National Novel Writing Month 2014 - Winner!

I was a winner for National Novel Writing Month 2014, meaning that I managed to write a novel of at least 50,000 words during the month (November). I completed it, at least the rough draft, on November 25, 2014, about 7:42 AM, and validated it at the website later that night, about 6:35 PM. The OpenOffice word processor, which I wrote it in, put the word count at 50,508, less than last year's and relatively low compared to most of the other years. The website put the word count at one more. The book for 2014 was a sequel of the 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010 and 2009 ones. I joined National Novel Writing Month [ nanowrimo.org ] on March 20, 2009, as user Stephen_M_99.

The novels' word counts, mine and the website's, and the date the novel was finished:

2014: 50,508 and 50,509, November 25, 2014
2013: 51,043 and 51,042, November 29, 2013
2012: 50,147 and 50,147, November 20, 2012
2011: 60,973 and 60,977, November 21, 2011
2010: 53,076 and 53,077, November 26, 2010
2009: 52,110 and 52,111, November 28, 2009

Below are the winner web badge images for this year. The top two were large in their original form, especially the top one, which was actually a banner, and I was not intending to include them here for that reason, but they were much reduced in size when I was looking at the preview of this post, and opening them individually in another window still showed them reduced in size. It looks like they will be safe to include without disrupting the display of the blog, and so I'm going to include them. All I can know about is how they look on my computer, and I hope it looks the same on other people's computers and devices. If forced to choose one as a favorite, it would be the second one down, the largest one with the dragon. If space did not permit for that, I would choose one of the smaller ones.

My novel is science fiction, and though I did not put a synopsis or excerpt in the Novel Info section this time, here they are for this post:

Synopsis:
The time traveler-in-training is still trapped in another dimension where reality is more pliable, and thoughts can sometimes become real, even hidden thoughts, and even good intentions can have unforeseen consequences. In this novel he runs into more adventures and tribulations, finding out more about himself in the process, and more about the world in which he is trapped.


Excerpt:
More days and nights passed, he couldn't say how many. Most of the time he wasn't much sure of anything, except to keep going and the direction he must go. He went on in a daze. Dark forms of trees and animals blended together without meaning.

And then, suddenly, he was in the graveyard again, looking at his grave. Or rather the gravestone. There would be no body. It was day, but a very dark day, dark clouds low overhead, and a soft rain falling. He was alone.

He looked at his gravestone. This was how all lives end, whether with a gravestone or not, or a body or not. Sooner or later, death took them all.

"So you're back."

He turned around and saw the ghost, the one that had been chained to the treasure chest.

"I wondered where you had gone," the ghost said. "Been doing some exploring, checking out the different levels, or just haunting people? I could show you a few things, if you're into poltergeist activity."

"Um ..."

"Just don't play any tricks on your mother. She's been having a real hard time of it. If all those relatives hadn't come, I don't know what she'd do."

"Relatives?"

"Sure. She's got loads of them. Her mother and father, brothers and sisters and their children, and their children's children."

"But ... how?"

"Well, you know that you gave her the special fruit and so on when she was a little girl, and she took it back to her parents after eating some. And they saved some of the seeds and planted them, and grew their own plants. And her parents stopped aging, got younger even. When your mother grew up and left for the big city, her parents found that they didn't like living alone, so they had a bunch more children. And when they grew up and left, they took seeds from the plants with them, and so on. So now we've got a whole bunch of practically immortal people around. Of course the time travel people had to give them new identities at some point. They were getting too old, chronologically. It would have been too suspicious. You've met a lot of them, in their new identities. They talked more freely when you weren't around, and I was eventually able to piece it all together."

Jack was stunned. He had thought her parents were long dead, and didn't have any other children. "I need to go to her, talk to her."

"That's a pretty common reaction to death, wanting to talk to the living. Some manage, some don't. You don't look like you're in any shape to try it, though. If anything came through from you, it would be all garbled, which would just upset her more. It might be better to go in the other direction. Accept who you are, and what you are. Maybe try to just check out some of the more spiritual levels. Maybe go looking for the light, if it doesn't come looking for you first. I've been waiting for the light a long time, myself. Hundreds of years. At first there was some indication of it, but then it went away. Since then, nothing. I've been thinking of looking for it myself, lately. There's only so much you can do around here without a body, and that isn't much. Just be sure to stay away from the lower levels. A lot of dark things in there. Some of them can eat you alive."

The ghost started to drift away and fade. Jack lunged out for it. "Wait ..." He came up hard against a tree, and tumbled to the ground, rolling in the dirt and leaves. He lay there for a while, in his pain and weariness. He could feel eyes looking at him from the darkness, waiting. After a while he got up, and continued on.



The previous years' novels:

National Novel Writing Month 2013 - Winner!
National Novel Writing Month 2012 - Winner!
National Novel Writing Month 2011 - Winner!
National Novel Writing Month 2010 - Winner!
National Novel Writing Month 2009 - Winner!

National Novel Writing Month 2013 - Winner!

I was a winner for National Novel Writing Month 2013, meaning that I managed to write a novel of at least 50,000 words during the month (November). I completed it, at least the rough draft, on November 29, 2013, about 6:55 PM, and validated it at the website later that night, about 10:30 PM. The Open Office word processor, which I wrote it in, put the word count at 51,043, more than last year's, but still relatively low compared to the other years. The website put the word count at one less. The book for 2013 was a sequel of the 2012, 2011, 2010 and 2009 ones. I joined National Novel Writing Month [ nanowrimo.org ] on March 20, 2009, as user Stephen_M_99.

The novels' word counts, mine and the website's, and the date the novel was finished:

2013: 51,043 and 51,042, November 29, 2013
2012: 50,147 and 50,147, November 20, 2012
2011: 60,973 and 60,977, November 21, 2011
2010: 53,076 and 53,077, November 26, 2010
2009: 52,110 and 52,111, November 28, 2009

Below are the smaller winner web badge images for this year. There were two others, but they were large banners. Though the display on my computer showed them shrunk to fit when doing a preview of this post, I couldn't be sure that all browsers would do that, and thought it would be safer to leave them off. If forced to make a choice, I would probably choose one of those large banner ones, if enough space existed for them. If forced to choose from the ones below, I would probably chose either the top one or the long bottom one.

My novel is science fiction, and though I did not put a synopsis or excerpt in the Novel Info section this time, here they are for this post:

Synopsis:
The time traveler-in-training is still trapped in another dimension where reality is more pliable, and thoughts can sometimes become real, even hidden thoughts, and even good intentions can have unforeseen consequences. In this novel he runs into more adventures and tribulations, finding out more about himself in the process, and more about the world in which he is trapped.


Excerpt:
As night was approaching, they got to the next shelter. She slowed the car down, and instead of trying to back in went in forward, the headlights on bright. They saw in the area of the door five of those creatures, or perhaps it would be better to say five creatures that looked like each other, but it would be hard to say whether they looked like the one before, since they hadn't gotten a good view of that one. The ones here narrowed their eyes and blinked, raising their arms to try to block the light some. It was difficult to say exactly what they were. They looked somewhat like skinny man-size monkeys, but also had some wolfish features, and even looked somewhat demonic. They were covered with short dark hair, and had almost hand-like front paws, which had claws on them.

She stopped the car, staring at them. "I guess we can't get to this one, either." She started to put the car into reverse, but Jack stopped her.

"What if they're all like this? We might have to keep on driving indefinitely, never able to stop at any of them."

"What should we do then? Surely you're not suggesting that we get out and fight them?"

"Try honking the horn at them."

"Where's that?"

He paused. He hadn't had to use the horn before. He assumed that it had one, but that was just an assumption. He could be wrong. This was, after all, an alien car. "It should be somewhere on or around the steering wheel," he said lamely.

"There are some concentric circles on the hub area, but they don't look anything like horn symbols."

"Try pushing on that." He remembered seeing them, now that she mentioned it, but hadn't really paid much attention to them. He guessed he'd thought they were something like a manufacturer's logo.

She pushed, and a loud blast went out. They weren't isolated from it either, since the car had no doors. He hoped it was pointed more toward the front, so it was louder to those there. It was plenty loud enough in the car.

The creatures jumped and milled around, and made whining and chittering and growling noises, but didn't leave.

"What now?" she asked.

"I guess now we fight them."

"Not really."

"If we want to get into a shelter, we may not have a choice."

"But they're wild animals! They're as big as we are, and there are five of them!"

He turned around to rummage in the back, and after a bit resumed his former position, but this time holding the sword and a shield. "You stay in the car and honk the horn. I'll get out and wave the sword around and yell. Maybe we can scare them off."

"I don't think this is a good idea, Jack. It'll be five to one out there, and if they decide to come after you, they can get around you and there won't be much you can do. I can try to drive at them with the car, but I don't have room to get up much speed, and I'd have to actually run over them to do much damage. In the meantime they can be trying to get in at me through the doorways, and I wouldn't be able to do much to stop them."

Jack realized that all she said was true. Still, what choice did they have? "They look pretty skinny, and not too intelligent. If we can really scare them, really intimidate them, I should be able to fight them. And after one or two are killed, that should scare them off. Or at least give them a lot more caution."

"Jack, please, don't do this. The shelters don't matter, they're nice to have of course, but we're more important than they are. We don't have to do this, we've got plenty of food, enough for several days, or a week even, if we have to. Don't do it Jack. I don't want to lose you. Think of the baby, if you won't think of yourself, and if you won't think of me."

Jack paused. He turned to look at her, and saw tears running down her face. He started to say something, but she interrupted.

"You don't understand, Jack. After the motel, sure, you could have taken them all, with no problem, killed them all with one swing of the sword even, even just sent the sword out with your mind to do it. But not now. Look at you! You were struggling under the weight of them, when you dragged them from the back. You can hardly even lift them, much less fight with them! They'll tear you apart."

Jack looked down, then turned back toward the front, staring out at the creatures. They weren't milling around as much, though they still seemed bothered by the headlights. "I can do it," he said somewhat stiffly, trying to give himself confidence at the same time. "If I go out there appearing confident, that will make them believe I can do it, and belief counts for a lot." It sure did here, anyway. And did a lot in the normal world he had come from, even if it couldn't normally be used there to suddenly change the fabric of reality.

"Jack, please...."

"It will be alright. Don't worry. When I get out, start honking the horn. A lot." He paused, and took a breath, and tried to summon whatever strength he could, whatever resources he could still muster. He got out of the car, the weight of the sword and the shield pulling him down. The point of the sword dragged along the gravel. The sound of the horn was loud in his ears, but not quite enough to hide the pounding of his heart.

He took a deep breath, then another, and then swung the sword high above his head, the weight of it unbalancing him some, so that he staggered backward a bit, but then he caught himself and charged at them, roaring and waving the sword.

They shrank back from him, but the rock outcropping of the shelter was behind them, blocking them. They scattered, going in different directions. They didn't go far, though, getting out around him in a big circle. They were about ten feet or so from him, circling, slowly making their way closer. He swung his sword and yelled at them. They watched him and the sword, their eyes narrowed. This was a game they knew how to play, he felt. A game they had played many times. A game they knew the ending to.

He swung the sword and yelled some more, and the horn was blowing insistently. Still, they made their way closer. His arms ached, and he was sweating despite the coolness of the weather. The sword was feeling slippery in his grip.

Suddenly, one was coming at him from the right.



The previous years' novels:

National Novel Writing Month 2012 - Winner!
National Novel Writing Month 2011 - Winner!
National Novel Writing Month 2010 - Winner!
National Novel Writing Month 2009 - Winner!

National Novel Writing Month 2012 - Winner!

I was a winner for National Novel Writing Month 2012, meaning that I managed to write a novel of at least 50,000 words during the month (November). I completed it, at least the rough draft, on November 20, 2012, but didn't validate it at the website until November 26, 2012. The Open Office word processor, which I wrote it in, put the word count at 50,147, much less than last year's 60,973, and the website put the word count at apparently the same, which is unusual since there has normally been at least some difference. The book for 2012 was a sequel of the 2011, 2010 and 2009 ones. I joined National Novel Writing Month [ nanowrimo.org ] on March 20, 2009, as user Stephen_M_99.

The novels' word counts, mine and the website's, and the date the novel was finished:

2012: 50,147 and 50,147, November 20, 2012
2011: 60,973 and 60,977, November 21, 2011
2010: 53,076 and 53,077, November 26, 2010
2009: 52,110 and 52,111, November 28, 2009

Below are the winner web badge images for this year. If forced to make a choice, I would probably choose one of the bigger ones, without the brains.

My novel is science fiction, and though I did not put a synopsis or excerpt in the Novel Info section this time, here they are for this post:

Synopsis:
The time traveler-in-training finds himself in another dimension where reality is more pliable, and thoughts can sometimes become real, even hidden thoughts, and even good intentions can have unforeseen consquences.


Excerpt:
"Maybe nobody's here," she said. "Maybe it's abandoned."

"Maybe. But even if that's true, there should be something interesting here." Jack reached out to the door to knock on it, but as he touched it it swung open a little. He paused, and they looked at each other. Then Jack pushed slowly at the door, and it swung open the rest of the way, revealing a young man sitting at a desk across the small room from them, reading a magazine. He looked up from it in surprise.

"Hello," Jack said. "Do you have a room?"

The young man looked at them blankly, then said, "Oh, a room. You want a room. Of course. Of course I have a room." He glanced down at the magazine and hastily closed it, then stuck it in one of the desk drawers. He got up and looked at Jack, and said, "You're pretty tall, but I think I have a bed that'll fit you. Yes, I'm sure you'll fit." He turned to a line of keys on hooks on the wall behind him. "Yes, room 6, that's it. Room 6. That one has the bed." He took the key down and tossed it to Jack, who caught it

Jack looked it over numbly, then looked back up and said, "The tag says 666. You said room 6."

"Yes, that's it. The stamper kind of stuttered on it. Pay it no mind." He started to walk around from behind the desk. "I'll show you to it."

"Do you get many people here?" she said, from beside Jack, her voice sounding artificially bright.

"People? No not really. In fact, I can't remember the last person who was here." He paused in his walking. "Strange, isn't it? You'd think I'd remember a thing like that. Strange. Oh well, at least you're here!" he finished brightly. He started walking forward again, and went past them, heading for the door, when he suddenly seemed to turn, twist around, and Jack felt a sharp pain on the back of his lower leg, just below the knee...



The previous years' novels:

National Novel Writing Month 2011 - Winner!
National Novel Writing Month 2010 - Winner!
National Novel Writing Month 2009 - Winner!

National Novel Writing Month 2011 - Winner!

I was a winner for National Novel Writing Month 2011, meaning that I managed to write a novel of at least 50,000 words during the month (November). I completed it, at least the rough draft, on November 21, 2011, but didn't get the word count verified by the website until the next day. The Open Office word processor, which I wrote it in, put the word count at 60,973, and the website put the word count at 60,977. This was quite a bit higher than 2010's novel, which had word counts of 53,076 and 53,077, and 2009's novel, which had word counts of 52,110 and 52,111. The book for 2011 was a sequel of the 2010 and 2009 ones. I joined National Novel Writing Month [ nanowrimo.org ] on March 20, 2009, as user Stephen_M_99.

Less winner web badge images were available this year, and they were more uniform in appearance. If forced to make a choice, I would probably choose the wide one at the top, though the long one under it is also good.









My novel is science fiction, and though I did not put a synopsis or excerpt in the Novel Info section this time, here they are for this post:

Synopsis:
The time traveler-in-training's life takes a sudden drastic turn, and though he learns much more about time travel, it's not enough to keep an old enemy from confronting him in a most disturbing way.


Excerpt:
Outside the room, he heard screams and commotion. That was odd. He normally didn't hear anything from outside while he was in the room. He turned and saw a big hole in the wall, with glowing, burning edges. He remembered he had seen it before, when it was forming. Outside it was the hallway. As he looked, someone rushed past. He heard a rumble, and then a distant screech of twisting metal, and the room shook. There was a muffled whump and a glow went down the hallway, then faded, and he felt a pressure wave go through him. There were more screams.

He went to the hole in the wall, and careful not to touch the hot edges, put his head through and looked out. In the direction of where the glow had come from, he could see a strange, churning, blue-gray mass, still softly glowing. In the other direction he could see a few people, men and women, going toward a door, gathering around it, trying to squeeze through it, everyone at once, which wasn't working out. Maybe it was an exit. He quickly but carefully stepped through the hole, and rushed toward them.

As he reached them, the last one was going through the door. The person, a man, looked back and saw him. His eyes widened, and he started to push the door closed. Jack pushed back, putting his shoulder to the door, and for a moment the door opened wider. Jack saw then, through the window in the door, that some of the others had seen what was happening, and turned back to help. Despite Jacks' efforts, the door started to slowly close. "Please," Jack said, "I just want to get out."

"I'm sorry," one of them said. "We can't take the risk. You're one of the actual operatives. We're just low level workers. No one cares about us. If you came, though, we'd become a target." The door inched closed, then, and he could hear the click of a lock. He tried the knob, tried desperately to turn it, but it was no use. He watched them through the window in the door, as they left, moving quickly away, some of them turning back occasionally to look at him. Jack yelled and pounded on the door, but it was no use.

A gray-blue glow started to softly fill the hall, and a ripple flowed through it, seemingly through reality itself. Jack pulled frantically on the knob, as if he was trying to pull the whole door out of its frame, as the walls slowly faded away.



The previous years' novels:

National Novel Writing Month 2010 - Winner!
National Novel Writing Month 2009 - Winner!

National Novel Writing Month 2010 - Winner!

I was a winner for National Novel Writing Month 2010, meaning that I managed to write a novel of at least 50,000 words during the month (November). I completed it, at least the rough draft, on November 26, 2010, but didn't get the word count verified by the website until the next day. MS Works, which I wrote it in, put the word count at 53,076, and the website put the word count at 53,077. This was a little higher than last year's novel, which had word counts of 52,110 and 52,111. The book for 2010 was a sequel of the 2009 one. I joined National Novel Writing Month [ nanowrimo.org ] on March 20, 2009, as user Stephen_M_99.

Quite a few winner web badge images were available this year. Last year I showed them and said I would choose one to display in the sidebar, but I never did. I think I will just do what I did last time, and show them here, in the blog post. If forced to make a choice, I would probably choose the long one at the bottom.











My novel is science fiction, and I described it as follows in the Novel Info section:

Synopsis:

A sequel to last year's novel, the man who was forced into being a time and dimension traveler for a mysterious agency goes through many ordeals and adventures in a learning process, and continues to create his own past.


Excerpt:

"Have you any idea where she might have gone?"

Jack looked at the creature, then looked away. "Not really. She left a note saying she was going to the store, but I don't think that's what happened. She's been gone two days, and someone's been bringing in the newspapers and mail."

"She's been gone that long, and you haven't done anything?"

Jack twisted in his seat. "I somehow time traveled, to two days after she left."

"I see. Why don't you just travel back and see who took her?"

"I can't," Jack said miserably, "I can't. Other people, or... things... are doing it for me. Or to me. I have no control over it, and I don't know what's going on."

"You really do have a problem, don't you?"

"Yes."

There was silence for a moment.

"I can travel a bit, you know," the creature said. "I can try to go back and see."

"You can? Can I come with you?"

"Yes, of course. Come, we'll stand over here." It walked over to the area by the sink. Jack shrugged. It seemed as good a place as any. He walked over, and the thing took hold of his arm. Jack flinched inwardly.

"Here, here, there's no need to be like that. I'm trying to help you, you know."

Jack stared at the hand on his arm. It was a hand. The nails looked a little funny, kind of like short dark claws, but there were fingers and a thumb. The hand connected to a wrist, which was perhaps a little too hairy, but not much, which connected to an arm, which disappeared up the long sleeved shirt. Jack stared at the shirt. It was wearing clothes. It had always been wearing clothes, he realized, he just didn't want to think about it, and somehow hadn't thought about it. Maybe it made it too much like a man.

He stared at its face. It looked serenely back at him. "Do you have a name?" Jack asked.

"Of course. Would you like to hear it?"

"Yes."

"I'm a bit embarrassed about it, actually. They seem to have had a bit of a sense of humor when they named me. It's Bowser."

"Bowser?" Jack chirped.

"Yes. Technically, Bowser Tiberius Smith. Don't ask."

"Okay."

"I suppose you could call me Mr. Smith, but that seems so formal. Anyway, technically it's Dr. Smith."

"You're a doctor?"

"It's a PhD. Don't worry about it."

"Okay..."

"Why don't you just call me Bozo. It's a nickname they gave me."

Jack stared at him. "I... don't think I can do that."

"Oh? How odd. Bonzo, then?"

"No."

It sighed. "Very well. Just call me Douglas and be done with it."

Douglas the dog? At least it would be easy to remember.



Last years novel:

National Novel Writing Month 2009 - Winner!

Wordzzle 102 - The mountains and the road

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is my entry number 46, for Wordzzle week 102.


Ten Word Challenge:

sugar daddy,
page,
Copernicus,
liquid,
craggy,
trapezoid,
milquetoast,
blizzard,
food cream,
dental problems

The milquetoast ate a Sugar Daddy
And turned another page
Would craggy curves and trapezoids
Become all the rage?

Was Copernicus a good guy
Or a villain in his day?
With history's revisions
Will nothing ever stay?

Numbers fell in blizzards
And as liquids ran away
Is food cream the answer
Or just a step along the way?

Would dental problems be included?
He really couldn't say
So much still to study
And the test would be today!


Mini Challenge:

Hersey kisses,
pregnant,
scarring,
cadet,
grist mill

Grist for the grist mill
They stand at attention, then march along
Cadets without number
Though I suppose a number is recorded somewhere

I sit here, watching them on TV, eating Hersey kisses
Too many can make you look pregnant
But I'm not female, and never wanted to be a cadet anyway
And it hides the scarring of the mind


Mega challenge:

sugar daddy,
page,
Copernicus,
liquid,
craggy,
trapezoid,
milquetoast,
blizzard,
food cream,
dental problems

Hersey kisses,
pregnant,
scarring,
cadet,
grist mill

The land lay like liquid food cream
Under a strangely empty sky
The road disappears into a point
That I must travel by

Craggy mountains in the distance
blurring into haze
Took forever to come closer
Though I traveled all the day

Sodas caused dental problems
Or so the dentist said
So Sugar Daddies and Hersey kisses
Were what I had instead

Problems without answers
Occupied my mind
Pondering the mysteries
Finding what I'd find

Should milquetoasts be beaten into cadets
To make the world go round?
And would the world stop spinning
If no more cadets were found?

Should blizzards fall in summer
To cool the hottest days?
And if they did would we complain
And wish for the sun's rays?

If Copernicus looked through his telescope
And found scarring on the lens
Would he give up and walk away
Or start over again?

Pregnant pauses proliferate
And bring forth what they bring
But sometimes what they deliver
Is not much of anything

The grist mill grinds so slowly
And grinds so very fine
The particles like dust all float
And clutter up the mind

Pages dance and flutter in the wind
And decorate the day
Recording all that man has said
And all he couldn't say

Through trapezoidal glasses
The world looks clear again
It seems to keep on spinning
Without going round the bend

The mountains stand before me now
And seem to fill the sky
The road still disappears
And its end I cannot spy

No road leads up the mountains
None that I can see
There seems no way for me to cross
To get where I must be

I see the end ahead now
The road turns right for me
And I drive along it
Past where the mountains be

The mountains gradually lessen
And behind me all recede
And I go on without them
To the place where I must be

Wordzzle 101 - Dr. John

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is my entry number 45, for Wordzzle week 101.

Dr. John Linna, a mostly retired minister I believe, was a major Wordzzle player. He recently passed away, and the words in the Mini Challenge word list refer to him and his creations. He maintained several blogs, including Dr. John's Fortress, Dr. John's Word Play, Pigeon Falls, the Dragon's Lair (Fandango), and others. When I started playing he had a picture of an odd looking superhero, with a mohawk haircut, as his icon. He later changed it for a while to a dim picture of his face, and then changed it to a colorful ink drawing of a knight on horseback, heading at an angle toward the viewer. The superhero and knight references in the poems refer to those icons.


Ten Word Challenge:

smoothness,
crafty,
purchase,
brief,
chirping,
forever,
shift,
moonrise,
lampshade,
stereotype

Caught within the moonlight
The crafty creeping thing
Stepped into a lampshade
And could not step out again

Chirping in frustration
It struggled all in vain
The lampshade would not let it go
To be as it had been

It had to purchase the lampshade
That would not let it be
And they walked out together
Unstereotypically

Though not the normal couple
No brief affair had they
Locked in an allegiance
They continued on their way

They went that way forever
Or so it sometimes seems
With a shifty lack of smoothness
As a lampshade sometimes brings

After many a moonrise
They can still sometimes be seen
The lampshade and its partner
The crafty creeping thing


Mini Challenge:

remembrance,
Dr. John,
Agent 012,
dragons,
Fortress

The Fortress door hangs open
Its superhero knight has gone
The dragons circle sadly
Left now on their own

A town in a basement
Where the trains once ran on time
Has an interruption in its schedule
Over which it's hard to climb

To Agent 012's list of bad days
Add another one
One that will be especially
Hard to overcome

Words spoken in remembrance
Of the superhero knight now gone
The great Internet tale spinner
The mighty Dr. John


Mega challenge:

smoothness,
crafty,
purchase,
brief,
chirping,
forever,
shift,
moonrise,
lampshade,
stereotype

remembrance,
Dr. John,
Agent 012,
dragons,
Fortress

Stories of crafty smoothness
Or poems or anything
Long or brief or in between
Were things his thoughts did bring

He had a mighty Fortress
That overlooked everything
And from it his creations
From his mind did spring

A knight that laughs a lot
And a tiny town and train
And old and obscure words
Were written once again

Agent 012's adventures
And the Fandango dragon colony
And words that came from pictures
Created stories seamlessly

But a shift has somehow happened
Forever was cut in twain
Dr. John has left us
This is in remembrance of him

Perhaps somewhere a ticket
Is purchased for a tiny train
Perhaps somewhere Agent 012
Looks out from behind a lampshade

Perhaps somewhere dragons fly
Past a swift moonrise
Awakening the chirping birds
But unbothered by frog spies

Unstereotypical moments
Continue on with ease
With story after story
And it will never ever cease

Wordzzle 100 - Captured

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is my entry number 44, for Wordzzle week 100.


Ten Word Challenge:

transfixed,
treachery,
basics,
fragrance,
sampler,
pregnant,
cartoons,
lark,
spartan

He watched the Saturday morning cartoons, and the treachery therein. It had started as a lark, but he sat there now, transfixed. He felt his brain being driven back to basics, the overlays of civilization falling away, until there was just the fear, and the fascination, and the tension. He felt he was seeing a sampler of terror, infused with a fragrance of frustration and utter failure. He watched, trembling, as pregnant pause after pregnant pause brought forth yet more disasters. He tried once to gather his resolve and his strength, recalling perhaps how the Spartans of old had held out against all obstacles, and tried to turn it off. The remote fell from his limp paws, however, as the Road Runner prevailed yet again and his adversary met a particularly ugly fate. The coyote sat there, watching, a whine escaping from between bared teeth, a whine that slowly grew into a howl, a howl that seemed as if it might never end.


Mini Challenge:

rapid,
camping,
blandishments,
transitory,
plug-ins

Should he be a he-man, an outdoorsman, go camping, wrestle bears, save people, be a hero, and enjoy the blandishments of others? Such things were transitory, though, and rapidly faded away. He looked among the other plug-ins. Ah, here was one for President. That looked more promising...


Mega challenge:

transfixed,
treachery,
basics,
fragrance,
sampler,
pregnant,
cartoons,
lark,
spartan

rapid,
camping,
blandishments,
transitory,
plug-ins

It's amazing how rapidly things can change. He had been out in the wilderness, hiking along remote streams and forested slopes, camping each night in a new place. Everything had been going well, until one night a horrible fragrance had gradually spread throughout the area, increasing until it was stifling in intensity. Then something had come and taken him, and he didn't remember what happened after that.

When he had woken up, it was daytime, and he was alone. He was laying on branches that had been formed into a bed, or perhaps nest. He was in an open area the size of a small house, surrounded on three sides by the mountain. A partial cave formed at the back where the inward slanting slope provided a partial overhang.

He walked to the front and looked down. The slope was very steep, but should be passable, at least for those who came prepared. He wasn't prepared now, though, and lacked even the basics. Everything was back in camp, wherever that was, even his shoes. It looked like he might be here for a while. He wasn't sure how to get out in stockinged feet.

He spent the rest of the day alone there, and examined the place thoroughly. There didn't seem to be any easy way out. Some plants grew there, but he didn't see anything that looked much like food. There wasn't any water either, though he supposed there would be quite a bit when it rained.

Late in the day he crouched by the edge and looked over again. There just didn't seem to be any way he could keep his grip for very long. He would start sliding, and the slide would turn into a tumble, and a series of falls, toward the trees below. If nothing else happened he would eventually have to try it, though. It was that or stay here and die.

He meditated for a while on the treachery that had put him here, and on how transitory life could be. If this was something from the cartoons, a fix would appear, even if the fix was something impossible. If this was something bad happening on a computer, downloads or plug-ins might be available to fix the problem. Life wasn't that easy, though, and sometimes fixes just weren't there.

That night the creature came back. He had been sleeping, but became aware of the smell, and forced himself awake. He saw a huge figure, indistinct, coming towards him. It was carrying something, and thrust it at him, making strange hooting sounds. He tried to push the material away from his face, feeling branches and maybe roots, and what seemed to be huge hairy fingers. The creature was persistent, though. He rolled, trying to get away, and the creature grabbed him. He pushed out at it, and felt a huge belly. He was puzzled for a moment, and then realized the creature must be female, and pregnant. He paused, momentarily transfixed by the thought, and then the creature was pushing his head down, into the mass of sticks and roots. He struggled violently, swinging his arms and kicking, hitting whatever he could. The creature grunted and threw him through the air what seemed to be a considerable distance. He landed awkwardly and painfully on his shoulder, and lay there moaning. The creature came to him and began to roll him back and forth, slapping at him and screeching. It went on and on, and eventually he lost awareness of it.

When he awoke it was morning again, and again he was alone. He went to look at what the creature had brought him, and he found that it was indeed some branches and roots. He guessed it was supposed to be food, but he wasn't sure it was something humans were meant to eat. He gingerly gnawed at the roots for a while. They tasted strange but not overly bad, but he couldn't bring himself to eat much of them. He wondered if he was going to be reduced to eating wrens and larks and mice and bugs, and a whole sampler of forest life. There didn't seem to be much of it where he was, though, and he wasn't sure how he would catch any of it anyway.

The creature didn't come back that night, nor the following night. The next day he dug in the dirt with a rock, hoping to find something, anything. He found some worms, and to his surprise, he ate them. He could really use some water now, but none was available. He worried about the creature coming back, but almost hoped it would. He hoped it would bring him something to eat, something that looked more like real food. He had given up on trying to fight it. It was simply too big. Even the ancient Spartans would have trouble fighting such a thing. And if he somehow managed to really hurt it, it would likely strike back much harder, and he might not survive. He thought of trying to talk to it, but there seemed to be a significant language barrier, and he wasn't sure anyway what niceties he could say or blandishments he could make that would convince it to let him go.

The next day it rained, and he spent a long time trying to catch drops from the air, but finally abandoned it and began drinking from the dirty puddles. He found himself eventually crawling along the edge, drinking from little streams of water shooting out over it. He moved along it, searching for better and cleaner streams, when suddenly he slipped, and slid over the edge. He grabbed and clawed desperately at the slope, as he slid down it, water rushing around and over him. Finally he came to a slightly depressed area and managed to stop. He clung there, unable to move, almost drowning in the water, as the hours wore on. Finally the rain eased up, and then stopped. but he found he still couldn't move, as there was no place he could go without sliding again. As the day darkened into night, he began to shiver uncontrollably, and he was afraid he would lose his grip anyway, and be lost.

Then a giant hand grabbed him, and he was thrown over a hairy shoulder and carried back up the slope. It brought him back to the nest of branches again, somewhat scattered now by the water, and laid him down. In a minute it threw something down by his face, something that smelled like a fish. At least it wasn't branches and roots this time. He was too tired to do anything right now, though, too tired to do anything at all.

In the morning, he found a sharp rock and scraped the scales off and began to eat it. He wasn't used to eating raw fish, particularly like this, but he got quite a bit of it down before he began to feel sick. He stopped eating and went off a ways and sat down, waiting for the feeling to pass, hoping that it would. By midday he was feeling a bit better, but still not ready to eat any more of the fish yet. He saw some more worms in the mud, but wasn't quite ready for them either. He found some puddles to drink from, and toward the end of the day nibbled some more at the fish.

The next night the creature brought some fungi, and he really wasn't sure if he could eat that, but he tried it and it didn't seem to cause him any harm.

Over the next few weeks the creature brought him various things to eat, usually some form of plant life, but sometimes other things. He had difficulty in eating a lot of it, though, and found himself growing thinner and thinner. He began to talk to the creature, and while the creature seemed interested, he wasn't sure it understood anything he had to say. Nevertheless, he talked to it about his life, and about why he had been in the mountains, and about how it wasn't going to work out keeping him here, that he was slowly starving to death. The creature occasionally made comments in its own language, and seemed sympathetic, but still kept him trapped there, on the mountain. He showed it his skinny arms and legs, and his ribs, and his stomach, and pleaded with it in a voice that was increasingly faint, and increasingly sounded strange in his own ears.

One night as he slept the creature came and picked him up and carried him away. He swatted at its back ineffectually for a while, and then gave up and just mumbled complaints in an odd, old-man's voice, before growing too tired even for that. After a long time the creature set him down, and then he was alone.

In the morning he found that he was back in camp. The tent was still there, leaning to one side and partially collapsed, and the pack of supplies was still hanging from the tree where he left it. He got a can of Spam from it and found he barely had the strength to open it. He did manage to open it, though, and ate the whole thing. He drank the water in his canteen, and then got some more from the nearby stream. He ate and rested for a few days before he felt well enough to pack things up and start the long walk out of the wilderness.

He wasn't sure why the creature had captured him. Perhaps it just wanted companionship. It had realized in the end, though, that it wasn't going to work out, and had brought him back. Perhaps it had understood something of what he had said, but more likely it had seen that he was getting skinnier, and in the end wasn't going to survive. It was nice of the creature to bring him back, and not just continue to keep him until he died.

He could never say anything about it, though. Few people would believe it, and those that did would fill the woods, looking for it, most of them trying to shoot it. He didn't want that. He would just say that he was lost for a while. That was easy to believe. He had been gone a long time and looked it. They probably even had people out searching for him now. In fact, he saw a helicopter in the air, coming this way.

Wordzzle 99 - The tower

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is my entry number 43, for Wordzzle week 99.


Ten Word Challenge:

thermometer,
Pandora,
vivid,
langourous,
Saturday,
pancreas,
apple dumplings,
watch tower,
lichen,
sparrow

All along the watch tower
the apple dumplings watched.
Lichen covered sparrows
washed up upon the rocks.

Seven painful pancreases
waited to cross a road.
If they ever made it
still has not been told.

The thermometer was steady,
in an unsteady sort of way.
The sudden chills and heat spells
evened out they say.

Long languorous Saturdays
marched by everyday at noon.
Pandora opened up her box
and began to play a tune.

Vivid scenes aplenty,
remembered for a while.
Now it's time to go to sleep,
so good night my child.


Mini Challenge:

rigid,
spiritual,
ribbon,
web cam,
vitamins

The web cam saw the tree in the forest fall, but it had no microphone to record any sound that was made.

It wasn't lack of vitamins that had killed it.

Some vines had wrapped around the tree like ribbons, squeezing its rigid trunk, choking it.

It lay there now, dividing the forest floor into before and after.

To those near or on the tree as it fell, the results were physical and sometimes even traumatic.

To distant watchers on the Internet, it sometimes had a more spiritual component.

The web cam itself made no judgments, but merely watched.


Mega challenge:

thermometer,
Pandora,
vivid,
langourous,
Saturday,
pancreas,
apple dumplings,
watch tower,
lichen,
sparrow

rigid,
spiritual,
ribbon,
web cam,
vitamins

In the middle of a barren plain
a lonely watch tower stood.
From its heights a watcher watched
was he up to any good?

He had no web cam to help him out,
or assistants of any kind,
and his days were all spent watching,
usually well into the night.

Occasionally he'd see travelers
passing through from there to there.
Often they'd be merchants
on the way to sell their wares.

Sometimes people would stop by
and he'd hear tales of other places.
And sometimes he would buy some things
but not in all cases.

He also had a garden,
and a well that was drilled deep,
and a small grove of trees
with fruits and nuts to eat.

There was also a stand of windmills
to supply electricity,
and a small pond nearby
to attract ducks and geese.

The winds tended to blow briskly
whether it was dark or light.
The thermometer changed swiftly, though,
as day went into night.

In times of plenty he ate well,
with roast duck and vegetables and fruit,
and gravy and biscuits and homemade bread,
and apple dumplings too.

But when food was scarce it might be
sparrow and pancreas pie,
or leaves and bark and insects,
as the days and nights went by.

He watched from his tower
high above the barren plain.
As the days and decades passed
he watched and watched again.

The view was usually vivid,
with little chance of rain,
and usually changed little,
remaining much the same.

Sometimes he felt he was caught in
one of the ills Pandora released,
listless and languorous,
trapped there in defeat.

One day he took a piece of stone
off the tower by a crack,
and threw it out as far as he could,
and the next day it was back.

Most days he felt better,
and was satisfied with life,
and felt full of vitamins,
and his mood was light.

The choice he made so long ago,
almost like a spiritual thing,
he still felt was for the best,
and still made his heart sing.

One day some merchants stopped by,
but were not met at the door.
They found his body in a hallway,
laying on the floor.

They held a small service,
and spoke the words that came,
and fashioned a marker for him,
and buried him in the plain.

As travelers went by the tower,
sometimes stopping to pick fruit,
they swore they felt a presence
and sometimes saw one too.

And sometimes a dark figure
was on the tower high,
watching all the scene below
as in the days gone by.

Some people stayed away,
though others came to see,
but as the years went past
it faded to history.

One Saturday a traveler stopped
and saw the garden overgrown.
The trees were hanging low with fruit,
and the wind blew a mournful tone.

He saw the marker in the plain
and the grave where the body lay,
and he found other markers
marking other graves.

He went over to the tower,
as if he'd heard a call,
and put his hand on the lichen-colored stone
that made up the wall.

His schedule was not so rigid
that he could not stay a while.
There was so much here that he should do
he thought with a smile.

He would clean up the garden,
and eat some fruit from the trees,
and go all through the tower,
and see what he could see.

The days passed as he worked
and ate the vegetables and fruit,
and he often went to the tower top
to take in the view.

He decided to clean the tower too,
and read some journals he had found,
left behind by those who'd come before,
now bodies in the ground.

The days turned into weeks and months
and there was always more to do,
and more and more he was on the tower top
as the wind about him blew.

The dreams of travel faded
as into a routine he grew,
as he became part of just one place
instead of a salesman on his route.

One day he realized a year had passed
and that he was here to stay.
He put some long ribbons on a pole
to celebrate the day.

He put the pole upon the roof
so everyone could see,
and the ribbons flapped along their length
in the constant breeze.

Distant travelers saw the sight
and knew what it meant.
The empty and haunted tower
had a new resident.

In the middle of a barren plain,
a lonely watch tower stands,
and from its lonely windy heights,
a watcher watched again.

Wordzzle 98 - Inside the box

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is my entry number 42, for Wordzzle week 98.


Ten Word Challenge:

treasure chest,
idiom,
pantry,
crippled,
baying wolf,
wind chill,
time,
angel,
salamander,
laundry list

The crippled angel's laundry list
held many things to do
Things were added everyday
but some were checked off too

A wolf cried out in loneliness
and lack of things to do
And the baying wolf's idiom
across the landscape blew

A squirrel looked in its pantry
at the acorns grown more few
and thought of warmer weather
when food in abundance grew

A salamander sat upon a treasure chest
waiting for the dew
and hoped for better weather
as the wind about it grew

A cow out in a meadow
was disturbed by wind chill too
and dreamed of summer days
as the wind about it blew

As time passed the wind was less
and the earth warmed anew
The wolf rejoined its roving pack
whose members became less few

An owl sitting in a tree
watched and called out "Who"
and the angel crossed items off his list
of many things to do


Mini Challenge:

risque,
radish,
ring tone,
ravishing,
ruler

The ravishing ruler heard a risque ring tone while eating a ripe radish, and reigned down hard on the rogue.


Mega challenge:

treasure chest,
idiom,
pantry,
crippled,
baying wolf,
wind chill,
time,
angel,
salamander,
laundry list

risque,
radish,
ring tone,
ravishing,
ruler

If the treasure chest was opened
what treasures would we see?
Ravishing radishes and ringing ring tones
and radiant rulers three?

Or rash and risque rabble-rousers
talking for a fee?
Or a baying wolf without a mate
a sad sight for to see?

Or salamanders packed in like sardines
for some a special treat?
Or food for empty pantries
if such a thing could be?

Or perhaps a breeze to cause wind chill
when warmth is what you seek?
Or crippled cats without hats
or boots for their tootsies?

Or the missing laundry list
of goals you couldn't reach?
Or a list of obscure idioms
spoken on a beach?

Will good or bad be revealed
when the lid swings free?
Best have an angel by your side
when its time to see.

Wordzzle 97 - Marshmallow threats

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is my entry number 41, for Wordzzle week 97.


Ten Word Challenge:

teflon,
idealistic,
marshmallow,
opportunistic,
kittens,
beef,
sawing logs,
slapped,
tickled,
scissors

The marshmallows rolled and tumbled over the land, burying everything in their path, the good little kids and the ones who ran with scissors, the invalid in the bed and the lumberjack sawing logs, the kittens and the pit bulls, the slapped and the slapper, the tickled and the tickler, the idealistic and the opportunistic, those who ate beef and those who ate pork and those who ate no meat at all. Everyone fell beneath them, everyone was buried by them, no one was spared. And still the marshmallows went on, mile after mile of them, until there was hardly any place in the land that they had not been, and they were now nearing the sea.

As they went over a low ridge, they found a knight waiting for them on the other side. His armor was dark in color, Teflon coated and flame resistant. He was more used to fighting dragons than marshmallows, but he stood firm before them and raised his sword and pointed it at them. "You have destroyed this land, but you shall not pass on to other lands. This ends here."

The marshmallows paused a bit, building up in height as the ones behind kept on coming, then they went forward, flowing at him and around him. He swung his sword through them, slicing into some but mostly knocking them aside. Again and again he swung his sword, and they kept on coming, as high as his waist, as high as his chest, as high as his shoulders, as high as his head. He continued to swing his sword, and after a while only his sword was seen, and then only the tip of it, and then only a ripple in the marshmallows, and then there was nothing at all.

The marshmallows came to the beach, and neared the very edge of the sea, and paused again, raising up in height, growing taller and taller.

A dragon flew in, huge in size, and landed before them. "How has this happened," the dragon said, "that you have come all this way, and the knight has not stopped you?"

The marshmallows continued to raise in height, building up in an arc in front of and around the dragon, and then there was a ripple coming forward, and something tumbled down the slope of marshmallows and landed in front of the dragon. The dragon looked down at it. It was an armored glove. The dragon slowly bent down and gently picked it up in his claws. "I always thought it would end when one of us killed the other, or when we died together, fighting. The battle between us has been going on so long, year after year, it almost seemed like it would never happen, though I knew one day it must. I never thought it would end like this." A tear rolled down the dragon's cheek. "What will I do with myself now, what will I do..." He took a deep, ragged breath, seeming about to burst into sobs.

And then he released the breath, in a stream of fire, blowing a long column of flame across the marshmallows, turning his head from side to side. An awful keening sound began to spread among them and the fire burned on and on, black acrid smoke going up, the fire growing so large that it created its own wind, which grew stronger and stronger, sucking everything into it. The dragon crouched down, wrapping his wings about him, and let the wind blow past him.

Finally it was done. The dragon raised his head and saw a desolate, blackened, gooey landscape. All the marshmallows were destroyed. He looked down at the armored glove he was still holding, then turned around and, still holding the glove, sadly flew away.

After a while there was some movement in the blackened landscape, and part of it heaved up, gooey strands stretching, and a dark figure emerged. He raised a fist at the dragon, now a distant figure, far away. "Curse you, Dragon! That glove cost me good money!"


Mini Challenge:

ripen,
shelve,
laminate,
goofy,
Siamese

The bookshelves were once like Siamese twins, bolted together, but the room had been redone, and they were unbolted and one was left outside all summer and then all winter, and was now like a fruit that had ripened too much and had gone into decay, its laminate faded and coming undone and peeling up and away. Sitting at a slight angle in the dirt, more like a country cousin now than a twin, goofy looking and bucktoothed, good natured but without much schooling, it stood there and pondered the outside world.


Mega challenge:

teflon,
idealistic,
marshmallow,
opportunistic,
kittens,
beef,
sawing logs,
slapped,
tickled,
scissors

ripen,
shelve,
laminate,
goofy,
Siamese

The marshmallows began to ripen, but were not yet ready to pick. The kittens ate their roast beef sandwiches, and wanted more. A Siamese twin was sawing logs, and dreaming of sawing off his brother. Teflon laminated itself along the sidewalks, and then laminated itself again. A person who was tickled slapped the tickler, who responded with a goofy grin and a portrait of a pair of scissors.

"Perhaps we should shelve this thing," a voice said. "What kind of world is this, that makes no sense at all?"

"Some people will think that of any world, while others, digging deeper, will find an underlying order."

"Those who are idealistic are unlikely to be happy with these results."

"Then let the opportunistic be happy, for there are many opportunities here. The idealistic are seldom satisfied anyway."

"Do you really think it can work?"

"Yes indeed. In fact, there's even room for a dragon and a knight..."

Wordzzle 96 - Pixie party

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.


This is my entry number 40, for Wordzzle week 96.


Ten Word Challenge:

Badger,
roll out the barrel,
amazing,
a lovely cup of tea,
pressure,
frozen,
gandalf,
pixies,
top gear

"Roll out the barrel," the badger said, "and we'll have a lovely cup of tea." A gandalf and some pixies watched, and giggled merrily. "We'll eat and drink, and eat some more, and have some frozen treats. Then we'll shift the party into top gear, and dance amazingly." And the floorboards danced with them then, under the pressure of their feet, and even when the kegs ran dry, they never ran out of glee.


Mini Challenge:

smelly,
politician,
favourite,
token gesture,
garden

A garden grew on the compost pile, a somewhat smelly feat. It was a favorite politician's token gesture, an attempt to keep his seat. He said he cared about the land, and would stop eating meat. But alas his skills were a little too green, and he went down in defeat.


Mega challenge:

Badger,
roll out the barrel,
amazing,
a lovely cup of tea,
pressure,
frozen,
gandalf,
pixies,
top gear

smelly,
politician,
favourite,
token gesture,
garden

It looked like a lovely cup of tea, but closer examination showed it to be both frozen and smelly. He had no idea how that happened, particularly since he had just boiled the water a few minutes ago. He opened the door and threw the cup out into the garden. A gandalf, in the process of rolling out the barrel that held the small flowering bush, looked at him, startled. A badger, talking about something with some pixies, shook its fist at him. "Sorry," he muttered, and closed the door. At one time it would have been an amazing sight, but no longer, and he just wanted to block it out.

Things had been bad for a while now, since he had somehow insulted the little people, but it seemed to have shifted into top gear lately, and he was really starting to feel the pressure. Perhaps they had been bothered when he took out the mound and put in the garden. He wasn't sure, but it seemed to have started around then. He had tried to talk it over with them, but they had done a lot of yelling, and he had finally started yelling, too. He wasn't much of a politician in these matters. He didn't want to have to move, and he wasn't sure he could sell the house anyway with them playing tricks like this. It was probably too late to put the mound back. The dirt was long gone, and he wasn't sure he could recreate whatever it was they saw in it.

He fixed himself a lunch meat sandwich while he tried to consider what to do. When he tried to take a bite, though, the lunch meat shot out and flopped around on the floor like a dying fish. He stared at it and set the rest of the sandwich down. He wasn't hungry anymore. It had been one of his favorite foods, too.

He needed to figure out something pretty quick. He wondered if it would help to give them some food. He remembered reading that people used to set out butter for them, but all he had was margarine, and he wasn't sure that would be viewed in the same way. It needed to be more than a token gesture, though, and he didn't know if just getting some butter for them would be enough.

He heard a strange wailing cry and gritted his teeth. Maybe he should just leave, go somewhere, anywhere, even if he couldn't sell the house. He could just throw some things in a suitcase and find a motel for now.

He had finished packing and was about to leave when he heard a knock at the door. He opened it and saw a hooded figure holding a scythe. Beyond him was an old fashioned coach drawn by horses. The figure turned slightly and raised an arm toward the coach, indicating the open door with a bony hand. The man stared at the coach for a minute, then picked up his suitcase and walked toward it.

Nice of them to provide transportation.

Wordzzle 95 - Other realities

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is my entry number 39, for Wordzzle week 95.


Ten Word Challenge:

alternate reality,
shadows,
frantic,
tomatoes,
field,
lilies,
DVD,
snow mobile,
aggravation,
music

Tomatoes grew in the field, among the lilies, almost hiding the rusting snow mobile. The wind blew, and shadows ran across the field, like beings from an alternate reality. A DVD set at an angle among the plants, like some crashed flying saucer. Whatever stories or music it may have held, it kept hidden. A squirrel came and scolded it for a while, than turned and ran when the wind came through again. An ant came by and waved its feelers frantically at the DVD, then finally went around it. A raccoon came and picked up the DVD, but then an eagle swooped down and grabbed the DVD in its claws. The raccoon waved a fist in aggravation, then began sniffing around the snow mobile, and the scattered bones there. The eagle soared high in the air, clutching the DVD, but then it slipped from its claws and fell, turning slowly, catching the light, flashing brighter and brighter, blindingly bright. The man groaned, and tried to move his head away.

"Take it easy," the doctor said. "You've been unconscious for a few days, but it looks like you'll be alright. Next time you're on a snow mobile, though, spend a little more time watching where you're going and a little less time watching DVDs."


Mini Challenge:

grounds for divorce,
pink panther,
salutations,
wavering,
lasagne

It would be grounds for divorce, he thought, except that he wasn't even married, and didn't even have a girlfriend. He knew that lasagna had been in the refrigerator too long. It had been looking a little gray, but he thought if he had some wine to drink with it, the alcohol would kill anything. It didn't seem to be that simple, though. So he had some more to drink, and finally started talking some leftover medicine he had, several types of it, all of it expired, and most of which he didn't remember anything about. He still felt sick, but also a lot different, and he wasn't sure if that was an improvement. He started watching cartoons on TV, afraid now to go to sleep. The Pink Panther looked out at him from the screen, and seemed to wink at him. He lifted his wavering hand and raised his glass toward the figure and said, "Salutations." The Pink Panther lifted his glass, too, and they seemed to click together.


Mega challenge:

alternate reality,
shadows,
frantic,
tomatoes,
field,
lilies,
DVD,
snow mobile,
aggravation,
music

grounds for divorce,
pink panther,
salutations,
wavering,
lasagne

A pink panther moved silently through the field, gathering tomatoes and lasagna from the plants there. A nearby billboard for coffee had the slogan "Grounds for Divorce" and showed a happy, smiling couple. A snow mobile got up on little cat feet and moved away, casting shadows in various directions, none of which looked like it. A badger watched a DVD on a portable player, its mouth wavering and a tear rolling from an eye. Some lilies beside it frowned, and took an occasional drag on a cigar. From somewhere music began to play with increasing aggravation, reaching crescendo after increasing crescendo, while waves of alternate reality after alternate reality rolled across. A kind of tense, frantic silence followed, finally settling down into a simple stillness.

The pink panther paused at one of the lasagna plants, but finally passed it by, evidently deciding it was overripe.

"You're smarter than I am," a voice from somewhere said.

The pink panther turned and saw a man on the other side of a window that was floating in the air. The man raised a glass towards him, nodding at him. The pink panther produced a glass of his own from somewhere and raised it also, and the glasses met in the air in a kind of mutual salutations.

Wordzzle 94 - Slip sliding away

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is my entry number 38, for Wordzzle week 94.


Ten Word Challenge:

space cadet,
silver lining,
wood,
turtle soup,
minaret,
ice,
grease,
sales,
mandala,
mug

"Have another mug of turtle soup," she said. "Space Cadets need to keep up their strength."

"Space Cadets are also not supposed to gain weight. Our superiors get mad when we do that. It costs more to send us into space."

"You won't be able to do your best if you're as skinny as a minaret."

"I think one will do, though," he said, putting down the mug. For some reason it seemed terribly greasy. He started chewing on the ice in his drink.

"There's not much nourishment in ice. You should finish your soup."

He reluctantly took another sip from his mug. It didn't taste any better.

"Why couldn't you have gone into sales, or something like that? Then we could have had a normal life."

"I didn't feel like I needed a normal life. There are advantages to this job, you know."

"There don't seem to be many. I do like that mandala they make you wear, though. It's very pretty."

"You mean the Space Cadet emblem? It's very nice, yes, but they give us a different one later on, after we've completed our training."

"Is it better than this one?"

"Some people think so."

"That's good. Now finish off your soup. You need all you can get."

He raised the mug to his lips and finished it off, swallowing it quickly. At least now she would quit nagging him. He set the mug down and put his fists on the table top, feeling very sick now. He looked at the wood grain on the table, and wondered if it should be this close. He realized, then, that his head was leaning down. He thought he should straighten it up, but it seemed like a lot of work.

"The only real silver lining here," she said, "is the insurance policy they give you. It covers death from anything, and pays off an enormous sum. It would be sad to have to use it, though."

He tried to say something, to agree with her, but found himself sliding to the floor.


Mini Challenge:

broken bones,
slide rule,
garbage,
Chinese,
sanguine

"There's a slide rule here," he said. "If you get hurt using the slide, it's your problem."

"That's garbage. The slide attacked me. I have the broken bones to prove it. Is there no responsibility here?"

He looked at me sanguinely. "You did refer to it as being Chinese, like that was a bad thing."

"It has an American name, but it says it was made in China. That sounds deceptive to me."

"It's not deceptive at all. It was upfront about where it was made. If anyone is being deceptive it's you. You don't have any broken bones at all. I'm sure your arm was hanging that way when you came in here."

"It was not! Why, when I came in here I could do anything I wanted with it. I could swing it around my head if I wanted to."

"You could do that now if you wanted to, though you might have to help it out with your other arm."

"I'd rather not. In fact I feel faint even thinking about it. Maybe I'd better just lie down and wait for the ambulance."

"You're nothing but a troublemaker. Get out."

I moved off, grumbling to myself. There was nothing left to do now but fake a fall at the supermarket.


Mega challenge:

space cadet,
silver lining,
wood,
turtle soup,
minaret,
ice,
grease,
sales,
mandala,
mug

broken bones,
slide rule,
garbage,
Chinese,
sanguine

"Sales of turtle soup are not doing well," he observed.

"Maybe it's the broken bones in them."

"Exotic dishes are supposed to be exotic. It adds to the mystery."

"They aren't even turtle bones. They're chicken."

"How can you tell?"

"Some of them have the claws still attached."

"More mystery."

"It's certainly a mystery to me."

"Maybe I should have a block of ice carved into the shape of a minaret, or even a mandala. I could even use frozen grease instead of ice, make it even more notable. Something to bring in the curious."

"It would help if the food weren't so curious."

"I'll have you know I have authentic Chinese dishes, or very nearly authentic Chinese dishes, mixed with other cuisine."

"Your chopsticks aren't even wood. They're made of plastic."

"Yes, but they're made in China."

"What about these mugs with Space Cadets movie scenes on them?"

"They're made in China too, but I can't guarantee that they're authentic."

"What kind of customer are you looking for, exactly?"

"The kind of customer who is interested in something new, who likes the strange, the exotic, who isn't held back because things are a little different." He waved his hand around at the room. "I've tried to make this place different, full of unusual things, things you don't see everywhere else. See, I've even got some ancient Chinese slide rules."

"Those just look like strips of bamboo wired together. Why do they have English numbers on them?"

"How else would you use them?"

"Look, all this stuff is just a bunch of garbage. It's alright to try to be exotic, or strange, or just different, but this is just cheap. I'd like to say there's a silver lining, but there isn't one. There's nothing here at all."

"No, no silver. I do have some nice plastic place mats with silvery designs, though."

"That's what I mean! Nothing in here is real! Everything's fake!"

"Maybe so," he said, sanguinely. "Maybe so." He stirred the turtle soup and poured himself a bowl. "However, if a person believes that they are real, then to that person they are real, and if a person believes that they are fake, then to that person they are fake. I view it, then, as a problem on that person's part, a problem that can possibly yet be corrected. If you see a movie, all kinds of things may happen in it, even fantastic things, and yet some part of you must still believe it, or at least suspend disbelief, in order to appreciate the movie. Even if the acting is bad, and even if some things could have been done better, you must still believe, otherwise it becomes meaningless. We do the same types of things when we read books and stories. If people choose to believe, or choose to want to believe, then things can become real, even if just for a while. Now, I believe I'll have some turtle soup, Would you like to join me?"

After a pause the man said, "I believe I will."