Showing posts with label Creative Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creative Writing. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

The Rose Garden: Allison

This is a continuation of the Rose Garden series. You can read parts one and two here: The Rose Garden and The Restoration.

One night as Gerald sat on the porch watching the sun set over the garden, he paused to take note of how well the yellow roses were doing.  He had taken quite well to the slower paced life here in Louisiana.  He'd gotten on with a design firm in New Orleans and worked most days from his virtual office.  On evenings like this he would sit and tell his mother all about his life and his latest project on the house.  Of course, had anyone seen and heard the conversation, they would say "poor Gerald, talking to himself again."  

But tonight was special, and even though Gerald wasn't so sure people were wrong, he still spoke.  "Mama, I've got great news.  I've met someone.  Her name is Allison.  She's the most wonderful girl...and Gerald continued on, his words tumbling one over the other in his excitement, nearly forgetting he was alone on the porch.  He concluded by saying "you will love her, I know you will!"

As he got up to go in for the night he said, I'll bring her around soon.  I can't wait for you to see her."  Indeed folks would think him a might touched in the head.  But they didn't know what he knew, what he thought he had seen and heard.

The house and gardens had been completed and restored to their former beauty.  All but the old brick walkway...Gerald remembered the words whispered on the wind.  He had also kept the renovations true to the era of the house.  Later that week he would plan a picnic dinner in the garden for Allison.  He felt sure his mother would be there.  She still loved her roses.
 

Gerald had decided that informal was the best thing for dinner in the garden, so he set the table with some attractive floral plates, tumblers filled with sweet iced tea, and of course, a fresh bouquet of roses.  The main course was a traditional Cajun jambalaya with homemade cornbread with creamy butter, and Beignets for dessert.

Soon Allison arrived in her white BMW convertible.  It was a beautiful day for a drive with the top down.  Her heels clicked as she walked along the brick walkway to the garden; her pale blue dress matched her blond hair and deep blue eyes and swayed gently as she approached.  Gerald watched, his eyes twinkling at the sight of her.

"Hi Gerry, I hope I'm not late."  Her soft Southern accent was music to his ears.

"Allison, you look lovely today, and of course you are right on time.  Please, come have a seat."

After enjoying the dinner and some quiet conversation, they strolled around the garden, and Gerald pointed out some of the different roses and where they came from.  The garden had always been his Mother's passion, so that is where he began the restoration.  They paused at the yellow rose bush, and he explained that his Father had given it to her the year before he died, and that it was her most prized bush.   A sad smile briefly touched her lips.  "Oh Gerry, that is so sweet.  They obviously adored one another."

As they returned to the table for dessert, there across Allison's plate was a single yellow rose.





Friday, January 6, 2012

What If?

The sun stopped shining?
It would get cold and dark, and we'd all die.

It never rained again and our water sources dried up?
We'd have no food or water, and we'd all die.

You won the lottery?
It wouldn't save you if there were no sun or water.  Be thankful for what you have.




Written for Friday Flash 55 and Magpie Tales.
For clarification,  I am not against the lottery, but know that money doesn't fix everything either.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Gray Days

Once upon a time in the land of trolls, unicorns were revered, and the brilliant blaze of the morning sky meant safe passage.  Gray days were to be feared for that is when the trolls came out of their hidden lairs beneath the bridges. Woe unto anyone who dared venture forth on a gray day.

Written for Friday Flash 55.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Nursery Rhyme Redo: Patty Cake Patty Cake

Image Source: FreeFoto.com

Patty cake, patty cake bakers man
Bake me a cake in a jelly roll pan

Patty cake, patty cake bakers wife
Lived in the bakery all her life

Patty cake, patty cake bakers girl
Toss the dough and give it a whirl

Patty cake, patty cake bakers son
Bakes up a real fine honey bun

Friday, December 2, 2011

Secrets

Image Source: Vegan Traveller

Through the door walked a big little boy wearing a ball cap, torn jeans and dirty tennis shoes.  The door keeps his secrets locked deep within where no one will know his shame or his sin.  His T-Shirt is smeared with his blood and his tears.  "Why did I have to send that stupid text?"




Written for Friday Flash 55.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Ravaged

This sofa once graced a happy home. A young couple sat here enjoying the fire, and contemplating all that life had to offer. Then came the war, and he was gone. Time passed slowly, the letters few and far between. Then, months later, he was returned, but he wasn’t really there. Life didn’t seem to have as much to offer now.


She couldn’t stay – she didn’t want to go. In the end, she took the things she cherished and returned home to be near her family. He sits in a dreary room, day in – day out, most of the time staring blankly into space. He knows she’s not coming back.

Now the sofa, donated and re-donated, sits by the road, soiled and broken. Its cushions long gone to some homeless man living in a cardboard village in a dank alley where the rats roam bravely through the darkened streets.

A fictional story written for Magpie Tales #93.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Post Turkey Day Blues

Mall of America

My paper is blank
And my brain's turned to mush
Is it the turkey I thank
Or the holiday rush

My thoughts they are fleeting
Like ships in the night
Nary a greeting
Nor squeal of delight

So it's off to the store
In search of great deals
Through every door
I burst with great zeal

Then I stop and I stare
In total dismay
At the items on shelves
In complete disarray

What are they thinking
I thought to myself
The lights are all blinking
But I don't see an elf

So homeward I head
With my parcels in tow
My feet are like lead
And I'm moving slow

I bid good night
To the holiday shoppers
Grabbing a bite
With the holiday swappers

Friday, November 18, 2011

Deep Thoughts


Happy, Sad
Puzzled, Mad
Bored out of your Gourd
Agitated, Frustrated
Revolving, Evolving
Filled with Joy
Filled with Pain
Preaching, Teaching
Forward Reaching
Magic, Tragic
Receiving, Achieving
Fantastic, Spastic
Hot, Cold
Timid, Bold
Fearful, Cheerful
Shrieking, Freaking
Calm before the Storm
How do you do
Not a Clue
What does this Friday say to You?

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Nursery Rhyme Redo: It's Raining, It's Pouring


It's raining, it's pouring
And the cat is snoring
Upon the pillow beside my head
And there he will be until morning



This seems quite appropriate considering the rainy day here.

Posted for dVerse poetry.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Write From The Heart

Photo courtesy of Magpie Tales
Janet threw down her pen in disgust. “Whatever made me think I could be a writer in the first place?” Her cat, curled up on the sofa, barely acknowledged her outburst.

“Just because I wrote a few short stories and dabbled a bit in poetry over the years, I suddenly thought I could write the next great novel?” Never mind that her friends had been reading her stories for years and encouraging her to write more and longer pieces. You’ve got the knack. You’ve got talent. You can do this!"

“Ha! What do they know? No, that’s not fair. They were probably just being nice, and who knows maybe they really enjoyed my scribblings but that doesn’t mean I’ve got any real talent."

While she was ranting to herself about her inability to put any coherent words down on paper, she glanced at a magazine lying on the table and saw a quote by someone whose name she didn’t recognize. It said “Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self” by Cyril Connolly.

That struck a chord with Janet. "Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. I have been so worked up about trying to find the right plot, and the right storyline. What do people want to read?"

"Yeah, that counts for something, but it’s not everything. For a story to be good, you need to put yourself into it."

Finally! She put her pen and paper aside, and turned to her keyboard and began to write. This time from the heart.

Written for Magpie Tales.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Faces of the Sea


Once upon a midnight blue
I sailed a sea of green
A more gorgeous sunrise
My eyes have never seen

Once upon a night so dark
The sea now ebony
And that perfect sunrise
Is just a memory

Written for dVerse poetry

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Friday, October 14, 2011

The Wedding Planner Blues

Image Source:  pinkangelbabe
First Chelsea changes her theme to chocolate – chocolate cake, chocolate martinis, and even coordinating dark and milk chocolate outfits. Then JoAnn moves her ceremony from inside to outside…in November. Now what was she thinking? Finally, Melanie’s maid of honor just broke up with the best man. I bet you can see where that is heading.


Written for Friday Flash 55.

Disclaimer:  I am not a wedding planner and this is totally fictional.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Mountain View

Afton Mountain Vineyards

Mountainous backdrop
Layered behind the vineyard
Like smokey shadows

Written for dVerse poetry.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Moving Day

Amber sat down hard upon the steps, still hot from the afternoon sun. She thrust her chin into her hand, trying hard not to cry. Callie was leaving tomorrow. It was totally unfair. Her lower lip trembled as the tears started to fall. At ten the whole world ends when your best friend moves away.

Written for Friday Flash 55.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Nursery Rhyme Redo: Jack and Jill

Image Source: Wikipedia

 
Jack and Jill took some pills
They got from their drug dealer
Jack fell down upon the ground

And Jill called an herbal healer

Posted for dverse poetry.

Friday, September 2, 2011

The End is Near


Summer's vicious heat 
Now becomes a gentle warmth
I always feel a little sad at its passing 
It's like saying good-bye to a friend 
After a too-short visit 
I want to hold its hand a little longer
To walk together a little further 
Crickets sing in the light of day
As Summer slowly fades away


Written for Friday Flash 55.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Nursery Rhyme Redo: Old Mother Hubbard

Old Mother Hubbard
Had ants in her cupboard
So she couldn't take out a loan
But she posed with such flair
That the banker did stare
And tossed her poor dog a bone

I'll bet she didn't have ants like these!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

A Night to Remember

Image Source:  Magpie Tales
I look at the photo of our smiling faces.  We were happy then.  The three of us were on our way to our high school dance.  None of us had dates, but that didn't stop us.  We were filled with a zest for life, and hope for the future.  There was a big beautiful world out there just waiting for us to make our mark.

It was a warm fall evening, and the dance was the first event of our senior year.  Donna was driving her Dad's car.  She was the first one of us to get a driver's license.  She was a happy-go-lucky, up for anything girl.  Ben was the wild and crazy guy, the risk taker and live wire of our trio.  It fell to me to be the level-head voice of reason.

We arrived at the dance to find the the lights bright, the music dull and the dance floor nearly empty.  We had the car and permission to be out until 11:00, so why waste the night here.  Ben suggested we pick up his pal Rick and go hang out at the park.  Where Ben was a bit crazy, Rick seemed dangerous.  Donna and I were a little leery of him, but agreed because Rick could buy beer.  
We swung high on the swings with beer bottles in hand until we could barely walk.  Then we went down to the lake, toting a flashlight, blankets and the last six-pack.  Let's go swimming Rick said eyeing us girls, and Ben piped up a quick second.  "That's crazy" I said.  "It's dark and besides we don't have swim suits."  Donna, more of a free spirit than me, said "That's OK" and started to remove her skirt and blouse.  "Oh, all right," I agreed, not wanting to be the only stick in the mud.  One by one, we stripped down to our undies and waded into the lake.  The water was colder than we expected, and once in about waist deep, Rick and Ben took great delight in splashing Donna and me until we were all shivering. Thinking maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all, we slogged our way to the shore.

Back on dry land, we wrapped ourselves in the blankets and talked of our dreams and how we would take the world by storm.  "To good friends, good times, and having our whole lives ahead of us" toasted Ben as we finished off the beer.  "This is a night to remember."

Now the moon was high in the sky and it was getting late. "We need to get going," spoke the voice of reason, so we headed back to the car.  Donna was sleepy, so we let Rick drive.  That's where things started to go wrong...fast.  Fast as in Rick was driving like a madman.  How many beers did he have anyway?  The road twisted right then left and back again.  We were approaching the curve too fast.  Rick lost control and yanked the wheel to bring the car back onto the road.  The car crossed back and then off the other side, crashing through a fence and down into a ditch plowing into a big oak tree.  It all happened in a matter of moments but it felt like slow motion. 

Rick was killed instantly when we hit the tree.  Donna died later from her injuries.  Ben and I were pinned in the back seat for what seemed like hours until we were found.  A passing driver saw the tail lights and went to call for help.

Ben walks with a limp, his right leg twisted as a result of being awkwardly pinned for so long.  I was the only one who escaped serious injury.  I was still wrapped in my blanket when I was removed from the car.  Ben could have had surgery to repair his damaged leg, but he chose to live with the pain and disfigurement as a reminder of that night, and his decision to include Rick in our plans.  The accident wasn't his fault, but he carries the guilt of their deaths with him every single day.

Yes, it was indeed a night to remember.

Written for Magpie Tales #79

For more fiction, please join me tomorrow at Sara Healy's a sharing connection where I will be guest posting. 

Friday, August 12, 2011

Nursery Rhyme Redo: Humpty Dumpty

Image source:  merlinprincesse's photostream
Humpty Dumpty was fat and grumpy
And off of the wall he fell
He landed astride a nobleman's horse
Who tossed him into the well