- The Writers Voice - :: View topic - 500 X 148 Book

- The Writers Voice - Forum Index - The Writers Voice -
Everyone welcome to participate.
Let your voice be heard.
 
 FAQFAQ   SearchSearch   MemberlistMemberlist   UsergroupsUsergroups   RegisterRegister 
 ProfileProfile   Log in to check your private messagesLog in to check your private messages   Log inLog in 

500 X 148 Book

 
Post new topic   Reply to topic    - The Writers Voice - Forum Index -> "The 500 Words Project -- Flash Fiction"
View previous topic :: View next topic  
Author Message
shadowlight
Valued Member


Joined: 16 Jan 2006
Posts: 1372
Location: Here, there and everywhere

PostPosted: Tue Jun 09, 2009 5:39 pm    Post subject: 500 X 148 Book Reply with quote


Here you go. I look forward to seeing what you come up with for this one. I got the image from Donna Sunblad's Pumping Your Muse site for 4-07-09.

http://pymprompts.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html

Have fun,
shadowlight

_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
shadowlight
Valued Member


Joined: 16 Jan 2006
Posts: 1372
Location: Here, there and everywhere

PostPosted: Wed Jun 10, 2009 2:09 pm    Post subject: Read Between the Lines (WC 502) Reply with quote

This is freewrite all the way. I apologize in advance for the roughness, I'm just not sure when I'll be able to post something if I don't post now. Wink As always, thanks for taking a look.

shadowlight



Read Between the Lines
© Marlicia Fernandez (WC 502 ) 6-10-09


They didn’t look like much, just two old books, like what he and Cassie might find while garage sale-ing.

Judge Parker cleared his throat and looked down from his place on the bench. “Where is the prisoner? He is here, isn’t he?”

“Yes, your honor.” Lawyer Patrick Davison tore his gaze from the books and slipped his finger between his collar and his neck in an effort to ease his breathing. “But he isn’t yet ready to appear before the bench.”

Lawyer Ellison-Davison unfolded her five-foot nine inch self from behind the prosecutor’s table with practiced grace. A chorus of gasps echoed in the courtroom when she turned to face him. No one expected someone with his wife’s beauty to possess the brains necessary to practice in one of the highest courts in the land. Sometimes he wished she didn’t. Like now. When they were on opposite sides of a case.

“Why isn’t he ready, Councilor? You’ve known the court date for weeks.”

None of Cassie’s love for her new husband shone out of her striking green eyes or was in any way evident in her bearing. Patrick shuddered. She looked like a huntress, not like the loving woman he’d married three scant months ago. He coughed and found his voice. “With all due respect to the bench and the prosecutor, there are extenuating circumstances in this case that required special care.”

Judge Parker waved his hand dismissively. “We’re aware of that, but you’ve had plenty of time to work out any necessary arrangements. Have him brought in.”

“But your honor…”

The judge banged his gavel. “Now, Councilor Davison. Bring him in or you will be found in contempt.”

“Yes, your honor.” Patrick turned to his assistant. “Better get Grohgin, Jake.”

Jake paled. “But he might not have changed form.”

“That can’t be helped. Bring him in.”

Jake nodded and pushed out of his seat. “He’s not going to like this, you know.”

“Neither do I.” Patrick studied the dignified courtroom with its statues and carvings. At least it looked dignified to him. How it would look to his client was anyone’s guess.

He drew a sigh of relief when Jake returned several minutes later with their client in human form. Over six-and-a-half feet tall, with black hair and blue eyes and a walk that was vaguely catlike Grohgin captured everyone’s attention immediately. “I thought I was to appear to the judge in private,” he murmured when he’d taken his place beside Patrick.”

“Quiet,” Judge Parker commanded. “The prisoner and council may approach the bench.”

“You have read the evidence?” Grohgin asked.

“I have.” The judge indicated the books. “They only tell me you are not from our world. Why did you attack?”

“Since when is defending oneself an attack?”

The judge slammed his hand on the desk. “Answer the question.”

Grohgin shrugged. “You’ve read the books.”

“They tell us nothing,” Cassie snapped

Patrick lifted a placating hand. “They’ll tell us everything. All you have to do is read between the lines.”

_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Harry
Site Admin


Joined: 15 Jan 2004
Posts: 2505
Location: New York

PostPosted: Thu Jun 11, 2009 4:33 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The idea of bringing an alien to a court of justice and judging him by our rules of conduct is a great subject for a book, Marlicia. I hope you have plans to do something about it. Look up the Salem Witchcraft trials they cover this kind of subject and show how difficult it is for different species to speak the same language. Reading between the lines is another good idea ... is that left to right or right to left ... or maybe even up and down.

You threw me a curve with "Cassie," I assume she's the same person as Ellison-Davison.
_________________
We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway


Last edited by Harry on Thu Jun 11, 2009 11:40 am; edited 1 time in total
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Harry
Site Admin


Joined: 15 Jan 2004
Posts: 2505
Location: New York

PostPosted: Thu Jun 11, 2009 11:00 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Key

Harry Buschman


“The secrets of the ages, right there. Locked up in that big old book.” Mr. Whimsy told me that a thousand times, I guess. At least a thousand times, maybe more. Then, he’d go off puttering around the shop whistling to himself and casting an eye at me over his rimless glasses, waiting to see if I’d take the bait.

When he couldn’t stand my silence any more, he’d lick his lips impatiently and say, “Well, ain’t’cha gonna ask what’s in it?”

We’d been through this charade so many times before that I wouldn’t bother to answer, so he’d turn the question around ... “Y’know y’need the key don’t’cha?” Then he’d gently dust the book off with his feather duster and smile like a chessie cat.

So to keep him quiet I’d say, “Yeah, I know that, Mr. Whimsy, and you’re the only one has got the key. Y’told me that a thousand times. You‘re the only one with the key to the secrets of the world.”

He’d chuckle softly and pat the side pocket of his vest. “Right there, boy. Keep it safe and sound in my side pocket so nobody but me knows the secrets.”

Well maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. I often wondered what he’d do if somebody walked in the shop and offered to buy the old book. Would he sell them the key too? Wouldn’t do nobody no good unless they had the key. You couldn’t just break the lock and rip the book open. That’s what Mr. Whimsy said anyway ... Pandora did that back in the times of the Greeks and she let all the evils of the world out before she got the book closed up again. By that time there was only one thing left in the book and that was goodness, and goodness was no good if that was all there was.

Mr. Whimsy often told me he was just like old man Zeus, he could let some of the good secrets out with the bad and that way people would look on the bright side of things even when things didn‘t look too good.

So far as I know, old Mr. Whimsy never sold the book to anyone ... at least while I worked there. I finished school and got myself a job in the mortgage department of the village bank. On my lunch hour I sometimes walk by his pawn shop and look through the dirty window, cupping my hands around my eyes to cut down the glare of the midday sun. He’s always in there, kinda feeble now and bent over a little, walking around with his feather duster.

If he sees me, he’ll wave. Then he’ll grin and pat the side pocket of his vest and we’ll both know the secrets have not been sold.
_________________
We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
shadowlight
Valued Member


Joined: 16 Jan 2006
Posts: 1372
Location: Here, there and everywhere

PostPosted: Thu Jun 11, 2009 5:00 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Oh, Harry, I really like this. It's such a gentle, enjoyable piece. I like Mr. Whimsy and I like the man who worked for him. You made me feel like I knew them. I could almost imagine the grin on Mr. Whimsy's face as he patted his pocket. Almost smell the dust his feather duster kicked up. Thank you so much for sharing. Very Happy

shadowlight

_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
shadowlight
Valued Member


Joined: 16 Jan 2006
Posts: 1372
Location: Here, there and everywhere

PostPosted: Thu Jun 11, 2009 5:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm glad you liked my story, Harry. It started out as one thing and then sort of switched gears on me and went another. I hadn't really thought about doing anything else with this. I didn't really think it was worth it, but now I'll take another looks. If I do, I'll look up the Salem Witch Trials and maybe Jesus' trial before the Sanhedrin and Pilate. Hmm...yes, I'll keep this to file.

Reading the lines could prove interersting and with an 'alien species' it might be the actual spaces that carry the information. Wink

Oh, before I forget, yes, Ellison-Davison is Cassie. I'll see if I can make that more clear.

Thank you very much for your encouragement, Harry. Much appreciated as always.

shadowlight

_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Jolanta
Valued Member


Joined: 14 Oct 2005
Posts: 1171

PostPosted: Sat Jun 13, 2009 7:04 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Easter is the time when people clean their houses, and their cars and their souls. The older you are, the less you commit mortal sins and less temptations happen to you, so this year I’ve focused mainly on cleaning my big house. My sons’ wives promised to help me with cooking and baking cakes so today in the Maundy Thursday morning I went down to the dusty cellar to take the matter into my hands. I threw away many empty jars, and took out millions of the unnecessary things.

When my hard job was almost finished, one of many cardboard boxes fell apart while I tried to squeeze it into the right corner to clean the top metal shelf under the little window where my cats loved to gather, especially in springtime.
A few books fell on the cellar floor, some of them fell on the shelf, and one book landed in my hands.
I looked at the threadbare cover. It was “A Little Princess” by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I loved the children’s novel. Once I lent it to Kate who was my best friend, but she didn’t want to give it back to me. At last she didi it, but she stopped to be my best friend then.
I stooped down in order to raise the books lying on the cellar floor. It was “Anne of Green Gables” by Lucy Maud Montgomery and “The Six Bullerby Children” by Astrid Lindgren. The books were my real treasure when I was a girl. Even today I remember a lot of their contents, but it is no wonder because I had read them many a time. But even now I didn’t remember if I had wanted to be like Anne or if Anne had had something common with me.
The third book wasn’t any title, and was very old, and was locked, but a little silver key was fastened to a little chain in the middle of the dusty back of the book. It was my first and my last diary.

Now I was sitting in my cellar on a wooden stool and flipping trough pages of the diary. I tried to recall all the old names and all the old places. Who was the boy called Zibi? Was he the first boy who had kissed me? I thought that was Chris…
Why Zuza, my friend, hated the red hair boy from our class? About forty years ago she did marry him…
Oh, I was so stupid when I split up with Tom. Tom was so mature, but I was too young to appreciate his concern for me…

I closed the diary but the strange feeleng, difficult to name and arousing some longing and sorrow, didn’t want to leave me alone.

Easter was very nice that year. The fresh spring weather favoured the family meetings on the terrase in the open air.
When my sons with their wives had left me on Easter Monday, I went to my room and sat down at my desk. I reached for my fountain pen and a thick notebook.
Well, I had to explain somehow this life of mine…
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Jolanta
Valued Member


Joined: 14 Oct 2005
Posts: 1171

PostPosted: Sat Jun 13, 2009 8:36 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Marlicia, the last paragraph is absolutely stunning! And Harry’s comment made me laugh (Reading between the lines is another good idea ... is that left to right or right to left ... or maybe even up and down) Smile
You could find an original idea for your new story. I like very much your characters and the dialogues. Again, it’s a wonderful fragment for something longer. I always admire your imaginativeness. You can lead your characters with ease. And you can arouse interest and some tension I often feel reading your stories.

Harry, your wonderful story is written in the best style. It’s light and witty. I admire/envy your “light hand” or “light pen” (in Polish means easy writing). And I admire/envy that you can put the wits into your stories.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Harry
Site Admin


Joined: 15 Jan 2004
Posts: 2505
Location: New York

PostPosted: Sat Jun 13, 2009 8:45 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

You've captured a rare feeling in this piece, Jolanta. Cleaning out attics and cellars always makes us think of the paths we didn't take and what might have been. As you say, it's also the time for us to pull up our socks and sit down and explain, (to ourselves mostly) why the path we did take wasn't such a bad decision after all. I can't rightly recall the girl I first kissed ... and I'll bet she can't remember either.
_________________
We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Jolanta
Valued Member


Joined: 14 Oct 2005
Posts: 1171

PostPosted: Sat Jun 13, 2009 8:52 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thank you, Harry. Your comment is very philosophical. I am curious if you write your own memoirs. I know, almost every your story is a fragment of your life in some way, but your life memoirs would be just exciting, I guess.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
shadowlight
Valued Member


Joined: 16 Jan 2006
Posts: 1372
Location: Here, there and everywhere

PostPosted: Sat Jun 13, 2009 10:30 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jolanta,

This is a wonderful story that we can all identify with. Cleaning out attics always makes a person remember and think about what has been and what might have been. You've captured the mood and feeling perfectly. I truly enjoyed reading it. Thanks for sharing. Very Happy


I remember my first kiss, I think, LOL. It was completely unexpected. Wink

shadowlight

_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Jolanta
Valued Member


Joined: 14 Oct 2005
Posts: 1171

PostPosted: Sat Jun 13, 2009 10:43 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Marlicia, please, give more details to us! You may show them in your next story Very Happy
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
shadowlight
Valued Member


Joined: 16 Jan 2006
Posts: 1372
Location: Here, there and everywhere

PostPosted: Tue Jun 16, 2009 5:57 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

LOL, Jolanta. I'm not sure how well I remember it, so it would have to be embellished quite a bit. We'll see if the prompts lend themselves to that. Wink
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Patrick
Poster Want-2-B


Joined: 07 Apr 2009
Posts: 12
Location: Las Vegas, Nevada

PostPosted: Fri Jun 19, 2009 12:01 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Dear Gramps,
I haven’t talked to you in a while, and I’m sorry about that, I know you’ll forgive me though. You always have. I’ve been doing fine. I graduated last month! I hope your proud of me. Gramps, I could really use your help these days though. Life’s been eating away at me, just tearing me apart piece by piece. I don’t even know how to deal with it anymore. I remember you told me once “Son, the source of all ya problems in life, one way o’ ‘notha gonna come from a woman…but so is all ya solutions.” You were absolutely right. Remember Tiff? She decided she was gonna go be with my best friend, in my car. Yeah, the one you bought me. Don’t worry, I gave him a good old fashion country ass whoopin’ just like you always taught me to. That’s the least of my problems though gramps. My dad’s been riding me about college. I know I’m smart, I just don’t know if I wanna go that route ya know. I know you’d tell me to follow my heart, I just gotta find it first. My dad just wants the best for me, but there is something more to life then money and success. You taught me that a man is as only as good as his pride tells him he is. Well I’d be pretty proud of myself just to have what you had. Wonderful family, put food on your table, and the love of a beautiful woman. That’s every man’s dream isn’t it? Gramps, I met this girl, she’s perfect. She’s got the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. Her smile warms me up every time I see it, just thinking of her make me all…I can’t even explain it gramps. Yeah, there is a catch though. She’s already got a boyfriend. I know…this is the part where I need you. I don’t know what to do. I really miss you Granddad…
Your Grandson,
Danny


Tears fell onto the headstone as the small envelope was set onto it. A young man, no older the eighteen, stands over the grave, his eyes flooded with salty hot tears. A letterman’s jacket hung over his shoulder as he slowly turned and moved back to his old beat up truck. He’d have to do without his grandfather’s help now, as much as he didn’t want to, there was no choice in the matter. “I love you gramps.”




Hey guys, sorry I kinda fell off he face of the earth for a while. My landlord decided he was going to bring the rent up so I had to take up another job. Not very pleasant...
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Send e-mail Yahoo Messenger MSN Messenger
shadowlight
Valued Member


Joined: 16 Jan 2006
Posts: 1372
Location: Here, there and everywhere

PostPosted: Fri Jun 19, 2009 12:12 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hi Patrick,

It's good to see you posting again. I'm so sorry to hear about your landlord troubles, but glad you were able to find a way to deal with it.

I really like this little snippet. It feels almost autobiographical. This young man has his whole life ahead of him and it's full of promise and possibilities. I'm sure he'll make the right choices for him...it seems like he has a good head on his shoulders. It shows in the way he realizes his dad wants what's best for him, but that he still takes time to think things through for himself. Something tells me his grandpa would be proud.

Well done!

shadowlight

_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Harry
Site Admin


Joined: 15 Jan 2004
Posts: 2505
Location: New York

PostPosted: Fri Jun 19, 2009 12:49 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

You caught a good glimpse of a deeper affection for a grandfather than a father. That's a very common trait in young people. The previous generation is not nearly so helpful as the one before that. Nice piece of 1st Person switching into third at the end.
_________________
We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Psychoreader
Poster Pro


Joined: 28 Jul 2006
Posts: 120
Location: Trapped in my own imagination... and wherever it may take me

PostPosted: Mon May 16, 2011 2:37 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hi, ladies and gents; this isn't very good, but I decided to post anyway. Hope you enjoy. Please be kind, although constructive criticism is of course helpful. Wink

P.s. Yes, I will catch up on comments where I post. Honest. It's just taking me a while.

God Bless,

Tahlia


*** *** ***

Cloth rustled and the heavy smell of lilacs wafted into the room.

“Jillie?” Drey ran his fingers across the grooved surface, resisting the urge to look up.

The footsteps disappeared followed by a soft catch of breath. “How do you…” She let out an irritated huff. “Never mind.” Her heels clacked on the wooden floor behind him, coming to a halt beside him. “Did you find anything?”

“It depends on what you mean by anything.” Drey tapped on the object in his hand. “What do you think this is?”

Jillie sighed. “I really don’t have time for this.” She took it from his hand. “It’s a book. Rather fancy too. What does it have to do with anything? We’re looking for a murderer.”

“And a murder victim,” he reminded her. “We still don’t have proof that a murder happened.”

“So why the blasted book, Drey?” The table shook with a resounding thud.

He swore, retrieving the book. He sighed after examining it quickly with his hands. “You could have damaged it, Jillie.”

“It’s Jillian, Drey. Jillian. Not Jillie.” The table creaked slightly as she leaned on it. The scent of lilacs almost overpowered him as her breath tickled his neck. “And if you want to start a book club, do it on your own time. I’m here to check out a lead.” She pushed off against the table and her heels clacked away from him.

“Jillian…” He sighed and returned his attention to the book. His fingers caught on the edge of the metal clasp and he hissed. He brought his finger to his mouth. The metallic tang of blood touched his lips. He frowned. “It’s sharp. Why is it sharp?”

“I hope you’ve had your shots. That thing’s pretty rusty.”

“Very funny.” Sucking on his finger, he continued to exam the book with his free one. “It just doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t smell right.”

“Marvelous. Who am I with – Daredevil?” She lowered her voice. “Look… Drey…” She sighed. “I don’t know if you’re trying to proved something or what, but we can’t make something out of nothing.” She paused. “And you aren’t going to be able to keep it a secret much longer. It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“There’s something here, Jillie. I know it.” This time his nails found purchase on the metal. He pulled experimentally. It held firm.

Her knees creaked as she crouched down next to him. “Does Mary know yet?”

“I…” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I think we’re missing something here, Jillie. Something important. Do you recognize the design on the front of the book?”

She removed her hand from his. “Don’t you?” she snapped.

“It shouldn’t take this much effort to open a book.” He pulled again.

She sighed. “It would help if you pushed in the right place. Here.” A soft click followed.

Fresh air rustled his hair, drove his breath away. “Jillie, what did you do?”

“Well, I’ll be darned,” she breathed, “I think we’ve found something.”

_________________
Sticky notes, highlighters, and colored pens -- what more do you need for world domination?
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Visit poster's website
shadowlight
Valued Member


Joined: 16 Jan 2006
Posts: 1372
Location: Here, there and everywhere

PostPosted: Tue May 17, 2011 1:56 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hi Tahlia,

This was a fun read. It put me vaguely in mind of the mummy. And you've left us on a cliff-hanger. What happens next? What kind of murder-that-may-not-be-a-murder are they investigating. Just what kind of book is that anyway? And don't try to tell me "no harm ever came from reading a book.", LOL. I hope there will be more of this. It has potential.

God bless,
mom
with God all things are possible

_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Harry
Site Admin


Joined: 15 Jan 2004
Posts: 2505
Location: New York

PostPosted: Tue May 17, 2011 4:33 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

There is a good bit of difference between using a prompt to stimulate a writer's creativity, and using one as a tool to help him/her utilize something they've written before. You have me at a disadvantage ... Drey and the lilac-scented Jillie are looking for a murderer, (and a murder) they're checking out a lead ... the book may be the key. Have I gor it right?
_________________
We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Display posts from previous:   
Post new topic   Reply to topic    - The Writers Voice - Forum Index -> "The 500 Words Project -- Flash Fiction" All times are GMT - 7 Hours
Page 1 of 1

 
Jump to:  
You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot vote in polls in this forum
The Writers Voice Forum
 
 
 


All Authors (hi-speed)    All Authors (dialup)    Children    Columnists    Contact    Drama    Fiction    Grammar    Guest Book    Home    Humour    Links    Narratives    Novels    Poems    Published Authors    Reviews    September 11    Short Stories    Teen Writings    Submission Guidelines




Powered by phpBB © 2001, 2002 phpBB Group