- The Writers Voice -

[shadowlight]

Hello, all, Here's my next prompt. Thanks, Harry for the image. I can't wait to see what everyone comes us with. Have fun and if the image doesn't show up right away, please be patient. I'm getting used to a new setup .

God bless,
shadowlight
with God all things are possible
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Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[shadowlight]

Please try this link until I can touch base with Clive to see what I'm doing wrong. ) Sorry for the inconvenience.

http://setonmom.blogspot.com/

Scroll down until you see 500 X 211

Please post your entries in this thread.

God bless...
shadowlight
with God all things are possible
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[Harry]

The Purple Isles of Shoals

Harry Buschman


About this time of day Angela puts on her purple sunglasses and makes herself a whisky sour. She stares out the kitchen window and sees Lar’s house across the bay.

It’s Angela’s 41st birthday. She’s unmarried and the only single man on the Isles of Shoals is Lars, a bearded Norwegian man who speaks very little English and seems to have no particular interest in women ... and none whatsoever in Angela.

The sunglasses soften her normal, everyday bleak outlook of life on the islands, so does the whisky sour. In fact Angela plans to have another as soon as she is finished with this one. It is a poor substitute for what’s really bothering her of course, but it’s better than no substitute at all. There is no night life out here on the shoals. They are eighteen miles at sea and, weather permitting, it takes the better part of two hours to reach the mainland ... things aren’t much livelier there either. The mainland consists of nothing but fishing canneries and boat yards.

Angela’s biological clock seems to be running low and no one is more aware of it than Angela herself. She casts sheep’s eyes at Lars at every opportunity, but Lars is intent on making as much money as he can in the shortest possible time so he can go back to Norway and marry Ingrid, his boyhood sweetheart who swore she would wait for him ... a reasonable length of time ... but no longer.

During the daily process of consuming her second whiskey sour Angela hatches another plan to snag Lars. She has a litany of daily plans and none of them have been successful. Failure to pull down the shades while undressing for bed at night has failed completely, so has punk rock played at ear splitting levels on her phonograph. The bearded Lars seems impervious ... he remains un-seduced.

The purple sunglasses and whiskey sours must remain the only solace for Angela so long as Lars remains true to the promise he made to Ingrid long ago ... so long ago, in fact, that Ingrid is now married and has a son in high school.
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We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway

[Psychoreader]

This isn't my best by far, but I had difficulty getting a story out of this one. At least I'm within the word count this time, lol..




"Sure's hot. Got any more's that lemonade, Renny?"

Renny tipped the pitcher so Kyle could see. "Clean out. An' Ma says we can't have no more's till we muck out th' boat."

Kyle huffed. "It's a piece o' crap. Should jus' let it sink to th' bottom o' th' swamp."

"Ma says it wouldn'ta got so's bad if'n we took care it as we ought."

Kyle plucked the blade of grass out of his mouth and spat. A nearby frog croaked in surprise when it was hit. "Stinkin' dingy. Why's you Ma care anyhow's?"

"Ma says it gots hitry. That Gramps run rum on it in the ol' days."

Kyle spat again. "Gramps tol' a lot o' tales. Don't mean they's true."

"C'mon, Kyle; jus' so's we can get Ma offs our backs. I'll lets you have my las' chaw."

Kyle stuck the grass blade back in his mouth and twirled it. He nodded and hopped to his feet. "You gots yo'self a deal." He snatched up the lemonade pitcher. "Gets yo'self a shovel, Renny-boy. We gots ourselves a job t' do."
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Sticky notes, highlighters, and colored pens -- what more do you need for world domination?

[Harry]

Hot dang! A real honest to goodness interlude in dialect. The kind of story that takes a load off the story tellin' business. make no excuses Tahlia, it's a real armpit stratchin' down home kinda story. Only help I can give is change the lemonade to rum whiskey.
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We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway

[shadowlight]

Hi all,

Sorry so late. Very rough freewrite which belongs to my Gifts of the Guardian Series. Thanks for taking a look and I hope you enjoy.

God bless,
Marlicia
with God all things are possible


The Quest Begins
© Marlicia Fernandez 5-21-13 (WC 500)

Voss slowed the boat. The fog lifted to reveal a small, familiar island village. At least it should have been familiar. But it wasn’t. Not quite. Everything looked different. An odd lavender moon bathed everything in a purple light. Not the soft purple of dusk, or the purple that sometimes mixed with the orange and yellow of dawn in his mountain homeland. This was a purple that screamed of the amethyst—that elusive mythical stone of power. Was this the Guardians’ doing? Part of their grand plan for him…whatever that plan was?

The Guardians could be cryptic when they wanted to be.

He tapped the pocket sewn into the lining of his cloak. The crinkle of parchment between the layers of fabric and the stiffness of the cloth reminded him that he had at least been successful in his original quest, even if his final objective had changed.

“Even if I don’t have any idea what my objective now is.” He looked at the cloudless sky. “A little hint might be nice.”

Silence followed his declaration. Of course no one’s answering. No one’s answering because I’m not talking to anyone but myself and the water. I didn’t see anyone with golden eyes and no one gave me any special gifts. I’ve got the sea-crazies. That’s what it is. The sea-crazies.

Voss glanced over his shoulder. Fog banks piled thick and high him, but not a wisp of mist clouded the path in front of him. He pulled at his oars. The boat bobbed and turned a little to the left. “At least I do have the parchment. And I know why I took it. It’s worth good money and stealing it won’t do my reputation any harm. All I need to do is get to land so I can sell it.” His little boat drifted a little to the right until it was if he hadn’t moved at all. He grunted and pulled at the oars again. The boat didn’t budge. Deep darkness descended, blotting out the moon and the stars. Even the fog became indistinct.

Maybe he wasn’t crazy. Maybe he hadn’t imagined the Guardians, or the gifts they’d given him. Gifts that came with consequences for use, whether for good or for ill. “What do you want me to do?”

The wind picked up and though his craft had no sails, it lurched forward, nearly toppling him. It picked up speed and he pulled in the oars. The Guardians obviously had a destination in mind for him. The depths of the dark, took on a heavy purple tinge. He lifted his arms and fire globes formed in his hands. At least the gifts he’d received were real, and if he didn’t want to run aground he’d better learn to make use of them whatever the consequences might be. He’d deal with them later.

The little island village disappeared on his right, enveloped by the fog that followed him. “Where am I going?”

“There is someone you must meet.”

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Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[shadowlight]

What a sad story for everyone involved. For Lars who is living in some sort of denial state and for Angela who is willing to settle for anyone just so that life won't pass her by. Very well written my friend. I really feel for the characters. The only one who seems to have done well is Ingrid.

God bless and it's so good to read another story of yours, my friend!

Marlicia
with God all things are possible
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[shadowlight]

Love the dialect, Tahlia. Characterization is really great too. Reminds me a little of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. This has potential and I look forward to seeing what you do with it.

Great to see you writing again.

God bless,
Mom
with God all things are possible
_________________
Be patient with me. Like any good story, I'm a work in progress.

[Psychoreader]

Poor Angela and Lars. I love the characterization, Harry, although I feel sorry for both of these characters whose lives seem to be passing them by. I wonder why Angela doesn't leave The Isles of Shoals and search a life elsewhere. There's no sense in waiting and pining over Lars who she doesn't really love anyway.

It's almost like these poor people are prisoners of the Shoals by their own choices; so sad.
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Sticky notes, highlighters, and colored pens -- what more do you need for world domination?

[Psychoreader]

Mom --

Of course you find fantasy here; I salute you.

Once again we meet Voss, a familiar friend. Destiny (and the Guardians) continues to have its way with him and, along with Voss, we wait to see what will happen next.

I'm very interested to see where this ends up going and who he is supposed to meet.

God Bless,

Tahlia
_________________
Sticky notes, highlighters, and colored pens -- what more do you need for world domination?

[Psychoreader]

Harry --

Thanks for taking the time to read my little piece. I'm glad that you enjoyed the dialect. The boys would love to have some "whusky", but I have a feeling that Ma confiscated it.


Mom --

The boys are older than Tom & Huck, though they're probably from around the same area. I'm glad you like the dialect and characterization. I think there might be more to the story and Kyle in particular is whispering in my ear. So we'll see if I end up doing more with him.

Thanks for reading!

God Bless,

Tahlia
_________________
Sticky notes, highlighters, and colored pens -- what more do you need for world domination?

[Harry]

I'm glad you found a story that fitted the prompt, Marlicia. I thought this picture would be harder to write a story for than many of the others ... I know it was for me. Putting colored glasses on seemed, to me at least, the most logical solution. I didn't expect magic.

The Isles of Shoals is a very strange place by the way. Some of the Isles are in Maine and some in New Hampshire, and they lie far off the mainland. They say they're haunted and strange things indeed hace happened there. Murder. Gkosts of mariners and fishermen. Shipwrecks and the hulls of submarines, (both allied and German) that were lost in the war. My wife and I lived on the mainland within daily sight of the shoals for a year at the end of the war ... our oldest daughter was conceived there. You owe it to yourself, as a writer, to check it out. You'll be fascinated I guarantee.
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We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Ernest Hemingway

[Heidi]

I want to write something for this one just not sure which direction I'm going to go in. Also there's two other ones I may have to write on as well..this is what I get for not visiting more often Anyway I can at least comment on the stories I've read.

Harry I felt sorry for Angela and a bit for Lars, although if he's that clueless perhaps it's not surprising his fiancee moved on. I wonder why Angela doesn't move somewhere else. Maybe it's money or maybe she's just too worn out to try. Great little snippet of life here.

Shadowlight I admit I didn't get a fantasy vibe from this one. You managed to pull it off though. More than managed actually. I would be interested to see what destiny has in store for your hero or would be hero I guess.

Psychoreader I loved your use of dialect. I've often wanted to write something set in a different time or place but haven't felt like I could pull it off. Might have something to do with the fact that I can't do accents in real life so I figure trying to write in one wouldn't work either. You wrote a great piece though. I could see the two boys complaining and sweating over the stupid boat. I could even catch a glimpse of their mom and grandpa. I bet he's a real character.
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It isn't the fame itself that makes you famous but what you do with that fame that does.

[Psychoreader]

Heidi --

Sounds like you need to hang out with us more often, then! (Not that i'm one to talk, lol)

I'm so glad you like my little drabble. I don't usually play with dialect either, but I had just seen Newsies in Broadway before writing this and I was in a dialect-y mood. I'm glad that you could visualize the boys and their family. I'm still in (mostly one-sided) conversation with them to figure out if they might have more of a story for me. They're punks, though -- especially Kyle -- and they aren't really cooperating with me.
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Sticky notes, highlighters, and colored pens -- what more do you need for world domination?