anotherronism

Yay! Another round of goodies from last night and this morning.

Sorry all for so many submissions. I stayed up late with a bottle of sine and just got into a very pleasant writing mood.

On reflection I'd probably delete a couple of them but alas, I cannot

Keep 'em coming.

Ron

mostblessedone

ThinkWrite II - Ron's word list. 200 words, not counting title.

Rocko
Roland clutched the blanket that he held tightly over his head, peeking through a small triangle he had left open. He stared at the wall where just moments before the evil dwarf, Rocko, had appeared. Roland had no doubt of his identity, for he had learned of the magical creature from his brother, Jack. Jack was nine, and was an expert on such profound subjects. Jack had even produced an excellent sketch of Rocko just this evening, before Mama had hustled them off to bed. Jack’s wonderful stories often helped Roland shake off his frequently melancholy moods. Having a dwarf visit his bedroom would not be an adverse situation, per se, except that Rocko was always angry, and anger always frightened Roland.
There he is again! Against every intention to be quiet and not draw Rocko’s attention to himself, Roland let out a scream which quickly brought his mother to his room. She carried the beeswax candle by which she had been reading. It illumined the place where Rocko had just been standing. Now, there was nothing visible but the silly, embarrassing, floral wall paper which had no business being in a boy’s room. Just like that, Rocko was gone.

anotherronism

Nice Mostblessedone... Makes me happy for Roland but also a little sad for Rocko himself. He should take anger management classes then come back as Rolands imaginary friend

five

Title: Poor Stan

There is nothing magical about the family road trip, despite what Stan’s parents promise. People in costumes turning beeswax into candles, like pilgrims had hundreds of years ago, is boring, not profound, extremely boring.

“Stop acting melancholy,” his dad says, as he restarts the car. “No reason to be adverse to new experiences.”

Stan groans. He is stuck in the back seat between two little sisters. Anger is an art form to Lucy and Lisa. Evil dwarfs. Their small punches keep landing on him. He cannot hit them. Boys don’t hit girls. But little girl punches, after a while, start to smart. “Cut it out.” Stan keeps his arms tight across his chest and stares at an imaginary triangle until they pull into a motel lot.

The carpet’s stained floral pattern screams cheap. Stan isn’t picky. After thirteen hours with his family in the cramped car, bedbugs won’t bother him. “I call this one.” He dives onto the bed nearest the window and spreads his arms and legs like a snow angel. “Excellent.” Finally, he has peace.

His mother ruins it. “Leave room for your sisters.”

The brats giggle, jumping on him and the bed.

“Mom!”

“They love you, Stan.”
______


I'm enjoying everyone's stories. Solosater, Uncle Jack was sotted

five

oops, I meant Uncle John.

mostblessedone

Olay, here's another one:

The Quilt
This old quilt covers me as it has since coming from my hope chest on my wedding day. Amazing how it reflects my life: melancholy and euphoria, and a whole lot of day to day in between. We’re both faded, patched, thinner.

This floral pattern came from my first school dress. In the adverse way of things, it caught while I skipped across the old bridge on my way home that very first day. Ma’s excellent mending was something magical; you couldn’t even see the tear.

Funny, I always saw an elf’s face on this triangle. Now it looks more like an evil dwarf. That went in after Joey practiced scissors on it. I learned a profound lesson when he brought his favorite pajama shirt to fix it. My anger was gone in an instant. Fortunately, I still had scraps in the trunk.

Once, we girls made an elegant tea party using the quilt for our table. We were so absorbed in our fun, we let the beeswax drip on it. Never could get those spots out.

Before long, they will be wrapping me in this quilt for my burial.

It is nice to have a friend to go along

solosater

That is beautiful mostblessedone.

I don't quilt but I always wanted to for that reason, the memories.

Good, bad, funny, sad, they are all there in the end.

I have saved fabric just incase but I doubt I’ll ever get around to it; I have so much on my plate and not enough energy to accomplish half of it, but I enjoy looking at the fabric from time to time.

anotherronism

Mostblessedone: I owe you an apology and you don't even know it.

I read the first paragraph of "The Quilt" and moved on. I just wasn't interested.

The I came back and read Solosater's reply and took another look.

What a jerk I was for not reading on.

What a beautiful thing... There's a comfort on that quilt which you share so well.

I apologize for giving you a once-over. And... I promise... It will not happen again

solosater

This again is not up for this list; I missed it the first time around and wanted to try it out. I don’t think I’ll be doing the quarterback list so perhaps I’m all caught up.

This is the second list from the first ThinkWrite:

Pills
Mayflower
Orange
Rasputin
Okay
Why Not?
Elsewhen
Irrational
Simplicity

TITLE:
That Crazy Man Is At It Again!



“Okay,” Elsewhen said, “He’s a bit of a Rasputin but we need him!”

“What kind of pills are you on?” Greg shook his head, “Whenny, I love you; I want you to be happy. I know it upset you that Justin had to back out but is this weirdo the best we can do? Did you ask Justin to suggest someone?”

Elsewhen shook her head and pursed her lips.

“Why not?”

“Why not? He called me up with no warning and just says he’s got to be away for a few months and can’t finish my wedding. MY WEDDING! And you think I should ask his advice on a new planner?”

“Honey, you know his mother’s ill; he’s been looking forward to this as long as you, he’d never have quit if it wasn’t necessary. He left all his notes; he had it all done on paper. He knew you wanted simplicity, just some orange blossoms and a mayflower or two in your hair, our families and friends on the beach at sunset. What happened to all that?”

“I became irrational. You’re right, I’ll call and let him go,” she said with a little half smile, “we don’t need him.”

mostblessedone

Five, I enjoyed Stan; it brought back memories. When I was 16, my family traveled by car from CA to IN to visit relatives. Our Country Squire Station Wagon was packed with six children, I being the eldest, my parents, all our stuff, and our German Shepherd, which rode in the back and panted and drooled down our necks. We pulled a pop-up trailer and camped somewhere each night. Stan was lucky to get a motel!

mostblessedone

Ron, your apology is readily accepted. I'm glad you enjoyed the piece.
BTW, I really enjoyed yours about learning to pee. As sister of four brothers and mother o f two sons, I can fully appreciate the importance of this right of passage.

RE: your comments on Rocko. I wonder if dwarfs have insurance that might cover those anger management classes. Hmmm. . worth looking into.

Dragon

Wow, you miss checking for a couple of days and look at what you miss out on. I must single out solosater's "Small Cottage", it really struck home, I'm not tall myself but my boyfriend is 6'7 and when we were looking at houses I think we saw the same place you were talking about, he couldn't even stand up in the basement.
Loving this word list, can't wait to come up with my own submission.

Dragon

Ok here's mine - 200 words, not including the title.

The Arrangement

I stood staring at what was to be my wedding bed. The bedspread had such a melancholy quality to it, made even more profound when I realized the faded floral pattern had likely been embroidered by his first wife. I stripped it from the bed and replaced it with the spread from my dower chest which I had spent many painstaking hours on. Would he have an adverse reaction? Would it anger him? No matter, I would not compete with a dead woman.

I lit the beeswax candles I had brought from home hoping for some magical change to occur in this dour room. Perhaps it was me that was dour, I was certainly nervous about my wedding night with a man I had only met the day before. I told myself it could have been much worse, he could have been an evil dwarf of a man rather than the strong, virile one he was. But I was still shivering when he came in.

He looked at the bedspread, looked at my excellent needlework and fingered the tiny black wyverns with their triangle wings.

I trembled, but when he turned to me there was only love in his eyes.

solosater

Dragon, you put dragons on your wedding quilt!? Was that for protection, or just to keep us on our toes?

I liked your story btw, I've never been married and may not but that whole "the one before me" thing has to be a real stresser.

Dragon

Oh how I would love a dragon/wyvern quilt.

solosater

Do it!

Dragon

Alas, I don't quilt.

anotherronism

From Wikipedia...

Flash fiction differs from a vignette in that the flash-fiction work contains the classic story elements: protagonist, conflict, obstacles or complications, and resolution. However, unlike the case with a traditional short story, the limited word length often forces some of these elements to remain unwritten, that is, hinted at or implied in the written storyline. This principle, taken to the extreme, is illustrated by Ernest Hemingway's six-word flash, "For sale: baby shoes, never worn."

Dragon. "The Arrangement" was great. It left so much unsaid which the brain MUST fill in in whatever way...

Loved it!

anotherronism

Wow! After four word lists this is still going strong.

I have no idea how I'm gonna judge this and "Pass the Torch"...

I will say this... Write for the writer but also write for the reader.

Whatever struck my funny bone the other night is still going. I love the emotion and detail and even cisceral (sp?) feeling in some of these pieces but, as a bathroom reader, I enjoy the light and funny ones the most!

anotherronism

"visceral" - that is