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Excellent stories! You are all so imaginative ... I'm in awe of the writing talent here.

giraffe

Nylecoj. I read that John Lennon became obsessed with the "life flashing before your eyes" during the last few years of his life. He did interviews with many 'near death experience' people. I guess he found out.

giraffe

Chelydra, I really enjoyed your descriptions. Interesting how many stories (this round) have death themes. Very good. She should dock you 2 points for the word "ability" and give you 3 points for using the words in order.

Doug. I agree with Marius on the last sentence. That's how I read it too.

Doug

Chelydra: Welcome to ThinkWrite. I applaud you for the vivid tale you spun and for using the words in order. Some "torchbearers" are picky on word counts and missed words for future reference. Enjoyed your story tremendously!

Doug

I'll leave the last line of my story as is. It was more of a narrators perspective and I think the last line fits just fine. Thanks for the comments. I'm glad my story evoked some rabble-rousing. lol.

chelydra

DONE & DUSTED!

Because unhypenated time-in-a-bottle comes out with three extra words in the automatic word-counter, I used 304 words in order to get to 301. Managed to work in a rather awkward 'ability' and keep the list's sequence I think. The "PS" is now incorporated into the 301 words, although the title (with its ever-growing neoHegelish subtitle) is not. So now no bending the rules, although I appreciate your offer! (Let's hope I didn't edit out any required words while revising.)

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Facing The Void: When Everything Is Reduced To Nothingness, You May Find That Nothingness Is (wow!) Really Something (or even Someone), And That Emptiness is (lo and behold!) Abundantly Full (full of Herself anyway)



It was still an enigma, that November afternoon when all joy and hope vanished from Maxine’s life, the way a blown fuse throws you into blank blackness. She’d been fine, walking towards the supermarket in the sunlight. At the door, she froze, unable to speak or move, and had to be carried home. Nothing felt right since.
Her psychotherapist tried to put that time in a bottle, to observe it from every angle, in every kind of light. After six months of thrice-weekly sessions, at $145 a pop, it was murkier than ever. With her former employer’s insurance terminated, more therapy was not an option. Food was barely an option. And this dirt-cheap off-season seaside shack must be vacated soon.
Another numb, sleepless night... Now what? Now nothing. Time to face the Void. A predawn birdsong seconded Maxine’s idea, and reminded her that the Void is best faced outdoors, especially during a May sunrise. Where better than at the ocean, the world’s edge?
Getting up and out was a struggle, but then inhaling the springtime nocturne put a spring in her step. The sky, still very dark, had a supernatural emerald glow emanating from within. Within? What’s within the sky? Space, and then the edge of space, and of time; from the radiant Void Herself cometh yonder mystic luminescence, thought Maxine as she stepped into the sand. Already the sky faded pearly-gray. But the water, a slab of coal a moment ago, now glowed emerald.
Wow! Methinks this Void gloweth not only Beyond All, but also Within All! This revelation verily hath the ability to soothe my troubled mind and fill my empty heart, methought Maxine; peacefully, yea blissfully, shall I henceforth snare gently-hopping rabbits and gather juice-dribbling wildberries, and sleep soundly in the shade of friendly oaks.
And Maxine lived ecstatically ever after.

chelydra

If I had the patience to do more condensing, I'd add "in the glow of her inner Void" to the last sentence.

chelydra

DID IT!
Here's the final revision (I hope). Don't have energy left for retyping the subtitle (see message before last).

——————————†”—————————


FACING THE VOID

It was still an enigma, that November afternoon when all joy and hope vanished from Maxine’s life, the way a blown fuse throws you into blank blackness. She’d been fine, walking towards the supermarket in the sunlight. At the door, she froze, unable to speak or move, and had to be carried home. Nothing felt right since.
Her psychotherapist tried to put that time in a bottle, to observe it from every angle, in every kind of light. After six months of thrice-weekly sessions, at $145 a pop, it was murkier than ever. With her former employer’s insurance terminated, more therapy was not an option. Food was barely an option. And this dirt-cheap off-season seaside shack must be vacated soon.
Another numb, sleepless night... Now what? Now nothing. Time to face the Void. A predawn birdsong seconded Maxine’s idea, and reminded her that the Void is best faced outdoors during May sunrises—and at the ocean, the world’s edge.
Getting up and out was a struggle, but then inhaling the springtime nocturne put a spring in her step. The sky, still very dark, had a supernatural emerald glow emanating from within. Within? What’s within the sky? Space, and then the edge of space, and of time; from the radiant Void Herself cometh yonder mystic luminescence, thought Maxine as she stepped into the sand. Already the sky faded pearly-gray. But the water, a slab of coal a moment ago, now glowed emerald.
Wow! Methinks this Void gloweth not only Beyond All, but also Within All! This revelation verily hath the ability to soothe my troubled mind and fill my empty heart, methought Maxine; blissfully shall I henceforth snare gently-hopping rabbits, gather juice-dribbling wildberries, and sleep soundly in the shade of friendly oaks.
And Maxine lived ecstatically ever after in the glow of her inner Void.

chelydra

OY VEY!I inadvertently changed 'sunrise' to 'sunrises'! @#%$^&?!!!!
Okay, so here's a solution:"...best faced outdoors during a May sunrise on the edge of the ocean."
It loses the "edge of the world" thing, which went well with the Void theme (Columbus, sailing into the ocean, falls off the edge of the world, etc.) But it does get us back within the letter of the law.

giraffe

Unless specified, I assume that plurals are acceptable - as are different forms of a word. Acceptable can be acceptance, assume can be assumption, plural = plurality, etc. Some TBers say exact words only, but usually there's plenty of wiggle room. That brings out more creativity. What are they gonna do - fire you?

mouse

Chelydra
Welcome to think right. An absolutely amazing story. I givep you kudos for using the words in order , although for me that is not necessary ( I really would have a difficult time doing that) I accept any tense of the word - past , present & future . Use of the words as plural or singular are fine, What ever works in the story line. Hope to see more from you .

chelydra

Many thanx!

Giraffe: I think the most perversely rigid arbitrary rules are what liberates creativity. Give people freedom and they gaze stupidly at blank paper, minds inert. Give 'em problems to solve and minds start cranking. I vote for no flexibility!

chelydra

Have another? (The list of required words meets a mirror at word number 150.5, and is then reversed. Trying to practice what I was preaching—which was probably just obsessive-compulsive disorder.) No title this time around.

__________________________________________________________________

These Enigma Variations go on forever in my mind, with no hope of an early release. Here’s the mystery: If you could put time-in-a-bottle, what flavor would it be? Has your time been a deep bourbonic amber? Orange soda pop, maybe, sunrise-hued but a bit too fizzy-sweet? Perhaps it’s a viscous emerald poison? Or just plain old water?
Once I was noted for my ability to let my mind wander freely; my teachers always commented on that in my report cards — and all those F’s meant free, as far as I was concerned: free of math, free of history, free, free, free! Every semester I got a whupping from dear old Dad,* but I’d soothe my pride and my sore backside with the knowledge I was forever free. Or so I imagined.
Time passed. I watched it go, idly wondering what it was, and what it meant. The shade descended, the shade deepened, as that wondering grew into a galling vexation and my sunny disposition was indisposed, invalided, invalidated. Nothing could soothe my aching head, nor restore my mind’s ability to wander free. Believe me I tried everything, legal and otherwise, from swallowing fifty glasses of water a day to sipping bootleg absinthe, as if that emerald fire might ignite an ersatz sunrise in my shadowy brain. Pop went the champagne corks. I was in my champagne phase when I first conceived that time-in-a-bottle image.
At that time, I had a hope, even a belief, that this imagery would be the key to the cosmic mystery, and the cure for my metastasizing obsessive-compulsive disorder. Imagining time’s possible colors and flavors, I thought, would leapfrog over the insoluble logical paradox of time’s existence, liberating some sensory intuitive power to slay this abstract dragon: Enigma.
Silly, silly me!
Enigma will outlive us all.

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* Dear old Dad would have been dear old Pop, but he’d have been out of order in that second popping.

giraffe

Chelydra. I like both variations. They kind of fit together - Maxine's enigma and the narrator's OCD. (With my own stories, I'm always thinking of rewriting and expanding. It's like : Now that I used the disciplines for inspiration, I can go back and remove the awkward parts and make something that flows better). If you read them together - starting with the last one and going straight into the first one, it's very cool.

chelydra

hmmm... I'll try that thanks.
Revising is very very tricky - for me anyway - so easy to end with it all cold and deflated, like Maxine at the supermarket door.

giraffe

I think it's 301 with title.

MARCIE

Enigma = imagine = gaming, mange, gemini, gem, mine, gin, mingea, ingame, gnamie.

I can't stop doing this. My ability to construe word spellings has never been recognized - although I am the master of it. Nobody sees my true genious. My wife left me because she was like 'shallow water' - 'wallet whoser'.

She'd say You don't have 'time-in-a-bottle' and I'd say 'let-boat-mint-tie'. She didn't appreciate me or my talents. She told me to my face that she wasn't soothed by my 'twisting of letters'.

"Then you try it." I said. "My 'swingtit of settler' deserves 'recognition' (or at least 'noncoigiter')."

"I hate it!" She screamed.

"I hit tea?" I inquired.

"Go to Hades!!"

"O, got shade?" I replied mischeviously.

"Shut up and listen to me for once! I am 'moving out' and that doesn't mean 'mooing vut !'"

"Marcie, you're getting better at it! How can you leave me when you finally 'vumgoon it'?"

"Peter, I've given you every chance to communicate like a 'normal human being'." She said softly.

Just as my mind was formulating something like What's a 'mailman hemburong' , I heard the door slam. POP. Gone.

She must come back. She's only an intermediate student. She has so much room to grow (or gorm ow trog, as I fondly say). What if she really means it? She's been telling me that we haven't communicated for years, so I'm 'teaching her'. ('cheering hat', you know).

Marcie's been gone for 2 years and I know she's just giving me time to focus on my masterpiece. It's called 'Emerald Sunrise' and the whole novel is made up of words derived from the title. "Me sire, lad Erin's runes are meer meedle." That's just a teaser. Do you see how brilliant I am? Maybe I'll tell you the rest when Marcie comes back.

C'mon, Marcie. I won't work you hard. I'm 'almost done' (stoned loam).

Doug

giraffe: That made my brain hurt and gave me a little chuckle. I think its sleep time....zzzzzz.

mouse

Giraffe Ditto what Doug said

giraffe

I was going for the pedantic, egotistical bore who can't communicate on a personal level, but has some delusion he's always winning. Hope that got through.

mouse

Giraffe, I took it, not as a bore, but as someone who wants to antagonize for the sheer fun of it.