giraffe

Sorry. Just another brain fart. No offense,

Dragon

326 not including title and yes it has all the words.

Doraxis at Dragonsend
Doraxis was sleeping. Nestled beneath the quiet waters of the estuary in a comforting bed of mud and river weeds she could let the current caress her onyx body gently. During the daylight a thousand disturbances from both men and birds inundated her watery world but now it was dusk and the estuary was returning to the quiet ambiguity that Doraxis craved. She could sleep for months if only she were allowed but it was always like this, the noise of the daytime world vanquishing her rest, forcing her to snooze fitfully until dusk and the return of blessed calm. But there was something different tonight. It began as a fleeting whisper of motion from far away, barely enough to catch her attention at all. It quickly rose, a rhythmic sound coming closer and closer and jarring her further and further from her slumber. She soon recognized the sound as the oar strokes, her anger flared her fully awake. Some zealous man was on her estuary at dusk, the daytime noise she tolerated but this was her time and she would show them why they always feared the water after dark had fallen. Pulling her long body out of the muck with no little effort she thrust her head above the water on her sinuous neck and was surprised at what she beheld. A girl just on the brink of womanhood sat in a tiny rowboat staring up into Doraxis’ gaze. The girl had tears on her face and the smell of fear around her but she didn’t stir an inch, just sat transfixed by the creature rising before her. Suddenly Doraxis was at a loss. Reaching out with her mind she felt the girls awe and received her name, Aster. Sudden joy enveloped Doraxis, this was the creature she’d been waiting for all these years. Before Aster could react she pulled her under the gentle waves. It would be good to have a companion again.



This one was a continuation of my story "Aster at Dragonsend" from a few Think Write's ago but I think it stands on its own alright.

ladyhwin

Wow Dragon!! Very nice... now which ThinkWrite has the other one, I'm very curious to read it. : D

Doug

Bravo Dragon! A fine continuation of that tale and yes it does stand on its own just fine. I enjoyed it as much as the original one.

marius

giraffe, tee hee, no offense taken. : )

Dragon ... WOW! Now I want to read the next part!

Doug

giraffe: Definately no offense taken, but......I want to bring the story back to more of the original intent. You have it flourishing with decadence and debauchery (teehee), but I'm going to scale things back and put them in their proper place. Hope you all are having fun with this little give and take we are doing. Thanks for making this fun Ron! With a drum roll please.....I give you....326 +/-2 including title and all the words except for one I think....without further delay....no! midnight, put that whip away! ok here it is I promise....

Mr. Montague
Chapter 3

The house sat brooding over the current occupant so fellow who did not really belong. Mr. Montague never would have stood for it and vanquished the scoundrel the moment he caught wind of his “dirty” smell. In a zealous attempt to rid itself of the one who thinks himself a gigolo and has brought debauchery to the house Montague built the house sat quiet plotting its next move. Somewhere deep in the wine cellar onyx speckled granite whispered to the nombanis wood carved from trees in Borneo. The two were intertwined, as were Mr. Montague and his house. It was his solace, his fortress and his only friend after his wife passed.

A mist rose from the floor of the cellar and floated in wisps around old furniture caressing its curves and angles making its way up into the ceiling where it formed a pillow shaped mass that inundated the ceiling trusses.

The house began to make noises of joy almost like a violin playing classical music for the first time. He was back. Arising out of the mist a shape formed and the long departed Mr. Montague returned to take care of this intruder personally. The well-worn wooden steps leading to the main floor seemed to be on the brink of collapsing as they shook in anticipation of Mr. Montague’s long lost footfalls.

There was nothing ambiguous about neither his return nor his intent. He was going to kill the young man who dared turn his house into a “playboy” brothel.

This was no ghostly presence; he was as solid as the gold he made his fortune on. He trudged up the steps and made his way to the first floor where he found the young haberdasher munching on caviar as if he owned the place. Mr. Montague entered the kitchen.

Mr. Montague got what he wanted. He always did…

The house that Montague built let out a little giggle and all was quiet.

Dragon

Doug and giraffe, quite a collaberation! Think Write just wouldn't be Think Write without a good creepy ghost story would it.

As for the original story of mine which Doraxis is a continuation of it was in a thread where marius was the torch bearer and had added the very excellent word "Quixmickle". I keep all my stories on file so I thought it would be easier to simply post the story here. So this one has nothing to do with Nylecoj's word list or anything.

Aster at Dragonsend (Jan 24/10)

Aster’s hands hurt. She felt like she’d been rowing for hours. Her pride hurt too and as she rowed she kept up a constant stream of cursing at fool girls who let themselves be goaded by fool boys. Here she was just 2 weeks past graduating valedictorian and she let herself to take a stupid dare. The fact that it wasn’t Jason’s fault didn’t escape her, he’d been joking when he suggested someone cross the Dragonsend Estuary in a row boat but she hated the way the others laughed and she’d stepped forward loaded with prickly bravado she. No, she wasn’t actually angry with Jason but being angry was the only thing keeping the hot tears from welling over as she saw that once again what she thought was solid ground was just another patch of reeds and cattails. Her aunt would say this was a fine quixmickle she’d gotten herself into, but at least she would have said it with affection. When Aster started out across the estuary the sun had hung low in the sky but the kites were still darting through the sky. Now dusk had all but fallen and she could hear the warbling cries of loons sounding not far away. As the sun sank she gave in to her tears and thought of her aunts warnings of strange creatures that lived in and around the estuary. Tales of how Dragonsend got its name in the first place. She’d always thought it was the rum speaking but now out on the water with the shadows so long it was hard to see she could make the connection to all the stories. When the full moon rose and lit the night like a lamp she almost said hallelujah until she heard the sound behind her. Rising from the water was a huge reptile head on a long sinuous neck, eyes glowing in the moonlight. Indeed this was Dragonsend.

Nylecoj

Awesome stories guys!!! Giraffe, Doug, Dragon! Glad you all stayed busy. Only two days left to ring out the last of your stories for this list, and you are making the choosing very tough!

giraffe

Gee, Doug. I was about to throw a porn theater in there right next to the bowling alley in the basement, but that was a really good Ch. 3. I think it deserves a girl popping up out of a cake. lol. I get it. Stay on track.

giraffe

326 words. Plus about 10. I added a couple characters just to see. Might work and might not. Got all them wurds in tho.

MONTAGUE Ch. 4. "Clara"

"I may have lost track of where I am." Mr. Montague whispered. "I can actually hear myself speak. Have I vanquished my own death?"

"I'm talking louder, I'm still here. It's time to find that fool who inundated MY home with disgusting contemporary art. Look at that ambiguous one! You can't tell whether those are her eyes or nostrils. Shame. Where are you Jason?" Then louder, "Where are you Jason? I want my paintings back the way they were in 1805."

He walked the halls in the same suit he was buried in - kind of ragged by now - screaming "Jason, where are you?" His fleeting glances into the rooms showed him a whole array of electronic equipment, flashing lights and big moving pictures in boxes. "It's your grandfather, Jason. Come see me immediately!"

Just before breaking down the bedroom door, Montague saw 'her' at the top of the stairs. It was Clara, his wife How he desired to zealuosly carress her. It once was his only joy to feel her warmth and know her strength. When he ran to her, his arms went right through her. Montague knew this was really her. She's unable to sense or feel, but she's here!

"What do you want now, Grandpa?" Jason said from inside his room, "I'll let you in, but you better know I'm on the brink of some interesting conversation with a lady in here."

"Go to her, Jason. I'll leave you alone. Just put a few of my paintings back. Deal?"

"Sure, Gramps."

Clara said "That was real big of you, old coot. You're an obsessive creep and you're still in limbo."

"I love you, too, Clara, or is that your real name."

"That you will find out in time Darling. Go back to the cellar and we'll call you when you're needed. She is the right one for him you know?"

"I give them my blessing - if they'll put the pictures back. Maybe just a few." 44=310

"Don't forget the mines, Dear. Forget your damned pictures. It's theirs now. Go back and thank you for the blessing. Jesus! Get over it!"

Poof.

giraffe

44=310 was just word counting. It's probably wrong anyway. Delete.

giraffe

Jason, Mr. Montague, Clara and the unknowm woman. Hmmmmm

morshy

Almost exactly 100 words over (not including the title. Please don't include the title!!!). Sorry 'bout that.

Moving On

Onyx the dog was patrolling the yard. The name was either given as a joke (because he was a Golden Retriever) or it was part of his official, thoroughbred title. He turned a couple of lazy circles and gently plopped himself down in a shaft of sunlight. He rested his muzzle on his paws and closed his eyes. Seeing her chance, Joy sprinted for the treasure. She hadn’t made it a few steps before Onyx sprang up, barked once and bounded after her. Onyx leapt, and Joy shrieked.

Joy was still shrieking with laughter when her mother came into the yard. She was carrying a bag of groceries in one arm and talking into her cell. She climbed the stairs to the porch and headed straight into the house. Joy was being inundated with big, wet kisses. Onyx was standing over her, and she was the vanquished foe at his feet. He drooled slobbery saliva over her, sending her into fresh paroxysms of laughter.

In the house, Joy’s mother looked out onto the dusty yard. Fresh tears welled in her eyes, but on the brink of falling, she blinked them away. The feelings were fleeting now, but they crept up on her gently, like a zealous lover’s soft caress and tested her resolve, opening new wells of despair. She had to be strong, and not just for her own sake, but for her daughter as well. She picked up the cell, not sure she would be able to trust her own voice. He answered on the first ring.

“Dave,” she whispered hoarsely. “I love you.”

Joy was leaning against Onyx’s flanks, basking in the summer sun, when the yellow moving van pulled up in front of the house. Dave got out of the driver’s side door, and walked briskly up to the porch. He lifted 2 boxes and took them to the van.

“Is that everything?” He asked, to which her mother only nodded. “I’ll come back and get the rest in the morning.” He walked back to the van, and her mother followed. She paused at the gate, and Joy was sure she would turn round and call out for her, but head down, she opened the passenger door and got in. Nothing ambiguous about this, her mother was abandoning her. The van signalled, and pulled away from the kerb. Joy got to her feet. The van was half way down the street and getting further away. She raced out into the street, opened her mouth to scream after her mother, and the car that hit her from behind didn’t stop. Just like the last time.

Doug

giraffe: Bravo, a more "fitting" (lol) continuation of the Montague story line. I might just have to write chapter 5. I hope Nylecoj isn't getting tired of us yet. And I must say I've enjoyed our collaboration and the wicked and whimsical ghost story we have weaved in this thread!

Dragon: I think "Quixmickle" is just about the best damn word we've ever had in ThinkWrite (thanks marius) although I think I took the wind out of her sails when I referred to it in a feminine hygiene way. ROFL!

Doug

Nylecoj, I think you have your hands full this time. We've been very, very bad at not following the rules. I promised we all tried, right guys and gals?

Nylecoj

No, not tired yet!!! LOL love your story guys, keep writing! And love the word quixmickle too!

Morshy...WOW!!! ummm, wow....!

Doug

ok, here we go again. Thanks to Ron I had to continue the story of Mr. Montague and it does sort of have an ending, but Ron may have other plans which is fine by me. 325 words including title...

Mr. Montague
Chapter 5

Jason, as promised, vanquished a few of his modern art pieces and put his grandfather’s antique paintings back up. His grandfather was especially joyous that Jason put up the large portrait he had done back in, oh god, he could not remember. His memories were fainter now that he no longer had a physical presence, but other senses were more acute.

Montague spent most of his time tending to the surrounding gardens of the estate. He was quite adept at making fleeting orbs appear to shape the foliage or cause a garden rake to levitate and tend to the flowerbeds. His sense of hearing was so keen he could hear the whispers from the master bedroom of his grandson and “that” woman planning their impending nuptials. He heard other things but Clara used her own power over him to block those out most of the time. Not wanting to be a voyeur, but always with and ear to the ground on knowing everything, he would often catch glimpses of the passion that Jason and Lenora, yes that was her name, shared.

Clara reappeared right in front of Montague. “Jason, you must leave those kids alone!” “You gave them your blessing and if it is one thing you have always been zealous about it is your honor” Inundated with guilt once again, Montague promised his love that he would abide by his word.

Ambiguously diligent about details Montague banished himself to the only spot that would ensure that he not interferes. His gold mine on Rye road would due just fine. He arrived with a “poof” and spotted the onyx-speckled sign reading Montague Mine #5.

There he spent the rest of his limbo often getting to caress Clara who would appear every time he felt a little low. The one who built an empire on diligence, hard work and his quixmickle attitude had changed slightly in the afterlife. He found his heart.

Doug

Wow Morshy! Welcome to the ghost factory ThinkWrite XLI. I think marius has passed out by now. Midnightpoet has to be designing a new tatoo with "dead things" as the centerpiece and the ghost of "Q" is sure to pop out and say "boo" eventually....Goodnight all, sweet dreams....

mouse

Marius; Thank you for the song, I enjoyed it--sorry you can't get it out of your mind, it is catchy.

I have not had time this round to write --will try next time. But i really loved all the tales.

marius

mouse, glad you liked that song. It does stick in the mind doesn't it - at least it's one I like! : )

Doug, marius has not passed out. She's been writing up storms, but too long and blah blah ... have not even caught up reading on this TW. Will get to that soon. Meanwhile ...