Pitiful Post

This week exploded on me. While I have a piece in the works, my readers deserve the best I have to offer. Sadly that piece still needs some tweaking and revising, so I thought I would comment on what I am learning from one of the three books I am currently reading. Since I need to finish reading it by the afternoon, I will keep my commentary brief.

"Shibumi" sounds like an awesome title, doesn't it? A good title can draw in even the most timid reader.

I also find that I receive a small thrill of satisfaction when the reason for the title emerges in the storyline.

I adore a varied cast of characters, particularly when they say bizarre things. (You'll have to read it to understand."

However, the bizarre statements can begin to wear on one if they are overused.

I also find that the use of many languages without any clue as to the meaning comes off as pretentious. At least I understood the French parts.

As always, this should inspire to write better pieces for you, dear readers. Keep reading.

Success

This is another short little piece for your reading pleasure. For those who may just be joining us, please feel free to follow this blog, post comments, and offer your own story prompts. We writers in my head love feedback!

“As a writer, I will consider myself successful when various editions of my own works line the shelves of my personal library.”

Those words, penned during a motivational workshop early in my writing career, haunt me now. My dream has now been realized yet I still feel far from reaching my potential. Even as I run my fingers along the leather spines of hundreds of volumes, which bear my name, the weight of my own dissatisfaction pushes me down to my knees.

Soft laughter echoes back from the ceiling, only to be captured by the soft pages of my writings. I look up, startled to realize the laughter emanates from me. New laughter harmonizes with mine. A strong hand grips my shoulder from behind and my laughter gives way to a raspy voice.

“It’s never enough, is it, my boy?”

I raise my chin to look into the emaciated face of my mentor. Pale blues eyes filled with a lifetime of memories and more gaze down at me without blinking. Thin greyish lips part enough to allow his yellowed teeth some semblance of a smile.

“This cannot be…” I begin.

Harsh laughter prefaces his words. “Because I am dead?”

“Yes.” Confusion fills my mind, only to be replaced by fear.

I struggle against his grip, but the iron vise tightens as he leans in to blow the fetid smell of death into my lungs. “What you must soon accept is that you have joined me.”

At these final words, I look away from him. I no longer kneel before the altar of my life’s work. My body now lies prostrate on the ground. The image imprints on my soul before fading out as my consciousness melts into the universe.

My Queen

This is a brief diversion for those who love or dream of love. Enjoy.

Alice’s hair streamed out behind her, catching the light and turning to gold. She leaned closer to her horse’s neck, urging it to go faster. She could hear his horse’s hooves beating against the hard earth as he caught up to her. They neared the barn and her mount instinctively slowed, coming to a walk as it turned its nose to the closed gate.

Samuel caught up to her, dismounting swiftly to open the gate for her. He followed slowly, leading his horse into the corral and closing the gate again. He released his horse, watching it canter to the opposite side of the corral before turning his attention back to Alice. She patted her horse’s neck gently and turned to him. He raised his arms toward her, waiting impatiently for her to dismount.

“How did you think of this?” She slid down from the horse into his waiting arms.

“Doesn’t every little princess love horses?” He whispered into her ear as he held her close.

She pulled away, glaring and smiling as she patted his chest softly with her balled up fists. “Little?”

“You’ll always be your father’s little girl.” He smiled sinking to his knees in the hard-packed mud.

A warm blush crept up her cheeks. “Are you…”

He held up one finger to quiet her as he fumbled in the pocket of his jacket. “At least, that is what he told me yesterday when I asked him an important question.” He smiled and shook his head as she opened her mouth to speak and continued. “Now, I have a question for you…”

“Ye…”

“Wait for me to ask.” He smiled up at her. “Will you be my queen?”

“Yes.” She sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around him.

One More Snow Day

You may have missed two posts since last Thursday. In light of the promise of snow, I thought this story would be a good choice for today.

Everyone has experienced long winter mornings where the whole family hovered around the radio. We all longed to hear our county announced as a school cancellation for that day. We figured out the neighboring counties. When we heard their names, we became more anxious. Would it happen? Would we have a whole day off to spend however we liked? On one such morning, I peeked out the window and hope took root in my soul. A thin blanket of white fluff covered everything I could see. As I stepped away from the window, I heard a loud, “Whoop!”

My door burst open before I could reach it. My brother hoisted me up on his shoulders, proclaiming, 

“No school, little girl. Find your gloves.”

I giggled. No one could make me giggle like Colin could. As he lowered back to solid ground, I giggled again and plucked my gloves from a pile on the floor. As soon as I slipped them on, he offered me his hand, leading me into the living room. My mother smiled at us and shook her head.

“If you aren’t eating breakfast now, you better not come crying to me later.” I looked up at Colin at her words.

He smiled as he led me to the table. We ate as fast as we could, washing pancakes we barely tasted down with large glasses of orange juice. At a frown from our mother, our plates clattered into the sink. Then we were free.

Racing to pull on gloves, scarves, heavy boots, and thick coats, my brother and I finally stepped out into the bitter cold. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the thrill of building snowmen and making snow angels wore off. I left my brother to put the finishing touches on our second snow child and turned my feet toward the river.

“Charlotte,” my brother’s voice followed me.

I didn’t listen. Soon I stood at the edge of the river, letting one foot gently tap the thick layer of ice on covering it. I heard my brother’s footsteps. As I turned toward him, he scooped me up in his arms. I kicked my legs to no avail as he carried me back up the hill.

“Mom will never forgive me if I let you get your feet wet.” He huffed a little.

“I bet the ice is thick enough to hold me.” I protested, squirming against his chest.

“It might be, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Warmth filled me at the love in his words.

I snuggled closer to him, unable to speak as tears formed in my eyes.

He smiled down at me. “Don’t worry, sis, I’ll spend the whole day keeping you entertained. Okay?”

“Sounds wonderful,” I sighed, leaning into the warmth of his embrace after he set me on the ground.

He kept that promise. He walked me home and sat with me by the fire, telling me stories, tickling me, and keeping me out of my mother’s way as she cooked and cleaned. As he tucked me into bed, he confessed how frightened he had felt when he saw me stepping onto the ice. He had been afraid he would lose his baby sister. In the dim glow of my nightlight, I saw a real tear slide down his cheek.

And that is how I remember my big brother—the teenager who spent a whole day with his little sister. What I wouldn’t give for one more day with him. The war has taken that possibility away. I now know the loss that he had feared, and every time it snows, I wish for one more snow day with Colin.

Moving On? Moving Out?

I have noticed a marked lack of interest in this particular piece, so I thought I'd slip this final selection into the journal on an off day. I already have a piece in mind to post on Thursday, so feel free to come back for something new and refreshing. Hope to read more of your comments soon!

“Carolyn has done it. She quit.” Crystal crowed as she returned from a scouting mission to the human resources department.

“Really?” Less than a week had passed.

“Yes. I can’t believe she made it this long.” Crystal made a sour face.

We both made many visits to her cubicle in the past week. Every time, we came closer and closer to losing our lunch. No one could ever get used to such a stench. I shuddered and Crystal smiled at me.

“It’s only a matter of time.” She nodded happily.

As if on cue, my phone rang.

“Sarabeth…” I began.

“Sarabeth, get up here. We need to talk.” My boss’s voice boomed over the line.

“Yes, sir.” I pulled the phone away from my ear in time to hear a loud click.

“Good luck.” Crystal paused long enough to flash me a thumb’s up before sitting heavily in her chair.

I stepped out of the doorway calmly before bursting into a sprint. By the time I reached my boss’s office, my breath was spent. I paused just outside the door to regain my bearings. When I no longer sounded as if I had just ran a marathon, I knocked lightly on the door.

“Get in here.” His gruff voice matched his serious face.

“I have some news for you.” He paused and surveyed my expression. “You might want to sit down.”

“I think I’m okay to stand.” I smiled reassuringly.

“I really think you should sit. I’ll wait.” He formed a steeple of his fingers as he leaned back a little.

I obeyed, pulling my skirt down subconsciously as it rode up above my knees. He gently tapped his fingers together as he sought the right words.

“Sarabeth, the company is moving in a new direction.” He paused dramatically to let this sink in.

I filled the pause with timid words. “What do you mean?”

“We’re outsourcing some of our data entry positions…”

My face fell as he paused again, changing his own expression to one of remorse. “You’ve been a good employee, but we’re going to have to let you go.”

“But I just…” I bit back the words that were on the tip of my tongue.

“You just what?” He lowered his hands and leaned forward. His dark eyes searched my face suspiciously.

“I just thought that I…” I struggled to think of a good lie.

“That’s not important. You’ll have two weeks to write up some procedures.” He offered me a smile as if he was giving me a gift. “And a generous severance package to tide you over until you find a new job.”

“Thank you?” Hopeless words were all I had left.

I didn’t wait for his response. I walked out of his office, being sure to let it slam behind me. He didn’t try to stop me. I sighed, realizing that perhaps coming to work to find I had no cubicle really was a sign that I should have moved on.

Getting Perspective

I've been reading a horrible book for the past week. This endeavor has made me more aware of some of my shortcomings. It has also given me cause to evaluate my writing goals as well as my intentions for this blog. So now, dear reader, you can play the father on prom night as I try to clarify my intention.

The writer of the novel I am reading neglected to check his facts. Every time I read something that is blatantly wrong, I get pulled out of the story and into the real world. Since his story takes place in the real world, not Middle Earth or Naboo, I expect events to be influenced by the laws of the real world. I aspire to either create a world where "magic" can happen or follow the rules as I know them. This may require a little more work and a lot more research on my part, but the stories I create are worth it.

I also find that the author of the horrible, terrible book relies too much on happy coincidences. People just happen to bump into each other far too often. Some characters just happen to develop knowledge or powers that are not conceivably possible. If I seem to be relying too much on happy coincidences in my little snippets, I expect comments that caution me to stop. I understand that the occasional happy coincidence will move the story along, but they cannot happen every ten pages.

I know I will never have an issue with my next complaint because I am a prude, but I have to mention it here because I have seen even great authors utilize it. Sex should not be a tool to break up the tension in your story. Honestly, I have mastered skimming past the sex scenes because they tend to bore me. I tire of people trying to spice up their narrative with sex scenes that have nothing to do with the story. How do I know they are trying to spice it up? The characters decide to have sex all of the time--happy, sad, scared, on the run, post-op, pre-op, because they don't have coffee handy, you get the point.

Anyway, I had to get that little rant out. Feel free to rant at me the next time I post a fiction post or right below this one. Feedback is my friend!

Moving On? Moving In Tandem

The story from the previous entry continues here. I believe the next post will bring it to a close for those wanting to know where this is going. Keep commenting.

As the elevators began to open, Crystal reached into the pocket of her loose cardigan. She pulled out a pair of thin cotton gloves and shoved them into my hand.

“You’re going to want those so you don’t leave any fingerprints.” She winked as I slipped the gloves into my pocket.

A soft ding announced our arrival. Crystal stepped out onto the floor before the doors opened completely, mumbling impatiently as she squeezed between the doors. I followed more cautiously. No one noticed me. Their eyes all sought the floor, the wall, the exit sign, anything that was not Crystal’s gaze. I casually slipped to the far side of my destination cubicle. I sucked in my breath and held it as I waited for her to lure out our victim.

“Carolyn, I have a package for you.” Crystal’s voice echoed over the cube wall.

“Where is it?” Carolyn’s weary voice would have been indiscernible if I weren’t crouched against the padded wall.

“Downstairs, of course.” Her harsh voice quelled any questions about her logic.

Chairs rolled closer to desks. Typing became more frantic. A few voices raised noticeably as everyone aspired not to hear what was happening in Carolyn’s cubicle.

“You couldn’t just bring it up?” Carolyn’s voice remained flat.

“Apparently not. You should come get it.” Crystal’s voice became sharper.

Wheels squealed as she pushed back her chair with a sigh. “Alright, Crystal, let’s go.”

I waited until I heard the elevator door open before venturing around to the opening in the cubicle. In the wake of Crystal’s visit, everyone continued to mind their own business. No one even glanced in my direction as I snuck into Carolyn’s cubicle. I pulled the cotton gloves out of my pocket and slipped them onto my hands. I shook my head as the humor of the situation struck me, but I had come too far to back down now.

Not wanting to risk discovery, I slid the bottom drawer out of her desk as quietly as possible. Air whistled through the small gap in front teeth as the drawer clicked free of its casings. Setting it gently on the floor, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the packet of tuna. Pulling back the tab, I allowed fragrant juice to dribble down the back of the drawer. I rubbed the package along the drips of oil to keep them from dribbling on the floor.

As I slipped the drawer back into place, my eyes turned to the top drawer on the other side of the desk. Shrugging slightly, I pulled it out as cautiously as the first. I poured out more oil, swiping it once with the foil packet. I lifted the drawer gently, preparing to slide it home.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t realize the new girl in accounting was also named Carolyn.” My head whipped up as Crystal’s voice boomed out of the elevator.

The squeaky reply didn’t travel to where I stood. I inhaled deeply and forced myself to slide the drawer into place with pained precision. As it clicked closed, I stepped toward the opening in the cube walls. Peering around the wall, I could see that Crystal had grabbed Carolyn’s arm. The other woman whipped around like a rag doll as Crystal’s voice boomed into the frightened stillness of the office.

“I said I was sorry. It’s an easy mistake to make.” Seeing me, Crystal tilted her head.

I stepped gingerly into the aisle, glancing in each direction once before scurrying around to the far side of this row of cubicles. Skirting around until I reached the end closest to the elevator, I reached the corner as Crystal dismissed Carolyn.

“I’ll be more careful in the future.” Her words held a promise that Carolyn would never receive her packages again.

I stifled a laugh as Carolyn turned away. Crystal turned back to the elevator, hitting the button repeatedly with the palm of her hand. I stepped up to stand beside her, waiting in silence. We didn’t speak until the elevator doors closed behind us.

“Done?”

“Yes. I did two drawers.”

“Good thinking. Now all we have to do is wait.”