Qsilv

Much gratitude to cathyallheart for giving me the chance to inflict... er...host! I mean host one of these silly things!

I love what you guys come up with in words almost as much as I love the drawings that your fertile minds dream up around here, so don't be afraid... just leap in and let your subconscious do whatever it wants to.

And with it comes a dare.... bonus points to whoever illustrates what they write!

We have 'til April Fool's Day (that's a week with two weekends), and ANY word count!

Here's your word list of 12, the absolute first that spilled out of my own head as I went along the alphabet (ok it's a goofy mind, but I kinda enjoy living in it...)



Belligerent

Déclassé

Frankincense

Hardening

Jocular

Luminaria

No-account

Pandering

Rebellious

Tedium

Victory

Yellow

mum23

Just to get the ball rolling, and because the word list was irresistible and my own goofy mind saw this scene the moment I saw your words...

... but I really won't be able to host the next one of these, so somebody else had better come and play...

************

To the distant strains of the carollers, she watched. The flustered young mother pandering to her rebellious toddler in a vain attempt to escape the disapproving looks of the multitudes in the food court. The belligerent youth, feigning indifference to his younger siblings’ attempts to engage him in their high-spirited discussion. The jocular man with the sagging jowls and greasy hair, wolfing down an equally greasy meal, which would no doubt add to the hardening of his arteries and contribute to his untimely death. The snooty, well-dressed woman who would ordinarily on no-account be caught amongst such déclassé company, and whose every gesture indicated her displeasure at the tedium of this outing. The couple whose smiling eyes saw only each other. All of them caught up in their own little worlds, yet all part of the same world.

The singers approached, candles flickering little yellow flames within their luminaria. A number of the diners tried to join in, “… Frankincense to offer have I…” but very few of them knew this part of the carol and most mumbled only briefly before returning to what had previously been occupying their attention. Their own worlds.

Except for the toddler, who clapped his chubby little hands in delight and wonder, allowing his mother a rare victory; she leaned across the table while he was distracted and wiped the remains of his lunch from his face. And, in so doing, shattered his moment of magic, and brought him back into her world.

Her world. His world too, of course. A world they all occupied, and shared. Even if only briefly. She picked up her bag as she got to her feet. Back to her own world.

bayofquinte

Great story! In a strange way it makes me think of all the futuristic and somewhat depressing but very meaningful stories that my daughter makes me read. She's majoring in Literature and is hoping to do her Masters in England. She's still a Harry Potter fanatic and wants to be there for the (magic?) inspiration! (She'll have to settle on the realities of today and continue her studies here in 'boring' Canada!) The word list IS irresistible, and I am hoping to enter this challenge for the first time. I have to admit that I've given this a try before, but I seem to stumble after the first few sentences ! I also hope to see more entries!

Qsilv

(laughing in delight here... in my own little world!)
Mum that's a rare gift you've given us --thank you, and yes, you can cry "safe".

After all, if no one else gets the baton, it just lies around quietly in the woods 'til someone stumbles over it and goes.. wow! ..and just DOES start hosting it again!

But Bay, I sooo look forward to seeing/hearing what your mind cooks up...

...and remember, you lurkers, do NOT make this into a problem... just PLAY... free associate to your heart's content. ;>

mum23

Part two: (thought I didn't know there would be a part two when I wrote part one...)


....................

There’s no time to lose. They’re all caught up in the tedium and dramas of their own little worlds. Can’t see past the end of their noses, while the planet is dying around them… and not slowly either. Yes, it’s frustrating! But on no-account should we get belligerent with them. That’ll only make them feel rebellious and we can’t afford to do that. Doesn’t mean we should we be pandering to their ways though.

No, we have to get them to see that a victory for the Earth is a victory for them. We have to get them to stop regarding Nature as the déclassé entity in this equation and see that ultimately her needs are their needs. We need to be relaxed, jocular, easy with them; make them see we’re all on the same side. The trick is to make them think it’s all their idea. Appeal to their hearts.

Y’ ever seen how they make frankincense? You get these little bushes, cut open the bark and it bleeds. The stuff oozes out and collects, eventually hardening into a yellow resin that smells divine. The bushes that grow in the toughest conditions produce the best quality frankincense, they say. The best stuff might even be used in the luminaria in the Vatican. Seems harmless enough, doesn’t it? Been doing it for thousands of years and it seems sustainable. Maybe it was, in the past. Seems that now, though, the bushes are being cut more often, being expected to produce more, and they’re producing seeds which are only a quarter as viable as seeds from bushes that haven’t been harvested.

We just want to keep on taking. No, it’s not even that. They don’t realise they’re taking, for the most part. They can just go to the store and buy what they want and they don’t know how it got there. They don’t know that the t-shirt they just got for a bargain price was sewn up by a bunch of kids getting a pittance, and that it took hundreds of litres of water to make. They don’t know that the cell phone they just replaced with the latest model is full of bits ‘n’ pieces that some pristine rainforest got destroyed for, or that the slab of chocolate they just indulged in was tainted with the blood of an orangutan or two, or more. They just don’t know.

If they knew, they’d care. If they cared enough, they’d think before buying .

And if we can get them to do that, then we stand a chance. The planet will stand a chance.

We gotta do this.

Now.

marg

Wey aye, mum..

I'm just not sure, in today's miracle age, how best to appoach this stuff -

..but I think that maybe it's time for you artists to start pushing a message across, as artists have always done - except, I guess, that it's never been co-ordinated in the way that today's world allows -

.. can you imagine how powerful a concerted push by artists would be ?

[lol.. just as well that it would be like herding cats ]

marg

Not a contender - but, as always, just showing willing

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She lived alone in an apartment on 65th.

After Frank died, there was a big hole in her life and it came as more of a shock to her because she had never realised before just how important he was to her. Had you asked her, she would have said that she and Frank stayed together because it was expected of them and, later on, after their parents died, because there was no over-powering reason to split.

When it came to the empty feeling of walking into a room and not seeing someone you expected to be there – well, not seeing Frank, really – it just made her feel so terrifically lonely – and – well – terrified – that’s where terrific comes from, doesn’t it ?

Most days she tried to go out for a walk, but since Frank died, every street corner seemed to harbour some foul-mouthed, no-account derelict or an adolescent who was off their face on some weird and magical concoction. Sometimes it was a minor victory just to get to the corner store to buy milk – and she would walk back to the apartment block clutching the brown paper bag in front of her as a token of some sort of successful rebellious campaign.

The company that had taken over the building management of the block seemed to employ the large, beefy, jocular type of female receptionist that is normally hired to guard access to a doctor, no doubt pandering to the increasing emphasis on biased opportunity, so she felt no desire to stop and chat. They had stripped out all the fine old dark wood furniture in the lobby a few years earlier and replaced it with cheap sofas and scatter cushions, so every time when she went to check the mailbox she could only gaze around in distaste. After a time, she started to avoid the lobby and only use the lifts during the quiet times of the day.

With the avoidance of company came loneliness and an inward focus that saw her gazing at her own reflection in the mirror, just to look at a human being. And with loneliness came a hardening of the soul and the feeling of looking out at people and desperately wanting them to look in and see you, but knowing that your pattern was no longer in their big picture. After a time, she no longer wanted anyone to look in and see her – she watched quietly, resolute, and if tedium is yellow, I guess the glow softened down from gold to ivory.

marg

I can't believe the limits to which I'll go for a big sister [type person] like Qsilv.. [no.. I did NOT use the 'nanny' word]

..so here you go - another non-qualifying entry, because I've deliberately missed 'Luminaria', on the grounds that I don't want to use a term that is significant to some people in a non-significant context - and also because it means that I can't win - and I'm going away next week, so I can't win

----------------

Slouch down 65th, past the déclassé, démodé, concrete-cancer-ridden apartment buildings to where she lives.

Waiting, watching, handing-off the shysters, the free-loaders, the vacant.. tedium a medium in the yellow afternoon sun.

Thoughts still churning, rebellious, hardening – striving for belligerent, but fearing that victory may just be an empty concept.

See her reflection as she passes through the lobby dripping Frankincense and pearls, building manager at her elbow, pausing only to shake a finger at the beefy, jocular kid behind the desk who’s eating a ham on rye during working hours.

Out of the apartment block, she nods gravely to the uniform on the pavement, then swivels her head imperiously around – summons – and starts off again on the same old, grooved behind the ears, 40-year old track..

’Randall, you are a no-account, good-for-nothing, lay-about and I don’t see why I have to be supporting you in…

marg

Hey, BTW Qsilv..

I have this piece of paper with your word selection on it, for me to consider on the train (which I never got the chance to do), and at the bottom it says:

'note to Qsilv - not live in mind, live in pretty world (world has cats in it)'

marg

and b...., I missed pandering

inked_gemini

Hello all! So Q, I was looking in on Think Draw as I occasionally do since I don't have time to draw much (or at all) lately, and I came across your word list. I'm supposed to be working right now, but this story totally took advantage of the no word limit clause and wrote itself when I saw the list. And it's quite fitting for the season. To echo mum and marg, I’m not able to host, but I did want to contribute this sort-of-true story. It’s meant to be humorous and I hope it makes sense as it deals largely with Catholic church. I also hope you all find it as entertaining as I have found your writing. Miss you guys.
________________________________________________

I shifted uncomfortably. I could swear the pew was hardening beneath me as the night wore on. Sweat beaded on my forehead. The tradition of Easter mass always drew a sizeable crowd, pandering even to the ways of the less-dutiful worshippers who would be absent for the rest of the year. I sat shoulder-to-shoulder with my family, fanning my Missal furiously towards my flushed face…to no avail.

But a sardine-packed congregation was not the only reason for my uneasiness. For me personally, church had become less tedium and more a thing of emotional anxiety ever since the Vatican decided to implement new prayers and new responses to recite during mass. No matter how hard I tried, I simply could not de-motorize my rebellious brain from replying with the old phrases that had been embedded in me since Sunday school. I don’t know why I bothered stressing over such an insignificant thing. A lot of people still stumbled and stuttered over the new words. But my voice seemed to ring loudest when I said the wrong thing. And I was often met with belligerent stares that made me feel like a black sheep. As if I was somehow déclassé compared to the perfect parishioners that said everything right. I simply wanted to experience the victory of responding in perfect unity with the rest of the congregation.

And this night, on the eve of Easter, I was determined not to mess up. On no-account would my mouth screw up what had been a perfect mass so far. The frankincense was burning and perfumed the air. Little flames danced on their luminaria and bathed the priest’s bright yellow vestments in a beautiful light. And the priest, after a long gospel reading, kept the homily short and peppered it with jocular comments that made it quite entertaining. Now was the moment of truth. I had made it through the readings. I had made it through the gospel. Through the homily, the creed and the petitions. And as my mouth instinctually spoke the unchanged responses, my brain attempted to prepare it for the last challenge of the evening.

Priest: “The Lord be with you.”

Me: “And with your spirit!” (Okay Mouth. Do NOT say “It is right to give him thanks and praise.” That’s not what we’re supposed to say anymore. The correct response is “It is right and just.” So get it right this time!)

Priest: “Lift up your hearts.”

Me: “We lift them up to the Lord!!” (Here it comes, Mouth. It’s go time! Remember: It is right and just. It is right and just. It is right and just. It is right and just. It is right and just…)

Priest: “Let us give thanks to the Lord, our God.”

Me: “THANKS BE TO GOD!!!”

*facepalm*


:) Happy Easter everybody.

inked_gemini

Oh, I wanted to add that, in real life, priests don't wear yellow vestments. I just put that in there because I couldn't find another way to use the word yellow. Luminaria was easy, but yellow gave me problems...go figure.

Qsilv

Wow... what a yummy wide spectrum of ways to focus that gawdawful list! I could not for the life of me figure out a way to use Frankincense and was feeling quite guilty about inflicting it on you all. But you each built up a very original scene.

I'm going to wait another week, a la Bay of Quinte, in hopes of more coming along, not because I can't pick faves (well I can't, quite, actually) but because these things are NOT about that --they're about the challenge and providing the toys to challenge with!

And we're all short on time. ; P

bayofquinte

o my gosh Qsilv, ....I am having so much trouble with Lacey whose labor has become a real issue. She was supposed to have her pups on MON. and I took her into the vet when her labor produced nothing The x-rays show at least 6 puppies. She was given a few doses of oxytocin but again, nothing. She might have to undergo a Cesarean if nothing is produced by Friday. This is becoming a bit of a nightmare. I offered to take her in early January when a friend was moving. My dog Odd-Ree came from the same litter, and because she and Lacey were siblings I thought that it would be great fun for her. ( My male, Charlie, is a complete bore, and won't even chase a ball. ) I have never worried about a pregnancy with Odd-ree because Charlie just didn't know how to do it. However, Lacey was very promiscuous, and even did some (I'm too embarassed to reveal her methods) things to Charlie. Charlie's hormones kicked in and learned 'how to do it' very quickly. He learned so well that Odd-ree is due late next week. All 3 of them will undergoing measures to prevent this from happening again. This entire thing has turned into a nightmare. Odd-ree and Lacey do NOT like one another, and their pregnancies have turned them into vicious monsters. While trying to rescue Odd-ree from a violent attack yesterday, Lacey, thinking my wrist was her neck, dug her teeth into me. 4 of the 5 punctures weren't too bad, but the fifth should have been stitched up. Instead, due to the chaos, I wanted to stay at home and taped the gap tight.
I'm a bit of a basket-case right now, please forgive me for the non-entry! I don't think that Ican do it this time around! If the next word list contains a lot of 4 lettered words, I'm sure I'll have no trouble with a very quick story.

Hazer

Well bayofquinte, I'm sure Q will excuse you due to the circumstances!!

Qsilv, I have a couple of stories floating around in my head and if time allows I may get one of them posted. Can't promise though as I am working all but two days this month. Crazy busy. Have enjoyed reading the other entries and would have a hard time picking a fav too.

ladyhwin

Qsilv??

mum23

At the Café Déclassé at the far end of the Rue des Nihilistes , the Existential Australopithicine Luncheon Society was wrapping up its May meeting on a belligerent note. Were the few surviving members really living up to their founding principles? And were there really any founding principles anyone could remember, anyway? Outside, the sky turned a frankincense yellow-brown hue, the clouds hardening into purple as if apprehensive of the fast-approaching antipodean winter. The Falklands weren't what they used to be, all agreed, but then what was, after all? A jocular cynicism had insidiously undermined what had once been the society's serious, somewhat naive acceptance of The Way Things Are (the Lucretian tendency within South Atlantic existentialism being one of the first founding tenets to be forgotten, probably by the spring of 1963). Wide-eyed, open-mouthed expressions had once been the norm; hard to believe now that heavy-lidded sneers and smirks of the latter-day australopithicines cast their pall over the proceedings (to be continued maybe)(or maybe not)

chelydra

What the %^$#!!!???

chelydra

"Sheep! What can you expect of islands majority-populated by sheep?" snorted Maxwell deFumée. He was always lamenting the passing of the rebellious, searching, dangerous spirit of the twentieth century — even Thatcher’s War, a mad revival of a bygone imperial had a sort of integrity about it, if you... (oh well... another dead end... tomorrow is another day… maybe something will come of this eventually) (or maybe not)

chelydra

a bygone imperial Something Or Other, that was supposed to be... sorry... well, one assumes that standards are slipping drastrically when no one is minding the store... (see ya tomorrow maybe) (or maybe not)