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500 X 42 Mists

 
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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Fri Nov 10, 2006 10:41 am    Post subject: 500 X 42 Mists Reply with quote



I hope you have fun with this one. Smile I can't wait to see what you come up with. Pertinent information follows. LOL

Picture
http://www.freeimages.com/photos/showphoto.php?photo=2277&password=&sort=1&cat=998&page=2
Site:
http://www.freeimages.com/photos/showgallery.php?cat=998&si=mist&page=2&sort=1&perpage=12&password=&ppuser=&stype=1


shadowlight

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Jolanta
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PostPosted: Fri Nov 10, 2006 3:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Henry invited Mi Ran Kim to dinner to the best Korean restaurant in the city which offered delicious Korean meals. He only hoped that he’d receive ordinary cutlery instead of chopsticks…

They was sitting in a secluded place at a table with a big flat, ceramic bowl in the middle of the table with little white, round candles floating on water.
Henry ordered Mae-un tang soup, and Kimbap, and two glasses of Soju to celebrate their last meeting.

The conversation was heavy going. Mi focused her attention on the burning candles.
The silence became unbearable.

“Mi, I can’t imagine the city without you,” Henry said at last.

“You are teaching a lot of students from many countries, Sir…” she looked at him at last and smiled, but after a while she lowered her eyes.

Henry didn’t know how to explain the young woman that she meant a lot to him - much more than anyone else…
He was teaching her English for three years, and they spent many hours together reading English novels and poems, watching English movies, and discussing many, many subjects. No wonder he came to like her.
Mi was different than other women he knew. Mi was… Henry couldn’t reconcile himself to her departure; Mi had to leave his country to come back home.
He didn’t expect that the last evening would come so quickly…

“Mi, I have a little gift for you,” Henry gave her a little book.

She looked at the title. “Classic Poems,” she read aloud. “Thank you, Sir,” Mi was visibly pleased with the gift.
She flicked through the book, and her cheeks blushed in amazement.

She read in a longing voice,

“I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain…”

“The Day Is Done by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is really wonderful,” Henry could see tears in her eyes. He ascribed her emotion to the poem.

“Mr Henry, this poem made me think of my village in Korea without all my friends I got to know here, and without you…”

Henry took the book to look for something. Having found it, he read aloud smiling at Mi,

“I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow,—
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!”

“Mi, you needn’t go anywhere. Your home is in my heart…” Henry said, touching Mi’s hand.


Jolanta Cool
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Harry
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PostPosted: Sat Nov 11, 2006 6:03 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Henry and Mi Ran are a very attractive couple with a lot in common. I'm sure they can find a solution to their problem. The introduction of Robert Browning is an inspired touch, Jolanta ... he says what they can't seem to say themselves. Good idea also I think to name your protagonist 'Henry'. I hope they make it, Korea needs all the love it can get.
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Harry
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PostPosted: Sat Nov 11, 2006 6:39 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Mountain of Memory

Harry Buschman


About 4:30 every afternoon, elderly Louella finds herself at the foot of her mountain. It's her own personal mountain of memory. She goes there to see if she can find something valuable – something worth remembering. She carries a bag with her on case she sees something worth taking home.

Most of the mountain is ash and mist. It is the residue of her life. She has forgotten almost all of it and it is only when sees tangible evidence of something that happened long ago that her mind responds with a start. Then and only then can she relive the pleasant moments of her life. This afternoon she has found an old-fashioned pair of white framed sunglasses and she instantly recalled her second honeymoon.

Her husband, Sam said at the time, "How about it, Louella – Bill and Vicki are going on their first, why don't we go on our second?" Their son, Bill had just been married, and he and his bride were going to San Francisco. So Louella and Sam went to Jamaica – Sam bought her the sunglasses there – "You look like a movie star." he said.

Louella puts the sunglasses in the plastic sack she brought with her and straightens up. She saw nothing more that afternoon. The sunglasses would have to see her through the long night ahead, She never slept any more. She would lie awake and live her past again. From time to time she would reach in her plastic sack by the side of the bed and pull out a relic of her past. The memories it stimulated in her carried her through the endless hours of darkness,

She can't wait for the night to begin
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Jolanta
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PostPosted: Sat Nov 11, 2006 8:11 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Harry,

What a nice story… The prompt was not easy at all.
I like the idea with the personal mountain of memory. I find the story (especially the beginning and the end) a bit poetical.
Such a mountain is a very good thing when people are old or lonely. The most important thing for people is to have a mountain of memory that is not a mountain of garbage only…

Thank you for your comment on my story. My couple has a lot in common and that is why they should be always together.

Jolanta Smile
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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Sat Nov 11, 2006 6:21 pm    Post subject: The Scavenger (WC 500) Reply with quote

The Scavenger
© Marlicia Fernandez 11-11-06 (WC 500)


No one scavenges in the mists. They’re all afraid, but I’m not. I’m not scared of anything. This is my territory, won by the simple fact that of all those who entered only I returned. And continue to return. It’s not my only district, but it’s my most profitable.

Steam rises with muffled pops from scorched earth hot from battles fought and spilled blood of ages past. When the mist is thickest the spirits of the fallen gain release and find peace. These departed souls don’t like people rummaging through their mortal remains and will snatch living scavengers to accompany them on their final journey. At least that’s how the story goes.

I don’t believe it. What do the dead want with trinkets? What do they care who takes them? And if they haven’t found peace by now, it isn’t likely they ever will, belongings or no belongings.

I continue walking, my eyes scanning several steps ahead. Every now and then I find something of interest to throw into my collection bag, but nothing overly valuable – yet.

Sun glints off something half buried in the soil. I hoist my collection bag over my shoulder and quicken my pace. Clouds block the light, promising rain, but I know where the object is. A few more paces should bring me to it.

The ground is strangely moist beneath my feet, almost as if someone watered it down. But the coming weather is the first we’ve had in weeks. A chill settles in the air along with a faint dampness. I need to locate what I’m sure will be the find of a lifetime. Dropping to my knees, I begin to search, digging through clumps of mud-like clay. It has to be nearby.

The mists deepen, and dusk is falling. Early. Although I’m cold, I’m sweating as I work. My fingers jam against something smooth and solid. Is it a rock, or something else?

I feel out the outlines and dig my find out. It doesn’t look like much. Some sort of dusty metal compass or pocket watch. I rub some of the grime from the surface to get a better look and see RMB engraved there. My initials. I wonder what that means?

Gently I shake the ‘whatever it is’. To my amazement, it ticks. I open it to reveal a shining clock face fashioned into the lid and a compass in the base. This will make me a lot of money.

“You don’t want to sell that.”

My fingers tighten around the piece while my heart threatens to burst through my chest. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”

“I think the question is where are you going.” He points to others arriving from different directions. “Don’t you listen to your histories?”

“Histories?”

“You call them legends.” He pulls me to my feet with surprisingly substantial fingers. “Your time has come.”

“I’m not going.”

“You have no choice,” he said. “Stay close, but if you lose us, follow the compass.”

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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Sat Nov 11, 2006 6:28 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm always amazed at the varied responses we get from the same prompts. Smile Surprised) Wink

Jolanta,
I love what you did with the prompt. I would never have come up with your story in a million years. I agree with Harry that both Henry and Mi Ran are very likeable and I hope they can make things work. Isn't it wonderful how something like beautiful, expressive poetry can bring people together?

Very nicely done.

Harry,

What a sad, sweet story. I guess we all begin to build our memory mountains as soon as we're born. (I do like the idea). I'm glad she has hers to comfort her in her loneliness, though I hope that is not the only thing she has to brighten her days and life. I enjoyed this very much.

shadowlight

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Last edited by shadowlight on Sun Nov 12, 2006 8:46 am; edited 1 time in total
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Jolanta
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PostPosted: Sun Nov 12, 2006 2:02 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

What a story, Marlicia.
I often have cold feet when I read your stories…
But what about the end? Is it really the end? I know, I, as a reader, should think up to myself an end, but I am really too frightened to think about the end… Shocked

Thank you for reading my story. I think that good poetry (and short stories as well) can bring people together.

Jolanta Cool
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Harry
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PostPosted: Sun Nov 12, 2006 5:47 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Remind me to stay out of places like that! What's the significance of the RMB, Marlicia? Very good description of the ash heap of war and the people who feed on its residue.
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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Sun Nov 12, 2006 4:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jolanta,

Thank you for the kind words regarding my story. I'll take the 'cold feet' as a compliment Smile Wink because it mean that I've done a good job getting you into my work.

Ah, the end...LOL What do you think the end will be?

Harry,

I'll do that. Wink The only real significance of the initials is that they belong to the scavenger who was born decades after the piece was made. He/she has pushed luck too far and his/her time is up. (Time to pay the piper, I guess you could say. )

Thanks for taking a look and for your kind words.

marlicia

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Linda
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PostPosted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 5:25 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jo, what a beautiful love story. I loved it! Smile


Harry,

I never thought I would understand such feelings. But, I do. And you’ve captured them well. I can see Louella with her plastic sunglasses, smiling in a way she has not smiled since Sam left. It’s no wonder “She can't wait for the night to begin.”


Marlicia, your stories are getting better and better. Is the man dead?

Linda
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Linda
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PostPosted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 5:34 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

It was 10:15. The child was slow this morning, and Suresh was worried. He limped back and forth in the cave. When the shadows were longer, he crawled outside to see if she was there. No, he must have missed her. But he would wait. One more day. Suresh knew how to wait. If she came tomorrow, he would do it. She was all he lived for now, and it would be worth the risk.

---------------------------------------------------------

The next morning was cold. Ling felt the dampness through the open window as she crawled out of bed. Sometimes, when Tara was happy, she would hang an old rug over the window. Ling liked it when her sister was happy, and the rug made their little room warm and dry. She forced herself to look away from the huge lump under the covers in her sister’s bed. She could not think of Tara right now. She must clear the path before lunch or the old master would be angry.

Her feet were getting tougher. They did not bleed anymore and the blisters in her hands were healing. Ling was glad. She slipped the torn blouse over her head, pulled the dirty brown skirt up around her thin waist, then carefully tied the rags around her feet. She could not remember when she had eaten last. It may have been when Tara came home. But, Tara had been sleeping for three days, and Ling didn’t want to eat anymore.

Walking towards the tool shed, Ling remember the first day the old master sent the crippled man to their shed. He shoved the door open and pulled Tara out of bed. Ling was frightened, but the man did not look at her. When Tara came home the next day, she was wearing a new dress and soft shiny slippers. Ling was excited, but Tara did not smile. She crawled into bed and slept.

Ling shuttered at the strangeness of this new life. Today, she would try very hard to be home before Tara woke up. She would be quiet, and she would try to eat the food the old man shoved under their door. Maybe this would make Tara smile again.

---------------------------------------------------------

Suresh waited. He could tell by the shadows in the cave that it was getting late. The child would be here—he could feel it. She would be confused, he knew, and frightened. Yes, very frightened. He wished he could speak her language, tell her who he was, but he must not let this stop him. He knew a place where she would be safe, but they must leave today.
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Harry
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PostPosted: Thu Nov 16, 2006 6:42 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Very mysterious, Linda – and for a short, short story it contains a novelful of information. Suresh, the child and the two women with the rug hung over the window, paint a haunting picture. It reads like one of Falkner's drug induced dreams.
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Linda
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PostPosted: Thu Nov 16, 2006 7:37 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Harry, thank you. To have my work associated or remindful of WF is a great honor. My new computer is still in the box waiting for me to get settled, hopefully by Christmas.
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Jolanta
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PostPosted: Thu Nov 16, 2006 12:40 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

What an amazing story, Linda. It’s really amazing. And it’s very mysterious indeed.
It was worth waiting for your reply to the picture…
J.
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Linda
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PostPosted: Thu Nov 16, 2006 2:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jo,

Thank you for your enthusiasm! However, your own posts along with Marlicia's and Harry's are my inspiration. Hopefully within the next three weeks I will be in my home. Then, I have promised myself I will write the way I have been dreaming...I can't say it will be the original manuscript I started, but I will write. I have bought two desks from the university surplus sale. One fits into a corner and has lots of room to spread the work out. The other is a table that fits in the larger classrooms where four or more students can sit. I'll put that one against the wall. Jo, I am so excited!
Smile
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shadowlight
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PostPosted: Thu Nov 16, 2006 6:20 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Linda,

Thank you for the kind words regarding my story. Ah, dead or alive? Yes...LOL Sort of in between at the moment. But (s)he can't turn back to to where and what (s)he was. It's too late for that.

Your story is amazing. It actually frightens me because of what it seems to indicate. I feel badly for the girls (Tara and Ling) and I wonder who the old Master and the cripple are, though I have an idea. I also wonder about Suresh. It seems he wants to save her, but he doesn't even speak her language? I wonder who he is.

To me this sounds like a living nightmare and I hope Ling escapes...I have a feeling it is already too late for Tara.

Well done, Linda.


marlicia

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Linda
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PostPosted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 7:40 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Marlicia,

Thank you for your questions. I posted this on another website and recieved the very same questions. It is encouraging! I have the next part partially worked out in my head, but, it's finding the time to put it together. The dozer people are supposed to spread the dirt on my property today...this means that maybe, just maybe I will be in my home within the next three weeks.
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Jolanta
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PostPosted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 10:11 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

You say that you’ll be home in three weeks…
So I announce the big countdown Exclamation

J. Cool
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Linda
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PostPosted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 10:54 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

jograd wrote:
You say that you’ll be home in three weeks…
So I announce the big countdown Exclamation

J. Cool


Smile

The man over the dozer work called this morning and said they could not start today, but they would get it next week. Confused

Still, there is hope. If they complete the work before Thanksgiving, I could still be in the home within 3 weeks. Smile
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