Story A Day May 2017, story 1

I am participating in the Story a Day May writing challenge :)

Today's rough draft is inspired by today's writing prompt

Sunday, 11am
Funerals always make me feel my age.

I leaned on my cane coming home from the funeral. My darling daughter got took me home and got me settled before going on to her own home. First I thanked my lucky stars to have family that cared more about me than the cost of my upkeep, then I started to open my mail. Most of it was junk, of course. Out of habit, I put aside anything brightly colored that Birdie might want for her collages. It was her funeral today. I left the papers aside. I couldn't bring myself to toss them - not yet. There was just one more envelope to open. I checked the return address three times, I was so shocked - it was from Birdie! Did she mail something right before she died?

I have never opened an envelope so slowly in my entire life. You would have thought I was afraid a monster might fall out of it. Or a ghost.

It was one of birdie's collaged postcards. I was sure she hadn't shown it to me the last time I saw her. I thought about calling my daughter - maybe I was seeing things? I certainly wasn't going to call the so-called "nursing" staff, even if I was seeing things. But, I also wasn't going to drag my daughter back across town because I'd gone soft in the head. If it was my imagination, at least I was still creative enough to invent a really gorgeous postcard. Well, the postcard from the dead wasn't going to read itself.
Reading glasses cleaned on settled on my nose, I turned the card. After an eternal moment, I opened my eyes and read. "I'm not dead. Meet me Tuesday night at 8 behind the dungeon."

"If you're really alive," I told the postcard, "I am going to kill you."

Tuesday, 8PM, behind the community Physical Therapy room.

I can't believe I'm actually standing here, waiting for a dead woman to come explain herself. Or waiting to find out that I really have gone off my rocker. Or waiting here to scare the bejeezus out of someone else sneaking around. You'd be surprised at how well old people can sneak. It's a survival skill around here. I must have been at least as nervous as I was angry - as soon as I heard steps, I changed my grip on my cane, ready to smack someone.

Birdie said, "I knew you didn't really need that cane."

"I won't, if you explain yourself Right. Now."

Birdie's wrinkled face split into a grin. "Don't beat me up now that I'm finally free!"

My jaw dropped. I lowered my cane. Holy shit. The old bitch really was alive. I babbled as we embraced, so glad to have my friend still, and so angry to have had to mourn her. Relief won, so I didn't strangle her.

"Okay," I said, holding her hands, "What the hell?"

"I'm free! My rotten kids can stop bitching about how much I'm draining their inheritance, the nannies here can stop treating me like a crazy person, and I can do whatever I like."

I blinked. Her kids really were terrible. I'd stay with her when they visited, partly for moral support and partly so she wasn't the only one to hear the terrible things they said. Lately they'd been hinting that Birdie was in mental decline, and needed to make of them her power of attorney. It was just a ploy to get at her money, of course, but try telling the staff here that. No one is going to believe an old lady.

She must have seen comprehension finally dawn on me. "Yup. I'm out. I've cashed out all of my investments, put it all in accounts under my maiden name. I'm going to have a very good time on my children's inheritance."

Drabble for Story a Day May!

I am very pleased to report that I have written a short story for each day of this month so far :) I'm not ready to share the first two, but today's drabble feels ready to share. I was inspired by this prompt, to use the last line of a book I love as the last line of my story. Huge piles of nerd points if you recognize the line :)

A crash sent Jason running downstairs. He stepped into the kitchen slowly, remembering how often voices had been raised in anger recently. Parenting a teenager seemed to be almost as tough as being one. He found his wife and son covered in splatters of what had to be the candy they were making. Sprays and splatters festooned everything. For a moment, they all held their breath. Someone snorted, as if holding in laughter. In a moment, Jason was pulled into a sticky three-way hug, all of them dissolving into helpless laughter.

Even with nougat, you can have a perfect moment.

National Poetry Month day 25

A lune of enthusiasm and encouragement:

You know you want to,
2016
Story a Day May

I am super excited about Story a Day May this year, especially since I might actually manage to write all 31 stories! I will post about the process and my progress, and at least some of the stories. If any of you good folks will be participating, let me know - we can help each other stay on track :)

Story a Day May 31, wrap up

My thoughts about Story a Day May and some ramblings are after the story :)

The Prompt
Two Hundred And Fifteen

I chose to use 215 as my word count. Much to my surprised delight, I hit that exact word count on the first try!

Today my imaginary world is full of butterflies, flowers, and soft music. Sometimes there are unicorns. Sometimes there are space ships. Here all are loved just as each is now, and supported to improve if called to do so. Pain and trouble exist in my imaginary world, of course. People hurt each other without meaning to, and sometimes struggle to understand each other. In my imaginary world we keep an open heart, striving to speak and act from love. More often than not, we work out our differences, ending up stronger and move loving for the effort. In my imaginary world, no one is perfect, but that's not held against one. Admitting fault takes courage. Changing to prevent repeating that fault takes strength. Courage and strength are virtues in my imaginary world.

I love that my imaginary world overlaps with the imaginary worlds of so many other people. Some of us are so dedicated to our imaginary worlds we actually believe they're Real Life. I sincerely wish I could show you the beautiful joy of my imaginary world. I wish you could feel the acceptance, comfort, and goodness of this imaginary space. Perhaps, maybe, if enough people choose to live from love, choose to look to others with acceptance, my imaginary world will become Real.

Ha! I realized after I wrote this story that it's actually the prompt for May 30th! Oops. Leaving it here anyway :)

The bad news is that I only accomplished 25.8% of the Story a Day May goal. The totally overwhelming good news is that I TOTALLY WROTE 8 STORIES IN MAY! Given how much I wrote in the first three months of the year (almost nothing), I accomplished a whole lot in April (Poem a Day) and May. I definitely want a writing challenge for June. I have some ideas; I'll sleep on them, and post my decision tomorrow

Story a Day May 15 - unfinished

The Prompt
Write A Story Told In The First Person


San Francisco, 19XX

Dearest Rob,

Thank you for the photos. I will hold you to your promise - I expect at least one story for each one when you return. I do love your stories. Much to my surprise, I have a story to tell you!

It's about the very first customer this morning. He rushed in with more energy than you would expect in an antiques shop. No longer you, he did have that mid-western corn-fed look you enjoy so much. His well-tailored suit would give a casual observer the appearance of a well-maintained physique. Not that he was in bad shape for his age, mind - just not quite as strapping as he probably was in youth.

Story a Day May 14

http://storyaday.org/prompt-your-voice/

I didn't get all the way to a story today, but I did get some excellent notes :)  I'm kinda excited about this - hopefully will get it fleshed out and finished later on in the summer.  

Story a Day May 13

The Prompt
Write A Story Rich In Description

I closed my eyes and inhaled. The blended odors of tomatoes, garlic and herbs were the most obvious, but didn't completely upstage the lingering traces of baking bread, nor the crisp scents of torn, sliced and chopped vegetables. Warm steam billowed from the pasta pot; my cue to add the noodles. I leaned back against the counter, sighing happily. The warm air over the stove drifting through the cool air from the window. All his favorites were ready. He would especially enjoy a good home-cooked meal after so many late nights at work.

I was so ready to hear the door open, I jumped when the phone rang. His ringtone; my heart fell. Was something wrong? I fumbled the phone before managing to answer it. He didn't hear my voice shake because he started talking as soon as I answered. I heard what he said, understood every word, but couldn't make sense of them as a group. Something, something, "won't be home" something "we both knew this was coming" something something "Pick up my things while you're out." I babbled something, held back tears when he asked me to, then listened to the line go dead. I couldn't look at my phone. I certainly couldn't put it down anywhere in the kitchen, not anymore. I leaned into the front room and tossed it toward the couch. I washed my hands, cried, then washed my face. The cold water dripped as I leaned back against the counter. I looked at the red-hot burners under the pasta and under the sauce. I looked at my good kitchen knife in the dish drainer. I took good care of that knife; it was always sharp. Hands shaking, I picked up the knife. I held it up to the light, and looked at my reflection in the broad blade.

"Fuck this," I said, and dropped the knife into the block. "I will be damned if this good cooking goes to waste!" And if I was a little shrill, at least there was no one there to hear it. As I knew it would be, the food was outstanding.

Story a Day May 10

The Prompt
Choose a piece of music from the list below. Listen through it once or twice and get your mind in the mood of the music. Then start writing.

~Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saens
~Fanfare for the Common Man by Aaron Copland
~Egmont Overture by Ludwig van Beethoven
~Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18 (II. Adagio Sostenuto) by Sergei Rachmaninoff
~The Planets by Gustav Holst (choose one movement)

I wrote to Danse Macabre

***
I closed my eyes, praying it was a mistake. Gripping the steering wheel I took deep breaths, just like they taught me in rehab. I opened my eyes, looked up through the windshield and almost cried. It was no mistake - the grocery store shared a parking lot with a liquor store. I moved here to avoid temptation. Oops.

Story a Day May 07

The Prompt
Write the story that accompanies this ending line:
I clicked off the safety, swearing that if she showed her face here today, my room would be the last one she ever entered.

Animals only kill when they feel threatened. After so many years of hunters taking lion cubs, the lioness had good reason to feel threatened. Over my baby's gentle breath, I heard snuffling outside. I clicked off the safety, swearing that if she showed her face here today, my room would be the last one she ever entered.

Story a Day May 06

The dragon stretched away morning stiffness. Just as her mother taught her, she inspected her cavern with eye and nose before setting a scale outside. Of course, there was no one there and not a single coin out of place, and good old fashioned vigilance would keep it that way.

She inhaled cool air as she stepped into the sunshine. Before she consciously recognized the scent of humans she was on guard - claws out, wings open, looking all around. On second breath she realized the scent was neither close nor recent. Seeing and hearing nothing out of the ordinary, she followed the olfactory trail. Down the slope from her cave she found a table, and on the table several sheets of paper, folded together and weighted with a pearl coronet. While small to her, they would have been large sheets for human hands. The dragon examined it all closely, taking her time despite her curiosity. Not many knew that dragons could read. The pages intrigued her. Vigilance satisfied, she moved the coronet, opened the sheaf, and took in the contents.

Miles away, a young queen, the first woman to rule in her own right, told her advisers that she had written and delivered the letter. Their protests were cut short by a great rumbling sound, like ceaseless thunder. The one she liked the least cried out, "See! Your foolishness has angered the beast when we are not ready to attack her!" The queen closed her eyes as the color drained from her face. She inhaled slowly, letting a smile touch the corners of her mouth. After the first shock of sound, the roaring resolved into laughter. A huge, booming laugh from far away.

She let the advisers argue, not showing how carefully she listened to what was said by whom. The laughter faded as a sound of huge wings began. Everyone fell silent as the wings came closer. Several advisers fled, some fainted, and others froze in place, pale and quivering. The new queen walked calmly into the courtyard. The dragon dropped low, then hovered. The dragon nodded to the queen, saying, "Yes, my lady. Call on me at any time; I'm sure we can work things out, woman to woman." With a rush of wings, the dragon flew off. After a moment of silence, everyone in and around the castle cheered their brave queen.

Story a Day May 05

@StoryADayMay #AmWriting #CeD2014 Got in the cryo unit for the LOLs. Woke up 100 years later with a Dear John letter. #FML #CryoFail

— Aspiring Insect Hope (@hopeevey) May 6, 2014

This is my response to today's prompt in the Story a Day Challenge :) I'm quite proud of myself.