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A place for Writing 12 students to read each other's writing, to critique, to suggest, to improve.
About Me
- Brad
- Former adult teacher who loves island beaches. Happy homebody and family man; once devoted dog owner, now without Tashi, my Tibetan Terrier. I prefer the absurdity of the imagination to the absurdity of imagining nothing.
LInks
Blog Archive
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2009
(73)
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April
(13)
- Dialogue (Patchwork Farm Writing Retreat Prompt)
- To me, a friend is...
- To Me, Spring is . . .
- Rage, Peace, Loss, Evil
- Marc and Beatrice Edited Stories
- Published Pieces and Edits
- To Me, Writing is . . .
- A Favorite Tree (Patchwork Farm Writing Retreat Pr...
- Eve's Story, "Outdoor Cat" EDITED
- The Zeugma Challenge (Just for Fun)
- The Best Least Favorite Food
- Dialogue: Person and an Object
- A Rainy Day Story (Choose a Suitable Design)
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April
(13)
9 comments:
Beware of Ladders
He grabbed for a handhold, but found only air. The ladder collapsed against the fence and came to a rest. He fell, arms flailing and, as he did, he tried to free his leg from the ladder’s vice-like hold. His shin scraped down the metal rung and blood bloomed, a red rose on his pant leg.
A “woof” of air left his lips as he landed. Then the pain began, first diffuse and then more urgent, the waves beating time to his heartbeat.
The ladder leaned at a comical angle, one of its legs sunken into the soft turf.
Getting up, he grabbed his hat, dusted off his pants and peered at the rapidly spreading patch of blood on his right leg.
“Ouch!” he muttered and turned to look into his neighbour’s windows. Thankfully, no sight of him. He’d rather not scare him unnecessarily. Turning, he picked up his pruners and took a closer look at the twisted ladder.
“No saving it,” he said under his breath. He chucked the now-useless ladder over the fence and trudged on home.
Lixie is a shopping lover. She almost spends all her spare time and money on shopping. She always shops around stores one by one along one side of street, and then another. She is so keen on shopping and she will look everything in the store in spite of interesting or not that we usually joked her that she is not shopping but do inventory in the stores.
One day Lixie was shopping at a new opened commercial street. When she entered a small store, she was talking to her friend by phone. The store has only one sales girl standing behind a counter and several full racks stood on the floor.
“I am just entering a clothes store.” She talked to her friend. “The store’s name? Oh I did not notice it. There are plastic bags for every clothes. Why? Maybe it is expensive. But I can not find the price tags on them. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, those clothes are not my style….. Ok see you later.”
As she finished her phone and continued inventory the clothes, the sales girl came to her from the counter. “Excuse me lady, do you want by something here?” the girl asked.
“Oh” Lixie frowned and thought that the girl must have heard what she said to her friend and want to peddle her somthing now.
“No, I just want to have a look.” Lixie said impatiently. “Is not this a store? Can not I just have a look without buying anything?”
“Yes, you can see if you want.” The girl looked very embarrassed. “But this is a laundry store. These clothes you are looking for are the clean ones waiting to be picked up. So….”
Lixie’s face turned red, and the ears, then the neck. It is said that Lixie has never been that street later.
“Your actions speak for themselves,” she said, “You have no interest in me.”
“That’s not true!”
Mustafa’s girlfriend was mad at him because he was not remembering things that were important to her. He forgot to come for her show.
He called dozen times, left dozens messages, knocked on her door and waited. No reply. He awaited her at the university. “I called you several times,” he said.
“I don’t have any calls from you,” her brows came together, “Or you called my previous number?”
It hit home then that she got a new cell phone. Then, he left the country, but it always remained with him to prove her wrong. He thought of giving her a nice gift on her birthday. She will see him differently, appreciate his thoughtfulness, and apologize for being wrong about him.
On January 3rd, he called his friend who was living in the same city his girlfriend was, and asked him to buy a big bouquet of roses and a nice silver bracelet for her. He asked his friend to deliver it personally the next day.
The friend did as he was told, and found that Mustafa dug himself even deeper.
“Thank you for the gift! Tell Mustafa, my birthday is on February 4th.”
210 words
She graduated and came to work with us.
A young guy chased her at office, at canteen and at the place where you could think of.
At canteen, he often ordered the launch for her, occupied a seat for her, and waited for her till she already sat by her girlfriend lunching.
Someone noticed the air was peculiar; someone, the thing changed queer. Someone began to gossip; I, just to watch and think.
Someone said it was impossible; someone it possible.
The news surprised everyone: “They will marry soon!”
Then, another piece of news shocked us: “The bride disappeared before the wedding!”
I had seen the whole story: the beginning, his chasing, her tearing and the surprising ending.
Words: 118
The New-Rich Mushroom
When I was in China, there were tons of stories that some one dollar stuff people brought from some foreign flea markets ended to be found worth million times more. So when I saw the advertisement “Since 2002, the Vancouver Flea Market has been hosting Antique and collectable shows. . .” the word “antique” stimulated my eyes. I couldn’t stop dreaming to become a new-rich mushroom.
Last Sunday, with god’s mercy, it was really sunny. We were excited and therefore started our exploration.
The market looked like a huge warehouse from outside and they required tickets.
“You need to pay for museum too if you want to see real antique,” this was how I explained to my husband, stilled dreaming to find real treasures there.
We stepped into the warehouse, headed a food court, the smell of unchanged oil was squeezed into my nose. People around me were mostly tattered. I could even sense the head oil and dead skins. Five minutes later, just after my nose started getting use to this torment, my husband started complaining already. No pain, no gain! I forced him to continue.
“The air here is killing me, I cannot breathe.” he said, “Everything is mouldy.”
“That’s the smell of antique.” I still didn’t want to give up.
“See that pair of funky shoes, your antique is here,” he frowned, pointed a pair of muddy shoes, covered his nose and teased me.
I didn’t want to argue to breathe more air here, but you got to pay for what you want.
Twenties minutes passed, I felt really dizzy for lack of fresh air. There were full of weird things: some brand new Chinese made knives; some one dollar lady’s hair accessories; some vulgar doodles; some unexplained cell phones and watches; some creepy second hand shoes and clothes. . . .
I was interested in some stained lamps and jars, but there were too dirty to touch.
Suddenly, the lights went off. The barks kicked up a row immediately in different languages, somehow reminded me this was Canada and here might not be the right place to stay.
“I’d have to go out to have a cigarette before I’m frowzy to die.” I believed he was dying.
I followed him tightly and heard my dream of being a new-rich mushroom burst like a soapy bubble.
Don’t tell lie that could be proven
They all talked about what they mastered in. Her friend, as it turned out, mastered in sociology, her other friend in physics; she, drama
“I’ve even written a script in high school,” she added.
“Wow,” both girls said
“Cool!” the tall girl said. “Then you can audition for the play coming up this afternoon. You said you’re good at acting, right?”
“Um…yeah, but I have no —”
“Oh come on. We’d love to see you acting. Please?”
Out of fear she’d disappoint her friends she nodded and asked them about the play.
After signing for the audition, getting her script, she headed to the auditorium. She walked on the stage clumsily, opened her script with shaky hands, and sat on the chair.
“Are you ready?” the auditor asked. When she nodded, he said, “Then start the show.”
“It seems this class will take forever,” she read. “Ugh! It’s boring me to death. She squirms in her seat and taps her feet on the ground.”
“Whoa!” said the auditor, jerking his head backward.
The audience (her friends and four other girls) froze in shock.
“Miss, you’re supposed to act that part, not read.” He added.
“Oh—okay.” She read it again and when she reached the parentheses, she stood up, headed where the auditor sat, and swept his feet, taping them on the ground.
“My God, let go of my feet!” he exploded. “I thought you’ve written a play before. Yet you don’t know what the words in parentheses mean. You’re supposed to squirm and tap your feet, not mine!”
Everybody was suppressing laughter. Obviously, she knew nothing about drama. She smiled, thinking about her next lie since this one was proven.
Zeugma challenge
I remembered my childhood, my daughter, her infanthood. My five years old daughter curled up like a ball, pretended to be a baby, and waited to be cuddled. Of course, her legs were too long and straight, but she managed to spread it apart to the maximum width and touch the lower calves with the inter thighs. With a loud cry, she became a newborn baby and a giant baby in her mother’s bosom.
Now, its a commonly known fact that human beings are quite strange creatures. Each of us can do things very different then the person next to us. My friend Meghann has a laugh that sounds like a dying dolphin. While Jake has a tendency to burp whenever he drinks milk, nothing else, only milk. Justin is amazing at dancing, Jason at playing guitar, Sarah at always being able to make people laugh. You all know what I'm talking about. Every person has something that separates them from other people. Something that makes then unique, and stand out in a crowd--For better or worse. Well let me tell you about my aunts dog, Weaver.
This little trouble maker is half chow and half black Labrador. In our family we actually don't classify him a dog, because he seems to believe hes a human. He does things to show what he wants, just in a way us humans do. If he feels like hes not getting enough attention, he speaks. Yes, speaks. He sits on his hind legs, lifts his throat up, and starts yelping at the person he wants attention from. Directly. If you start talking back to him, he continues to yelp in a different tone. Depending on what you say, he will react quite differently. Mentioning anything about squirrels causes him to roll over, lift his head in the air, and start barking. If anything is said about a ball, he jumps back, sticks his nose toward the ground, and starts licking the floor.
This animal truly believes hes a human being. It gets even worse when it comes to food. Whenever we sit down to have dinner at the table, if any chairs are free, he jumps up and sits on the chair. Then it becomes even more shocking as he will lift his paw up and point to what food he wants! Now I'm not sure how many animals act like this, but I know for a fact its not normal. We love Weaver to death. But he is truly a strange creature.
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