Sunday January 15th, 2012

The exercise:

Your theme today: the introduction/introductions/introductory/you get the idea.

No snowshoeing today, but we did go for a very nice walk in the afternoon. Went down by the lake, which is mostly frozen with a few bits of open water. One of those bits was by the shore we strolled past and there must have been a hundred ducks in that little area.

I'm vaguely annoyed at myself for not bringing my camera. I'll have to get back there tomorrow and hope for similar photogenics.

I know that's not a word and I don't care. So nyah.


Cassie checked her watch as discretely as possible and gave her parents a reassuring smile. Even the blind man two tables over knew it was fraudulent.

"Is Paul always late for important dates?" her mother asked as she used a slender finger to spin her wine glass in place.

"No, of course not," Cassie said, her back stiffening only slightly.

"Then one can only think that he does not consider this important," her father observed. He swirled his scotch on the rocks, the two ice cubes colliding like miniature icebergs. It was his second drink of the evening, but the first with the correct number of ice cubes in it. After the waiter had been sent back with the extra ice cubes from the first scotch stuffed in his shirt pocket, there would be no further mistakes.

"Don't be silly, Daddy," Cassie said. "He's been looking forward to meeting you both since I invited him last week. Some sort of emergency must have come up."

"Oh, is he a doctor then?" her mother asked, perking up noticeably. "Why didn't you tell us you'd bagged yourself a respectable man this time?"

"That's not what I meant," Cassie said as the waiter returned to their table, steering well clear of her father. "He may have been in a car accident or maybe the -"

"Pardon me, Madam," the waiter said, his left eye twitching ever so slightly. "I hate to interrupt, but your presence is required at the door."

Cassie excused herself and followed the man as he took the long route to the entrance, again avoiding any possible interaction with her father. Once they arrived the waiter simply stood aside and pointed her toward her waiting fiance.

"Paul! Oh my goodness, what happened?"

"I was working late at the zoo," he replied through swollen lips, his left arm hanging limp by his side, "when the wolverine got loose again."


Greg said...

Photogenic is a word, and photogenics is a perfectly good extension of it :) Calexis, however, isn't a word :-P
The ducks sound inspiring, so I shall look forward to a picture of them eventually.
Ah, wolverines. Is there nothing they can't improve? I really like the way you've portrayed her parents: I've got a very good picture of them from most their conversation!

In the beginning...
In the beginning there is always a child,
Because these are the acorns of humans,
From them, stories can grow,
Branching out, sending questing shoots
To ask vast, fantastic questions,
That shake the universe into new positions,
And so slowly answer themselves.
In the beginning there is an innocence,
That is neglected and punished
Until it twists in on itself and becomes something else.
We gather together and hope for redemption,
That the child that we started with
Can gain compassion and wisdom
To gently untwist, unbraid and unfray –
Bring the broken innocence triumphantly
Back to the light of today.
In the beginning.

writebite said...

Treece (that isn't even a name, she thought)

People of bad hearing or the pronunciation-challenged always got her name wrong.
This time it was a fresh start ... she would handle her own introductions.

morganna said...

The dog strolled toward the sheep. "Yip! Yip! Hello!" The sheep took one look and stampeded away. "Well, that's odd. They must want to play."

He ran after them. "Yip! Yip!" They ran faster. "This is a fun game," he thought, and ran faster.

He couldn't understand it when they started to drop dead. He wandered off home. "I don't know if I like sheep or not -- it can't be a good introduction when your playmates start dying," he thought disconsolately.

Cathryn Leigh said...

Introductions... ah what wonderful things. I really can't resist going to Vervell and taking something "ve already written *gigles*

@Mrac - poor girl her parent's have such high expectations for her.

@greg - fantasic poem!

@Writebite - Remineds me of a kid in my high school, Yair. At the end of the first day of his senior year he todl the teacher it was pronounce Bob. :}

excerpt taken from Meeting Griffon, chapter 16 of Sarah's Phoenix

‘A camp follower Phoenix, really that just isn’t like you,’ a jolly voice startled them and Jason spun around immediately positioning himself between Sarah and the man, his weapons half drawn.
‘Ah, Scout Sergeant Griffon,’ Jason sated and Sarah saw him relax his stance and let his weapons fall back into their sheaths. ‘You’re a little earlier than expected.’
‘Better early than late,’ he said trying to look around Jason at Sarah.
Jason stepped aside. ‘This is my Friend,’ he emphasized the word, ‘Sarah, she,’ he looked at Sarah and then at Griffon, ‘has fallen into hard times. Sarah, this is Scout Sergeant Griffon. Mathew and I trained under him.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Sarah stood, uncertain whether or not to offer her hand for a hand shake. Thankfully Griffon extended his and Sarah took it, but instead of a shake he kissed it. Sarah stepped back blushing.
‘And tell me,’ his question was directed at Jason, though he was pondering Sarah, ‘why is it she’s been outfitted as a scout and not sent to that great mother of yours?’
Jason grinned, ‘Sarah is doing quite well holding her own out here with us. It would be a pity to lose such an asset.’
‘Asset indeed,’ Griffon chuckled. Sarah finished banking the fire. ‘Can she use the sword she carries?’
‘Better than most first years,’ Jason stated with pride.

(full story here: )

:} Cathryn

David said...

@Marc - agreeing wholeheartedly with Greg - fantastic descriptions of the parents.

@Greg - I usually love your writing for its mischief. But this is beautiful and deep and completely truthful. Well done.

@writebite - now I want to know, what exactly is her name?

@morganna - these poor misunderstood dogs trying to be sheep.

Another day of writing on the blackberry. Which has inspired a small project I will embark on. What can I say, youu need to write any way you can.

Hola. Anybody? Blank faces stare at me. Concerned faces. I don't know any of them. They look like people I may know, but I'm not sure. No wait, konnichiwa. Still no recognition. A man touches my face gently. I feel it, his warmth. His love. More people come into my field of his vision. I know that one. She kisses my cheek. I hope I know her. Oh hell, hello. I don't think they hear me. I wish they could. I have so much more to say. The one I know presses her lips to my ear and whispers, "goodbye". Goodbye, my love.

David said...

@cathrynleigh. We posted at same time - I will be delving into sarah's phoenix soon enough - your snippets are intriguing me more and more.

Krystin Scott said...

Celine slung her backpack over her shoulder, made her way down the isle and jumped from the bus.
She landed firmly, planting her two feet in the sugary sand of the easement and took off running for the house. In the field grandpa was removing a roll of hay from the back of his old pickup for Natasha, their Frisian mare and her newborn colt. He waved as she ran past, but focused as she was, she never saw him. Celine’s grandmother was picking beans in the small garden near the house and turned at the sound of her approach. “They ere yet?” Celine shouted excitedly. Grandma smiled and in quiet reply said, “Yes dear. Arrived bout an hour ago.” That was all Celine needed to hear; she bolted from the garden, rounded the house, and then quietly entered the barn.

Slowly, she made her way to Holly’s stall. She opened the gate and knelt down on the straw covered ground. “Hey there, Holly girl.” she said to the sow, “Want me ta scratch behind ya ear?” The pig snorted, rose and came over. When she did she left behind eight little pink squealing piglets. Celine was delighted and after giving Holly a good scratch and a pat. She walked over to the newborn pigs. “Come ere little one.” She said to the smallest of the bunch. When she picked him up, he stared at her with his deep blue eyes and gave a little sound of contentment. “Were gonna be good friends u and I, nana and papaw promised I could keep ya.” The pig gave a soft grunt as if to acknowledge her words then tucked his head against her chest, closed his eyes and went to sleep.


Hi! Krystin here, 38 years old. Married. Five kids, ranging in age from 21 to nearly 11. Psychology & Criminology major. Minored in occult religious studies. Owner of a Web Development Specialist certificate. Owns a tiny family farm and a finish carpentry business. Advocates for persons with disabilities. Lives in BFE, otherwise known as Brooksville Florida. & last but not least has decided to attempt to write childrens books. And that ladies and gentleman is my introduction.

Nita said...

@Mark: Loved those parents. Really. And the wolverine. Ouch.

@Morganna: My dogs would probably just think the dying was part of the game.

The Setup:

“And give us one of the shrimp and seafood combos, too,” Lacy added, pointing to the picture of a rather large appetizer platter.

Amanda protested, but the waiter had already gathered up the menus and left. “There is no way we're going to eat all that.”

Lacy cleared her throat and waved a hand at a handsome man near the entrance. “Well, you never know who might join us.” She stood, gathered her purse, and dropped a fifty on the table. “You know, on second thought, I really have things I need to be doing. Nathan, so glad you could come. This is my sister Amanda Sanders; she can help you with that problem you're having. Amanda; Nathan Riley. I'll talk to you both later.”

She moved as fast as possible without actually running past the other diners. Her work here was done. Knowing both Amanda and Nathan, they'd spend the meal plotting how to get back at her, but that was okay. It would give them something to bond over. By the time they worked out how they were going to make her pay for this, they'd be dating.

Sometimes it paid to be sneaky.

writebite said...

greg, ditto david, your piece was soft, inspiring...
krystin, nice to meet you!
david, Ha! you"ll have to hazzard a guess (but you'd better pronounce it right) lol
nice entries, folks.

Iron Bess said...

Static electricity made the hairs on her arm stand to attention as David moved about the room with a silver rod in his hand. “This,” he said, “will only take a minute.”

Blair sighed, and swiped a hand over her forearms again. “You said that about a half hour ago,” her voice a good octave higher than normal. “For your information, a half hour, is thirty of your ‘only a minutes,’ and frankly I think I’m done.” She picked her jacket up off the chair and started to put it on.

David was now on his knees and waving the rod under the couch, he peered back at her through a thick cloud of dust bunnies dancing in the electrified air. “You can’t leave now! It would break the cycle and I’d have to start all over again,” he complained.

“At least tell me what the hell you are doing before I break the spell by storming out of here,” Blair replied.

David opened the small door under the coffee table and twirled the rod about in the dark interior. “Spell?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper now.

Waving her arm about, Blair, mimicked his movements. “Your magic wand thingie,” she said. “You look like you are going full out Harry Potter. Or are you just hunting rats.”

They both paused when suddenly a crackling sound, like someone opening a chip bag, discharged from the end of the rod. A wide smile broke across David’s face. “Finally,” he sighed. The rod now began sparking multi coloured lights while they both stared at it.

As if by magic, Blair watched David’s hair start to lift, and float about in the air, she could feel that her hair was doing the same thing. It actually felt as if small ants were crawling around on her scalp. “David I don’t like this. Make it stop.”

“Don’t move,” he said absently.

“That’s it.” Blair took the half dozen steps across the room and grabbed the doorknob. Crack! She squealed from the sudden, sharp pain of the jolt. “Ouch, damn, and shit,” she said waving her injured hand in the air.

“Blair, please meet your first grade eleven science experiment,” David said as he triumphantly waved his rod over his head.

“Ass,” Blair muttered.

g2 (la pianista irlandesa) said...

An introduction of a different sort... hopefully everyone'll bear with me.

I watched the first season of the BBC miniseries Sherlock for the first time this evening. I'd heard about it a while back, and while thought the concept of Sherlock Holmes in present-day London, it apparently wasn't enough for me to pursue it on my own. So, a friend of mine invited a few of us over to watch the three episodes of season 1.

A love and fascination for the remarkable denizen of 221B Baker Street is nothing new: I first read a few of the stories in the early part of high school, and eagerly saw both installments of the Robert Downy, Jr/Jude Law Sherlock Holmes shortly after they came out. The two were starkly different; though characters shared names, Downy Jr's Holmes was not Conan Doyle's Holmes, and one would be hard-pressed to find more different people than the chronicling sidekick Dr. John Watson of Sir Arthur's stories, and the kickin', go-getting near-equal of Jude Law's Watson. However, in my mind, both presentations work very well, in its own "universe".

To me, Sherlock strikes a balance between the two in an updated setting. Cumberbatch's Sherlock is ever Conan Doyle's precise, deductive machine, but with a slight hint of Downy Jr's man of action, if only in pace and intensity. Freeman's Watson also strikes a wonderful balance between the two Watsons described above.

I don't know why, but the execution of Watson is a big thing for me.

The music is awesome, the style and cinematography is intriguing, the writing's excellent... despite ending the third episode on the mother of all cliffhangers, everything's fantastic.

Even my Holmes-purist friend admitted she liked it.

Which means it must be doing something right.

H.N. said...

Everyone did such great work today! Loved reading over all of them! : )

Three o'clock chimed it's especially flat notes from the upstairs hallway. There was no sign of the mailman. Carl sat in the same spot in the living room that he had the previous 4 days at this time, a book held convincingly in his hands to disguise his continual glancing out the front picture window. His mother's suspicion was easily sparked and he could let on nothing to her or all would be ruined.
It was hard to believe only a week had passed since he'd spotted the "special introductory offer" in the magazine he found casually discarded under a stack of old paint cans in the shed. The magazine was at least 30 yrs old and most of the companies advertised he'd never even heard of. Then he came across the ad and felt his heart jump as he read over it. How did they know exactly what he needed! That would take care of everything, he was sure of it. He didn't hesitate to fill out the form, attach $3, and mail it off to New York City. Apart from the hour he spent waiting for the mail each afternoon, the following days had been spent lost in thought and fantasy about receiving the package.
In spite of his vigilance, today he somehow missed seeing the mail truck and was only pulled back to reality by the crunch of gravel as it headed towards the neighbors. He jerked toward the kitchen where his mother was just heading for the door. Scrambling quickly to his feet, he bolted past her, shouting, "I'll get it!"

Marc said...

Greg - absolutely beautiful poem.

Writebite - ugh, I can relate to that. Not only have I been called Marce before (seriously), but my last name tends to be a problem for most people.

Morganna - aw, poor puppy :(

Elor - ah, I remember that scene well... oh dear, I haven't been keeping up with my editing, have I?

David - absolutely! And writing projects are great fun :)

Very poignant scene, very nicely handled.

Krystin - holy jeez, now I want pigs on the farm. Actually, my wife went to another farm not long ago to pick up eggs and they had baby pigs there and she pretty much fell in love :)

And I'm glad somebody decided to take the chance to introduce themselves! I was hoping that would happen. Anyway, great to meet you!

Nita - haha, that's one way to make introductions :)

I could just picture her scurrying to the door...

Iron Bess - great back and forth between your two characters. They sound like a fun pair to work with :)

g2 - a most welcome different sort of introduction! I only recently got around to seeing the first Downey/Law Sherlock and enjoyed it very much.

I've seen the TV series on Netflix but hadn't bothered checking it out... but perhaps now I shall!

Good to hear from you again :)

H.N. - oh, you tease! Now I'll be thinking of all the various things he might have ordered... :)

writebite said...

good idea marc, good luck, you can only put it out there and see what happens