giraffe

Marius isn't allowed to apologize for hogging CyberSpace. Inspirations should never be restricted - even it's about something uncomfortable for some. The game of competing for Torch Bearer is only that. Let it flow (and that IS a pun). One of our talk show hosts in Denver says that he thanks God every day that he wasn't born a woman. I think creativity and giving birth are siblings in the big picture. Take that!

giraffe

Doug. I saw 2 usage errors. HERE my cries should be HEAR, and THERE mind should be THEIR. But editing is what your story is about and I liked it a lot. The story is very cool. Don't worry about usage. Let an editor do that. They make good $$ to do it.

giraffe

Way under word count and usage. Just a news report.

BUNNY ATTACK (Ch 2)

"You can all come out of your basements now. The bunnies have disappered. Mama's been freed from jail and Detective Morrison is attempting to arrest Pope Benedict instead. It's being alleged that Benedict's compliance in her molestation is a criminal offense. The mystic, Mama, has shown that she was not the criminal in this bunny attack. The pope was. And she had no control over the release of the bunnies.

"My Easter used to be about bunnies, little chicks and eggs." Mama said, "All of the signs of Spring fertility. Now I can't even be fertile myself because of that bad man."

"You have to forgive him. He's only a man."

"That's not what HE says. Listen, the bunnies are gone so let's just drop it."

My Mama always taught us to be true to ourselves. She didn't practice it so well, but she tried to get us to.

She was changed after the bunnies.

marius

LOL giraffe, and ... erm ... reading that, marius wondered if she'd had a nip and forgotten it! Naw, maybe just residue from the afternoon nap. (giggle)
Take that!

marius

giraffe, "marius isn't allowed to apologize for hogging CyberSpace" - okay, thank you for that. Loved the other ideas there too and laughed at your pun! Inspirations are still coming! We are "competing" to win torch-bearer ... just thought we're all writing for fun.

Mouse, you out there? Really do want to know about your gypsy costume.

Want to share something that struck me as funny. Read that a fun practice is to try to write something completely horrible - on purpose! The person who said this, said it is NOT possible: some part of it will be good no matter how hard you try to bungle it. : )

Time now for sharing of a quote. It's by Sweadish poet Tomas Transtromer (put two dot things over the 'o' in his last name). He said, "Deep in the forest there's an unexpected clearing that can be reached only by someone who has lost his way."

marius has lost her way MANY times (might even do it today but hope not cause there are other plans), but have found that clearing now and then. It's lovely!

Wishing all in TW-land a wonderful day!

giraffe

Marius, get lost.

Dragon

marius, I think I've been to that clearing but once I knew where it was I couldn't find my way back again.

mouse

Marius-- you really want to know about my Halloween gypsy costume ????

Well from about the age of 6 to 12 I was always dressed as a gypsy ( or my idea of one--from movies) My mom would made me a really full , multicolored, skirt.. I wore a simple blouse with a round neck and puffy, short sleeves and lots of jewelery- necklaces, bangle bracelets, and big hoop earrings ( these were my older sisters) .A bandanna or scarf completed my outfit. I have one picture taken when i was 9. ( Yeak!!!!)

mouse

Oh, by the way, I write for the fun of it and to get feed back from you guys and gals- so i can improve. . I don't look at it as a competition.

I sometimes feel funny having my story picked as i think the other stories are far better than mine. ( not looking for sympathy or praise here, it's just how i truly feel.

I really enjoy this forum

mouse

Giraffe-- What black & white drawing?? Are you referring to the owl?

giraffe

Yeah, Mouse. Doug's new drawing has a symetrical image just like your owl. I wasn't thinking.

giraffe

Over on words 274? More is on is Morrison.

DANCE WITH MARTA

I was dancing a sensual tango with Marta against the background of the purples and browns of the sunset. I gazed into her eyes full of tears. The moon was barely visible in the East and the only music was me singing songs about our better days. Our movements had the mystic flow of excitement.

As I eyed the cleavage of the girl I was to marry, all I wanted was to dispell her tears. Nothing was working. I sang sweetly "More is on horizon. Look at the sunset. Look at the moon. Happiness is all around us."

On that line she lost it. She ran to the van and locked the doors. She was sobbing. I pried my way in through the side-door windows.

"Marta, please tell me what is the matter?" I tried to hold her but she pushed me away.

"I've already told you. Just go."

Do we have to go through this again? I've been called to war. I must defend my countrymen."

"Look at that sunset." she was crying, "That's not what you're defending, It's what you're ruining for your stupid war."

"Let's go dance some more. We only have tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"I can't handle this." Her tears were finally gone - replaced with anger. I was glad.

"Will you wait for me, Marta?"

"No. Go away. I'll never see you again."

I ripped open her blouse and took her tenderly. "I love you, Marta."

"You love your war more than me."

That was the last time we made love. She didn't even come to my funeral.

belladonnis

The Jaunt


Morrison, or Morris to his family, sauntered down the dark ally. He was in a wandering mood, tired of being confined by the walls of his house and the fences of his yard. A caravan of sounds and smells hit him with each step drawing him deeper into the night.
Morris settles on a sidewalk bench near The Mystic Dance Club. A raunchy strip joint that never fails to stir his curiosity. What happens behind those doors? What was it that made the men that staggered out grab the first girl on the corner and draw her down the ally? He knew what happened in the ally. He had witnessed it many times, hiding in the shadows hearing the grunts and groans, the occasional muffled scream after the sound of a stinging slap. Such strange behaivor, he thought.
Slipping off the bench he continues on his jaunt, the smell of the river filling his nose. A van caught his attention, a dark capsule rolling down the road. Usually things of this nature didnt draw him but this one his intuition told him was a dangerous thing.
At the river he climbs an old wooden fence,the water glistening under the full moon. The van is there next to the water, long brown hair spilling to the ground from the open door. A man he has seen many times from the club pulls her body from the dark hateful place and dumps her in the cold water. Morris the cat, with his tail swishing back and forth realizes its time to go home.

belladonnis

Loved all the stories! I havent done this in a while, it was fun to try again! Cant wait to read more!

morshy

New poster, please be gentle. Nt sure I've got this right, but as I understand it, you incorporate all the words, in a short story, no more than 256 words long...? If that's the case, I humbly submit the following:

Blood. When it dries, it doesn’t stay red. It turns brown. Morrison took one look at the stain on the wall, at the glassy stare of the brown eyed girl, and let out a long, low sigh.

The forensics van pulled up outside, the technicians working with a sombre grace, but efficient speed. Though the moon was still low in the sky, it wouldn’t be long before the news vultures got hold of this one, before the media caravan reported the details to a waking public, most of whom would only want to stare into the depths of their coffee cups and not think about the day ahead.

The Mystic had led them a merry dance. The media had christened the killer The Mystic due to calling cards, Tarot cards, he left at the scene, and because he would always call the police with a prediction, stating when the next body would be found.

The rage built slowly inside Morrison. With the body count at 8, it didn’t seem like he could do a damn thing about it. The bodies were piling up, and the time between killings was getting shorter. The Mystic had the city in the grip of fear, and he wasn’t getting ready to let go any time soon.

Sighing again, he walked to the front of the house, nodding at the techs he’d come to know over the course of the case. As he stepped over the threshold, his cell beeped. He pressed the phone to his ear. Despatch calling. Another body.

giraffe

belladonis. alley cats have the "e". Ally is a friend in battle. The story is great. It's neat how cats are so aware but indifferent. You captured that.

giraffe

Morshy San. Chilling story and cool word usage. You slipped the key words in very naturally.

marius

Oh giraffe, this is terrible! Your comment to ‘get lost’ has inspired more!

[Morrison got changed to the feminine ... Madelyn.] tee hee


The Clearing

The girl awoke; moonlight spilled in her window. She heard her father’s van start up for work. She shivered. Madelyn, age six, just had the best dream ever!

It was at the ocean. She stood on the dune and eyed her surroundings. Her family was in the house. They were screaming. No matter, she was alone!

Suddenly an old brown sled appeared at her feet, the mystic vehicle that would take her into otherworldly spaces.

It was always this way. During the next several decades this dream visited thirty-some times before it finally joined the caravan of other dreams, went where they go when their work is finished.

She sledded down the dune. Sometimes it was covered with snow, other times with sand. Sometimes she wore winter clothes, sometimes a swimsuit.

She discovered that what changed the weather and the clothing was what she thought. If she thought it silly to sled on sand, it changed to snow. If she thought it silly to wear winter clothes into the ocean, she found herself wearing a swimsuit. Then she realized nothing changed: it was winter and summer at the same time! That was harder to see than just one of the two, but she saw it anyway.

Sometimes she was a girl watching at the side. The watching-girl was silent, full of awe. What a joy to see your other self sled down a hill, laughing. Many times she saw the watching-girl and knew she could trade places. They were the same.

And, they loved each other.

marius

mouse - Thank you!!! See, now I want to know more about this little girl who was a gypsy for six years. No, am not asking you to elaborate, but curiosity is piqued. Sometime about this makes me love that kid ... the outfit, I can just see it, see her. Bet that picture is really quite darling and not 'yeak' at all! : )

giraffe - Dance with Martha - ending surprised. Have known women who marry into the military and then are angry about absences and possibilities. Seems Martha made the right choice for her.

Belladonnis, great to see you in here! Yes to what giraffe said - cat perspective.

morshy - welcome to ThinkWrite! Agree with giraffe: enjoyed how you used the word list, fit the story with ease! Seems like your story could have a part II, etc.

ladyhwin

Okay... no title... 256 words.


It was like watching grass grow, this waiting. The little girl yawned, her eyes drifting away to the lake, where a small boat patrolled as she sat in the top branches just above the garden.
She eyed the little cottage warily, trying to see into the dark windows and find out whether Shazana was within. Having never seen the mystic one before, she was curious.
Morrison had told her that the woman was distant but kind, stern and unforgiving but nonjudgmental. She had resisted but what could she do?
The man had guarded her for four years on the promise made by her father of money when he returned. The little girl could only just recall her parents, leaving in their small van on a quiet street in a big city. Her uncle had treated her well for a time. He had purchased things from traveling caravans beyond what he could afford on the pretense of his soon being most wealthy.
But now she was a nuisance, an outcast. So her uncle had sent her far away to the mysterious woman who took unwanted children.
So now she waited, the garden tempting her to dance. Yet she held back, some unknown force restraining her.
The door opened and three persons stepped into the light of the shining moon. The one with the flowing gown was Shazana, tall and beautiful. The other two, a man and a woman...
The girl’s breath came in sharply. She leapt and ran, brown hair flying, uttering long-silent, almost-forgotten words.
“Mommy! Daddy!”