chelydra

would BE like sitting... that should be.

Thanks, Nylecoj! (Did I spell you right? Is there a story behind your name you're willing to share?)

chelydra

Taking myself out of the competition looks pretty immodest (and quite unnecessary) after skimming the contributions from Hazer and TWBoy. My story started as a procrastination exercise two or three nights ago, but it complained bitterly when I tried to set it aside and focus on more useful tasks, so I just stuck what I had in a word-counter's window and kept going willy-nilly til I hit 382. I guess the resulting disjointedness is what's good in it as well as what's wrong with it.

marius

Enjoying all the contributions. Cheers to Hazer, TWboy, Chelydra! And midnight, you wrote a funny poem in the previous TW. Enjoyed it. Haven’t gotten to any other contributions from that TW. Haha, haven’t gotten to a lot around here that needs attention. Some day …

marius

This story has all the list words. 382 words total, not counting title. (Strange thing, the ellipses were counted in my word-counter so it’s 382 words without the ellipses.)

Out There

“It’s a prison, isn’t it? It’s as if you live in a cave. You come out. Sometimes. But not for long.”

Angela replied by staring at mauve-colored fingernails. He allowed this silence and looked around his office. It pleased him. He admired the marble statue he and his wife had purchased in Milan. The artisan had been ever so obsequious and it’s tedious to buy from people like that but they’d made a good bargain.

She was speaking. It caught him off guard because her silences lasted forever and he had adopted the habit of day-dreaming while she composed thoughts. He zoned in quickly to see what he had missed.

“I’d like freedom to leave the cave, maybe sometime in this century … ” Angela sighed. “But it’s not nice enough out there to make the effort. This isn’t fear talking. It’s just mean out there. You know?”

He did. But he didn’t care. They came week after week. And now the woe-be-gone, beat-up and somewhat affluent population of the world bored him. There was no end to their mazes of confusion and he had lost the lofty and majestic ideas he once had about healing.

Angela was putting on her coat now and he wondered briefly if she would ever figure it out. He waited and then called Chrissy. Yes, she’d love to meet him at the High Flyer. Then he called Beth and said his last client was in a crisis, he might not make it home for dinner because, he reminded her, he had that seven o’clock on Tuesdays. Beth was fine with this change. She always was.

The lighting at the High Flyer made it impossible to see anyone but the person with you. And Chrissy was on her second margarita when the impossible happened: his secretary appeared at their table!

“Hello, Dr. Zeylus. Hello, Angela. Did I miss something? Is this a bill-able session?”

Dr. Zeylus made a mental note to fire his new secretary and Angela smiled sweetly. “You are mistaken,” she chirped. “I am Chrissy and this is Craig! I don’t know a Dr. Zey… but the lighting in here is very poor so we understand … sorry.”

After the secretary left, Chrissy snuggled up to Craig. They kissed passionately. He liked her a lot better than Angela.

Meander

Marius, great flow through your story, I had to read it twice, I really like how you built his character, one doesn't quite like him, but you do at the same time. Very well done

Chelydra, yes you spelled it right It was a mistake a long time ago on a t-shirt, my parents printed out and put my name on the shirt for me, but they forgot to flip it, so it came out backwards. Of course you can't flip the individual letters on here, but it stuck as a sort of nickname.

Nylecoj

Ugh! Forgot to log my sister out, that last one was me

mum23

Great contributions so far!

These are just my musings based on what has been happening here the last few days, and how I've felt for a long time about our connection with the natural world. It's not great literature, but the words are all in there and the word count is right, so I might as well play along...

The wrens of my story are chirruping in the bushes outside as I type.

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

Transfixed, I watched the little fairy wren flit daintily from his perch in the shrubbery to accompany his harem as they busily sought tiny insects among the grasses. It had been remarkable to observe his transformation. A drab brown bird with a blue tail during autumn and winter, I’d been excited to see the first coloured feather appear on his neck; it had been joined by more brilliant blues until he was now resplendent in his glorious breeding plumage. This was a transformation which the males of his species had been making for centuries, but to have had the privilege of watching the process unfold before my eyes these last ten days or so had filled me with wonder and delight.

It occurred to me that he was a majestic little creature. The thought made me smile. Majesty was usually a concept reserved for mountain ranges, towering trees, ancient marble buildings or massive caves studded with stalactites and stalagmites. They would seem more appropriate bearers of that description than this tiny bird. Still, it fitted him well, and when my gaze followed the little band as they all flew off together, I realised that the same could be said for everything I saw around me.

Just then, my daughter skipped up to tell me that the tadpoles’ bodies had disappeared, which was okay, she said, because they were dead anyway, and they might as well feed some birds or ants. The previous day, we‘d mourned the deaths of the tadpoles we’d been trying, unsuccessfully as it happened, to nurture, since discovering that some mother frog had laid her eggs where her babies had no chance of surviving. Another experience the children will remember forever.

I’d felt overwhelmingly blessed that my children are growing up in this place, far away from the concrete maze inhabited by so much of humanity, with its obsequious devotion to money and wealth, economic growth and material possessions. There is no reality in that world, only fear and disconnection.

Our connection with nature is reality. Humanity and nature are inextricably linked, though our lives suggest otherwise. Giving the world’s children the freedom to explore and experience nature, so that its glory and wonder becomes an essential part of them, is the key to saving our planet.

And ourselves.

chelydra

After leaving this Mumstory to resonate on its own a while (unmuffled by clutter), I have to say it's
a) 'a real conversation-stopper'
and/or
b) 'a very hard act to follow'
...probably both. What's left to say after that ending?
Well, someone has to break this resonant silence, so here's what's left to say:
I was sitting by a tidal marsh on an island with my very smart cousin, knowledgeable about all things, when she pointed out the elbeebees flying around us in great numbers. Never one to identify birds with any confidence, but willing to learn (or pretend to learn as a way of making sociable little noises), I asked her two or three times to repeat that unfamiliar ornithological (did I really spell that right on the first try?) term, and she complied, smiling smugly, and said that she herself had had the honour of naming elbeebees. I was would have been impressed if not so incredulous - for all her knowledge, I just couldn't imagine that. She explained it wasn't exactly their official name, and probably wouldn't be found in any birdwatching guides. Finally she broke down and gave me a clue: Elbeebee is an acronym, so the correct spelling is not elbeebee but LBB, or L.B.B. Whatever the spelling, the place was lousy with them, vast flocks of LBB's darkening the sky from dawn to dusk. Mum23, even more knowledgeable about all things than my esteemed cousin, used the official term in her story. I used my cousin's term in mine, but spelled it out.

After all that, there's now plenty of clutter to muffle he intimidating resonance of Mum23's eloquent ending, and maybe some more stories will show up now.

midnightpoet

Haven't been around much - life is rather hectic for me right now, and likely to only get more so. I'm enjoying some downtime and catching up on what you wonderful people have been doing - and I must say - wow!

Hazer, more and more I look forward to reading your submissions. You have a beautiful way with words and tell such compelling stories.

Really like the story you tell, TWB. I think you built the suspense well to the climax.

I think you're doing well overcoming your dislike of sorcerer's, Chelydra. That story was just excellent - one of the best I've read from you so far I think. I read it at least three times as I scrolled through the thread and I think I want to read it again.

Marius! I read your story three times too - took me that long to figure out what was going on. Once I did, I felt very foolish that it took me that long to figure it out. What a great story with a wonderful little twist.

Finally, Mum...I don't think there's anything left to say but "wow". Despite being a wordy person who always has something to say, I'm left speechless by your ending. Imagine me giving you a standing ovation.

And now I think I'm all caught up on all the posts - and, behold, I still have some time to kill. I'm going to take a stab at this wonderful list. Hopefully I'll return soon with something...maybe.

Nylecoj

Wonderful Mum!!! I think what made it so great was that it was truthful feeling

Three days left until I pass the torch!

mum23

Thanks chelydra, midnight and Nylecoj. This is an inspired word list, I think. I hope to see many more entries...

Another one just wrote itself. More truth, I think... maybe. Who knows?

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

Life in the cave was comfortable. It was a large cave system, with a labyrinth of tunnels connecting caverns of different sizes and shapes. Within this maze, the People had made their home for centuries. Their society functioned well and peaceably. If there was the slightest hint of discord, it was addressed immediately within the awe inspiring confines of the Majestic Marble Cavern, where the gentle guidance of the Head People soon calmed, and brought back into line, the hearts and minds of those who threatened to destroy what Was with their questions. Questions were dangerous in this world.

Questions were not allowed here. To question would be to threaten the very existence of what was Known. What was Known was enough, and no more was needed. That was how it had always been, and how it would remain forever. They lived happily within their cave, and needed nothing more. There was nothing more.

The Man’s arrival was beyond their comprehension. There was nothing beyond the cave, yet this Man who looked exactly like one of them, had found his way to their cave. Where was he from?

Perhaps there was something more.

The Person who found him took him to see the Head People, for that was the only thing to do. They told him how it Was, because that was all they knew, but he did not listen. Instead, he spoke of an Outside, which was filled with life and colour. He spoke with passion in his voice and fire in his heart, and the People felt something stir within them; some long forgotten memory of a time when they had truly lived.

A time when questions were asked, but not always answered. A time when obsequious devotion to What Was Known had not yet limited their ability to think. A time when freedom to make decisions was the right of every Person. A time when things were not always comfortable. A time when fear and risk were a part of life because there was life, rather than mere existence.

As the man spoke, the People felt their life force returning. They knew, without a doubt, that there was more, and that they had to start asking questions to find answers. With that knowledge, they realised they had no choice.

ladyhwin

I'm loving all the stories so far!! This is awesome!!

My own little piece is kind of stuck.... but... on vacation, with a night that is thus far sleepless just might produce something... just maybe...

Keep writing!

midnightpoet

What a great story, mum, with a wonderful ring of truth in it. It really stuck a chord with me.

I hope to finish my story in time - it's all written but now needs to be edited to fit the word count and I have zero motivation to do so...so, we'll see if it gets here.

midnightpoet

Sometime I'll need to find new subject matter to write about, but I go with what works. Something to be said for consistency, right?

*

I step outside, my heart pounding in my ears loud enough to drown out coherent thoughts. It’s like being in a cave under water: almost out of air and unable to find a way out.

My chest is tight. I gasp for breath, trying desperately to pull air into burning, rebelling lungs. My stomach churns. My eyes dart through the press of humanity around me, trying to find a path of escape as though solving a complex maze.

Fear grips me, freezing me in place in a moment of indecisiveness that lasts seconds, minutes, hours…forever – or maybe only a century.

I lift my feet, forcing movement, creating forward momentum to carry me away. Staying would mean certain imprisonment, if not death. My feet carry me at a walk and then a run, shoving people aside without noticing them. Their shouts and curses are barely heard over the blood rushing in my ears.

I need to escape. Freedom! My soul screamed for freedom, begged for freedom. I need it like oxygen, like water. Freedom is my sustenance and I have been deprived for too long. Now I’ll never be free. I’m left with the choice of prison or life on the run. A dead end – all roads led here – oh, cruel fate.

I haven’t been free since I met him.

He was carved out of marble, a bronzed god in a three-piece suit. A majestic example of the tall, dark, and handsome man every woman wants – and he chose me. He was mine…or, at least, I was his. I was always a rebel, always a leader, always able to control every situation in my life…until I met him and became a meek obsequious housewife, staying home all day while he earned the money. I was a prisoner in a penthouse. The only shackles were his eyes as they stared at me intensely, daring me to leave; his chiseled body from the cover of a magazine, telling me I’d never do better; and his firm hands, so much bigger than mine, that would grab my forearm and shake me when I dared have a backbone.

He’s colorless now, as pale as the marble he seemed to be carved out of, and growing cold to match. His blood still stains my hands as I run.

ladyhwin

Finally done.... whew!
***********************

The drums beat rhythmically, hypnotically, sending the dancers swirling around in mad, colorful circles and rows, guiding the gypsy dance through the night with drink and merriment and raucous laughter.
At the edge of the circular clearing Jayla crouched, her heart pounding in sync with the beat of the drums, every fiber in her body tense with fear. Before her were the dancing gypsies, behind her a maze of tents and wagons. Her eyes focused on the young man whirling around the clearing, a waif-girl in his arms. Hopefully she would satisfy him. Jayla was glad to be rid of him, free from his false words and fraudulent obsequiousness.
She looked around, wondering for the umpteenth time whether this would work, whether this choice was the right one. After all, she was safe here, at least mostly. If this succeeded, she would have her freedom, a delicious freedom that thus far she had only dreamed about, a freedom full of love and happiness. If it failed... but no, it had to succeed. There was no other way.
She took a deep breath and walked backwards, sliding deftly behind one of the tents and into the shadows. She moved from one tent to the other, zigzagging her way through the camp, sliding from the shelter of the caravan into the shadow of the surrounding forest. Her mind raced as she thought of what she was heading for, what she had waited all of her young, merry years for.
Jayla's swift, careful steps brought her soon to a small cave, hidden deep within the forest. She looked around cautiously, then ducked inside. Within, she lit a candle and looked about for what she had come for. A smile lighted her face as she caught sight of a large green frog sitting on a marble shelf. Hurriedly she rushed to it, picked it up and kissed it soundly.
A flash of light! and she was held in the embrace of her handsome prince, both of them clothed majestically in elven robes.
"What took you so long?" he asked, chuckling.
"Does it matter?" she retorted, smilingly. "A century isn't so long to wait when you have forever to love."
"How true!" Laughingly, he wrapped her up in his cloak and together they swirled away into forever.

ladyhwin

love, Love, LOVE your story, midnightpoet!!! Absolutely amazing...

sarahxanne

It's been quite some time since I was last on ThinkDraw, much less ThinkWrite, and even longer since I've written a recreational piece. Most of my time has been spent writing English papers for college courses, so you'll have to forgive me for my dusty writing skills. Enjoy!

=====================================================

The sound of the rain pounding on the pavement outside the window of their small hotel room was majestic to Eliza’s ears. She sighed contently as she looked about the small room. There were no marble floors or fine decorations, and the room was lacking in color. But Eliza was happy, for she knew she had no reason to fear anything now, for they were safely hidden. Gray slept soundly on the mattress beside her, while she marveled at his handsome features and thought to herself how happy she was. Although they could not hide forever, she savored their freedom for the time being. This was a freedom together, away from the pulls of society and responsibility to their disapproving families and the desires for their separate futures. Gray had long ago tired of being an obsequious son to an unreasonable father with impractical ideas. Their father-son relationship had been like a maze; winding, turning, and often coming to a dead halt at times. What had been almost a fortnight seemed like a century ago since Gray had come to Eliza with his cheeky idea of an adventure. “Come with me, Eliza. Let us be together for always. We shall find a cave to live in, if we must!”, Gray had said to her in jest. Or so Eliza had thought it to be in jest, for never would such a thing be done by a proper lady. Yet here they were, hidden away from the world in a shabby hotel room. Eliza had not thought much past the present moment, but now as the fog in her mind was clearing she was beginning to realize the gravity of their situation. Eliza had not stopped to consider the shame they would face when they joined society once again. Gray was not worried about it at all, for he was sick of society’s demands. But Eliza had loved her status as a lady from a respectable family, almost as much as she loved her Gray. Eliza felt the tears prick her eyes as she pictured the look of utter hurt and disappointment on her mother’s dear face upon their return. As her happiness began to fade and the ill feeling gripped her heart, Eliza knew matters would never be the same again.

Nylecoj

Midnight, wonderfully told, I liked your rhythm and flow. "Fear grips me, freezing me in place in a moment of indecisiveness that lasts seconds, minutes, hours…forever – or maybe only a century." Especially liked this line, your description of time in a single moment is perfect!

LadyHwin, loved your beginning "The drums beat rhythmically, hypnotically, sending the dancers swirling around in mad, colorful circles and rows, guiding the gypsy dance through the night with drink and merriment and raucous laughter." I like sentences that show a picture, and that one certainly does. The whole piece was beautiful

Sarah, glad you are back! Well written, another well done description of time, passing time, "Their father-son relationship had been like a maze; winding, turning, and often coming to a dead halt at times."

I am enjoying everyone's stories immensely! I am going to have to reread them all, you are all making it a very hard choice, but the torch shall be passed tomorrow evening when I have time to sit and decide

sarahxanne

Thank you! I enjoyed writing it, and I am enjoying creating new pictures.

ladyhwin

One more... forgive any spelling errors... I don't have access to Word right now, so I also don't know if my word count is exactly right...

****

The pale-colored, almost washed-out walls glared harshly, even under the soft, gentle light of the moon that was smiling through the open window. Among the covers in the huge bed Cayla lay, so pale and so still one might have thought she was dead, but for the blinking of her eyes every few minutes as she watched the silver queen of the sky.
The door to this cave of a room creaked slowly open and a tall figure appeared in its shadow, watching Cayla longingly, seeing the moonlight glinting off her marble-like skin, the way her light hair lay in wisps against the pillow.
The taller girl closed the door, walking quietly to the edge of the bed, whispering her sister's name softly, her eyes full of sadness, causing her to appear centuries old in her still young years.
Painfully slowly, almost obsequiously, Cayla turned her eyes from the moonlight to her elder sister's face, the faintest breath of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "She is magnificent..."
The girl nodded without once looking towards the moon.
Cayla closed her eyes tiredly, turning her face away from the moonlight, causing her elder sister to hurry to her side. The absence of all color or warmth sent a chill of fear down the older girl's spine.
"Cayla, speak to me. Please..." she whispered, almost plaintively, but seeing no response forthcoming, she laid her head on the bed and began to cry. The minutes passed and the moon continued moving along its path and still she wept, her tears falling on the white sheets and vanishing into nothingness.
Slowly Cayla lifted her hand to lay it limply on her sister's head. Her eyelids fluttered, strained, and finally slid back, letting her gaze out again.
The elder girl pressed the cold hand to her cheek and looked deeply into her sister's eyes, finding not the spark of life she longed for, but a maze of pain and fear and sorrow. Tears rolled from the corners of her eyes once more.
Cayla sighed softly. "How must I choose?" she whispered quietly. "Your love and wonderful care? or heaven's freedom and happiness forever?" her blue eyes gazed dully.
"Don't leave me," the taller girl gripped her sister's hand, pouring strenth into her. "Not yet."