Another Failed Attempt

This is for the weekly picture prompt from Ermilia’s Blog

Picture promt

How many times can one fail at this? The rain bit into my clothes, but I barely felt it past the pain. A man sat hunched over me, but I tried to ignore him.

“Hey! Why did you jump in front of my truck? Can you hear me?”

His hands were warm on the sides of my face. I hope he didn’t mind my tears. I looked to the left where his truck had slid off the road. I guessed he was going to care more about that in a second.

Someone came to a stop. I had to go. I had to disappear before anyone came.

I tried to roll over, but he pinned my shoulders to the ground.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

“Get your damn hands off me.” My heart rate accelerated. Well it was good to know I still had one.

“Oh my God, I know you, you’re the–”

“Shut up. Did you call the cops?”

“No-I-I—“

“I’ll pay you a grand if you get me outta here.”

“You need to go to the hospital.”

“Take me to another town, and I will double the amount.”

He looked me over. I could tell from his attire and his truck he needed the money.
“Do you feel any pain in your neck or back,” he asked.

“No, just my left arm—“

“Hey do you guys need help, Should I call the police,” asked a woman who from the car. She had yelled from the lowered window of a shiny Bentley.

“No, we already did,” he said.

“Oh okay, have a good night,” said the woman. What an idiot. Well in my favor thank God she was an Idiot.

“I’m going to pick you up.”

I gritted my teeth and nodded my head.

“Don’t think you can just buy me off,” he said as he gently raised me, “After the hospital you’re going to explain everything.”
We’ll see about that…

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Word of the day: #2-Perseverance

perseverance

“Three limbs on the mountain at all times,” That’s what my brother had told me. He was one step farther than me at all times while we scaled the 30 ft. mountain and my eyes were only focused on his moves that way I could exactly replicate them.

The mountain sat 100 ft. from shore and when low tide came the hidden rocky passageway would appear allowing access to any who dared to make the climb.

My forearms, biceps, triceps, shoulders, thighs, calves were on fire, but it was the burn the tells you your alive. Just keep moving.

We were more than halfway up. The next hand hold was out of reach.

“Jim. What do I do?”

“You have to Jump for it,” he said.

What a simple solution. Why hadn’t I thought of it? Well, because it was insane of course. I looked down. I could make my way back down. I looked up. Jim had pulled himself up and over onto the top of the mountain and was now looking down on me. This was the last step.

I couched, sprang, grabbed, and held on for dear life. My heart rate went from upbeat to overtime in two seconds. I scrambled over the edge onto the top. I had made it and it was so worth it.

Do you have any tales of Perseverance? Comment if you do!

View from the top!!!

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Survival with Michael: On the castle steps

Here is my contribution to Ermilia’s Weekly Picture it and write prompt.

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“Did I advise you that this is a bad idea,” I said.
“Did I advise you that we haven’t eaten in two days,” she replied.
“But did I advise you that people seldom make it out of situations like this?”

The wooden porch creaked under our boots, but the crashing waves from the shore below along with the pounding rain quieted our noise to my liking. The castle had the greatest percentage of keeping extra food lying about in this time of shortage. I could likely withstand nine more hours without nourishment, but Rose needed it presently.

The bright moon was high and allowed us to see more proficiently out on the cliff then under the canopy of the coastal forest. The milky light showed a long deck that wrapped around the entirety of the castle. Why you would need a second floor wraparound porch seemed pointless to me, but nevertheless there was a replica porch on both the second and third floor. The floors didn’t end there either. Above the two pointless decks, there were three more housing levels.

“Should we try the door or a window,” Rose asked.

The front doors were solid oak with intricate carvings. I looked at the magnitude of windows. There were too many  to count whilst your stomach makes regrettable noises even though the number would be simple to find, for If you took each window on the first floor and multiplied it by the number of replica floors above and then added that number to the multiplied amount of the different floors above the replica floors, you would get the number of windows for the front of the castle and since the front of the castle had a high chance of matching the back of the castle you would take your total of the front and multiply it by two, but then you would also need to do the same arithmetic procedure for the side of the castle and multiply that number by two and finally you would add both totals together getting the exact number of the dusty dirty windows on the structure, but I was lacking far too much nutrition to waste time on such frivolous calculations.

“Okay, from the annoying silence I’m going to assume you thought way too much about that question,” she said.

Rose kneeled below the door and rolled out the shiny toolset, one of our only possessions of value. I could pick the lock faster, but I appreciate the secret smile she has every time the lock tumbles in the chamber. Right then the wind howled, whipping her blond curls into the air. I also appreciated her curls.

What if this time the home owner was an excellent shot? If only the climate hadn’t turned for the worse, maybe we would have had better hunting along our journey.

“There might be someone home,” I said.
“Michael, didn’t you notice the chimney smoke?”
“Didn’t you notice the 2,682 windows?”

She stopped and turned slowly towards me. I don’t particularly like it when she stares at me blankly with those large green eyes.

She cleared her throat and said, “Is there more or is this one of those statem—“

“Of course there is more. If we happen to become trapped within this monstrosity, window fifteen on the first floor is a great escape route due to the fact that a hedge lies beneath the window.”

She did one of those one eyebrow raises with squinty eyes. I asked her what that meant once before and she told me it meant she believed I was making up things which I told her that I do not in fact make things up, ever.

“I believe you’re in a foul mood due to undernourishment,” I said.
She huffed, gathered the tools, pushed past me and stomped off the deck. I thought she was going to keep walking back into the shadowed forest. Maybe she would want to go hunting instead, but then she turned right back around, up the stairs, and into my face.

“Don’t you want to eat,” she asked.
“Yes.” I let out a breath. My brain sometimes blanks when rose gets close to me. I’m not even sure if it was me talking. “Please except my apology. I was in fear for your life, but now I know no one should anger you when you’re in a foul mood due to hunger.”

She knelt back down to her station and said, “If you say one more thing about my malnutrition or hunger I’m going to punch your pretty face.”

The door clicked and inched open, but she was looking at me instead of her progress. I frowned.
“What now,” she asked.
“You didn’t smile.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Are you hungry or not,” I said and strode past her inquisitive look and into the waiting darkness. We would find something to eat and not talk about smiles or hidden feelings.


I love these prompts. They are fast, fun, and It’s a great way to keep practicing writing skills without the stress of struggling with plot structures and all the other stresses of story making. 🙂 Babbling here, but my point is if you enjoy reading them you should really try writing to them! Just click HERE and it will take you back to Ermilia’s blog who posts the prompts every Sunday.  Hope you enjoyed, feel free to leave a comment, and come back again! –Katie

The Petals of Life

My weekly response to Ermilia’s weekly Picture it and write prompt.

Red In Common

The Photo is from Tumblr

A petal falls, from the tuxedo pocket of a high school boy

A petal falls, from the wrist of a high school girl

Petals have fallen and petals still fall,

Two years of falling petals

A petal falls, from the bouquet of a late fiancé

a petal falls, from the bouquet of a smiling bride

Petals have fallen and petals still fall,

Twenty-two years of falling petals

A petal falls, from the plant in the waiting room

a petal falls, from the plant in the cancer specialist’s office

Petals have fallen and petals still fall

Two months of falling petals

A petal falls, from the bouquet on a hospital bedside tray

A petal falls, from a gripped fist onto the waiting dirt

Petals have fallen and petals still fall,

Tomorrow they will fall again

 

Cruelty of the Bracelet

My weekly response to Ermilia’s weekly Picture it and write prompt.

Rings

How could he take his off? We all have to wear them. We are kept under surveillance around the clock, for “our safety of course”. The law for woman and men to wear the electronic bracelets went into effect many years ago before I was even born. It’s just a part of life for me, but for my grandma it is so much more. Every time we see her in the institution, she talks about the cruelty of the bracelet.

The bracelet always fits just right due to its resizing technology, so technically there’s no reason it should ever need to come off. Well, unless the bracelet happens to malfunction which I’ve never heard of happening.

That was until this morning when I saw Darian running into the forest. I thought he was up to another prank. It was a little soon, since we were both still on shavings clean-up for the rest of the week.  It was a harsh punishment, but I guess that’s what you get for sneaking into the generators to disable all power. I’m not even sure why I went along with such a prank. Usually he has a hilarious reason behind our escapades, but this last time he wouldn’t tell me any of the details. Well to be fair, he told me he was testing a theory and then he slid one of those wicked smiles on me. I know… I’m pretty dumb sometimes when it comes to Darian, but those smiles could probably make me run a mile and I hate running.

I stalked him for a while through the forest, but then he disappeared out of sight. I was trying to pick up his track when BAM something or someone really heavy charged me from the bushes. I ended up on my back, eyes squinted shut, hoping it wasn’t a hungry animal sitting on me. Until, I head a familiar voice.

“What are ya doing,” asked Darian.

My eyes snapped open and there he was looking down on me with a familiar grin.

“W-w-well I could ask you the same thing!”

“I’m running away.”

My heart stopped. Nobody leaves, ever. Nobody leaves because there’s nowhere to go and… My eyes slid to his right wrist. For all my life, sixteen and half years, there has been a blue bracelet with gold flecks on his right wrist.

“Yep,” he said. “They can’t stop me know.”

Haiku PLUS story about the Ocean, man-made structures, & S’mores

AnthropogenicA city awaits

the force of a rising tide.  

Our design won’t last.

I took this picture while visiting my mom on the Oregon Coast. My younger brother and I had walked away from the fire to find roasting sticks for s’mores when he shoved me and took off running. I was laughing and chasing him down when all of a sudden he jerked to a  stop and said, Look at this!” It was dark, but the light from the moon showed the outline of a massive city made out of stones. It was amazing! There was a wall between the taller stacked buildings and the shabbier ones located on the outskirts. My Photo doesn’t do the city justice, but you can get the idea. It took me four hours to build seven rock towers and maybe that’s because I was matching colors, but I know this took a lot of time and effort. My second thought was this is going to be gone when the tide comes in.

The Haiku is based around the idea of oceans rising and consuming land, therefor also wiping out man-made structures. The bigger idea is based on our design not lasting. Why would you spend so much time working on something that isn’t going to last even till tomorrow? The person who spent the time to build this could have been doing it for many reasons, boredom, stress relief, or to bring joy and excitement to others. Which spurs the idea of selflessness. So many thoughts because of someone’s simple act is a great thing.

Do you have anything to add or share? Feel free to do so in the comment area 🙂

Help from a pirate?

My eyes snapped open. It was early morning, the sun hadn’t risen yet, but the cell was lightening.  Someone was trying keys in my cell lock. I hadn’t been fully asleep. It was too cold to actually sleep. The mist rolling off the sea every night seemed to bruise my bones even further than the hard cobble stone ground. I was in a cell awaiting my verdict, I had no Idea where I was, and it didn’t matter because I didn’t even know who I was.

The cell door cracked open and in stepped a tall man. In one hand was a ring of keys and in the other a sword which left no room for a meal. It’s been two nights and three days since my last meal. The meal consisted of an onion potato watery broth and a small bread roll. They were trying to starve me or maybe they were just cruel.

Maybe he had come to take me to my death. My mind began to race with alternatives. Maybe I could plead for my life or maybe I could fight my way past him. I’m not sure how far I would get, but it would be better then not trying.

He walked into the dawn light and that’s when I stopped breathing. With a dirty long coat, high boots, and layering of a red sash around the waist, the man before me was a pirate.

He smiled or grimaced, I’m not sure, but it was probably because I was shocked to see he had all his teeth.  There were many toothless people running around these parts.

The pirate cleared his voice and said, “He was right ’bout ye, but if ye ready to be off now ’tis the hour.”

Who? Who knew about me, I woke up three weeks ago in this strange land with no memories. I didn’t know my own name and I was all alone.

“Who are you talking about?”

“We can speak ’bout that later. Right now we hurry or did ye want to die here?”

I raised my hands from my lap. The shackles clinked and slid down my raw forearms. “What about these,” I asked. The sun was beginning to rise and I could see his eyes were a jade green. He was good looking in this dim light, but as he got closer his stenches were overpowering. The dirt, grime, old booze, and faint smell of dried blood forced me to back up against the wall.

“Don’t be a-feared lass, I won’t hurt ye.”

“I’m not afraid, you just really smell.”

“If ’tis a problem I’d gladly just be off,” he said.

The things you put up with for food…and freedom. I raised the shackles again and he got to work. He also kept mumbling to himself. I think he said something about an ungrateful wench, but I wasn’t sure.

Chapter one~Part One.

So, I jumped the gun and poste a poorly written draft of this yesterday. I was just so excited to share this new idea, but the first draft was riddled with too much back story. I will try to be more patient in the future!

-Katie

An Unwanted Birthright

My weekly response to Ermilia’s weekly Picture it and write prompt.

fairy-in-forest

“Do you have to push so hard?” The branches were digging into my scalp. My sister had been working on my hair all morning and I wanted to scream out of frustration. The braiding and weaving was for the coronation that would take place today on my twentieth birthday.

“Don’t whine Lilium,” said my sister.

“Don’t call me that!”

“It’s your name, and you better get used to it,” She said.

My father was the only person who ever used my full name. I’m not embarrassed of my name. Most elves are named after things of nature. He told us my mother enjoyed flowers more than anything else in the forest and shortly after our births; she named me Lilium for my blond hair and for my younger sister’s red hair, my mother named her Dahlia. One of the few stories I have of her and us since she died when I was five and Dahlia had only been three. An incurable fever of the forest had taken her life.

It really wasn’t about my mother, because I don’t even remember her. It was because of last leaf fall. Colored leaves had just begun to fall when father had taken Dahlia and I out for a hunting trip. Along with forty of the finest royal guard, but that hadn’t stopped his death. Ambushes are swift and deadly. If he hadn’t given the order for our escape, we would have also died that day. I had wanted to stay, isn’t that what all those years of training had been for or were they so that we could run away, as our King, my father, fell to the muddy earth. I could still hear the way he shouted my name, as I argued. “GO LILIUUUM!”

“Lily, are you listening?” I had been staring out the window. Turning to the mirror in front of me I could see tears had fallen from my deceitful eyes. It had been a long time since I allowed myself to think about that horrid day.

“I’m sorry Lily,” she said.

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything.”

“What are you thinking about?”

Father’s death and the fact that we don’t know our mother, how am I going to rule our people, why couldn’t you have been born first?

“Nothing, It’s nothing. I’m only nervous.”

“Don’t lie to me, Lily,” She said. “You never cry, well in front of people anyways.” She looked down at her hands. I hadn’t even noticed, but my hair was complete. I was now ready. We would make our journey to the cresting hill where thousands of our alliances had gathered. When the sun begins to set, the ceremony will start and at last sun light I will take my vow to protect our people even at the cost of my own life.

“How do you know I can do this,” I asked.

Her eyes were shining emeralds in the mirror. “Because father always believed in you just as I do.”

Seeds of the Soul

This is for picture it and write from  ‘s blog. Photo by Steve Rosset titled Nature’s surprise.fruit

We were standing in the garden of wild fruits. This has been my favorite place to go for some time. A place full of promise to feed thousands.

Tears have dried on my cheeks while I’ve been waiting for a reply from Mama Josie. She wasn’t my real mama, but more of a shared mother to countless orphans.

I fear she is so angry with my proclamation, she’ll never speak to me again. I’ve decided to sell myself for money. I’m not worth much else and at least this way I could provide for my siblings.

She reached down and plucked a red fruit. Splitting it I saw the round plump nutritious seeds.

“Child, these seeds are like the gifts of your soul.”

I looked at her in confusion

“We all have gifts. Yours is compassion and an unconditional love for your siblings. If you do this horrible thing, you will replace your seeds with black ones. Your soul will be full of hate and despair.”

She had tears in her eyes and I looked away.

“You will no longer be you. Do you still wish to do this?”

Shaking my head no, she placed the fruit in my hand.

“Use your gifts and find another way.”

I wrote this because I think there are women and men out there who think they aren’t worth much and therefor give themselves away for money out of desperation. I want them to know they are worth so much more. What do you think?