When Autumn Comes – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #43

I knew where I wanted to go with this one. Then I had an internal struggle. Then a physical struggle. Then the words would not come in the format I had envisioned. They say that is part of the process, writers do, say it, that is.  So I took a step back and started over.

Welcome to Crispina‘s weekly challenge. Anything goes, as long as you don’t go past 150 words. Click on her name, the rules and regs, soft as they are, are right there!

When Autumn Comes

It hangs on a hook, waiting till autumn comes.  Different garage, different hook.  Yet it was placed there as soon as we arrived. I don’t even know if it was me or one of the boys who hung it up.

It’s just a stupid flannel sweater-cum-jacket.  Older than – hell, I have no idea how old it is!  It seems like it has always been there. It has been worn to rake leaves, tie bushes, change tires. It has been thrown on in dead of winter just to cross the street to get to the convenience store.

I wear it now, when autumn comes.  I rake my leaves, do my best to do the yard thing. No, I don’t change my tires – that’s what family are for!

It is the first item I reach for when I’m doing the stuff you used to do. When autumn comes.

 

Word count: 146

 

Emma Why – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #41

Welcome to Crimson’s Creative Challenge. I didn’t think I’d come up with something and then, well, I did. I love that this challenge means pretty much anything is accepted, as long as we keep it under 150 words.  Can’t say I blame Crispina. For challenges, that means a lot of reading (and I try to read all the participants’ entries too, so. Yeah. I do my bestest to keep it at 150 or less).

Emma-Why

Mommy! Look at the ducks!

I think they are geese, dear.

I thought ducks were white and gooses were black and white like the ones in Canada.

Geese.  And there are different types.

Why are they geese and not gooses?

I don’t know.

Why are these geese here in the parking lot?  Isn’t it hot for their foots?

Feet, not foots.

Why is is feet and not foot?

Good question. English is funny that way.

Can I pet them?

Oh no! Geese are notorious for being nasty.

What is notorious? And they look nice.

Notorious means they have a bad reputation.  Don’t disturb them; they probably think we are on their territory.

That’s silly, Mommy. They should be in the water or in the air!

You’ve got that right, Emma-Why.

Why do you call me Emma-Why?

Gee, I wonder why!

 

Word count 150

 

And since I like to add a photo of mine, here are some Canada Gooses 😉

 

 

Steps – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #40

Good Thursday night… for twenty minutes, anyway!  I wasn’t sure I would participate in Crispina‘s challenge this week and then, I thought I would just supply a “reply photo” but then found two and couldn’t decide on which one to use and decided to use both, then thought: “I can’t just plop two photos!” So I thought I’d write a little story but then nothing came to me and, driving home from work, a haiku came to mind. Only to promptly disappear as I parked my car.  Sigh.  As I played with my pictures, other words came to mind so. Well. This is what you get!

Where do these steps go?

In the middle of no where

How can I resist?

Do I see a light?

This is an invitation

I cannot resist

More steps up ahead

A neverending journey

Makes life worth living

Requital – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #39

This is out of my norm but it’s all Crispina’s fault. She gave me the idea so I ran with it. This is a part two of my Friday Fictioneer story, though I hope this stands alone.  Should you want to read it, click here.  As always, the CCC challenge is open to so many possibilities. To play, click on the CCC and see the rules and regs.  Easy peasy! Today, no poetry, though 😉

Have a fabulous day!

Requital

“Hello, John. Sleep well?”

“Why am I chained?”

“To show you how much I love you. You know, like you did Sally, Francesca, Maria and Brenda. Brenda was my best friend. You wouldn’t know because you cut her off from us. I tried to warn her about you but she wouldn’t listen.”

“Oh, gimme a break. She was an easy mark.”

“Still so cocky.”

He stretched out his arm, pleading, “No. This is real. I love you.”

“Oh, can it, already! You’re so full of yourself. I’ve been studying you for a long time. I knew exactly how to reel you in. It was so easy to pretend you were my whole world.”

“Anna?”

“Sorry, Shark Bait. Too bad you cut yourself while fixing your motor and a wave knocked you off your boat.

She sliced his outstretched arm, pressed a button and released him into the sea.

“Bye, John.”

Word count: 150

In the Weeds – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #38

I’m kinda liking this me who takes pen to paper to jot down snippets of writings in quiet moments.  Yes, I do this at work, where I should be pretending to be busy. It is quiet in the mornings, so I find myself reflecting. And what better way to use those reflections than to answer a challenge. Thank you, Crispina, for giving me the opportunity to be productive in a different way 😉

In the Weeds

Been feeling in the weeds

Too much to do

So little desire to do it

The temps scream vacation, so

Also been feeling nostalgic

To a time when I was part of a We

 

It’s “Construction Holiday” here in Quebec

Ridiculous idea when you consider our seasons

Stop all construction (road-work excluded)

For the last two weeks of July

Holiday primetime in a short summer

 

On the road I see

Caravans of campers

I can’t help but remember when

We were one of them

 

Those days are gone now

And who knows?

Maybe they would have been anyway

The boys, now young men, doing their own thing

What would we be doing instead?

 

I stop myself before I fall into wallowing

It’s not my way

But

I can’t help wishing a little

 

So I look at my weeds

And change my perception

Move away from the past

Don’t stress about the future

Be in the moment

They’re pretty weeds anyway

 

 

Adventure at the Beach – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #37

Time to participate in Crispina’s Creative Challenge… I have totally cheated as there is one little umbrella, or parasol, in this pic, whereas my story involves hundreds. Still. It is where this photo brought me and I’m feeling particularly mushy this evening so. There. The pictures I have added are not from the time of my story but close enough and damned if I can find them anyway in the helter-skelter that is my basement.  I fear there will be no order till way after golf season, and we are comfortably buried under at least four feet of snow, so please, bear with me and use your imagination…

 

Adventure at the Beach

“Mommy told me to make sure I know where our umbrella is, just in case.  She worries too much. I’m going on an adventure.” He made his way to the beach, intent on finding some shells

 

“Where’s Aidan?”  Panicked, three of us four adults went searching, while I stayed put with the other kids.

 

“Where’s our umbrella? They all look the same.” Aidan started to cry. A lifeguard found him and brought him to us.

 

My poor husband had walked far, searching. He had worked himself into a tizzy, already running in his mind what his son was wearing, how to describe him to the police… We had no cell phones then and couldn’t notify him so we had to wait for his return.

By the time he did, he was a complete basket case. He broke into tears upon seeing his baby, safe and sound.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!”

 

Word count: 154.

Footloose – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #36

A challenge issued by Crispina. Could not resist this one! Thought of my dad right away.

Footloose

For as long as I could remember there were sailing magazines all over the house: bathroom, living room table, Dad’s nightstand:  Cruising World, Boating World, Yachting, Sailing World. He was obsessed and vowed he would one day own a sailboat.

In 1987, he finally realised his dream.  A 32-foot blue-trimmed Bayfield with bowsprit, he named Footloose. She was delivered to Lake Champlain where, for over ten years, we learned how to play with the sails, the wind, the motor – coz let’s face it, sometimes there is just no wind to be had.

Nothing beat sitting on the end of the bowsprit, ripping through the water, the waves causing a wild ride making the bowsprit slap the water. It was exhilarating.

He never did make it to the ocean, and it was a sad day when he had to sell her, but the memories will forever reside in all of our hearts.

Word count: 150

Having just moved, my pictures are all over the place. That I managed to find these is rather amazing. I know I have pictures of Footloose taken from the dinghy but… where are they?