Write a brief, fictional piece involving a storm.
Friday Fiction is your opportunity to write a short (short, short, short) story. Many participants use more than one minute for Friday Fiction prompts, and I open up the One-Minute Writing of the Day contest to entries of various lengths.
Thanks to my mom, Cathy, for today's prompt!
One-Minute Writing of the Day:
Writer: Roderckdhu
Frightened by the thunder that rolled across the plains he lay crying in the night. His father, tired from the day, sat upon the edge of the bed and told him to imagine the rolling thunder as the little men of the mountains playing 10 pins on the roof. Simple words that transformed the wild things of the night into wild things of delight, a lesson he never forgot.
Congratulations, Roderckdhu--your second win this week! Your story was enchanting. Feel free to put another One-Minute Writer WINNER! button on your blog!
A Christmas card, from our family to yours
8 hours ago
20 comments:
Gathering? Ha! You better believe it is. In point of fact, it has been gathering while you have been slumbering in the doldrums of your dead grandparent's clement days. It is about to crash upon your unwary unprepared apathetic noggin, and all of the wish-I-had and almost-did and deleted-draft and forgotten-neglected-denied-and-declined steps you might have taken are as dead as if they had never been born. All there is and all there will be is your naked things-I-wish-I'd-learned intellect and milk-I-wish-I'd-drunk bones and it will wash over you as uncaring as the tide washes over decades dead shellfish while it pounds them relentlessly into sand. You might dimly hope that, in some far flung millenia not yet even conceived, an artisan of halfway realised wit will forge you into a humble goblet worthy of wine. Of course, odds on, we will collectively amount to a pane of in-case-of-emergency glass, and be broken by the overreaction to a completely different storm.
All on Account of the Weather -- flash fiction about a few pirates.
Here is another Jade adventure:
My Muse and Me
Frightened by the thunder that rolled across the plains he lay crying in the night. His father, tired from the day, sat upon the edge of the bed and told him to imagine the rolling thunder as the little men of the mountains playing 10 pins on the roof. Simple words that transformed the wild things of the night into wild things of delight, a lesson he never forgot.
“I didn’t want to eat the cookie!” He shouted. “Wait...what? Where....” He turned, searching out his surroundings. “Spencer?”
“You didn’t want to eat what cookie?” I questioned, raising my eyebrow.
“Oh, nothing.” He blushed. “What are you doing up?”
“It’s a thunder storm.” I stated as if that explained everything. When he still looked confused, I explained further, “You can’t sleep during a storm. You have to get leftover cake and watch the lighting.”
He thought about it for a minute. “So, where’s the cake?”
“Well,” I walked closer towards him. “All you have in your fridge is half a dozen eggs and some old rotten cheese.”
“Have no fear, Jamie’s here!” He stood and struck a superman pose. “I have a secret. Don’t tell Blaine,” He glanced around as if he expected a SWAT team to burst through the door any minute now. “He’ll just eat it all.” I curiously followed Jamie to the kitchen where he opened the freezer and removed a large white box from behind some frozen peas. “Ice cream cake!” He grabbed two forks from the drawer and proceeded back into the living room..
“Yum.” I took the forks from him and walked over to the large windows overlooking New York. I sat down on the big cream coloured couch. “Gimme.”
Jamie laughed and sat down beside me. As we ate the cake, we laughed and talked about old times.
It was around three in the morning when the storm finally ended. It had been loud with booming thunder and bright fork and flash lightning. The cake had been finished long ago and we were both almost asleep on the couch. “I can’t believe Blaine can sleep through all of this.” I mumbled.
“Mmm,” Jamie agreed. My head drooped down onto his shoulder.
“Me thinks we should go sleepy now.”
Jamie chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re tired.”
“Ya?”
“Ya.” He paused. “You’re not really listening are you?”
“Mmm. That’s great.” His shirt muffled my response. “Night, night.”
She rushed to the phone, a connection to the outside world, but hesitated just slightly for fear of an electric shock due to a possible lightening bolt attacking her phone line. She hated storms. Her dog Roxy, trembled by her side. Was it her fear or the thunderstorm had Roxy trembling she wondered? Dogs are so smart.
Hello? Hello? she replied. He husband's soothing voice crackled over the phone lines. "Are you okay?"
"I am now, how did you know?"
"I was listening to the storm report and heard a bad storm was coming through. Do you have your rubber soled shoes on?" he asked teasingly.
Almost to tears she smiled at the his teasing. He always knew the right things to do, the right things to say.
The storm seemed to calm within her as the lightening outside began to subside.
The children huddled far away on the hills could hear and see the tsunami. They watched in horror with open mouths as it swept over their village- their homes. Their parents. The rest of the village had stayed behind, hoping to build a wall of sand bags to stop the waves. Withing five minutes, it was obvious they had failed. The tiny bit of water that pushed itself up the hill to slap the children in the face was stained red with families and loved ones. The children were alone.
The thunder booms, the rain streaks down in torents and the lightning flashes all around me. I feel alone, forgoten, forsaken. I can't think can't move, the storm of emotions blocks out every normal response. Run, hide, find a safe place, a rock that I can cling to and that will give me shelter. But I can't. "The storm will destroy me!" I scream, to the One I know can hear me. "Help me, save me!" I cry. Then my inner storm subsides. I feel the clouds rool back and the sun shine in my soul. And I hear a voice say, "Peace, be still. Do not be afraid, I will never leave you. I will Not forsake you. You are safe." I feel a peace that can only come from one place, and I know that even when lifes storms crash around me, and threaten to crush me, and I can't stand on my own: I can lean on the the One whom I believe in. He is my rock. And when the storm brings me to my knees then I am right where i'm supposed to be. Humbled, and asking for saftey from the great I AM. I do not fear the storms.
Storms blew through last night like locomotives thundering themselves across the rolling hills of Southern Indiana.
After they passed, the clouds remained behind reminding us of their fury just minutes ago. The storms and continuous lightening fed the earth with nitrogen and needed rain. The foliage lept back to life showing off their greens for all to see. The fields will soon dry out and sprout new plants thanks to mother nature and her generous use of the watering can.
Minutes later the clouds passed leaving behind 20 degree cooler temperatures and a fine mist steaming up from the warm ground. There was a renewed crispness in the air...almost Autumn like.
Dan
She was rushing today. Her heart pounding with anticipation. For it was Friday, and this was the day she would receiver her weekly letter from Bob. He was so far away, fighting a fight worth everything. She felt too many would not fight it, and that left people like Bob.
She was gathering her purse...her keys...where were her keys?
Rushing through the house her thoughts again turned to the moment he told her he was going. The moment she knew her fears of him leaving were coming true and she wasn't going to stop him. She didn't even make an effort to stop him. She knew he wanted to do it. That he would to stand for what was right...to be noble. Because that is who he is. They promised to write every week. He wouldn't miss one. And he hadn't.
She found her keys in her purse after all.
Rushing out the door, she had her baby on her hip and towed her 3 year old son behind her. Other thoughts ran through her mind, groceries that were needed...she had to stop at the bank...but her mind quickly turned again to the post office. First and foremost.
The sky was growing dark above them as she buckled her children in the car. Though she hardly noticed. Her mind was already going over the way it would feel to hold the crisp paper in her hands and her eyes stroking over the familiar curves of his handwriting. Somehow the curves had become their intimacy. The way to be close to him from so far away.
Finally, after struggling to get her car through the traffic...that annoying vehicle that was going the speed limit! She was at the post office. Leaving the car running with her children inside, she rushed to the PO Box and quickly opened it to find her letter.
It was empty.
As she returned to her vehicle, she tried to put it out of her mind. The clouds were gathering and the sky was darker than before. She looked up to it for a moment. It was hanging low. Waiting to break.
She drove to the grocery store. Her kids were such angels there. She watched while other small kids screamed about what they wanted but couldn't have while her little boy sat patiently in the cart playing with his little jet airplane and snacking once in a while on a cracker. How blessed she was. She couldn't imagine life any differently. But the missing letter still weighed in the back of her mind.
She went through the bank drive-through and then home. Life had slowed. She was just doing what she had to. She unloaded the children and headed to the door.
Then she saw it.
A notice. Red. Stuck to her front door and waving in the wind.
And as her heart broke, the thunder broke too. Finally the heavy clouds, like her heart, broke and it cried. It cried right along with her.
...hm...I'm afraid I'm a bit depressing today...
Hi Beth and everyone else!
Here's my offering for Fiction Friday!
http://ying-ko-4.livejournal.com/153689.html
It had been gathering all afternoon, the sky gloomy and yellowing. She was frightened, not knowing how storms were in this part of the country. Were they as viscious as the hurricanes she'd lived through? Was it a tornado? The tv weatherman said it was "only a storm blowing through". What did THAT mean? There was a rap at the door and she jumped, mistaking it for thunder. It was only Gabriel, the farthest from thrunder you could get.
"I brough you some extra flashlights we've got lying around. We usually loose power way out here and..." She cut him off with a hug.
"Tabbers!" I strained to make my voice heard above the din. I thought I heard a plaintive "Meow" in response.
I tried again. "Tabbers!"
As if in answer the roof ripped away and the darkness above swallowed me.
As what was left of my house floated away below me I thought, "Poor Tabbers."
I am kinda late in the day with this but would like to give it s "shot" if I may.
.His restless sleep had been utility at best. The seven year old was curled up on the sofa with his head in his “BigPaw’s” lap. The kerosene lamp that had been the young boys great grandmother’s was sitting behind the glass fire screen, giving off a soft yellow glow that barely gleamed across the vaulted den. They had been watching the old black and white portable TV while the lightning and wind interacted with tenacity for most of the night. The 52 inch wide screen had been “unlatched” from its connection much earlier in the evening. A thunderous explosion had turned the room into a cave.
A seven year old can understands much more than us more wiser grownups would like to admit. The TV news had been full of “film at ten o‘clock” moments. How do you explain to a youngster who has been taught the rules of kindergarten that when you get older, it seems that it is ok to just throw those rules aside.
“Big Paw, is the rain over”? He sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he walked over to the window to look toward the road.
“Everything is OK, Big Boy, we are safe now”. I walked over to where he was standing and put my hand on his bushy head and jostled him back and forth. He look up and gave me a big smile. I smiled back to reassure his still fretful thoughts.
“It has finally stopped raining”. My misleading answer weighed heavy on my shoulders as the true thought raced through my mind. …The real storm is on the horizon.
I am not quiet sure of the rules about referencing a personal "Blog". I posted the above story on my blog, but was not sure whether it would be proper to just reference back to that blog in the "comments" section, but visitors are very welcome to drop by.
www.glnroz33.blogspot.com
Here is my entry. It's about a garden, a broken heart, and of course, a storm.
It took me slightly longer than a minute to write, but I did just write it today. :)
The night was like all others when he would come home from a late night "at the office". His breath held the sweet stench of liquor. One I'd known for years. One that warned of the storm ahead. Tonight was different, though. Tonight he broke through the door, but instead of turning on me, he went to his room, packed a bag and left. No yelling, no hitting, no nothing. And as he stormed down the driveway and out of our lives, the clouds broke. A new dawn was breaking, no longer was my heart.
The storm pelted us. We walked the path until we found it. It was glorious! No one would believe us. No one would ever understand. We saw the end of the rainbow, and it flowed from a child’s smile.
Distant thunder alerted us to the approaching storm. my kids and I ran from room to room closing each window as the pattering of the raindrops hit the cement outside.
A mother cat meow'd a call to arms. Not being a fan of cats I didn't plan to run to her rescue until I saw her normally white fluffy kitten swam around the edge of the swimming pool desperately searching for a way out. I rolled my eyes and stepped outside just as small balls of hail began pelting my scalp.
My eyes quickly scanned the area searching for a way to help the kitten my children and I jokingly named Ted, though we are quite unsure if he is a she. A long skinny piece of wood stood out on the wood pile in a flash of lightning. I ran quickly and retrieved the stick and ran to the edge of the pool. He laid limp against the wood as I lifted his exhausted body from the water and placed him down out of harm's way.
As I backed away watching Ted hobble to a small place of refuge from the storm I wondered what it mattered, saving a wild cat destined for a hard world of hunting for food and never knowing where the next meal would come from. And then the world made sense for one brief moment as Mama cat reunited with her baby...to her it mattered.
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