Time To Vote For Your Favorite Story! (July 6th Story Prompt Challenge)

 

 

Story A

Yum, he thought, that hiker was delicious. And the new clothes were just the right size for him too, though the shoes and the hat were a little too shabby. Yep, he’d been a hiker himself — actually more like on the run, ever since he escaped that circus sideshow — but he’d found a place here that suited him fine. High in the mountains, isolated, plenty of unspoiled water to drink in the stream, and best of all the hunting for food was almost too easy.

 

Story B

Path of Seasons

In spring, the explorer jumps at the possibilities his map presents. One step, the flowers bloom, the rains fall.

Another step and summer blazes. His face is rugged now, the map unnecessary, compass barely helpful. The trail is his friend, adventure his companion.

One more stride and the leaves fall. A look at the map reveals wasted time – why didn’t he travel beyond the known? But now he tires easy and can’t travel as far.

Walking into winter, the explorer takes off his hat and boots. He drops the map, a few new trails marked by his own hand.

 

 

*Video for the winning story should be live by early to mid-August.

Advertisements

Friday Fun (A Story Prompt Challenge #7)

 

There’s a story here…

Write your version of it in less than 100 words.  You’ll have until 11:59pm EST Monday to do it!

All entry items will then be compiled in to a poll, and voted on.  Winner will see his/her story in video format.

Have fun!

#IWSG: The Ultimate Writing Goals

Click on the image to access this group’s official page

 

This month’s question: What are your ultimate writing goals, and how have they changed over time (if at all)?

 

Ultimately, like many other writers, I’d love to have a book published. But, fearing that I’d be penalized by Social Security (am on disability benefits for my progressive vision loss-called Usher Syndrome) I can’t earn very much so I’ve tabled that…for now.  In the meantime, I write poetry and short (as well as flash) fiction of which some are published in various zines.

Another one of my goals is to learn the playwriting craft, and attempt an one-act play.  I already have a title, just need to write it.  I then would love to see it performed through a local Council for the Arts performance group. Having moved to North Dakota back in 2015, I haven’t made too many friends yet; I figure what better way to get to know people in the community than through the local arts.

I don’t think my writing goals have changed much over the years (started writing seriously in 2007) since they usually involve being published in some capacity which I have done with several of my short works.

 

What about you?  What are some of your biggest goals that you would like to fulfill?

 

 

Story Sunday: The Final Sunset

 

She watches as the sun slowly lowered in the purple-hued sky.  Another day is done, and she is alone.

Not really by choice.  Not directly, anyway.

She blames the booze.  She also blames her mother who introduced it to her before she was even in high school.  And because of them both, she never saw graduation.  Just endless days and months in rehab centers.

All for what?

To end up alone and penniless?

Today she buried her mother.  Rather, a woman who gave birth to her.  She never really cared for her.  Not as much as she cared for those colored bottles that forever littered their home.

Mother died a drunk.  That is what she’ll always be known for. Not as a woman who tried to raise a daughter by herself.  Not as a woman who nursed sick and premature babies back to health.  And certainly not as a woman who became the town’s first female mayor.

No, her life has and will always be linked to the bottle.

For years, she defied her mother.  She never wanted to end up like her.

She stood over the wooden casket, deep in the hallowed earth, and allowed the tears to flow.  Not for her mother.  She was happy that the woman, the thorn in her side, was gone. No, she cried for herself.  For her unborn child.

What kind of future will her baby have if her or his mother was a drunk?

A nobody?

Her eyes turn up to the darkening sky. Stars glittering among the dark purple clouds.  A soft breeze sweeps over her like a whisper. Closing her eyes, she tilts her head to one side to listen to this whisper as if it has some great secret to share.

With her eyes still closed, she smiles.

She still has something that her mother no longer has…

A tomorrow.

Another chance of a new beginning.

 

 

 

 

 

WEP – Unraveled

Click on image for more info on this challenge and community

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My entry for June’s challenge:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

summer heat wave:

mayhem, screaming everywhere I go

                                  my nerves
                                              unraveling
                                                             like a
                                                                    yarn
kids at a splash park

Voting Is Open (Story Prompt Challenge)

Look at the image below, and choose which story you like the best.

 

Friday Fun (A Story Prompt Challenge #6)

Photo Credit: Pixabay Free Images

 

For this week’s image, write a micro-story (less than 100 words) or a poem, and post it in the comment section below.

Deadline is 11:59pm Monday.

For all entries a poll will be created and the one with the most votes, wins!  For the winning piece, a short video will be created.

Enjoy!  🙂

Tuesday Share: The Dream

Online anthology inviting collaborations between artists + writers

My poem, The Dream, was selected to be included in this month’s anthology with Visual Verse 🙂   Click on the VV’s link to see the image used for this month’s inspiration.  Enjoy writing poetry and like to participate?  Be sure to sign up for their newsletter to be notified of next month’s image.

 

The Dream

 

I dreamt of my sister last night
as I watched her walk down a road
towards the golden gates

The urge to call out
filled me with an urgency
I couldn’t understand

Like a thief in the night
the illness stole her essence
covering the core in
unending darkness and despair

Before I could say a word
she turned to me with a smile
I’d not seen in years

I swore her body shimmered
like a jewel in the sunlight
her soul for all to see

And she waved
                  farewell
                         my little
                                    sister

© Carrie Ann Golden 2018

 

Stop by and check out the other poems especially the one by Susan Richardson, Perfection Has No Sound, which is incredibly (but haunting) beautiful!

Story Sunday: What Happens Next? (The Lurking Visitor)

 

Just had to do this one!  This prompt is taken from Liam J Cross Writing and Editing:

The Prompt

Time to take out the trash.

You sigh as you walk down your driveway. You sigh all the way to the trash can. But when you lift the lid, your sigh dissipates, and you scream.

* * *

What Happens Next?

The lid fell to the cemented ground with a loud *CLANG!* as the sound seemingly echoes throughout the subdivision.  You knew you’d opened your mouth to scream, but only air rose from it.

Blinking hard and furious, you peer down once more…

…to see the wide brown eyes staring back.

Your own eyes.

The eyes held the look of terror with the bloodied mouth framed to look as if it was silently screaming.  You force yourself to see if the rest of the body was in the garbage can, but the neck had been cut in such a way that it appears like someone had torn the head from the body.

“What sick joke is this?!?” You said.

The only thing you hear was more silence until a breeze sweeps through the grids of cookie-cutter houses, and you swear you hear someone whispering in your ear–

“Behold, your future.”