Free Write Challenge

I was nominated by Prakash Hegade with “itsphblog” for the free style writing challenge. It’s Fun. You can read his detailed post HERE.

So here goes the RULES of this challenge:

1. Open an MS Word document

2. Set a stop watch or your mobile to 5 minutes or 10 minutes whichever challenge you think you can beat.

3. You topic is at the foot of this post BUT DO NOT SCROLL DOWN TO SEE IT UNTIL YOU ARE READY WITH A TIMER.

4. Fill the word doc with as much words as you want. once you began writing do not stop even to turn.

5. Do not cheat by going back and correcting spellings and grammar with spell check in MS WORD (it is only meant for you to reflect on your own control of sensible thought flow and for you to reflect on your ability to write the right spelling and stick to grammar rules)

6. You may or may not pay attention to punctuation and capitals. However if you do, it would be best.

7. At the end of your post write down ‘No. Of words =_____’ so that we would have an idea of how much you can write within the time frame.

8. Do not forget to copy paste the entire passage on your blog post with a new Topic for your nominees and copy paste these rules with your nominations (at least 5 bloggers).

GOOD LUCK!

I was given with the topic Train Journey

The only train journey that I have been on is the Narrrow Gauge Railroad which takes passengers from Durango, Colorado to Silverton, Colorado. It is a fun day trip on a very old rickety train. Once you get to Silverton, the passengers goi around looking in the shops and have lunmch there in Silverton and then after a few hours, we all get back on the train and ride back to Durango. The scenery is fabulous t5hrough mountains and forests and rivers. Some places the train is high on a cliff that you can overlook to the canyon. It is a bit chilly and one needs to take a sweater or light jacket. I noticed that Silverton is now a tourist trap and all the shops are geared toward touristy consumers.

I decided to do the 5 minute time as I don’t have that much experience with trains to write for 10 minutes. I still have 2 minutes left and I have already run out of things to say about trains. I am stopping her at 1 minute and 30 seconds remaining.

3.5 minutes = 182 words (and lots of mistakes)

Nominations:

I choose to leave the nominations open to anyone who would like to give it a try. It’s fun and challenging. If you decided to take up the challenge, please leave a pingback to this post. Thank you!

You are given the topic, “Blogging”


Assignment 6: Character Study

Here’s the deal. We’re suppose to be writing about interesting people, specifically, the most interesting person we have met this year. But, I am not.

I have met tons of interesting and wonderful people on the internet. However, I have decided not to write about anyone whom I have met over the internet. Instead, I decided to write about my cat.

She was a little tiny fur ball when I got her from the neighbor’s friends. She was extremely shy and usually stayed underneath the big armchair. She would come out from her hiding place when she would wake up from a nap and want me to hold her. Much like toddlers do when they wake up from a nap.

I had two dogs and she became close to one of them. She noticed they were going through the doggie door and she soon started following them out the doggie door. She figured out they were going outside to potty so she started going outside to potty. (I loved that!)

By the time she was a “teenager” in cat years, I realized that she was a feral cat. She wasn’t feral with me or my dogs, but she was 100% feral with everyone else. Apparently, her mother had been a feral cat. Everyone in my family hated her, but I loved her. I thought of her as my “special needs” cat because of her temperment.

Her favorite thing to do was to hunt. She loved hunting the birds outside and the mice inside. She was a great mouser.

When she would lay on top of my bed, I would go up to her and kiss her face and she loved it.

She would walk around with her tail sticking straight up and come by me and touch me with the tip of her tail. That was her communication to me that she wanted to be fed.

During the winter she would come get me and take me to the doggie door (in other words telling me she wanted to go outside but the weather was bad). LOL! She wanted me to change the weather so she could go outside to hunt. She didn’t understand that I had nothing to do with the weather. But to placate her I would start playing with her inside. I would pretend I was trying to find her and that she was hiding from me (when she had her face hidden by the furniture or the drapes, she thought she was invisible). I would pretend that I was looking all over the house for her. She loved playing that game.

She was nocturnal and her main time for hunting was at night. When the weather cooperated, she would be outside during the night doing her hunting and prowling thing.

When she was over six years old, one morning, she did not return. She knew when I woke up and would always comes home at that time. I went everywhere looking for her. I kept in contact with the animal shelter, put an ad in the paper, and went door to door. There is a vacant lot behind my home which is near the river; I went all over the lot trying to find her body. I did not find one.

Then I found out something which devastated me even more. Certain people with a certain organization took her and either gave her to one of the farmers to have as a barn cat or got rid of her. I cannot tell you how I found this out, but it is true. I no longer have anything to do with these people. (Wolves in sheep’s clothing). I have no way to find out which farmer she went to (if she did) or any other information beyond what little information I have found out.

So, this is my interesting character; my beautiful and beloved cat, Sassy. I hope she is having a good life somewhere, or if she is no longer alive, then may she RIP.




 

The Statue

The Romans brutally forced their way into our city that night, killing all who stood in their way, with no respect for life. Homes burned among screams being devoured by massive flames. I heard the beating of horses hooves along with the sounds and smells of the dying. Blood ran thick in the street and the acrid smell of death and thick black smoke suffocated my senses. Chaos ran rabid and hell itself had descended upon my city.

Then I saw her. The tiny little one covered in blood and clinging to the body of her dead mother. I ran toward her, certainly not thinking of my own mortality. I scooped her up and fled from that nightmarish scene. I took her home, to the servants quarters of the palace, and raised her as my own.

She grew into a beautiful woman, kind, good hearted and loving to all. She was fortunate to be unscathed from her past. To my delight, she loved me as though I was her real mother. Little did I know she indeed remembered her mother and twenty-three years later would avenge the Romans for her death. She became a magnificent statue, always to be remembered. (200 words)

Sunday Photo Fiction Photo Prompt
Sunday Photo Fiction is hosted by Alastair Forbes who provides us with a photo prompt and challenges us to write a story, using 200 words or less. Our story is required to have some type of reference to the photo prompt.

If you would like more information or wish to join in the Photo Fiction fun, please click on this link:
 

 

 

 

 

Rattle Snake River

Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River in Latchahatchi County, Texas. My grandpa use to tell me stories about Diamond Jack and his motley gang. His legend began in the early 1800’s during the time folks were moving west to homestead land in order to own the title free and clear. Diamond Jack and his outlaw gang would lie in wait hiding and hold up the unsuspecting wagons as they were coming through.

Legend has it that as the gang were coming around a hill to surprise a wagon train, they were met head on by a tribe of Apache Indian warriors that shot the gang members with poison arrows, damn near skinned them alive before they could take their last breath. Everyone said that thieving gang got just what was coming to ’em and no tears were shed for their brutal demise. One wagon train coming through found their rotting bodies, all of em’ missing their hair. (150 words)

Monday Finish the Story Challenge. Write a story of 150 words using the photo prompt and the first sentence of, “Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River.” Link your story’s url to inLinkz little blue frog for, Monday’s Finish the Story, which is kindly hosted by Barbara. If you would like to join in this flash fiction fun, click here for more information.

 

A Letter from the Battlefield of the Civil War

Waiting for James Henry


Written by James Henry Triplett

Ship Point, York Co. Va.

September 4, 1861

My Dear Mother and Sister,

I received both of your kind letters late last night and was indeed very glad to hear from home again. I have had a bad spell of Bilious fever since we left Yorktown and am very week (sic) yet. If I take proper care of myself I shall be as well as ever. I think that this may be a healthier place than Yorktown, but the water is very bad, mudy (sic), and salty. We are encamped on a point of land on the Bay, covered with pines. We have pine poles for a bed, pine poles for a table, and pine poles to cook with, and have to make a smoke with pine brush in front of our tents at night to keep off mosquitoes. I received the oil cloth and drawers that were sent and like them very well. I do not know whether to send for my overcoat or not but I will need another blanket pretty soon. If you have any chance to send a small box I would like to have some paper & envelopes ink & pens,(jsp?) I would like to have some butter too, but you need not trouble too much. We can get plenty of fish and sweet potatoes here and a few chickens, by exchanging our bacon.

 

Our regiment has never been paid off yet. We have not seen anything of the Yankees yet except ships, we see vessels sailing down the Cheasepeake (sic) everyday and one of the Blockade Steamers is constantly in sight. Jim Young, Bob Coleman, (not sure of this next name) Stringler or Stringles or Dringles or Dringler; and several others were out scouting last night. They caught a Tori Verginian (sic), near fortrep Munroe; who was keeping a light house on some point there, for the Yankees. He was sent to Yorktown this morning.

Gen Hill is here looking well as ever. We can hear heavy firing here almost everyday, and our chance for a fight are pretty good.

I would like very much to be at home now, to eat apples & peaches.

Our time will be out about the 18th of Nov. The I will be home to spend the winter as soon as I get there. Give my love to all the family. I want to see you all very much. Give my love to all my friends, and write again soon.

Yours Affectionately

James

This is all the paper that I’ve got and it is borrowed, so I wrote to both of you at once. James

James Henry Triplett

Born: November 3, 1843

Died: July 1, 1863 ( Died in the Civil War in the Battle of Gettysburg)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forgive me for it being over 200 words. I was going to write a story about a mother, sister, or wife waiting for their soldier to return home from war. I remembered the original letter that I have which was written by my distant cousin to his mother and sister. I felt this might be very interesting to the other participants and readers of this challenge.

As a footnote, James Henry’s sister and another brother, died the same year as his him, 1863.

 

Friday Fictioneers 1/21/2015

“Two of us died on that boat. Three of us lived only by the skin of our teeth, and only because the Coast Guard saved us.”

I softly cleared my throat, laid my pen down and looked him in the eyes,

“Will you tell me what led you and the others to climb on that tiny boat?”

“Freedom. Simple as that. We couldn't live there no more under that dictator.”

“Has it been worth it?”

“They shot my little brother and cousin for watching television. A damn soccer game. So…to answer your question…. yep, freedom is damn sure worth it.”


~100 words

(copyright) Georgia Koch

 

The magical authoress, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, creator of the blog, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple, is the gracious host of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge for all of the fabulous writers, and me. Georgia Koch has generously loaned us the photo prompt photo of which we are challenged to weave a story (beginning, middle and end) with 100 words or less, and to make every word count.

If you would like to jump into this challenge, please click on: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple, for more information.

 

Finish the Story 1-19-15

They finally made their escape.

“That was a close call mi amor.” Roberto clasped Rosa’s hand and pulled her closer to him.

“Si, I am so glad we were able to get away from him. He would never let me marry you. I just couldn’t tell him I was carryin’ su bebe’. He would kill me.”

Rosa took one hand and placed it on her stomach, “I will be showing before long and could not have kept it a secret any longer.”

“Today is the beginning of our life together mi amor.”

Roberto reached down and picked up the lightest backpack and handed it to Rosa.

When the ‘coyote’s’ jeep pulled over to pick them up, Roberto made sure the money he had been saving was still in his pocket.

“We have a long journey, but first, we must get ourselves across this border.”

“Si, Roberto, first things first.”

~149 words

This is my first attempt at “Monday’s Finish the Story” challenge, hosted by babso2you. The challenge is to write a story with 100-150 words. We are given the first sentence for the story and a photo prompt. If you are interested in joining this challenge please click on this blog:

Monday’s Finish the Story


 

Sunday Photo Fiction – January 18, 2015

My home is on the top floor of the British Bank Building taking care of my elderly mother. After father died she needed someone to care for her so I moved back home. She has manipulated and controlled my life ever since.

She was diagnosed with COPD and early stage of dementia ten years ago. Ten years later, she is still in early stage of dementia and COPD. The only way the dementia has gotten worse is that she has become meaner, more controlling and more manipulating. She constantly degrades me and tells me what a disappointment I am to her. Nothing I do for her pleases her; it is never good enough for her.

My brother, Christopher, left home as soon as possible and has not looked back since. He is now married, has two children and is an officer in the Royal Navy. I envy him. I am trapped, like a fly caught in a web and mother is the black widow.

I have some arsenic and I will use it. Keep pushing me mother and I will damn sure use it.

I moved back home twelve miserable years ago. I have been in this prison ever since.

200 Words

Sunday Fiction hosts a Weekly Flash Fiction called, “Sunday Photo Fiction.” We are given a photo prompt and are challenged to write a fictional story based on the photo, using 200 words or less. If you are interesting in jumping in to this fun flash fiction challenge with some very amazing writers, please click on the link below:

Sunday Photo Fiction

 

Concrete Hope

Time again for the addictive Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the lovely purple addicted (and Friday Fictioneer addicted) Rochelle Wiseoff Fields. For more information for this challenge or should you like to join the rest of us addicts, please click on Rochelle’s blog:

Rochelle Wiseoff Fields – Addicted to Purple

This photo, copyright to Jan Wayne Fields, is the prompt for our story this week, of 100 words or less.

 

The laborious work of keeping up with farm chores, became too difficult for my husband and me, in our golden years. After many years of gardening, canning the vegetables, milking the cows, keeping the cattle out of the alfapha, we decided it was time to move to the city.

Our youngest daughter and son moved to the city with us. After a few months of this concrete jungle, she moved out and sadly, we haven’t heard from her since.

Setting the table, I see the bright red flowers through the window, and set an extra plate for her.

100 Words

 

Sunday Photo Fiction Jan 11, 2015

“Why is it when something wonderful happens it turns out to bite me instead? Why does this crap keep happening to me?”

I sat on my bed holding my blue journal wishing I could write about something wonderful happening to me without it turning to stab me in the back. My heart felt like it was in my throat, restricting my breathing. I keep gasping trying to suck through the lump in my throat so I can inhale air into my lungs. It releases. The tears come, streaming down my cheeks.

The silent voice is taunting me, “Stop it. You’re just feeling sorry for yourself!’

“Shut-up Shut-up!” I scream, sobbing breathlessly. “Just shut-up!”

My inner voice whispers, “People will disappoint you. It happens and there is nothing you can do to change it. Remember, you have to change yourself.”

Suddenly, my tears stop. That is true. I cannot change other people, I can only change myself. But, what is it that I need to change about myself?

In my concentration to figure out what I need to change, I remember these comforting words,

“Someday, your ship will come in.”

Sinking further into my pillow, I begin thinking about ‘my ship’.

~200 Words~

This story is submitted for the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge hosted by Sunday Photo Fiction. The challenge is to write a story of 200 words.

If you are interested in learning more, or would like to join, please click on this url:

http://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2015/01/11/sunday-photo-fiction-january-11th-2015/