ladyhwin

Hopefully, all the lovely writers out there will be coming back now.... so here is a new challenge to tempt you. Thank you Hazer for giving me the honor.

HOPE
FLORAL
HELP
SEVEN
STRIKE
GEORGE
CHARGE
LIGHT
PREJUDICE
TIME

250 words exactly, though any entry will be considered.

Deadline: September 5th.

Enjoy writing!

mum23

George willed his hands to stop trembling as he fumbled to strike the match. It wasn’t much, but this brief flicker of light, the only illumination that he and his seven mates had, and to which they had rationed themselves only every few hours since their batteries had lost their charge, gave them all a moment of hope in their dark prison. They had little else. Time was running out, and they knew it.

What they didn’t know was whether anybody out there knew of their plight. Fifteen days had passed. They’d been working in an isolated area and hadn’t been expected home until two days ago. Would anybody be concerned yet? Was help on the way? Would it arrive in time if it was?

Nobody talked about the possibilities. The questions were too big, and too many of the likely answers didn’t bear thinking about. It was almost as though voicing their worst fears, or indeed their brightest hopes, might prejudice any chance of rescue. So they kept their thoughts to themselves; the visions of wives and lovers and children they might never see again, of floral tributes piled against the mine’s wire fences, of what might be left of them by the time their liberators arrived, if they arrived at all. The tiny flickering light every few hours revealed identical thoughts spelled out clearly upon eight grimy faces.

The match whooshed into life and warmth. Love, fear and hope flowed silently between them.

So brief, this light.

Gone.

ladyhwin

You've left me speechless, mum...



Thank you.

ladyhwin

Would love to see some more stories from all you talented people out there!

Doug

Time to feed the pigeons again Marge…

Marge still in her nightshirt stood at the edge of the park her deep set eyes fixed on the small commotion ahead. Like the charge you feel when you lick the end of a battery her skin trembled slightly. Her dear George had died this same morning and all she could think of was how much she loved him, or did.

Overwhelmed by the terrible thought of never seeing or hearing him again, tears streamed down her face, the salty taste biting at her lips. Struck by unimaginable pain even the sight of the cooing pigeons could not calm her. As the soft flutter of busy pigeons danced in the light of her eyes a floral fragrance much like tiger lilies enveloped her. Not knowing what to make of this new scent she couldn’t help but smile. George had always given her flowers when she was down hoping that the pretty sight and sweet smell would help cheer her up.

Night began to fall and eerie shadows replaced the opaque light that Marge saw through her tears. For the next seven minutes Marge stood breathless watching the light disappear from her surroundings just as she was sure her light had been extinguished.

George, I love you.

Doug

woefully short, sorry. Just trying to get my feet wet again. I so want to write again. Could of done a bunch more editing, etc. but just wanged it out instead. Love to all, Doug

marg

Whooeee, Doug ... how brilliant it is to see you back - and what an awesome contribution !

Was that a follow-on from mum23's story ? .. it's inspiring me to try to continue with that theme.. the two of you have just opened so many paths

Doug

Thanks Marg. It does seem to be a continuation of the previous story. Hmmmm. Not intended, but they do fit well together.

ladyhwin

Very nice Doug.... it is so good to see you back!

chelydra

I show hope you gonna mop that floral. Could rilly use some help seen as I binnup since afore seven trine get ready for you stupid brother's wake. I dunno wye I don jes gwan strike like George hisself wooda done. Him an that International Brotherhood of Tea-Pourers or whatever they are. Spose theyre gone send a delegation here to see off their fallen comrade in style an if everything aint shipshape and well lubricated theyll be all hell to pay huh? So you gone lie there an make like your dozed off while ya watch me sweepin an dustin and scrubbin outa one eye? You get sum kine charge outa seen me scurry rounanroun huh? Then you gonna wan me to keep it light and friendly-like even when that fresh-widowed sister-in-law shows up all weepy with a dozen feathermuckin pigeons anna headfulla olfactory hallucinations. An if I don you sweet talk her good you gonna tell me I'm prejudice agin our avian brethren an their schizzy frenz I spoze, aincha?
You lissning a me, Al?
ALBERT!!!
You hear anything I say? Ever?
It's time!
Whaddaya think this is Al? You think you kin jes slip at will in an outa this space-time continuum? Cummin go as you please, not subject to the laws of physics us ordinary mortals are expected to obey, izzat right?
I wuz gone say time get up but I think it might be more like you time is come if you don mop that floral.

chelydra

TYPO FIXED (an extra word slipped in that didn't belong. Took it out, added another to get it back up to 250)


I show hope you gonna mop that floral. Could rilly use some help seen as I binnup since afore seven trine get ready for you stupid brother's wake. I dunno wye I don jes gwan strike like George hisself wooda done. Him an that International Brotherhood of Tea-Pourers or whatever they are. Spose theyre gone send a delegation here to see off their fallen comrade in style an if everything aint shipshape and well lubricated theyll be all hell to pay huh? So you gone lie there an make like your dozed off while ya watch me sweepin an dustin and scrubbin outa one eye? You get sum kine charge outa seen me scurry rounanroun huh? Then you gonna wan me to keep it light and friendly-like even when that fresh-widowed sister-in-law shows up all weepy with a dozen feathermuckin pigeons anna headfulla olfactory hallucinations. An if I don sweet talk her good you gonna tell me I'm prejudice agin our avian brethren an their schizzy frenz I spoze, aincha?
You lissning a me, Al?
Al?
ALBERT!!!
You hear anything I say? Ever?
It's time!
Whaddaya think this is Al? You think you kin jes slip at will in an outa this space-time continuum? Cummin go as you please, not subject to the laws of physics us ordinary mortals are expected to obey, izzat right?
I wuz gone say time get up but I think it might be more like you time is come if you don mop that floral.

chelydra

I was trying to carry on with Doug's continuity idea, but obviously our narrator is so addled, due to being so oppressed and exploited, that she can't even remember that her late brother-in-law was a miner.

Hazer

George is gonna to be sorely missed here at the park, he is. But you know, every cloud has a silver lining and I have every confidence Marge is gonna do right by us, I do.Why you all saw her, same as I, coming down the walk every morning just before the old town clock could strike seven, scatterin' that little bag o' crumbs. Never once did she show any prejudice, treated us all the same, she did. Gave us all hope, she did.
Well now, here's our chance to do somethin' back. Let's us help her out, she deserves it after all she's been through, I say. I do. I'm appointin myself to be in charge, and any of you that object to that can go talk to ole Kenny over there. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear you, once he wakes up that is.
Now listen up everyone, this is our time to shine! It is!
I want everyone to meet back here tomorrow at first light, and I do mean at the crack of dawn! Everyone looking their best now, hear?
Okay now let's just practice gettin' into formation....what's that Billy? Yes, I know lilies make you sneeze, but you can't avoid floral bouquets,you can't. It's a funeral, it is.
Just don't shame us by droppin' anything, and especially not on the preacher's prayer book like ole cousin Jake! I think maybe you'd best stay home, I do.
It's gonna be a proud day for us pigeons, it is!

marg

time continuums ? pigeons ? is there no hope for this thread ?

.. and alas, chel, I had your narrator picked as a male janitor.. but let's not be sexist !

I would dearly love to contribute and will try to do so before the 5th..

Doug

Bravo Hazer! I just knew you were going with the pigeon idea. I love it.

Hazer

Patiently waiting now to see which path Marg's continuum will take.

mum23

Albert cast a wary eye skywards as he opened his prayerbook. It wasn’t like him to feel prejudice toward any living thing, except, occasionally, for the wife that constantly harangued him, but the way these pigeons had gathered in the trees all around was making him uneasy. He glanced over at Marge, who, through her tears, still managed to watch the flock with wonder and delight. Well, they were her birds, in a way, and he guessed that if their presence was of some help to her, then he’d tolerate them for her sake.

He turned his attention back to the human congregation. The turnout was huge. George had been the leader of the little group that had perished a little over seven days ago, a hard-working man with a strong sense of social justice, and in his time he had earned the admiration and love of many of the townsfolk. They were all here to pay their respects , and all eyes were now on Albert.

He drew himself up. This would be the most difficult speech of his life. His brother was lying in that casket, and he hoped to give him just the right send-off. Strike a balance… nothing too wordy or floral, but something that would do proper justice to George’s exemplary life. He’d tried, but had nothing prepared. The words just hadn’t arrived for him the way they usually did. They had to now.

In the fading light, Albert invited everyone to charge their tea-cups…

Doug

Pigeons or Prejudice

Hopefully, when you read this it will be all over. Shit, I’ve had enough of the “it will be okay”, and the “God only gives you as much as you can handle”. Who made that crap up? They haven’t a clue what I’ve been through.

It all started with George and his damn pigeons and ended, well, I’m getting ahead of myself.

George had been my neighbor forever. I thought his wife Marge was nice enough. She had a smile that could light up an Amish house at nightfall. But, behind that angelic smile and striking beauty evil lurked. It was exactly seven days ago when I first noticed the pigeons. A few skittered around my porch making a lovely cooing sound, but then hundreds descended onto my property and mayhem broke out. I glanced over at Georges and noticed there wasn’t a pigeon to be seen. There was Marge though spying out of an upstairs window with a sneer pursed on her puss. My first action was to run to the kitchen and I fetched an iron pot and one of my late wife’s wooden spoons. I ran out into the yard and banged that pot until I thought my ears would bleed hoping it would scare those flying rats away.

In time, even more came to join the pigeon party. I know I looked like a damn fool out there banging my pot. I looked up at the window again and sure enough there she was cracking up a storm enjoying my plight. I gave her a smug smile and went about my pot banging. Damn! These things won’t leave!
Someone please help me. I’m sure to be killed by these vile creatures soon!
(A crack of thunder rang out at Hillmans Cemetery. George and Marge helped bury their friend and neighbor Harry. Marge still had that little sneer as she stroked the pigeon she brought along.)

indigo

Loving all these stories people!! *J*

ladyhwin

Beautiful stories, everyone!!! Maybe I should extend the deadline a day or two and see what happens? I really like the continuing story that was happening....

I'll read again tomorrow and pick a winner sometime in the evening. Keep them coming!