topic: Building Blocks
Nancy sat daydreaming. What would her day be like? Here she was in the big city, looking for a new job. What she wouldn’t give to be able to review that class she took on interpretive business. She felt like she was going out on a limb!
All the ad said was, looking for business major interested in unique approaches to helping derelict youths, handicapped, and elderly to find success opportunities in areas of unusual but useful services that would lead to new business ventures (new companies) that could make a difference in communities. Who could do that? Who could understand what it meant?
Still, it left her mind bristling with the possibilities! Everyone knew Nancy was a very unique thinker in the business arena, doing the impossible, making inroads in very unusual places, with a keen sense of timing that was almost uncanny.
A soft breeze fluttered through her wispy hair. How she missed the delicate snowflakes and the crisp air of Acadia. Determined in her goal, she deliberately tossed her head and pushed her thoughts forward to the city dump.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, I’m Ms Nancy Selman. I have an appointment to see Mr. Boulder.”
“I will let him know you’re here.”
Certainly the offices were no ordinary setting to even the casual observer; they were in stark contrast to the rest of the surroundings like a beautiful lake to a smelly mud puddle. Or a beautiful mansion to a lean-to.
“Mr. Boulder will see you now.”
“Ms Selman! I am honored to finally meet you! Please have a seat. I have followed your business ventures with great interest!”
Mr Boulder offered sparkling grape juice or ice water with a deliberate flair. Would she care for some imported chocolates? Would she have another book published soon? Had she read his latest book? He was so gracious, she wondered if he would get to the subject of her purpose in being there.
As she sat in her crisp business suit sipping her beverage, Nancy perceived that Mr Boulder would hire her immediately, at any cost, if only she dared to accept the position.
Mr Boulder breathed a great sigh of relief as Nancy acknowledged her sincere interest in the project. Would she accept?
“Draw up the papers. Can you have them ready by Friday?”
“Gladly! Thank you! Thank you!” he exclaimed as he fairly bounced around the room.
As she was leaving, her thoughts turned again to Acadia. Soon she would return to Acadia.
M A Williamson Copyright © 2008
Showing posts with label Building Blocks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Building Blocks. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
CAT MAGIC
Coated in black, the cat is almost invisible in the darkness of the alley. It's green eyes glow, illuminated by some unknown power within. He sniffs at a stagnant puddle not yet dried from last week's rains.
A young tabby furtively enters the alley. She shies away from the dumpster's visible fumes. She sees the green eyes, and hesitates before asking, "Are you Merlin?"
"Call me what you will," he shrugged. "What do you wish of me?" Cats from all over the city had come to see him about one thing or another. It seemed as though each one had a different name for him. Like humans, cats picked whatever name seemed to fit the feline they were addressing.
"I-I want a tom... one that will stay with me... that won't leave when I am pregnant."
"You ask for a tom to go against his nature. To be something he is not."
"I know it sounds preposterous, but..."
"I will not do that to a tom."
The tabby hung her head. "There is nothing you can do then?"
"No. I can, but I won't. You have to find your own way."
"What way?"
"That is for you to discover."
"You won't tell me?"
"Information told is information forgotten. Information learned is a lesson kept and remembered."
The tabby sat and watched him for a long time. Finally, she rose and left the alley.
The black cat, sometimes called Merlin, also left the alley, licking his forepaw as he levitated up onto the roof of the apartment building where he lived. When he landed, he entered a small cat door at the bottom the roof access door, and descended the stairs to his small apartment.
He passed through the main room which felt much smaller than it was, due to all the clutter. He stepped lightly over books and papers and around a large chemistry set that took up a quarter of the room. Merlin had learned many things from his human, including the levitation trick he had just performed.
"Ah, there you are, my furry friend. Been watching the pigeons again, have you?" said the old white-bearded man, emerging from the kitchen.
Merlin rubbed against his leg and purred.
"I have a surprise for you." The old man picked up his cat and took him to a kitchen so small it was more of a closet than a kitchen. He set Merlin down at his food dish. Merlin growled. There was another cat there, eating his food. The female tabby lifted her head and grinned.
"I heard her meowing outside. The poor thing is half starved. She'll make a wonderful companion for you," said the old man, walking out the door. "It will be nice to have kittens in the house again," he mused from the other room.
The two cats stared at each other. Merlin growled again. He wanted to pummel this queen. Kittens indeed! Not if he had anything to say about it!
The tabby continued to look smug. "You told me to solve my own problem. What better way to get what I want than to be adopted by a human with a tom?" she purred.
"How did you know the old man would take you in?"
"Cats are known the world over as watchers."
"How did you get in here before I did?"
"You're the magician. You tell me," she purred and rubbed up against him.
He wanted to hiss and strike out at her, but as she rubbed up against him, a wild and forgotten instinct roared within him. It was pleasant... She was getting what she wanted from him! He shot out of the room, up the stairs and out his cat door. He sat on the roof, gasping for breath. He heard a clearing of the throat beside him. It was the tabby. "How?"
"You may call me Hera."
Elizabeth Williamson Copyright © 2008
A young tabby furtively enters the alley. She shies away from the dumpster's visible fumes. She sees the green eyes, and hesitates before asking, "Are you Merlin?"
"Call me what you will," he shrugged. "What do you wish of me?" Cats from all over the city had come to see him about one thing or another. It seemed as though each one had a different name for him. Like humans, cats picked whatever name seemed to fit the feline they were addressing.
"I-I want a tom... one that will stay with me... that won't leave when I am pregnant."
"You ask for a tom to go against his nature. To be something he is not."
"I know it sounds preposterous, but..."
"I will not do that to a tom."
The tabby hung her head. "There is nothing you can do then?"
"No. I can, but I won't. You have to find your own way."
"What way?"
"That is for you to discover."
"You won't tell me?"
"Information told is information forgotten. Information learned is a lesson kept and remembered."
The tabby sat and watched him for a long time. Finally, she rose and left the alley.
The black cat, sometimes called Merlin, also left the alley, licking his forepaw as he levitated up onto the roof of the apartment building where he lived. When he landed, he entered a small cat door at the bottom the roof access door, and descended the stairs to his small apartment.
He passed through the main room which felt much smaller than it was, due to all the clutter. He stepped lightly over books and papers and around a large chemistry set that took up a quarter of the room. Merlin had learned many things from his human, including the levitation trick he had just performed.
"Ah, there you are, my furry friend. Been watching the pigeons again, have you?" said the old white-bearded man, emerging from the kitchen.
Merlin rubbed against his leg and purred.
"I have a surprise for you." The old man picked up his cat and took him to a kitchen so small it was more of a closet than a kitchen. He set Merlin down at his food dish. Merlin growled. There was another cat there, eating his food. The female tabby lifted her head and grinned.
"I heard her meowing outside. The poor thing is half starved. She'll make a wonderful companion for you," said the old man, walking out the door. "It will be nice to have kittens in the house again," he mused from the other room.
The two cats stared at each other. Merlin growled again. He wanted to pummel this queen. Kittens indeed! Not if he had anything to say about it!
The tabby continued to look smug. "You told me to solve my own problem. What better way to get what I want than to be adopted by a human with a tom?" she purred.
"How did you know the old man would take you in?"
"Cats are known the world over as watchers."
"How did you get in here before I did?"
"You're the magician. You tell me," she purred and rubbed up against him.
He wanted to hiss and strike out at her, but as she rubbed up against him, a wild and forgotten instinct roared within him. It was pleasant... She was getting what she wanted from him! He shot out of the room, up the stairs and out his cat door. He sat on the roof, gasping for breath. He heard a clearing of the throat beside him. It was the tabby. "How?"
She purred, "I have my own secrets."
"Why me?"
"You are unique. You left the choice to me. Very generous for a tomcat. Besides, you did say there was something you could do."
"Who are you?"
"You may call me Hera."
His green eyes widened. He knew that name. Like him, she had many others, but this one suited her best. He shuddered. "And I am your Zeus," he said dully.
She purred.
Elizabeth Williamson Copyright © 2008
The Haircut
Before I begin I just want to #1 thank you for inviting me to your blog so thank you - #2 as I have read some of your stories I realize that I am very much an amateur and if I knew a word that meant less that amateur I would surely use it. So in all fairness I should warn you that I am absolutely atrocious in grammar, spelling, and especially punctuation. You see in school I didn't listen to the teacher when it came to English I would be too busy writing my grammarless, misspelled, run-on sentence stories. So you have been forewarned but I do promise to take advice and work on my shortcomings so that you won't have to bare it for too long.
It has been at least 20 years since that haircut but I will never ever forget it. It was school picture day and I was so excited (being only 8 I didn't know yet that you should despise getting your picture taken and shun anyone with a camera.) I woke up bright and early though at 4:30 nothing is bright. It being school picture day the early hour seemed needed to get myself sufficiently ready for my 9:30 class. After all picture day was only the best day of the year (well, besides the day before all holiday breaks when all the teachers were too tired to teach.) The first thing I did as most normal people do is I headed for the bathroom. While sitting on the "throne" I saw a pair of shiny silver scissors. They weren't just any scissors though they were my mom's special top of the line Fiskars that usually were kept in a blue box hidden very carefully. "Why are they here?" I wondered. It was probably the usual suspect - my father. I don't know why my dad always took things from my mom especially her most prized possessions. I remember many a time when mom would be looking for a knife, or pan, or a certain towel only to find it bent, broken, or covered in paint. I don't know why a man who would tell us kids anytime we broke something "that's why we can't have nice things" would do this. But anyway back to the forbidden scissors. They begged to be touched, held, and caressed. I picked them up, they were nice and heavy just perfect for cutting but now what to cut? I looked around that bathroom daring anything to catch my eye: the towel - no I'd surely get spanked for that, the toilet paper - not enough fun. Then I caught my own reflection in the mirror. I looked at my frizzy wild bed head. 'Hmmm' I thought, 'my bangs are much too long especially for picture day.' I gathered all my bangs into one hand, grabbed the scissors, and "snip." I put my hands down to look at my work and noticed that my bangs were crooked. So once again I gathered, grabbed, then snipped. But they still were crooked. I was beginning to doubt my hair styling abilities when finally I had gotten them straight. I had also cut them right against my forehead. Suddenly I felt sick. I kept pulling at the little bristles jutting out of my head willing them to grow. Delirium was setting in. I was dead. Dead! My face drained of all color as I hid the evidence. I stumbled to my bedroom eyes wide with dread for what was to come. Then it came to me, at church I heard the bishop say that with faith anything is possible and that God can do anything. So I got down on my knees and crumbled into my pillow. "Heavenly Father I know I shouldn't have" I began (and strangly enough that is how many of my prayers begin now) "cut my bangs and I'm very, very sorry but please let my bangs grow back by the time my mom gets up." I said this over and over and over again until I thought He really felt how important this matter was. I climbed back into bed with my floral "picture day" dress on and waited for my miracle. Then the dreaded hour came when mom started waking up all us kids one by one. When she got to me all I heard was a gasp of horror and a four letter word. I sighed. 'I hate picture day.'
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
The Hunted Man
Building Blocks
The Hunted Man
by Ken Chandler
Copyright © 2008
I’d taken refuge from the storm under an overhanging canvas tarp, my hair and clothes were soaked and dripping a puddle on the concrete sidewalk beneath me; evidence of the tempest that raged mere feet away. The sign painted on the window of the now dark shop read, “Valini’s”. I silently wished that the store were open so I could ask if they sold umbrellas. My own hung on a hook by the front door of my apartment.
The storm didn’t appear to be lightening in the slightest, if anything, the sounds of raindrops thrashing the night around me seemed to be getting louder. A coin operated newspaper vending machine stood near the door of the shop, and it struck me that I could use a newspaper to keep the rain out of my eyes. I reached into my pocket and found several coins, one of them larger than the others. A quarter, I sighed with relief.
As I drew the money out of my pants pocket I noticed a massive figure standing motionless under the street lamp on the corner opposite my own. His wide rimmed hat cast deep shadows across his face, making him unrecognizable. The storm overhead unleashed torrents of rain down upon the stranger. Large drops of water danced on his trench coat, creating a halo effect immediately around his person. I admit, that my blood ran cold as I looked on the forbidding man.
In my anxiety, I felt my fingers slacken and the quarter fell from my hand. A crisp ring of metal on concrete sounded above the tumult of the storm. To my horror I saw the man take a deliberate step toward me, his foot sinking ankle deep in a roadside puddle without taking notice of it, his full attention on me alone. I recoiled into the newspaper stand, and he was half way across the street before I regained sense enough to move my leaden feet. I staggered backward into the rain soaked streets, every step sent up a spray, soaking my pant legs. Seeing through the sheets of rain was impossible, and I shielded my hand over my eyes, and ran. Looking backward over my shoulder I inadvertently stepped off the sidewalk and fell headlong into the gutter with a splash. Sputtering and choking, I scrambled to my feet and blinking water out of my eyes, I looked around to see that the hulking man was less than 10 feet away and closing the distance. I sprang to my feet and sprinted to the end of the block. Upon reaching the corner, I turned to see that the man, who had without running, stayed close behind me, and in my hesitation had again closed the gap.
I rounded the corner and ran another block before stopping to look back and saw that he was again within 15 feet of me, his hands clenched into fists, his silhouetted figure driving through the downpour like a freight train through fog. What the man wanted with me, I did not know. What reason he relentlessly pursued me, I couldn’t fathom. And so I ran, in preservation of my life, I ran, all the while my mind raced with thoughts of what earthly thing I could have done to cause this man to hunt me with such tenacity. The cold in me ran fathoms deep; into the very marrow of my bones; my breath came in ragged gasps, my muscles began to weaken, and still my pursuer with unrelenting energy bore down on me.
By some miracle, through the driving rain I saw that I was within 100 yards of my apartment, my salvation. And so with the last vestiges of strength and with shoes weighed down with grief and fatigue, I trudged on; first reaching the base of the steps, and then the landing. With my heart thrilled with terror, I groped a shriveled and near-frozen hand into my sodden clothing and produced a key, drove it into the keyhole. Then my muscles seized with terror as I heard a splash on the steps directly behind me. A large hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. The voice that rumbled from the shadowed face rasped. “I’ve been waiting to give you this.”
I saw a flash of silver, and with a lighting thrust, and he handed me the quarter I’d dropped.
The Hunted Man
by Ken Chandler
Copyright © 2008
I’d taken refuge from the storm under an overhanging canvas tarp, my hair and clothes were soaked and dripping a puddle on the concrete sidewalk beneath me; evidence of the tempest that raged mere feet away. The sign painted on the window of the now dark shop read, “Valini’s”. I silently wished that the store were open so I could ask if they sold umbrellas. My own hung on a hook by the front door of my apartment.
The storm didn’t appear to be lightening in the slightest, if anything, the sounds of raindrops thrashing the night around me seemed to be getting louder. A coin operated newspaper vending machine stood near the door of the shop, and it struck me that I could use a newspaper to keep the rain out of my eyes. I reached into my pocket and found several coins, one of them larger than the others. A quarter, I sighed with relief.
As I drew the money out of my pants pocket I noticed a massive figure standing motionless under the street lamp on the corner opposite my own. His wide rimmed hat cast deep shadows across his face, making him unrecognizable. The storm overhead unleashed torrents of rain down upon the stranger. Large drops of water danced on his trench coat, creating a halo effect immediately around his person. I admit, that my blood ran cold as I looked on the forbidding man.
In my anxiety, I felt my fingers slacken and the quarter fell from my hand. A crisp ring of metal on concrete sounded above the tumult of the storm. To my horror I saw the man take a deliberate step toward me, his foot sinking ankle deep in a roadside puddle without taking notice of it, his full attention on me alone. I recoiled into the newspaper stand, and he was half way across the street before I regained sense enough to move my leaden feet. I staggered backward into the rain soaked streets, every step sent up a spray, soaking my pant legs. Seeing through the sheets of rain was impossible, and I shielded my hand over my eyes, and ran. Looking backward over my shoulder I inadvertently stepped off the sidewalk and fell headlong into the gutter with a splash. Sputtering and choking, I scrambled to my feet and blinking water out of my eyes, I looked around to see that the hulking man was less than 10 feet away and closing the distance. I sprang to my feet and sprinted to the end of the block. Upon reaching the corner, I turned to see that the man, who had without running, stayed close behind me, and in my hesitation had again closed the gap.
I rounded the corner and ran another block before stopping to look back and saw that he was again within 15 feet of me, his hands clenched into fists, his silhouetted figure driving through the downpour like a freight train through fog. What the man wanted with me, I did not know. What reason he relentlessly pursued me, I couldn’t fathom. And so I ran, in preservation of my life, I ran, all the while my mind raced with thoughts of what earthly thing I could have done to cause this man to hunt me with such tenacity. The cold in me ran fathoms deep; into the very marrow of my bones; my breath came in ragged gasps, my muscles began to weaken, and still my pursuer with unrelenting energy bore down on me.
By some miracle, through the driving rain I saw that I was within 100 yards of my apartment, my salvation. And so with the last vestiges of strength and with shoes weighed down with grief and fatigue, I trudged on; first reaching the base of the steps, and then the landing. With my heart thrilled with terror, I groped a shriveled and near-frozen hand into my sodden clothing and produced a key, drove it into the keyhole. Then my muscles seized with terror as I heard a splash on the steps directly behind me. A large hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. The voice that rumbled from the shadowed face rasped. “I’ve been waiting to give you this.”
I saw a flash of silver, and with a lighting thrust, and he handed me the quarter I’d dropped.
TOPIC: Building Blocks
Use 3 or more words from each category within the context of the story of your choice. These categories/words are building blocks. I hope you have fun with this, I did!
I really look forward to seeing what you come up with. (I suggest copying and pasting the words into the header of your document, for easy reference.)
NOUN:
gate, alien, veil, safe, porch, jewel, barrel, cat, time, thunder, alibi, noise, snowflake, shard, book, towel, spy, lake, cave, rain, clock, street lamp, candle, boat, magic, pillow, chandelier, mop, drawer, secret panel, ring, curl, knife
VERB:
levitate, generate, miss, sigh, crumble, wiggle, promise, perceived, daring, curl, illuminate, gesture, splash, load, plummet, thrust, light, stumble, catapult, noise, spy, jab, lip, scamper, skid, pounce, nibble, hop, perceive, thundered, pummel, dump
ADJECTIVE:
massive, slushy, hooded, wild, crispy, melodious, alien, forbidden, safe, casual, noisily, deliberate, alleged, smelly, crisp, goopy, invisible, light, preposterous, witty, frizzy, generous, bouncy, rigid, flowery, giggly, quick, stealthy, wispy, delicate, supernatural
A FEW more thoughts:
It is appropriate to change the word or case of any or all of these words to fit your story better.
Example:
Candle: candles, candelabra, candlestick
Alien: alienated, aliens, extra-terrestrial
Knife: sword, dagger, shiv
I really look forward to seeing what you come up with. (I suggest copying and pasting the words into the header of your document, for easy reference.)
NOUN:
gate, alien, veil, safe, porch, jewel, barrel, cat, time, thunder, alibi, noise, snowflake, shard, book, towel, spy, lake, cave, rain, clock, street lamp, candle, boat, magic, pillow, chandelier, mop, drawer, secret panel, ring, curl, knife
VERB:
levitate, generate, miss, sigh, crumble, wiggle, promise, perceived, daring, curl, illuminate, gesture, splash, load, plummet, thrust, light, stumble, catapult, noise, spy, jab, lip, scamper, skid, pounce, nibble, hop, perceive, thundered, pummel, dump
ADJECTIVE:
massive, slushy, hooded, wild, crispy, melodious, alien, forbidden, safe, casual, noisily, deliberate, alleged, smelly, crisp, goopy, invisible, light, preposterous, witty, frizzy, generous, bouncy, rigid, flowery, giggly, quick, stealthy, wispy, delicate, supernatural
A FEW more thoughts:
It is appropriate to change the word or case of any or all of these words to fit your story better.
Example:
Candle: candles, candelabra, candlestick
Alien: alienated, aliens, extra-terrestrial
Knife: sword, dagger, shiv
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