom of chrome and floating sinks.  I hurried over to the toilet. 

I turned to the window.  The glass was clear, and a sea of stars floated on the other side of the glass.  I smiled.  Where could you have a clear window in the bathroom, but in space.  I wondered if there was a shade for it when the ship was docked and giggled at my own joke.

Hallucinations

Our prompt for this week come from my writing group.  On of my good friends shared the quote and suggested it would make a very nice prompt, so here it is.

"Maybe hallucinations are just another reality that we don't see most of the time ”
― Lynne Ewing

It reminded me of 3:59 (Which is the title of the book, and always leaves me wondering, how do I write an entirely numeric title in all caps to indicate it's a title?!!!) by Gretchen McNeil.  Ok, so in her book, the alternate reality is in a mirror, and only at two specific minutes out of each day, but still.

Anyway, enjoy!

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My response:

Robert stopped as he crossed the quad, stooping down to pick a stray flower that had somehow managed to sprout up in the grass instead of in the flower box.  It was a little forget-me-not, its pale blue petals faded from the direct sun.

He walked right up to me, and Kami threw me a quick smile before snatching up her backpack and hurrying off towards the student center.  Robert didn't seem to notice her, though most of the guys within eyeshot did, eyeing her toned calves and curtain of blond hair as she hurried off.

I never stopped traffic like that.  But today, Robert stopped.  His eyes met mine as he held the flower out to me.  When he spoke, it was with the clear tones of a deep woodwind.  "Can I call you tonight?"

I took the flower and nodded, and in a moment, he was gone.

Kami pinched my thigh, hard.  I flinched and swatted at her, but she ducked away too quickly.

"Are you staring at Robert again?!" She demanded in a whisper. 

I looked up at Robert's back as he made his way towards the edge of campus.

"No!" I lied.

"Well, don't!" Kami said, pulling a sandwich out of her bag.  "You know he's bad news."

I sighed and dropped my eyes, then I sucked in a sharp breath.

Pinched between my fingers, pale in the glare of the sun, was a small, blue forget-me-not.