Daily Writing Practice

Wednesday February 1st, 2012

2012-02-01T23:24:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

The writing topic for today is: pen pals.

You can go a couple of ways with this. Feel free to create a pair of pen pals and then craft a letter that one of them sends to the other, like I did. Or you could reply to a letter someone else writes, either mine or someone in the comments, as the person originally being written to. Another option would be to do something that doesn't involve writing a letter at all, like a memory of a former pen pal, either real or imagined.

Or, you know, something else entirely. You're all creative people, so I'll stop suggesting things now.

Mine:

Dear Bobby,

I got your letter last week. Sorry for not writing sooner. The teachers at school were trying to drown us in homework. Momma says you don't have schools where you live so you won't understand what that's about. Is that true, Bobby?

Thanks for letting me call you that. My poor brain just could not make the letters of your African name go in the right order. Plus if you ever come here you'll already have an American name!

I was watching TV with my babysitter last night. There was some weird show on that makes people eat gross stuff, like bugs and things, in order to win prizes. It gave me bad dreams. Momma says you don't have TV over there. I say you're not missing much.

I hope that you and your family are well. And that drought thing you talked about in your last letter stops bothering you.

Write back soon!

Yours,

Nancy Williams

Watertown, South Dakota, America

P.S. I've included a picture of me and my Momma playing in the pool in our backyard. Momma says you don't have pools over there. I think you totally should. They're a great way to cool off when it gets super hot out!

Tuesday January 31st, 2012

2012-01-31T23:21:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

The last day of January brings with it a request for two haiku about: fashion.

Feeling sleepy, so that's all you're getting out of me right now.

Mine:

All the latest trends

are not meant for this old soul -

give me tried and true.

* * *

What are you wearing?

To be completely honest,

I'm not really sure.

Monday January 30th, 2012

2012-01-30T22:57:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Your writing challenge for the day: questions and answers.

Mine is based on a dream I had Sunday morning, just before I woke up. There was actually a lot more to it, so I might pull the 'full' version together and post it as an opening chapter on Protag for others to play with.

Mine:

We walk out the front gates of the prison, the warden giving me the evil eye. The bastard hadn't even said goodbye, just See ya later.

Quentin points me toward a black sedan - must be new, I don't recognize the model - and we walk toward it in silence. I look around, uncomfortable with such distant horizons, but rejoicing in it at the same time.

"So what's the good word, Questions?" I ask once we're protected by his ride's leather interior. I hate that I'm more relaxed in here.

"They don't call me that no more," Quentin says, starting up the engine. I raise an eyebrow and wait as we pull out of the parking lot. "I'm The Solution now."

"Sounds like you've done well for yourself these last twelve years." I didn't mean for that to sound bitter. But I don't care enough to clarify.

"Yeah, thanks to you," he says, keeping us under the speed limit. "Mostly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Those names you been feedin' me have all been solid - except one."

"Who?" I ask, but I'm pretty sure I already know.

"Duncan Matthews."

"I told you I wasn't sure about him!" Yelling is probably not a good idea, but it feels good. "I told you to make sure!"

"Relax, Jailbird. It was one little mistake, it ain't nothin' to worry about."

"Mistake? An innocent man is dead!"

"Ain't nobody innocent in this big bad world of ours. Besides," Quentin leans over and pops open the glove box to reveal two handguns, "Mister Hunter has given us the opportunity to set things right."

"Us?" My voice is weak and thick with fear.

"Welcome back to the real world, Jailbird."

Sunday January 29th, 2012

2012-01-29T23:07:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Your theme for today: rooftops.

Kat and I went snowshoeing at Mount Baldy this morning and accidentally discovered a new trail. I was convinced that we had started at the same point as usual and just veered off it without noticing (I was in the lead, just following cross-country ski tracks and obviously not paying much attention).

But when we re-emerged from the trees we saw that our trail actually started several feet down the hill from where we were. Ah well, it was still good fun, even though I found it a little disorienting.

Oh, we also stopped at the lookout over Osoyoos on the way there and I took the following:

Mine:

Travis took the stairs up to the roof two a time, his telescope clutched in his sweaty right hand. His boss had forced him to work late in order to finish the Benson presentation ahead of schedule - which just meant more time for important revisions - so he was bumping up against his personal deadline.

He emerged onto the rooftop, twenty-two storeys above street level, just as the sun dipped below the concrete horizon. After taking a few moments to catch his breath, Travis moved to the southern edge of his apartment building and set up his telescope.

As night swept over the city his precious stars began to appear, in ones and twos. He trained his magnified gaze on each one, but always returned to his absolute favorite.

There was just something especially captivating about Mrs. Jackson.

Saturday January 28th, 2012

2012-01-28T23:40:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: the way you write.

Kat and I went (five pin) bowling tonight for the first time in a very long time. I bowled regularly growing up but recently I've only gone once or twice a year at most.

Anyway, I did much better than I was expecting. It was the sort of night that could tempt me to get back into it.

Not sure that's a good thing.

Mine:

Bang head against wall,

Confront blank pages with fear;

Just keep repeating

Until inspiration appears.

Friday January 27th, 2012

2012-01-27T23:57:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: the grey area.

Hey, look at that. We're almost free of January!

Mine:

The security guard came rushing over as soon as he saw the first flick of the lighter; well, it was really more of a purposeful walk, but his thick legs did their very best.

"Excuse me sir, there's no smoking allowed inside the building." Receiving only a face full of smoke in response, he pointed at the sign on the wall and added, "It says so right there, in black and white!"

"Well then I would suggest," Henri replied as he used his briefcase to smash open the nearest window, "that this here is a bit of a grey area."

*For those of you not familiar with Henri, feel free to click his label below to see other occasions he's visited the blog*

Thursday January 26th, 2012

2012-01-26T23:54:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

With items provided by many of you, we're going back to the list prompt. I'm actually splitting this into two separate prompts because I got so many responses - thank you! So pick any two of the following and include them in your writing today:

- a fishing rod

- a basket filled with balls of multicolored yarn

- paint

- a red Chevy pickup truck, covered in fresh snow

Fun fact: just before posting this I checked to see when I'd last used a list for a prompt: September of 2010.

Fun fact number two: I'll be making up for that this year, as I'm planning on using the rest of the objects you guys sent my way next Thursday.

Mine:

Judith mixed the oil paints on her wooden palette as she studied her fidgeting subject. She was having trouble matching the green of his vest, which was unusual for her. Normally she could do this sort of thing in her sleep.

"Douglas, hold still," she told her nephew. Maybe a touch more white? No, still not quite there. "I'll have your portrait finished much sooner if you stop fussing."

"If you want my picture why don't you just use a camera like everybody else?" Douglas turned to look longingly at the sun-dappled back yard. "It's like, way faster."

"Honey, anybody and their dog can take your picture," she replied, adding a dab of black. Nope. "A painting, on the other hand, is something extra special that only a handful of people can do well. It takes more time and care, and you'll remember these moments for the rest of your life."

"Only because this is gonna take the rest of my life," he muttered darkly.

"Watch your tongue, young man." Why in the world was the color not turning out the way she wanted it to? "Where did you get that vest, anyway?"

"Daddy bought it for me on the way here," Douglas replied in a bored tone. "He said something about it allowing him some extra quality time with his fishing rod this weekend."

"Is that right?" Judith put down her palette and stood up, beckoning the boy over. Douglas rushed to her, seeing her smile but completely missing the anger flashing in his aunt's eyes. "Well then, I think it's time we took my boat out to visit your father on the lake so that I can have a word with him."

Wednesday January 25th, 2012

2012-01-25T23:30:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write about: crows.

Thank you to those who replied to my call for assistance yesterday, twas much appreciated. I'm planning on revealing my nefarious pl... er, innocent fun tomorrow. So there's still time to send something my way if you haven't had the chance to yet.

Mine:

He sits on a fence post,

Not far from the front gate;

Keeping watch on the house,

Just waiting for his date.

On his back a ghost sits,

Whispering instructions;

She has waited so long

For this introduction.

In the house mourning dawns

And a soul is set free;

Out the window it slips -

The crow is first to see.

With a cry he takes flight,

Brings old ghost to meet new;

Husband and wife made one,

After too long as two.

Tuesday January 24th, 2012

2012-01-24T23:21:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Two haiku about: outcasts.

Inspired by a couple of unfortunate players in the NFL's conference championship games last weekend. I even went and wrote my first haiku about one of them, or at least what I expect the end result will be.

If you'd care to help me out a little, do the following:

1. Look up from your writing.

2. Pick out one object that grabs your attention.

3. Send me a quick email with it. Subject: One Object. Body: The object. That's all.

I'm planning on making a prompt or two out of this. So, really, you're just helping yourselves. Or something.

Onward!

Mine:

He is leaving town

with a new name, just because

he missed a field goal

* * *

The circle has closed.

He stands beyond its safety

as the wolves draw near.

Monday January 23rd, 2012

2012-01-23T23:09:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write something to do with: the grifter.

Bonus points if you include one of my favorite comic book characters.

Today I learned a valuable lesson: loading up a wheelbarrow with firewood (even though it may be two-thirds of your usual amount) and then pushing it through a snowy orchard is a fine way to set yourself up for a heart attack.

I think I'll just wait until it melts away before trying to get a decent amount of wood down here.

Mine:

The cards lay face down on the table, two in front of each man, and the dealer waited for the bets to be placed. Dusty ran a finger along the edge of each of his cards but kept his gaze on his opponent, whose eyes remained hidden behind dark sunglasses.

"It's been a long night," Dusty said and the observers seated around the players nodded as one. Pushing all his chips onto the middle of the table without looking at his hand he asked with a slight smile, "What say we bring it to an end?"

"Player one is all in," the dealer announced, turning to Dusty's opponent without a change in his neutral expression. "Player two?"

"Yeah, why not?" the man said, turning to the men and women gathered around the game with a laugh. "It's only money, right?"

Dusty allowed his smile to grow wider as the room filled with nervous laughter, certain that the night would belong to him. How could it not? He'd promised the dealer fifty percent of the winnings.

Unfortunately for Dusty, his opponent had guaranteed sixty.

Sunday January 22nd, 2012

2012-01-22T23:13:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write about: the city in the sky.

Had a pretty quiet day around the house here. Might have had a little to do with a donut coma.

Mine:

Tina stood at her living room window, staring at the layer of permanent clouds below. On days like that one she liked to pretend that it was really just an open field, covered by an overnight snowfall.

Maybe, she thought as she sipped her mint tea, one morning I'll forget the truth and try to go for a walk.

She would not have been the first.

It was a difficult adjustment, but it wasn't a bad life. The solar panels took care of the city's energy needs, and with no need for traditional currency everyone was on relatively equal footing. The Council members had the nicest homes, but that was to be expected. After all, it was thanks to them that the city existed in the first place.

But Tina missed the trees, and the lakes, and the feel of solid ground beneath her feet. And the guilt of being among the chosen few to populate the city followed her everywhere, a constant ghostly companion.

And the wondering never seemed to stop. She wondered if the city was sustainable. She wondered when she would be allowed to leave. She wondered when the first murder would occur, and who the historic victim would be.

But most of all, she wondered whether or not any of those left behind on Earth's surface had survived.

Saturday January 21st, 2012

2012-01-21T23:53:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

A four line poem about: your type.

Today marks the six year anniversary of my diagnosis as a Type One diabetic. But, far more enjoyably, it's also my third annual Diabetes Donut Day.

I went back to the Canadian Maple this year - I'd actually forgotten that's what I had the first time, I just remembered I'd had an Apple Fritter last year and wanted something different.

Also: there's enough snow on the ground for Kat and I to go snowshoeing in the orchard. So that's what we did.

Mine:

If I'd been given the choice,

I would have surely picked none;

But I had not the privilege,

I was just labeled Type One.

Friday January 20th, 2012

2012-01-20T23:46:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: the band.

It's snowing at the moment. Which would be fine, but I need to go out and grab some more firewood at some point if I want this fire to last until morning.

And I'd rather not go out there right now.

Mine:

"Hi Mom, what's going on?"

"Honey, you need to come home to talk some sense into your old man."

"Mom, he's eighty-five now - isn't that old enough for him to make his own decisions?"

"But sweetie, he's getting the band back together - and they're using the living room as their practice studio!"

Thursday January 19th, 2012

2012-01-19T23:42:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

I think it's been long enough since the last time I busted this out, so I declare it's time to do some: continuations.

For those that haven't experienced one of my favorite prompts before, the basic idea is to carry on the story from where the last person left it. Try not to carry on for too long, and do your best to stop at a place that presents some interesting possibilities for the next writer.

If you'd care to see examples of previous efforts, feel free to click on the label at the bottom of the post.

Weather update: still cold. Lots of snow. Fireplace good.

Mine:

As dawn arrived the city woke as it usually did. With blaring and beeping alarms. With muttered, mumbled, miscellaneous curses. With hot showers, cold showers, no showers. With cereal, with toast, with eggs and bacon. With coffee, with tea, with juice.

Conversations were photocopies of the ones that had gone on the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. Silences were no less tense, no more comfortable than usual.

The kids got along as they always had, or had not. Their parents parted ways with no change in affection, no subtle differences in meaning.

All was as it usually was.

But as each citizen of the city emerged from their homes, apartments, lofts, they quickly realized that this was no usual day.

Wednesday January 18th, 2012

2012-01-18T22:51:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Going with the theme of the day, write about: the blackout.

Winter has decided to give us a proper visit, having camped out in the orchard and doing his best to blow the house down. It's currently -14, though with wind chill it's more like -25.

Thankfully it's only supposed to last a few days, as I'm already missing the more timid temperatures that have become the norm this winter.

Oh, hey, I promised duck (there are some geese in there too) pictures. Here you go:

Mine:

They sat in the darkened house, together yet apart, listening to the air raid sirens echoing up and down their street. Each replayed in their heads the argument the German pilots had so rudely interrupted.

She tried to control her breathing, afraid she might pass out only to wake to find him gone.

Don't be silly. He'd never leave like that.

He stared at the ceiling, as though he were searching the skies for enemy planes. His hands clenched and then relaxed, over and over again in futile fury.

When the sirens fell silent, their neighborhood emerging untouched, neither moved to turn on the lights. Eventually she cleared her throat, preparing to speak, but he was faster.

"I'm signing up, Mom. Dean says they're not checking birth certificates anymore, so they'll let me. I can't just sit here waiting to be blown to pieces anymore."

He got up and left the room, wanting to begin packing his things immediately. She sat for a while longer before finally whispering her lonely thought to the empty room.

"But it won't bring his father back."

Tuesday January 17th, 2012

2012-01-17T23:13:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Two haiku about: chess.

A long time ago, way back when I still worked at EA, I joined an online chess site at the urgings of several coworkers. We played a bunch of games against each other and had a lot of fun. We gradually began playing less, several of them left or were laid off, and then I quit too. I continued playing for a while but then eventually stopped altogether.

But recently I've been bitten by the chess bug again so I got back in touch with the site (having to get them to switch my account from my work email address to one I actually have access to) and I'm at it again. It's free to sign up at RedHotPawn, so if you'd care to challenge me to a game I'd be happy to play.

Mine:

Surveying the board,

the king whispers to his queen,

"The pawns look nervous."

* * *

Attacked from all sides,

the king cries as he brings his

gun to his temple.

Monday January 16th, 2012

2012-01-16T23:52:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Today we write about somebody or something that's: for hire.

The more observant amongst you will have already noticed that there are two new additions to my list of Pages over on the left there.

The first, Recommended Reading, is just a collection of books that I've enjoyed and, as the title suggests, I'd strongly suggest you check out. I've divvied it up into three sections (books on writing, fiction, and non-fiction) and I'll add to it as I discover more books that I feel belong there.

The other page? Well, that's going to require a bit more explanation...

Mine:

Writer For Hire is something I've been wanting to do for quite some time. I can't say for sure when I first thought of doing it, but it's definitely been more than a year. What can I say? I take my time with things.

There are various reasons for the delay, but I'll get to that in a minute. First I should probably detail what the page is and my hopes for it.

In a nutshell, if someone would like something creative written but are not up to tackling it themselves, or if they simply enjoy my writing and would like something created just for them, they can hire me to do just that. I'm also making myself available to do editing work.

I'm hoping this will be an extra source of income to help Kat and I along while we continue to establish our farming business. As you're all writers yourselves, this isn't necessarily targeted at you (but of course you're more than welcome to make use of it!), but perhaps friends or family might be interested (that would be what the referral discount is for). Either way, I needed somewhere to host this offer and this seemed like the best place... for now, at any rate.

Anyway, you can find all the info on the page itself.

Now, the delay. Mostly it was caused by a lack of belief in myself and my abilities. The idea of people wanting to pay me for my writing seemed ridiculous at first. I've come a long way since then, both in my writing and personally, but some of that still lingers.

It's certainly rearing its butt ugly face as I type this and prepare to hit Publish Post.

But I'm in the process of editing a novel right now and getting ready to send it out into the big bad world. So I better believe my writing is worth something to somebody (preferably a lot of somebodies), otherwise I am wasting a rather remarkable amount of time and energy.

I'd appreciate any feedback you fine folk have to offer on this. I'm trying to look at it as a stepping stone along the way to making a decent living off of my writing. Nothing too grandiose or massive, just a little baby step.

Fingers crossed, toes crossed, eyes crossed... here I go.

Sunday January 15th, 2012

2012-01-15T23:59:00.000-08:00

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.

Mine:

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."

Saturday January 14th, 2012

2012-01-14T23:44:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: the UFO.

We had a little bit of snow here today, just enough to dust everything in a fine layer of white. Might be going snowshoeing up on the mountain tomorrow, as long as we don't wake up to more snow than I care to drive through.

Mine:

I can see the bright flashing lights -

It's aliens, no doubt.

Well they can holler all they want,

But I ain't coming out.

Friday January 13th, 2012

2012-01-13T22:59:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: playground rules.

Happy Friday the 13th! Only the first month of the year and we have one already - let's just pretend that's a good sign, shall we?

Kat and I went down to the states this afternoon, for the first time since we moved here. Which is sad, seeing as the border is like ten minutes from our front door.

Anyway, we did a bit of shopping and filled up on gas - at 89 cents a litre, compared to $1.18 here in town. I think we'll be making that trip a few more times.

Mine:

"... so absolutely no touching of other students in a manner that could possibly be interpreted as aggressive." Miss Brown studied the children arrayed before her and her dusty tome, then asked if they understood.

"Yes, Miss Brown," they replied in weary unison.

"Excellent, that means we can now move on to Playground Rule Number 543..."

Thursday January 12th, 2012

2012-01-12T22:51:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write something about: the twins.

After watching that movie last night, and starting to read Her Fearful Symmetry this morning, it was pretty much inevitable.

Working on something today that I'll be sharing with you guys pretty soon. Both nervous and excited about it. I think that's a good sign.

Mine:

The woman sat down across from him while he was perusing the dessert menu. She was late, but he didn't mind. He knew she would come.

"What do you want?" she asked after allowing him to order the crème brûlée.

"My darling Felicity, calm down." He eased his wine glass to his lips and sipped. "You know we won't do anything to your twin as long as you do as we wish."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll pick up that phone," she pointed at the cell phone resting near his right hand, "and have Lauren released before your dessert arrives."

"I will make that call as soon as you agree to our terms, and not a moment sooner." He watched her squirm in her seat as she looked at the rooftops of the buildings surrounding the square. If she was searching for the snipers, she would not find them. He'd only brought the best with him. "As we both know, you have been making life very difficult for my boss in recent months. Profits are down, and when profits are down, he is not a pleasant man to be around."

"From what I've heard, he's never much fun to be around," she pointed out, now scanning the crowded sidewalk across the street from the cafe.

"Indeed." He took a longer sip this time. "Your... interference has only made his temper worse than usual. So. Let us come to an agreement. You stop killing his men, stop blowing up his buildings, and stop being in this country, and we let your sweet, innocent sister go. She doesn't deserve what will happen to her if you insist on continuing to be disagreeable. But, rest assured, it would happen. And my men would enjoy themselves greatly."

"How many men do you have watching us right now?" She finally returned her gaze to him. "Come on, you can tell me. What's the harm?"

"Twelve, give or take three," he said after a moment's hesitation.

"So, given what I know of your operating budget, that leaves, at most, eight men guarding my sister." She stood up as the waiter arrived with his dessert, smoothing her skirt with one hand. "That shouldn't be a problem for her."

"My darling, whatever are you going on about?" He leaned forward and picked up his fork.

"It's a wonderful plan, I'll give you that. But there's just one problem," she said, beginning to turn away. "You've got the wrong twin."

"What?"

"I hope you haven't compounded your stupidity by holding her at your headquarters," Lauren said over her shoulder. "Otherwise your boss is in more trouble than you can imagine. If you want to save his fat ass, you better get moving, darling."

Wednesday January 11th, 2012

2012-01-11T23:57:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write about: the loner.

As Kat was feeling tired and not really up to it, I went to see the latest installment of the Oliver Film Club on my own tonight. I quite enjoyed The Topp Twins, though it did make me miss New Zealand quite a bit.

Mine:

He sits on the park bench with his thoughts for company. He is aware of the screaming children gathered around and on the swings, jostling to be next in line and soaring through the air, but he doesn't really hear them.

Young mothers walk past, pushing or carrying their most recent accomplishments, registering only as reflections on his sunglasses. Though each one notices him, no greetings are offered.

A hot dog vendor is doing brisk business to his left, but the tempting odors maneuver around and away from his nostrils. As if they wish to avoid attracting his attention, fearing they might draw him closer.

The sun is ferocious in the early afternoon sky, but if its rays are warming his body he gives no such indication. His jacket remains buttoned, his hands loiter in his pockets.

Tumbling, blackened thoughts have his full attention. Potential solutions, ranging from unworkable to sheer lunacy, attack a single question from every conceivable angle.

The question that had invaded and then infected his mind in the glacial seconds that had followed his layoff notice.

What am I going to do now?

Tuesday January 10th, 2012

2012-01-10T23:44:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Two haiku about: the butler.

Holy jeez, you guys did an amazing job with yesterday's prompt. Top notch stuff all around.

Mine:

He will serve you tea

with consummate manners while

wishing you were dead

* * *

Alfred wants to quit

but he knows too much. It sucks

working for Batman.

Monday January 9th, 2012

2012-01-09T23:53:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

And we're back in business with: small town blues.

A bit much for what I just went through, but I figured it was a more inspiring prompt than 'The Saga of The New Laptop Adapter'.

I see I have a lot of comments to catch up on. Thank you!

Mine:

The problem: a fraying laptop adapter cord which must be held in just the right spot in order to charge the laptop battery. It is progressively getting more and more finicky and less willing to be placed in said right spot.

The only local option to find a replacement (Osoyoos): closed, because it is Sunday.

Next nearest option (Oliver): their one possible solution won't work with my laptop. It is now too late in the day to try the next nearest option, so that will have to wait until Monday.

Next nearest option (Penticton): the first of many possible locations to stock what I need has six or seven adapters. The helpful and knowledgeable staff help me to find the one that will work with my laptop. I return home relieved and victorious.

Thankfully there were several other things I wanted to do in Penticton, but I hadn't been planning on making the drive any time soon. The utter lack of options nearby kind of forced my hand though.

For the vast majority of the time, I quite enjoy living in a small town. It's just on rare occasions like this one, where a somewhat specialized item is needed, that the lack of selection around here makes me miss Vancouver.

But only just a little bit.

Sunday January 8th, 2012

2012-01-08T22:23:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write about: homework.

Tech issues are ongoing. I only have a few minutes of battery life left, so I'll get to the comments whenever I have a working adapter again.

Hopefully tomorrow.

Mine:

Miss Brown wants to know

Where'd my homework go.

I ask what she meant,

'Cause it never went.

Saturday January 7th, 2012

2012-01-07T23:45:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

A four line poem about: tech support.

Having some laptop issues around here this evening. At first I thought the battery was dying, then I suspected the adapter of flaking out. Turns out the adapter cord is getting wonky. Hopefully I'll be able to get it replaced soon, as holding it in place so that it actually charges the battery is a pain.

Mine:

Please help, I don't know what to do!

My laptop is screaming at me!

Jeff sighed and told his coworker

To gently tap his Caps Lock key.

Friday January 6th, 2012

2012-01-06T23:58:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Four lines of prose that have something to do with: water.

Judging by the increase in comments here lately, I do believe we have some New Year writing resolutions going on. So I just wanted to say best of luck sticking with it, and please do let me know if I can be of any help.

Mine:

The glass sat empty on his desk, exactly where he'd left it the evening before. Not even a hint of water remained, as though he'd tipped it upside down and waited for all of it to drip into his mouth. Every last drop.

Poison and all.

Thursday January 5th, 2012

2012-01-05T23:42:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Inspired by Greg's comment at the start of this year, your prompt today is: the revolution.

Fair warning: I've got another theme week in the works. Not sure when I'll actually do it, but I'm already looking forward to it. Should be fun.

Today I worked on a couple pieces of writing that I hadn't look at in a very long time. One held up quite well, the other... ah, needs a bit of work. I'm up to the challenge though!

Mine:

Professor Webster stepped out of his office, locking the door behind him. As usual, the hours he'd made himself available to his students had passed without any interruptions to his research. Publicly he told any colleague that would listen that he was deeply concerned by this apparent lack of interest in learning the finer points of European history.

Privately he was just glad not to have to waste even more of his precious time on those brainless freshmen.

The hallways of the university were quiet that night; the big football or baseball or whatever game had obviously drawn the majority of the student population. Professor Webster's opinion on sports was not significantly different than his thoughts on his listless pupils.

Stepping out into the night's chilly embrace, he could hear the ghostly remains of cheers coming from the distant stadium. With a shake of his head he turned in the opposite direction, already reaching for his car keys. He'd parked his car - a sensible, prudent, fuel efficient model - in his reserved space in the second row. He'd already placed his briefcase in the passenger seat when he noticed the note tucked under a windshield wiper.

Glancing around, he took the piece of paper and slipped into his car, locking all the doors with the press of a button. As the overhead light began to fade, he read the handwritten words one more time:

The revolution begins tonight. Be ready.

Wednesday January 4th, 2012

2012-01-04T23:11:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

It's been a long time - let's make some more unfavorable comparisons.

Not inspired by anything other than me simply remembering we hadn't done that one in a while.

Starting to feel dangerously close to healthy again. Combine that with a rather pleasant 10 degree day and some good progress on writing projects and that was a pretty decent Wednesday.

Mine:

Heads turned as the car slowly pulled into the garage. It was like watching a terminally ill smoker shuffle into his doctor's office for the first time in twenty years, expecting to be healed the day before they were set to pull the plug.

* * *

Mitchell swung a golf club as though it was a poisonous snake. That had been coated with skunk spray. And had just been informed that it was Mitchell's doing.

* * *

His cough sounds like the mating call of a deranged dingo.

* * *

She always dances as though an angry hive of bees have just been released under her dress.

Tuesday January 3rd, 2012

2012-01-03T23:43:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Two haiku about: hell.

Will next week's Two Haiku Tuesday ask for heavenly haiku? It's quite possible.

It's also entirely possible that I'll forget by then.

Mine:

A dust covered room

with no possible escape -

my allergic hell

* * *

Please scream louder, my

demon begs. I'm this close to

my next promotion.

Monday January 2nd, 2012

2012-01-02T23:32:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write something that takes place in: the elevator.

I forgot to mention it, but yesterday Kat and I celebrated our one year anniversary of moving into this place. And today, since I obviously missed renovating so much, I helped Kat's dad patch up a hole above the door in the basement. It's really needed doing since the start, but because it's mostly out of sight we managed to ignore it until now.

Hopefully that will cut down on the number of spiders down there, at least a little.

Mine:

Surely, the elevator must be over its legal capacity by now. I was certain we couldn't cram more people in here two floors ago but people kept forcing their way in, unwilling to wait for the next escape shuttle to deliver them to their weekend.

Normally I just avoid this nonsense by taking the stairs down but I'd promised Olivia a ride and there's no way she was going to make it more than three flights before keeling over. Her bulk is taking up more than its fair share of this inadequate box, but at least she's got cushioning. The same can't be said for Mr. Bony Elbows in front of me.

All eyes are on the digital display over the door. No one speaks - it would just distract us from praying to reach the lobby without another -

Ding!

Never mind. Maybe the folks on the fifth floor will have enough patience to... nope. Is that Todd in accounting making that groaning sound, or the overtaxed cables as they struggle to not drop us to our doom?

Note to self: never skip the stairs again. No matter what.

Assuming I survive this time.

Sunday January 1st, 2012

2012-01-01T23:54:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Welcome to 2012! Let us begin the new year by writing about: a fresh start.

It would seem that I am sick again. Though I'm not sure 'again' is appropriate, seeing as I don't think I ever fully recovered from the last one.

Mine:

Sally sat in the living room of her new apartment and stared at the envelope the young man had dropped on her coffee table on his way out the door. That had been nearly an hour ago and she hadn't moved an inch, aside from a slight jump when the phone had rung in the suite below hers.

He'd called it a chance for a fresh start, as though someone her age got such things. The place was nice though, she had to admit that. Well beyond what her old salary at the newspaper would have allowed. She wasn't crazy about the bathroom, how claustrophobic it made her feel, but maybe she'd get used to it.

Bending forward while whistling a breath out her nostrils, Sally finally picked the unmarked envelope up. It had more weight than she was expecting, but that could have been her imagination placing too much importance on its contents. Holding it in her lap, she noticed that the bruises on both wrists were completely healed. Repressing a shudder, she tore the envelope open and dumped it out beside her on the couch.

The driver's license was the first item she grasped, a small frown appearing momentarily on her face. The picture was terrible, as always, but despite the new hairstyle and color she could still recognize herself. The birth date had been moved forward by a couple years, which she appreciated, but it was the name across the top that she struggled with.

No matter what the witness protection officer had told her, she just couldn't picture herself as a Megan.

Saturday December 31st, 2011

2011-12-31T23:33:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

A four line poem about: the New Year's Eve party.

Happy New Year to all of you, and may 2012 bring each of you good fortune and countless happy moments.

Mine:

As the sun sets on one more year,

We come together in good cheer

To reflect, toast, attempt to sing,

And wonder what the next will bring.

Friday December 30th, 2011

2011-12-30T23:56:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: the giant.

Just one day left in 2011. It's been a pretty busy year, to say the least.

Mine:

The giant surveyed the land below him, craning his neck to peer around a cloud as he used a redwood held between his thumb and index finger to excavate the remains of his lunch from between his teeth. It hadn't been a particularly satisfying meal, but he was hopeful that the next herd of cows he encountered was of a more reasonable size.

At length he spotted what he was searching for and bent his knees to begin the long descent down to ground level. Grasping the circus tents in both hands, he couldn't help thinking that there really had to be a more efficient way to gather toilet paper.

Thursday December 29th, 2011

2011-12-29T23:58:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Your writing task for today requires you to create something to do with: support.

At 11:30 this morning it was 16 degrees here. Welcome back, spring!

Mine:

The men studied the blueprint they had stretched across the surface of the dinner table, their fingers twitching for the coffee mugs that held it in place. If they hadn't been so distracted while laying it out, they would have used empty mugs for the task. As it was, they were trying not to rush through their analysis for the sake of more caffeine.

"It's a beaut of a design," one of them said and the others nodded their agreement. "The layout of the living room and the way it flows into the kitchen is particularly sweet."

"You said Cody is responsible for it?" the man to the first speaker's right asked. "Man, I should hire him the next time I'm looking to build. The guy that did my current place must have got his degree from his neighborhood's kindergarten class."

"Can we focus, please?" The third man to speak stared at the others, daring them to continue. "Thank you. Now. This is the main support beam, correct?"

"Yessir," the first speaker confirmed. "We blow that bad boy up and your ex-wife's home will come crashing on down in a big old hurry."

Wednesday December 28th, 2011

2011-12-28T23:09:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Trying something a little different today - show me what you've got for: that could have been us.

Inspiration for prompt explained below, but I'm particularly curious to see what you guys come up with.

It's good to be home (now that the fireplace has has finally warmed it up).

Mine:

We spent last night in Williams Lake and were up early as we were all eager to get home as soon as possible. Kat and I mostly because we figured if we got here before sundown then it wouldn't take as long to warm up the house (turns out we were right). Anyway, with us being smack dab in the middle of our shortest days of the year, that meant being on the road before sunrise.

I took the first shift, since Kat's dad had been doing the majority of the driving over the course of our trip up to Dawson Creek and back. The roads were okay - mostly clear with a bit of slushy snow in some spots - and dawn was already well on its way. In other words, we were off to a good start.

Then the sun came up over the horizon.

With it shining straight into my eyes, not to mention reflecting off of a wet road, the next hour or so was definitely in my top ten worst driving experiences. Oh, and throw in some eighteen wheelers driving in the opposite direction and throwing up a windshield-covering amount of dirty snow. You know, just for kicks.

Maybe I should just slot it into the top five.

Anyway, after getting us through that barrel of monkey fun for as long as I could manage, I pulled over in one of the many small towns (villages?) that line the highway and Kat's dad took over. With the sun a little higher in the sky at that point it wasn't quite so bad, but I'd had my fill.

A little while later we pulled into a gas station and Kat's dad topped up the tank while I did my best to clean off the windshield and side windows. We could have made it to the next town but Kat's dad doesn't like the tank getting too low, plus we needed a bathroom break.

We hit the highway again but we didn't get very far before we came upon an accident. The police had blocked the road but the ambulance hadn't arrived yet, so it couldn't have happened all that long before we got there. It happened right in front of... something - I didn't really notice whether it was a general store, a garage, or something else entirely. At any rate, the owner of whatever that building was directed us to use his driveway to get around the accident.

Because there had been a fatality and the police weren't likely to open up the road again any time soon.

It was not a particularly difficult stretch to think that very easily could have been us.

Tuesday December 27th, 2011

2011-12-27T22:00:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Two haiku about: babies.

Blame it on Natalie. Spending four days with a 3 month old was bound to start screwing with the prompts sooner or later.

I'm scheduling this one, as I have no way of knowing whether or not we'll have internet access at our hotel tonight.

I'll catch up with all the comments from the past week over the next few days.

Mine:

It's not always there,

but when she shares it with us

her smile hugs our hearts.

* * *

The scream is piercing,

the messes are unending,

but still we want one.

Monday December 26th, 2011

2011-12-26T22:42:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Your prompt today: the sack.

I need to finish up my Christmas week story already, so I'm just going to get to that.

We're heading home tomorrow morning, stopping off... wherever we happen to be when we get tired of being in the car. Looking forward to being back in our own bed Wednesday night.

Mine:

Tensions were high as Santa harnessed in the reindeer to the Sleigh. Eye contact between man and beast was avoided completely, except when a buckle pinched the skin on Rudolph's neck. Rosa and Miguel had to move quickly to prevent a last minute disaster.

Once the team was ready to take flight, Santa climbed up onto his seat but, after a moment's thought, left his whip on the floor by his feet. No need to aggravate them unnecessarily - they all certainly knew what they were doing by that point.

Taking a deep breath to calm nerves that were usually steady as a rock, he noticed that all of the reindeer were facing forward. Turning his head slightly, he gave Rosa and Miguel a quick nod before beginning his traditional spiel.

"Now! Dasher, now!" Santa shouted as the two elves brought a wriggling, shifting sack over to the Sleigh. "Dancer, now!" Miguel and Rosa heaved the sack onto the seat beside Big Red and scurried away as the reindeer eased into motion. "Prancer and Vixen, on!"

The Sleigh attained liftoff as Santa continued his shouting. Miguel and Rosa watched with the other elves as the team tore off into the night sky - but they were the only ones who spotted the antlered head peer out of the sack beside their boss.

The trainees for next year's Flight were aboard and learning; the only question was whether Santa could keep them hidden from the current team until the end of this one.

Sunday December 25th, 2011

2011-12-25T17:00:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Merry Christmas to one and all! We're going to keep it straightforward today - your prompt is simply: Christmas.

I hope Santa is kind to all of you. I'm writing this on Saturday afternoon so that I don't have to worry about finding time to do it on the big day. I'm hoping to bring my Christmas week story to a satisfying conclusion today, but I might extend it for one more day if it starts looking a little long.

Mine:

"What in the world is going on, Santa?" Miguel asked as his boss crawled out of the bushes rubbing the side of his head.

"You just hit me in the head with a snowball, from like ten yards away!" Santa replied, clearly unimpressed.

"But what were you doing hiding in there in the first place?" Rosa asked before Miguel could get himself in even more trouble.

"I'm teaching those bloody reindeer a lesson!" Seeing the elves exchange confused glances, he huffed mightily before carrying on. "I was explaining to them last week that it was high time I started training their replacements, what with them getting on in years. Well, they did not like that one bit, no siree!"

"You can hardly blame... er, so what did they do?" Miguel asked, changing tact when he saw Santa's expression darken.

"They disassembled the Sleigh!" Santa shouted, then looked around nervously to see if anyone else had heard. Spotting nobody, he carried on in a whisper, "They're trying to hold Christmas hostage! Well, I'm here to show them that two can play that game!"

"Tough to have the Big Day without Big Red," Rosa said with a nod. Miguel elbowed her in the ribs for sucking up.

"Exactly!" Santa said with a satisfied smile. "So, is everyone in a big panic about me going missing?"

"Er, not exactly." Rosa looked to Miguel for support but he just crossed his arms and looked back expectantly. "You see... um..."

"What is it?" Santa's smile was fading quickly.

"We're kinda the only ones that know you haven't been around."

Saturday December 24th, 2011

2011-12-24T17:00:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

The second last day of Christmas week would very much like you to write a four line poem about: Santa. Though if you're trying to continue your story I'll understand if you need to go beyond those constraints.

Happy Christmas Eve! I hope you all enjoy a happy and safe day tomorrow, with lots of loved ones around and maybe a few nice presents under the tree too.

Up north with Kat and her family. Hopefully I get net access up there, because this is all I had time to schedule before leaving Osoyoos!

Mine:

He's hiding in the bushes,

Like a kid playing hide-and-seek.

But what's he really doing?

Let's gather 'round and hear him speak.

Friday December 23rd, 2011

2011-12-23T17:00:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Heading into the final few days of Christmas week, we write today about: snowballs.

I'm away at the moment but should have net access again starting tonight. But just in case I've got another post scheduled for tomorrow.

Mine:

"This is stupid... maybe we should just give up and ask Frosty to take over," Miguel said, scooping up two handfuls of snow and forcing them into a lumpy snowball.

"You're just grumpy because you finally sobered up," Rosa chided him, hoping to raise his spirits as they followed the path through the trees from the workshop to their dormitory.

"No, I'm grumpy because we've been searching all over the North Pole for Santa for days now and we haven't turned up so much as a piece of red fluff," Miguel said before winding up and firing his snowball as hard as he could at the nearest shrub.

The two elves had taken another four or five strides before they realized that neither of them had uttered the Ow they'd just heard.

Thursday December 22nd, 2011

2011-12-22T21:00:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

The (unofficially labeled) Christmas Week trundles onward with: candy canes.

Kat and I are on the road and heading north today. Take care of the place while I'm gone, won't you?

We're expecting to be back next Wednesday, but I suspect that will depend on the weather.

Mine:

"Where have you been all night?" Rosa asked when she spotted Miguel stumbling into the workshop. The other elves were preoccupied with their final assignments but she kept her voice low anyway.

"Looking for Big Red," he replied, blinking at her in confusion. "Where else would I be?"

"Listen, I've made a list of places for us to search," Rosa said, pulling him to a quiet corner.

"Have you checked it twice?" Miguel asked, struggling to maintain a straight face.

"Not funny. At all. We're running out of time here; we need to be more organized!"

"Of course, of course. Let's have a look at it then."

"Okay." Rosa glanced around before pulling a folded square of paper out of her coat pocket. "I've ticked off everywhere we've looked together: stables, woodshed, Frosty's place, Jack Frost's cafe, and the grounds to the east and west of the Claus home."

"So what's left?" Miguel asked, swaying slightly from apparent exhaustion.

"Well, there's the Abominable Snowman's bar, the Candy Cane Club... no need to check there though. Mrs. Claus has forbidden Santa from stepping foot in there ever again after that incident last New Year's Eve. Those girls are permanent residents of the Naughty List, that's for sure."

"I checked there already anyway."

"You... what? Is that where you've been?"

"I had to be very thorough," Miguel said, his wide smile ruining any attempts at solemnity. "You know, just in case."

Wednesday December 21st, 2011

2011-12-21T22:46:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

The countdown to Christmas continues with: Frosty (capitalization optional).

We're heading out tomorrow morning, so the next few days will consist of scheduled posts here. Which will require me to get some more writing done tonight, seeing as I've only got Thursday's down on paper so far.

Mine:

Frosty watched the two elves approach as he eased himself back and forth in his rocking chair on his front porch. Unaware of his presence - coal proved to provide excellent night vision, much to his surprise and completely unbeknownst to anyone else - the elves appeared anxious as they spoke in hushed tones.

"It's only three days to Christmas," he heard the one called Rita (or was it Barbara?) say. "What will we do if don't find him?"

"We will," the one called Martin... Marcel? Whatever his name, that's what he said. "We have to."

"One of your donkeys go missing?" Frosty called out, startling them both.

"For the last time," Miguel said, hands on hips, "they're called reindeer. And no, they're all accounted for."

"A fellow munchkin then?" Frosty somehow blew several perfect smoke rings in their general direction while he spoke.

"Elves, you tarted up igloo," Rosa countered. "We're all here too."

"Sure you haven't lost one or two in the cracks of the woodshed? I've always thought I could fit a dozen of you in there."

"This is a waste of time," Miguel said, turning away.

"Who's gone missing then?" Frosty asked, barely resisting the temptation to suggest it might be the Wizard of Oz.

"Santa."

"Really? How intriguing." Frosty fell silent for a few moments before adding, "Well if you're in need of a replacement on the Big Donkey Ride, I'd love to help out."

"I bet you would," Miguel muttered as he dragged Rosa away before she could reply - or attack. "I bet you would."

Tuesday December 20th, 2011

2011-12-20T23:48:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Two haiku about: naughty or nice.

I was considering giving myself an early Christmas present by skipping Two Haiku Tuesday this week, but then inspiration finally struck. So my story continues on! Will yours?

Hmm, more snow outside. Again.

Mine:

Rosa

They may not know where

to find Santa, but they were

extremely helpful!

* * *

Miguel

Too helpful, if you

ask me. I say those reindeer

are up to no good.

Monday December 19th, 2011

2011-12-19T23:58:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Carrying on with the countdown to Christmas, your prompt today is: the reindeer.

I'll be continuing with what I started yesterday and you're welcome to either do the same or have each day as a stand alone piece.

Kat and I will be leaving Thursday morning with her parents to spend the holiday with her brother's family up in Dawson Creek. The plan is to pass the night in Quesnel and then finish the drive on Friday. I'm not sure what my net access will be like up there, so I'm going to schedule a few posts just in case.

Also not sure how long we'll be staying up there, but I know we'll definitely be back down in time for New Year's.

Mine:

"So what's next?" Dasher asked. He was, as usual, ready to charge into the next stage of the plan. Whatever that might be.

"That's not really up to us," Rudolph replied, his nose glowing brightly in the mid-afternoon darkness. "It all depends on how they react once they discover what we've done."

"Waiting is lame," Dasher whined, looking to the others for support. "Why don't we speed along the search? Maybe suggest places for them to look?"

"That would only draw suspicion to us, as Rudolph's nose draws the arctic moths to its constant illumination," Comet said, as he did most things, rather dreamily. The others rolled their eyes and shook their heads, but he failed to notice as his eyes were on the stars. As always.

"Just trust in the plan," Rudolph said firmly. "Stick together, believe in each other, and we can't fail. We know -"

"Quiet!" Blitzen called out from where he was keeping watch by the stable doors. "Miguel and Rosa are headed this way."

Sunday December 18th, 2011

2011-12-18T23:55:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

With just a week to go until Christmas, I figure it's time to jolly things up around here. I haven't exactly decided on a theme yet, but my yearly countdown to the big day shall begin with: the elf.

Edit: now that I've finished today's writing, it's looking like I might be getting myself into another week-long story. We'll see where it ends up!

It hit plus ten degrees here today, so most of the snow has melted away again. The weather really can't seem to make up its mind.

Mine:

"Have you seen Santa?" The question reached Miguel's ears immediately, seeing as Rosa had asked it from less than a foot away, but it took several seconds to work its way through all the thoughts tumbling through his mind.

"Isn't he in his office?" Miguel asked without looking up from his current project. The rocking horse for Emily in Boise was nearly complete, then he could move on to the train set for Jeremy in Toronto.

"No," Rosa replied, the worry in her voice bringing Miguel's hands to stillness. "And there's no note on his desk or anywhere that I could see."

"Mrs. Claus?"

"Locked up in the kitchens until Takeoff."

"Maybe he's checking up on Rudolph and his crew," Miguel said, not sounding like he believed it himself. "Have you checked the stables?"

"Not there either. Will you help me track him down?"

Miguel put the finishing touches on the wooden horse before placing his tools on the bench and rising up to his full height of two feet and seven inches. Looking down at his young coworker, he nodded once and they made their way out of the workshop without telling any of the other elves what was going on.

Saturday December 17th, 2011

2011-12-17T23:57:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

A four line poem about: generosity.

And we're officially done with the farmers market until May. We're offering what we have left (mostly spaghetti squash) at a deep discount to our local customers this weekend, and then the farm business is being put to bed until things start growing in the greenhouse again.

I have to say I'm looking forward to the break.

Mine:

He'll give you the shirt

Right off of his back,

But if you keep it

He will knife attack.

Friday December 16th, 2011

2011-12-16T23:51:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: the quiz.

I shan't link you to the website that inspired that prompt, as I'm afraid you'd never come back if I did. Well, maybe I'm just especially prone to getting addicted to silly quizzes and you'd all be fine. But I'm not taking that risk!

Tomorrow morning is the final, final market of the season. After this one, no more until spring. Hopefully it'll be a good one.

Mine:

The professor glared at his students from behind his podium, daring them to provoke him with the smallest noise or movement. Satisfied that they were as volatile as statues, he began to speak.

"As you have struggled mightily with the concept of pens down at the end of my quizzes, I have provided you with your writing instruments today. You have twenty minutes to fill in your answers, at which point I strongly suggest you place your pens in the metal cans at your feet - for in precisely twenty minutes and one second from now they are set to explode."

Thursday December 15th, 2011

2011-12-15T23:18:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write about: the candidate.

We are once again covered in snow. Seeing as we're halfway through December now, I suppose I can accept that.

Mine:

They're looking for a sure bet,

So they're casting a wide net;

From penthouses to gutters,

From college grads to nutters.

So deeply desperate to win,

They'll even dabble in sin.

Their chosen man may be young,

But he's got the devil's tongue.

Wednesday December 14th, 2011

2011-12-14T23:22:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

I'm feeling random this week, so today we're taking a swing at the Random Book Prompt.

Grab a book, preferably one you haven't read yet, and nab its opening line - I found mine in a coffee shop in Oliver that had a take a book/leave a book thing going on. Now use that sentence as the first sentence in your prose and take it where you will. Credit where blah blah blah.

Had a pleasant surprise today, as one of our regular farmers market customers called us up and placed a very nice order for us to bring up to her in Penticton this Saturday. It's nice to know the final market will be worth the trip this far ahead of time.

Mine:

My Secret History - Paul Theroux

I was born poor in rich America, yet my secret instincts were better than money and were for me a source of power. They allowed me to walk with chest out, head up, back straight. Encouraged me to meet every challenging stare with unblinking confidence.

They could have their big houses, fancy threads, movie star cars. Let them believe themselves above folks such as myself, beyond the reach of hard work and grime, untouchable.

They were not, of course, but let them believe.

The truth was that all those things could be taken from them at any time of day. That I could take them away. Could drag them off their fairytale pedestals and bring them low.

Money wasn't a requirement for the things I knew how to do. Only instincts and a strong stomach.

Tuesday December 13th, 2011

2011-12-13T23:30:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Two haiku that take place on: the ranch.

There's a very definite chill in the air here these days. You'd think we're almost halfway through December already or something.

Mine:

Cigarette smoke clouds

loiter above cowboy hats

and gruff Good mornings

* * *

Coffee calls at dawn.

The horses neigh nervously

as fat cowboys wake.

Monday December 12th, 2011

2011-12-12T23:59:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Screw it, I think it's been long enough since the last time - we're going with another round of the Random CD Prompt.

So take the first line of a song, chosen as randomly as you can manage, and use it as the opening line of your poetry or prose. Then take it from there to wherever your imagination directs you. Credit where it's due, as always.

Mine:

What If The Storm Ends? - Snow Patrol

"What if the storm ends and I don't see you?" he asked as he stared out at the blizzard that had trapped us in the cabin for the last three days. I wondered if he was hoping for it to end, or to continue until we ran out of supplies and died there together. It was hard not to suspect the latter.

"Why wouldn't you see me?" I countered, wriggling deeper into my blanket. "I'll still be two doors down, same as always."

"I guess." He sipped his coffee tentatively, knowing he should let it cool a little longer but too desperate for its warmth to wait. "But Kevin will be there with you."

"Of course he will - he's my roommate. So what?"

"I just... don't like him."

"You just don't like me sharing a place with a guy," I said. "Even when we're not romantically attached."

"There's just too many opportunities for misunderstandings, mixed signals, that sort of stuff. Besides, he's probably just waiting for the smallest indication you like him and he'll be all over you. Trust me, I know how guys work."

"This conversation is over." I struggled to my feet, almost tipping over sideways in my blanket cocoon. "For both our sakes, let's just keep the rest of our thoughts to ourselves until we can get out of here, okay Dad?"

Sunday December 11th, 2011

2011-12-11T22:33:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Two weeks shy of Christmas, your prompt is: the boggart.

After having to get up at 5 yesterday I had a big sleep in this morning, and the pace never really picked up for the remainder of the day. I'm hopeful all that rest will help finish off this cold.

Looking forward to having Kat back home tomorrow.

Mine:

I almost didn't answer the phone when I saw Grandpa's name on the caller id, but my sense of duty managed to reign victorious over my hopes to spend the morning reading the paper. I set the sports section aside and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" I could have just greeted him straight off, but that invariably led to him wondering how I knew it was him that was calling, which always ended up with me succumbing to his accusations that I'm part warlock. Best just to skip all that, really.

"Jim, it's Grandpa. I've got some trouble at the house and I need you to come up here and help me take care of it."

'Up here' was a bad ten hour drive away. Nothing short of him threatening to kill himself would get me off my recliner and out of my bathrobe.

"What's the problem?" Trying and, I thought, succeeding at sounding like I actually cared.

"I've got a boggart infestation. Little buggers are everywhere and I can't seem to catch them. You know I don't move so well these days, with my hips the way they are."

"Yes, Grandpa, I know." He'd had a fall a few years back that put his hips in a bad way. He'd been telling everybody about it ever since.

"So when shall I expect you?"

"How do you know there are boggarts in your place?"

"They keep hiding my keys! Never where I left 'em." He sounded genuinely aggrieved.

"You're probably just getting forgetful. Nothing to worry about, it happens to everyone when they get older. Heck, I'm starting to -"

"You don't believe me."

"Come on, Grandpa. I need a little more proof than your keys going missing."

"Fine. Stay on the line. I'll see if I can trick one of them into speaking with you."

I almost laughed, but I held it in. I spent the next five minutes shaking my head at my empty living room, and towards the end I started to consider hanging up. He'd probably forgotten all about me, just like his silly keys.

But that was when a new voice came down the line.

Saturday December 10th, 2011

2011-12-10T23:02:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

A four line poem about: the eclipse.

We had a lunar eclipse here this morning around the same time I was loading up the truck to go to the market. So, of course, my poem is about a solar eclipse. I can be like that sometimes.

The market itself was rather... slow. Not a lot of people, not a lot of sales. But it was good to sell off some of our excess potatoes and squash.

Mine:

Don't stare at the eclipse!

Leave that choice up to me.

It's really pretty, don't you...

Aaagh, my eyes! I can't see!

Friday December 9th, 2011

2011-12-09T23:06:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: the brigand.

I'm all set to go to the market tomorrow morning. I think. It's been almost a month and a half since the last time I did this, so I'm feeling pretty out of practice.

Hopefully I don't forget anything too important.

Mine:

As the newest recruit to the group, it was Eddie's job to bring the stage coach to a halt. Which was a rather hazardous position, considering the driver could just decide to shoot him and carry on rather than risk bringing his precious cargo to a standstill. And all while his cohorts kept themselves safely hidden behind rocks, trees, and bushes.

But, even as he donned his disguise, he still wasn't sure that was enough justification for dressing up like a buxom barmaid.

Thursday December 8th, 2011

2011-12-08T23:15:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write about: the nomad.

Kat left this morning for a weekend of onsite training in Vancouver for the online counseling course she's been taking. I stayed behind in order to do the farmers market this Saturday and to make sure the house doesn't freeze to death.

Hopefully I won't burn it down in the process!

Mine:

Never fully at rest,

He is constantly shifting,

Like the sands of his desert home.

The stars his only guide,

The wind his sole companion,

Yet he's never lost or lonely.

He is on a journey

That has no destination,

Yet every step has a purpose.

No man knows his true name,

History will forget him,

And with all this he is content.

Wednesday December 7th, 2011

2011-12-07T23:02:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Today we write about: the fortune teller.

This one fits into the 'I can't believe I haven't used this prompt before' category.

Mine:

Theresa eyed her client with undisguised curiosity as she guided him into her inner sanctum. He was the polar opposite of her typical marks: he gave every appearance of being calm, he was male, and he couldn't have been more than nine years old.

She found it all rather unnerving.

"Please, have a seat," she murmured, drawing the curtains so that her crystal ball was now the only source of light in the cramped space. Unbeknownst to her clients a low wattage bulb under the table, which could be easily covered with a thin piece of red paper for a wonderfully effective parlor trick, was the actual source.

The boy sat on the edge of his chair, his dangling legs swinging back and forth. The legs of his dress pants hitched up slightly, revealing striped socks.

"What great secrets of the universe are you interested in unlocking?" Theresa asked as she sat across from him. She used the distraction of arranging her skirt to sneak a hand under the table. Turning the dimmer switch with her fingertips caused the crystal ball to fade, heightening the anticipation in the room.

"I simply wish to know but one secret," he replied solemnly in a posh accent. "I am not greedy."

"No, of course not," Theresa said, moving her free hand over the surface of the glowing globe. "Speak it and the answer shall be yours and yours alone."

"Tell me how I shall make my first fortune."

"Your first...?"

"Yes. Then I can tell Daddy so he will finally get off my back about it."

Tuesday December 6th, 2011

2011-12-06T23:51:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Two haiku about: the hypnotist.

Feeling maybe slightly better today. Perhaps.

Mine:

Please don't tell me that

I am getting sleepy while

I'm trying to drive

* * *

I find it rather

suspicious that he never

gets speeding tickets

Monday December 5th, 2011

2011-12-05T22:31:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Today we write about: amnesia.

I appear to be coming down with a cold. This... displeases me.

If you're interested in continuing mine, I expanded it and brought it over to Protagonize as a choose your own adventure.

Mine:

You wake to chaos.

Chaos and pain.

The throbbing ache at the back of your head holds your attention for several laboured breaths before other sensations force their way to the forefront. Cool pavement against your left cheek. The scent of burnt metal in your nostrils. Shouting.

With a groan you shift to a seated position and force your eyes open. You immediately wish you had kept them shut.

You are in the middle of a narrow road that disappears down an incline a few hundred meters ahead of you. On either side of you is a thick forest of evergreens, into which men are fleeing. A glance over your shoulder shows you what they are running from.

A prison transport bus is on its side, smoke billowing from beneath the hood. Unmoving bodies lay scattered around the vehicle, most of them wearing prison guard uniforms. Were you on that bus? You must have been, but you can't remember.

You close your eyes and try to picture the accident but your mind goes blank. Telling yourself not to panic, you switch tactics and try to recall your time as a guard. Nothing again. Training sessions with fellow recruits? No. Your name?

Oh God, you can't remember your name.

Eyes open once more, you struggle to your feet. Focus on what you do know: you need to pull your partners away from the bus before it explodes. Save them first, then worry about the rest later. Move.

"Hey!"

You turn to find an escaped prisoner running towards you, a pair of handcuffs dangling from his right wrist. As he nears you raise your hands to shield your face from the coming attack.

That is when you realize that you are also in handcuffs.

"Come on, we gotta go!" The man shouts, grabbing you by the arm. "The cops will be here any minute!"

Sunday December 4th, 2011

2011-12-04T22:57:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Let's go with: sabotage.

We finally got around to building our backyard compost this morning. It'll be nice not to have to walk all the way up to the one by Kat's parents house anymore.

Okay, 'all the way' might be a slight exaggeration. But with the weather getting colder it was about to feel a whole lot farther away.

Mine:

His technique was flawless. His timing impeccable. It was as though he knew exactly what to say at the precise moment his words would cause the most devastating result. His actions, both subtle and ostentatious, were equally magnificent.

Often he wasn't fully aware of what exactly it was he had wrought until well after the fact. Some might call it a natural gift, possibly dumb luck. His victims preferred to label it as ignorance or raging stupidity.

Regardless of your point of view, the end result was the same: he'd sabotaged yet another promising relationship.

Saturday December 3rd, 2011

2011-12-03T23:41:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

A four line poem about: the antique shop.

Kat and I were planning on going bowling with our farming friends this evening, but when we arrived at the alley they were closed for a private function. Rather disappointed, but we still had a good time hanging out and having drinks.

Still haven't managed to go bowling here yet though. Getting a little ridiculous.

Mine:

Twilight, Biebs, Pokemon?

This garbage is not what I seek!

These bloody teenagers

Don't know the meaning of antique.

Friday December 2nd, 2011

2011-12-02T23:10:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Four lines of prose that have something or other to do with: hands.

Kat and I went into town this evening to catch the (brief but still fun) Santa Claus parade. Haven't been to one of those in ages.

Mine:

They are simple, rather ordinary hands. Wrinkled and slowed by the passing of years, but without noticeable scars or injury. Truly unremarkable in nearly every way, nothing to help them stand out from innumerable others.

But I don't need to see the wedding ring I placed on your finger to know they belong to you.

Thursday December 1st, 2011

2011-12-01T22:29:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Today we write about: the pursuit.

Hmm, it appears to be December. How odd. I'm quite sure I didn't give my approval for it to be here yet.

Mine:

I've been running for as long as I can remember. Lately though, the days have been blurring together worse than usual. Used to be I could tell ya the day of the week; now I'm lucky if I get the month right. I suppose it's just a matter of time before I lose track of the year.

I'd stop for a rest, get my bearings if I could. But they won't let me. I can't sleep because they don't sleep. Not sure how they manage it, or why they think I'm worth the damned bother, but there you go and here I am. Exhausted.

Heard tell they think I stole something from 'em. Great joke, that is, with all the thieving they do. You'd think they'd hire me to work for 'em if that was the case. Help 'em rob every last penny from their slaves.

Pardon, I mean subjects. They don't like it when you call 'em slaves. Implication being that would make 'em slave owners, and that's just bad PR, ya know?

Anyway, the point is I didn't take nothing from 'em that wasn't already mine. Not that I'll ever get the chance to explain that. They'll have five bullets in me before I can even open my mouth.

Shame, too, cuz I've got some choice words in mind for 'em.

Though I'm so tired it might be a challenge to get 'em in the right order.

What I need is a place to hide, but there ain't nowhere safe left for the likes of me. Reward for my capture is too big; nary a soul to be trusted with that kinda gold being bandied about.

Guess I best keep running then.

Wednesday November 30th, 2011

2011-11-30T23:28:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

The third movie in the Oliver film club series - Life, Above All - was shown tonight. Still stunned. Can't really say much more than that at the moment.

Your prompt: courage.

Mine:

Her courage is quiet,

Unassuming.

Her greatest challenge:

To just keep going.

One foot in front of the other,

Spine unbending,

Despite the unimaginable burden

And the road unending.

You can see it in her eyes,

That determination;

She will reach it one way or another,

Her destination.

Tuesday November 29th, 2011

2011-11-29T22:43:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Two haiku about: the moving company.

I got a couple hours of work helping a lady move yesterday and earned a bit of cash and a writing prompt to boot. I'm still hoping and looking for something a bit more regular, but jobs like that certainly help in the meantime.

Mine:

One's on crutches, the

other's ninety - of course they

charge by the hour.

* * *

The constant smoke breaks

I can sort of understand.

The beer breaks, less so.

Monday November 28th, 2011

2011-11-28T22:59:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Do what you will with: the aftermath.

Apparently I just couldn't resist one more go at last week's story. But I'm done with it now, I swear!

Mine:

Their response was predictably bureaucratic. Board members stumbled over each other in their rush to introduce new policies and operating procedures.

These were debated, refined, expanded, struck down, and reintroduced in due course. When the hot air finally settled the expanded paperwork was championed at news conferences, on televised interviews, in newspaper article after newspaper article.

The message was uniform and clear. Yes, of course it was a terrible tragedy. But all of these extra words in the manuals and standards, drawn up by your trusted representatives, would ensure nothing like it would ever happen again.

But, of course, it would. For they had not yet found a way to regulate human nature out of the equation.

Sunday November 27th, 2011

2011-11-27T23:21:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Space Week draws to its inevitable conclusion today with: the landing.

I'm finishing up my story today and you're welcome to either do the same (with as many comments as required) or just keep on keeping on with it. I leave the choice in your creative hands.

Regardless, I'd just like to say thanks to you guys for making this week particularly enjoyable.

Mine:

When the ship landed at last on Nukzhul, teams of medical personnel were ready and waiting for them. The moment the main gangway touched down they rushed on board, pulling carts overflowing with fully functioning Individual Environment Suits behind them. Once inside they split off in groups of twos and threes as they began their search for survivors.

There were, if they were being honest, more than they had expected. After all, they'd had no contact with the ship in the final two hours of the voyage aside from the automatons that had taken over the flight controls. Status updates would have been a waste of precious air.

Most of the survivors were in pairs, having shared their breathing apparatuses between them like Old World scuba divers submerged with a single tank. A few of the higher level Technicians had hacked their own suits and keyed in a scaled back oxygen output in order to extend their supply at a minimally life sustaining level.

A few lower level Technicians had attempted the same technique, with fatal results.

The Engine Room was the final area to be searched. The medical crew that had the dubious honor of exploring its claustrophobic corners filed the following report:

The deceased were found next to each other in the Engine Room. Dog tags identified the crew members as Timothy Higgins, Mechanic, Second Class and Miranda Sanchez, Mechanic, First Class.

All signs indicate they were working on an important adjustment on Engine Three. It is our belief that an argument broke out over the correct settings and a physical altercation ensued. At some point during this scuffle First Class Mechanic Sanchez's IES was irreparably damaged.

We believe that Second Class Mechanic Higgins was overwhelmed with grief at the unintended results of his actions and knelt over his fallen comrade for some moments, escorting her spirit to the other side. Eventually his pain was more than he could bear and he made the decision to take his own life with a kitchen knife. We are not certain how this weapon came to be in the Engine Room.

On a personal note, we would like to express our appreciation and gratitude to those on board that this was an isolated incident and that all other crew appear to have pulled together in the face of this terrifying emergency.

The grim truth of what had actually come to pass in the Engine Room was not brought to light until the video surveillance was reviewed several days later.

Saturday November 26th, 2011

2011-11-26T21:55:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

The penultimate day of Space Week brings us to a four line poem about: isolated/isolation.

I know some of you chose to work your Two Haiku Tuesday into your prose and you're welcome to do something similar today, especially with tomorrow being the grand finale.

I'm too stubborn to do anything of the sort, of course.

Mine:

You're right where I want you,

No one else is near;

Scream as loud as you wish,

Not a soul will hear.

Friday November 25th, 2011

2011-11-25T23:40:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Space week draws nearer to its conclusion with four lines of prose about: the escort.

I'm sticking directly to the challenge, but I'm willing to let you guys slide if you wish to expand a little since this could be a rather constricting day. But maybe keep it to four paragraphs?

Alternatively you could view this as a chance to ramp up the tension with just four lines as we head into the final two days. Up to each of you though, as always.

Mine:

"Mechanic Second Class Higgins," Sanchez replied with a strained smile, struggling to contain her contempt for the incompetent grease monkey who had interrupted her thoughts.

"Heading for the Engine Room?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder for no apparent reason.

"Yes," came the reply after two soft hisses from her IES and no reasonable lies coming to mind.

"Me too," Higgins said a little too eagerly, "and I'll be happy to escort you!"

Thursday November 24th, 2011

2011-11-24T23:12:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Space week continues with the prompt: adjustments.

In order for mine (and, awesomely enough, pretty much everybody's in the comments as well) to make sense, you'll have to go back to Monday and the beginning of Space Week and read from there, as each of us is working on our own continuous story.

I have no idea how I'll manage to wrap all this up with Sunday's post, but I'm determined to find a way. So, consider that fair warning that my writing on the last day could be like two thousand words.

I'm mostly joking.

Mine:

It had been a difficult adjustment after Eric had left. His declaration that he was accepting a promotion to Head Engineer on another ship had blindsided her and left her to raise her son alone.

Eric may not have been the father, but he had made promises when he first entered her life. Now, on top of her motherly responsibilities, she was burdened by feelings of betrayal, violation, and bitterness.

And now this. Faced with a ticking time bomb with only three options, the last of which was utterly out of the question.

1. They both would die.

2. She would die so that he would live.

3. He would die so...

She couldn't even finish the thought.

Looking up from where he lay sleeping on his bunk, his IES making it seem like he was a patient in the infirmary, the clock embedded on the wall of their compartment showed her there was only six hours of oxygen left for both of them. Which left just five hours for her.

If Eric hadn't left he could have saved us both.

She knew it wasn't a fair thought, but she was too angry and frightened to care. Rising from her seat at their shared desk, she moved silently to the door of their room. She paused to look back at her boy before exiting, reluctant to be apart from him for even a moment.

But she still had her duties to attend to and the call had come in for some adjustments to be made on Engine Three. No point sacrificing herself and then have a ship failure render it meaningless.

Leaving the room and turning left, a thought crept into her mind and took hold with barbed, icy fingers. It nearly stopped her in her tracks but she forced herself to continue walking as it tumbled over and over through her head.

What if there was a delay and her son needed more than an extra hour of air?

She was so troubled by this possibility that she didn't hear her name being called somewhere behind her until the third try.

"First Class Mechanic Sanchez!"

Wednesday November 23rd, 2011

2011-11-23T22:45:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

In case you're just joining us, the theme for this week's writing is outer space. I'm rather pleased with what has resulted from it so far. Shall the trend continue? I suspect it shall.

Because you guys kick ass.

Today's prompt is: the key.

Mine:

Timothy Higgins, Mechanic, Second Class.

The job title had always grated on him, for it was more than just a designation of rank. It marked his place in the ship's caste system.

One rung above the bumbling idiots in Third Class and, much more to the point, one below those arrogant First Class pricks. And they made damned sure it was never forgotten, always passing on the work they considered beneath their universe-class skills to those in the Second Class. Talking down their noses all the while.

As Higgins walked through an empty corridor on Deck 8, he had two items in his pockets. He kept his hands away from both, though the rhythmic hiss of his breathing apparatus made sure his thoughts never strayed very far from either item.

The first, lying crumpled at the bottom of his left pant pocket, was a piece of paper with three hastily scrawled names on it. These were the worst offenders in First Class, the ones he knew had argued against his promotion to their lofty ranks.

Ryan Clark

Miranda Sanchez

Warren Simpson

If he was going to do this anyway, he might as well get some revenge while he was at it.

The other item, secreted away in his right pant pocket, was a knife he'd stolen from the galley shortly after the second announcement had come from Captain Romero.

Whichever of the three he could isolate first would be his ticket to survival. The key, he knew all too well, would be to kill his target without damaging their IES.

Tuesday November 22nd, 2011

2011-11-22T23:31:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Space week continues with two haiku about: decisions.

I've decided to take the challenge and have all my posts this week relate to each other. I'm hoping to wrap the story up on Sunday but I haven't planned this out at all, so we'll see how that turns out.

Today's haiku are meant to portray the responses of two different crew members to the situation that's just begun to develop in yesterday's writing.

Mine:

The math is clear: by

the thirteenth hour one must

die so he may live.

* * *

Elsewhere a mother

holds her son and contemplates

one last sacrifice

Monday November 21st, 2011

2011-11-21T23:07:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Greg made a suggestion almost two weeks ago about having an overarching theme for a week's worth of prompts, and I've decided to test it out this week. You're welcome to have all your responses relate to each other (though with Two Haiku Tuesday coming up tomorrow that could be a challenge) or have them be stand alone pieces.

So here we go. The theme for this week? Outer space.

And today's prompt: contact.

Mine:

The collision had seemed insignificant at first. Some of the crew weren't even aware that the asteroid had made contact with the hull of the ship. In fact, when the announcement came from Captain Romero over the comm system that they were leaking oxygen, many thought he was joking.

He was not.

A second announcement soon followed the first, this one instructing all crew to don their IES (Individual Environment Suits) while they re-routed to Nukzhul for emergency repairs. The oxygen tanks affixed to the back of each IES would provide enough air for a person at rest to survive for fourteen hours.

Panic didn't truly take hold until the first crewman realized that Nukzhul was fifteen hours away.

Sunday November 20th, 2011

2011-11-20T23:24:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Let us do some more continuations. Just pick up the story where the last person left off and do what you will with it for a little while.

We had Kat's parents down for dinner tonight, and then afterward we had a Skype chat with Kat's brother and his family. Our niece was definitely the star of that little show.

Mine:

The crowd gathered in the town square to hear the speech, huddling in clusters of friends and family for warmth. The only sounds to be heard were created by shifting feet on the hard packed snow. The result was similar to the discontented groans the people didn't dare allow escape from their throats.

The soldiers patrolling the perimeter of the square were watching far too closely for such foolishness to emerge.

Minutes crawled by like an advancing glacier, but still the royal balcony remained empty. Their overlord enjoyed making his subjects wait.

As the sun sank wearily toward the horizon, murmurs began to spread through the townsfolk. Then the soldiers started exchanging nervous glances and gripping their weapons a little tighter. The same question tumbled through every frost-bitten mind.

Where was King Morris?

Saturday November 19th, 2011

2011-11-19T23:34:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

A four line poem to do with: repetition.

Kat and I worked the local municipal election today and it went pretty well. We got there at 7:30 this morning, the polls opened at 8 and then, aside from half an hour each for lunch and dinner, we worked until the polls closed at 8pm. And then we stayed an extra hour to help clean up and sort ballots and whatnot.

So yeah, a little drowsy now.

Back to the point, one person at each table was required to inform each voter of a few things. I didn't have to do it very often (as my co-worker preferred doing that over registering voters on the computer), but I could see how saying the same thing over and over all day could get a little tiring. Thus the prompt, and thus my take on it.

Mine:

The same words come tumbling out,

Always in the same damned order;

For the love of all that's good,

Someone get me a recorder!

Friday November 18th, 2011

2011-11-18T23:57:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: shake/shaken/shaking/boom shakalaka.

Okay, maybe not that last one.

Too late, the voices in my head cry out, for Greg has already begun writing!

Anyway. We had ourselves a little earthquake here this morning. It was a 4.6 magnitude shaker that woke us up shortly after 5am. Since the epicenter was less than 100 km away the house did perform a brief wiggle.

To say that it was a rather confusing and disorienting scene would be an understatement. We weren't even sure it was a quake until Kat checked the news after breakfast.

As best I can recall that's the first quake I've ever felt. Not sure I'd want to experience anything much stronger.

Mine:

The news had rocked him to his very core. Hours after word had first reached him, he sat at his kitchen table, staring at nothing. His pumpkin soup sat cold and ignored in a brown bowl in front of him, a corner of his black phone barely visible in the center.

After all those years of playing, he'd finally won the lottery.

Thursday November 17th, 2011

2011-11-17T23:58:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Let's go with: preserved.

I made an apple delivery to the restaurant this morning, as they finally have some time to do some preservation work. Before I left the chef said he had a gift for me and disappeared around the corner. He came back with a quince and lavender marmalade that he'd recently made (hadn't even put a label on it yet).

Very unexpected, very appreciated, and, as I discovered shortly after I got home, very tasty.

Plus he mentioned that next time I come by he'll have something for me that he made from our apples as well. Sweet deal!

Mine:

The cupboards are filled

With bottles of red and green,

Summer's sweet harvest

Saved to brighten Winter's scenes

And enliven tongues

When fresh produce becomes lean.

Their numbers will shrink

As the days slowly crawl by;

We know there's enough,

And if we don't we just lie.

Until at long last

With a smug smile, Spring arrives.

Wednesday November 16th, 2011

2011-11-16T23:55:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write something that takes place in: Paris.

We went up to Oliver this evening for the second movie in the film club series and thankfully it was light years better than the first one. Midnight in Paris was a whole lot of fun; if you haven't seen it, consider it recommended.

Mine:

He finds a table at the sidewalk cafe in a prime location. From there he's able to people watch in three directions - up and down the street the cafe is situated on, as well as up the avenue that crosses directly beside it. His view down the avenue is blocked by a delivery truck, but he assumes it will be moving on sooner than later.

The cafe is not busy, and he has not been in Paris long enough to understand this means the fare is subpar and the coffee much worse. His waitress knows both of these things but can't be bothered to inform him. She simply takes his order while grimacing as he butchers the native tongue before returning to the dark interior of the business her father runs.

Puddles from the previous night's rain reflect the morning sunshine with blinding enthusiasm while he waits for his breakfast. A pair of pigeons alight on the table next to his and eye him expectantly, as though they know he'll be unable to finish his meal without their help.

Thinking them cute, he takes their picture before returning his gaze to the steady stream of humanity flowing past him. He doesn't think to wonder why none of them stop at the cafe he's chosen.

When his cell phone rings he listens to the voice at the other end of the line without speaking, then hangs up and tosses it in the trash. The waitress sees this as she is bringing the man's breakfast to him but thinks nothing of it.

Not until he stands and points a gun at her face.

Tuesday November 15th, 2011

2011-11-15T21:53:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Two haiku about: revenge.

Reading one of my favorite author's latest novels and felt inspired. The Whisperers by John Connolly, in case you were wondering.

Spent a portion of the clear, cool morning chopping firewood. Now I'm sitting in front of our fireplace while some of that wood burns. Mmm, full circle.

Mine:

A dish best served cold?

Sounds like a game best saved for

a more patient man.

* * *

Anger blurs reason.

A direction is chosen

before vision clears.

Monday November 14th, 2011

2011-11-14T23:25:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write about: the blanket.

We had a storm pass through this morning that left behind a blanket of snow. Once the snow stopped falling and the wind died down, I went and took a picture:

Most of what fell around us has melted already, but the hills are still covered.

Mine:

"Your grandfather's blanket has to be around here somewhere!" He'd never seen his mother in such a frantic state before. She was tossing aside cardboard boxes without a care as to where they might land, and she'd already dropped a tattered dictionary on her foot.

"Maybe it grew legs and walked off?" He was hoping to lighten her mood but it did no good. In fact, it made things even worse.

"If you're just going to stand in the way and make stupid jokes you can go hang out with your friends and get drunk and smoke cigarettes!" Her voice was so shrill it felt like she'd driven nails into both his ears.

"It's just a stupid blanket!" He yelled as he made for the door. "I don't know why you're wasting your time looking for it!"

He slammed the door and stomped down the front stairs. He knew he shouldn't have said those things, but it was far easier than telling her that he'd thrown the blanket away the previous summer.

Sunday November 13th, 2011

2011-11-13T23:34:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write a little something to do with: the agent.

Winter cover crops have been seeded, most of the leaves in the yard have been raked, and there's even a reasonable amount of firewood in our backyard box. It's been a good day.

Mine:

The text had arrived on my phone while I was still cooking breakfast, just a few minutes before noon. I'd tried sleeping through my hangover but that hadn't worked out particularly well, so I was preparing to kill it with greasy goodness. The message had eliminated that option with impressive efficiency.

Audition booked @ Timmon's Theater 1pm

I was out the door so fast I spent the majority of the fifty minute trip to the theater wondering if I'd remembered to turn off the stove. The rest of the time I speculated about the role, the movie, the leading lady who would be working opposite me.

My big break. This had to be it. I had done the training, the legwork, sucked up to the right people, shook the right hands. Hollywood was a game and I was playing by the rules. Success had to follow, that was all there was to it.

So when I stepped out of the taxi and saw the schmucks huddled outside the theater I only grew more confident. This was my competition? Please. I could sleepwalk through this audition and still blow them all out of the water.

I strode inside, not bothering to hide my smile.

Which just meant it died a very obvious death when I realized that the auditions were for the newest commercial commissioned by ex-lax.

I called my agent and fired him on the spot.

Saturday November 12th, 2011

2011-11-12T23:38:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

A four line poem about: the champion.

Kat and I finally got started with the cover crop seeds this morning. We got most of it done by the time our bellies began demanding lunch, and then the rain came around for a visit. Well, it rained here. Not so far up on the mountains it was snow.

It's only a matter of time now...

Mine:

Battered, broken, bloodied, and bruised,

He emerges victorious;

He'll carry those scars to his grave,

Isn't it all so glorious?

Friday November 11th, 2011

2011-11-11T23:59:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

What with today being 11/11/11, I figured we'd go with four lines of prose about: one by one.

Today I spread wood shavings, rototilled, and raked up the walnut tree leaves in our front yard.

Tonight is my first Friday night at home without a market to go to in the morning since May 27th.

Tomorrow morning I sleep.

Mine:

It was simple, really. He just had to go through the list, one by one. Take care of the first, then the second, and so on until his work was finished.

Then, once he'd reached the final name and all those men were dead, he could rest at last.

Thursday November 10th, 2011

2011-11-10T23:48:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Today we write about: the locket.

Busy morning around these parts. Helped Kat's dad pick up and unload two truckloads of wood shavings (for general garden use) and then rented a rototiller (to till between the rows of strawberry plants).

The afternoon settled down a little but we'll be back out there tomorrow to work on spreading the wood shavings and seeding the winter cover crops.

I didn't mean it to be, but this ended up being a continuation from yesterday's writing.

Mine:

Sorting through the ashes, it was the only thing of value he found. Silver, heart-shaped, its chain missing. Its contents a mystery, as the heat of the fire had sealed it shut. A jackhammer might have managed to get it open but he wasn't about to go looking for one.

Besides, what did it matter whose picture was inside? And what business of his was it to find out? Just useless, distracting curiosity. Keeping his mind away from the haunting landscape he was traveling through.

He was on foot now. The damned gas tank sprang a leak. Must have been a rock the tires kicked up when he was driving cross country to avoid a town he hadn't liked the look of. In hindsight, he guessed he should have just taken his chances. Probably would have been fine.

Or maybe he'd be captured or dead or worse.

He stuffed the locket in a jacket pocket and moved through the remains of the house toward the front door. He couldn't explain why he didn't just leave it behind. He couldn't explain why he did much of anything those days.

Movement in the shadows across the street. He decided the back door was a better option.

At least he could explain why he made that choice.

Wednesday November 9th, 2011

2011-11-09T23:25:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write about: the way.

Quiet day here today, though I did manage to get into town to vote at the advance poll. Now I don't have to worry about voting on the day I'm working, and I also got to meet the woman I'll be working with that day as she was working at the table I went to.

It's good to know at least one of us will know what we're doing.

Mine:

He sat behind the wheel and studied the map pressed against the steering wheel. The engine was running, burning precious fuel, but he didn't dare shut it off. What if he needed to leave in a hurry and the damned thing wouldn't turn over?

Best not to think about that. Best to concentrate on the map, to find a way through. There had to be one; he just needed to figure it out, that was all.

The low rumble of his stomach diverted his attention to his watch momentarily. Not time to eat yet. He was just playing a little game, testing out his will power. If he won his food supplies would last until he arrived at his destination. If he lost...

Best not to think about that, either.

The highways would be clogged with abandoned vehicles. Ambushes waiting to happen, those. Better to stick to side roads and hope for the best. Hope they weren't watching those.

A siren in the distance, approaching fast. Time to move.

Tuesday November 8th, 2011

2011-11-08T23:00:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Two haiku about: early morning.

Spent the day working on writing projects and chopping wood. Sounds like a good winter day to me. Too bad it's still fall, for crying out loud.

Mine:

The purest silence,

the sun's first tentative touch;

I watch and wonder.

* * *

I'm sure it's quite nice

and all that, but don't ask me -

I slept right through it.

Monday November 7th, 2011

2011-11-07T23:46:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Write about: yearning.

It's getting darn chilly here. I saw a handful of snowflakes fluttering down from the clouds at one point this afternoon. Too soon!

Ah well, the fireplace helps soothe the pain.

Mine:

Sitting solemnly at his desk,

Blank pages and trusted pen,

The words refusing to come play

And he can't remember when

Or if they ever did before,

Or if they will again.

Chin resting in an upturned hand,

An idea deep within

Begins aching for escaping,

Crawling beneath his pale skin,

But this constant fear of failure

Will not let him begin.

Sunday November 6th, 2011

2011-11-06T23:59:00.000-08:00

The exercise:

Upon our return to Osoyoos, let's go with: the godfather.

Kat and I got back safely this afternoon after a long but uneventful drive. We did see some snow at the sides of the road, but thankfully none of it where our car would have to deal with it.

Had a great time seeing friends and family in Vancouver and we're hoping to get back there a little more often than we have so far.

Mine:

The bartender has the Amaretto in one hand and the Scotch in the other before I even manage to make my way to the bar. As I slump onto my stool he slides the cocktail in my direction without a word and leaves to take an order from another customer.

I take a sip and collect my thoughts. It's been a busy day and sleep isn't likely to be in my near future. Not with my troubling client due to arrive at any moment.

Taking another sip, I catch the bartender's eye as he passes and nod my gratitude. He shows no sign that he noticed but I know there will be another Godfather in front of me before my first is in the same area code as finished.

There's a slight lessening in the volume of the room and that's all I need to know that my client has arrived. She's a looker, all right; I'm not going to pretend I haven't noticed. But as long as she's paying my electricity bill I'm not doing anything more than noticing. After that, well...

"Good evening Detective," she says, taking the stool next to mine. "You look like you've been working hard. I trust the results match the efforts?"

"Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't." I take another sip and watch her chew her bottom lip. I continue on before my imagination takes over. "And this time, they do."

"Lucky for me."

"We'll see how you feel about that after looking at these." I pass her the envelope and look away. I don't want to see that pretty face while she surveys the proof of her husband's true nature.

Saturday November 5th, 2011

2011-11-05T23:00:00.000-07:00

The exercise:

A four line poem about: undercover.

Be back tomorrow!

Mine:

Shake hands with the devil,

But don't become his friend;

Don't forget your halo,

Or this will be your end.

Friday November 4th, 2011

2011-11-04T23:00:00.000-07:00

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: the struggle.

Off in Vancouver to see friends, be back on Sunday.

Mine:

He had struggled mightily to stay awake, sacrificing cup after cup of foul coffee in the effort. Victory seemed assured until defeat arrived out of nowhere, like a lightning bolt from a clear blue sky. The telephone pole had moved like a ninja, he'd told the frowning policeman with the pen and writing pad.

Now, surveying the wreckage as the fire crew began packing up to head home, he wondered if he'd ever be allowed to drive the school bus again.

Thursday November 3rd, 2011

2011-11-03T23:00:00.000-07:00

The exercise:

Kat and I are off to Vancouver for a quick visit with friends, be back on Sunday. I'm scheduling posts to cover me in my absence, as I'm not sure what my internet access will be like.

Anyway, let's get 'er started with: evidence.

Mine:

My technique is flawless. It's taken years of polish, buy my criminal empire cannot be demolished. Certainly not by that bumbling Detective Wallace!

He cannot see what is plain to me. The way I climbed that tree, entered through there without a key, played briefly with the daughter's stuffed honeybee, strolled this hallway while whistling off-key. Though I think he might finally have a list of all the things I got for free.

This crime spree will never cease, he will never find peace - I am a mastermind unleashed! The evidence I leave behind will only increase, but that doesn't matter when you're the Chief of Police.

Wednesday November 2nd, 2011

2011-11-02T23:01:00.000-07:00

The exercise:

Let's go with: a light in the dark.

Because Kat and I went up to Oliver to watch Cave of Forgotten Dreams, the first in this year's Oliver Film Club series. Kat's parents got me the tickets for my birthday, which was very thoughtful.

The rest of the day was spent finishing off the garden prep for winterizing, running errands in town, and attending our election worker training session. Election day is November 19th, and it's looking like it's going to be a long one.

Mine:

There were certainly plenty of flashlights slashing through the dark caves in the movie, but sadly that's not where the prompt idea came from.

You see, the movie had a rather fascinating subject matter (incredibly old cave drawings discovered in France), but with a running time of an hour and a half there was just too much... wasted space, I suppose. In fact I'd guess that there may have been, grand total, about ten minutes of interesting footage.

Sprinkled very sparsely throughout.

So, by the time the credits rolled, I had come to think of those moments as lights in the darkness.

The darkness of Boring Town.

Hopefully the next movie in the series gets us back to Enjoyableville.

Tuesday November 1st, 2011

2011-11-01T23:59:00.000-07:00

The exercise:

Happy November all, and good luck to those of you participating in NaNoWriMo this year. After two successful attempts in a row I'm choosing to skip this one in order to avoid having yet another story in first draft. Because, you know, maybe I should give second draft a try.

Anyway. Two Haiku Tuesday has a demand for you. And that demand is: don't give up.

Mine:

The odds may look bleak,

Hope might wither and blacken;

Keep on anyway.

* * *

Your job is not done,

My friend, for as long as the

Buffet's still open

Monday October 31st, 2011

2011-10-31T23:21:00.000-07:00

The exercise:

Happy Halloween! To celebrate, write something that takes place in: Candyland.

Spent a good portion of the day getting the garden ready for winter. We need to plow it all in and plant our cover crops, but first we need to get everything harvested and cleaned up. Yesterday we hauled out all the potatoes and now I'm working on getting the (far too many) tomato stakes out. Hopefully that'll get finished tomorrow.

Oh, pirate picture. Right. Here you go:

I made the label on the bottle in Word. In case you can't read it all, it says:

One-Eyed Jack's

Bathtub Rum

X X X

Who needs both yer eyes

when yer blind drunk?

I'm a classy guy.

Mine:

There are no veggies to be found,

Nothing green comes out of the ground,

All flavours come from metal cans,

In sugary sweet Candyland.

All its citizens are toothless,

For the dentists are quite ruthless;

Nutritional labels are banned,

In this magical Candyland.

The worries of old age are gone,

Swept off by rivers of bonbons;

Soon these castles will turn to sand,

And no one cares in Candyland.

Sunday October 30th, 2011

2011-10-30T23:58:00.000-07:00

The exercise:

Let's go with: the costume party.

Kat and I had a lot of fun at the one we attended last night. There were a lot of cool costumes; I wish I'd brought my camera. I'll get Kat to take a picture of me in my pirate outfit tomorrow, since I think I'll get dressed up to hand out candy to the neighborhood kids.

Mine:

The punch must have been spiked.

It seemed terribly unlikely, but that was the only explanation Jenny could come up with for having forgotten what costume Erica was wearing. They'd only arrived an hour ago and Jenny couldn't spot her anywhere.

A pirate? No. A pimp? Inappropriate. The Grim Reaper? Too morbid.

After a long sigh and another sip of punch, Jenny made her decision. She'd just have to grab one of the kids at random when the party reached its peak and hope for the best when she sobered up the next morning.

With a little luck she'd discover that she'd chosen her daughter.

Saturday October 29th, 2011

2011-10-29T17:59:00.000-07:00

The exercise:

Give me a four line poem written by a pirate.

Gotta run, going to be late for the party.

Yes, I'm going as a pirate.

Mine:

I be not a poet, yar,

But I shall do me best.

I'll miss me First Mate, yar,

And in peace may he rest.

Friday October 28th, 2011

2011-10-28T23:29:00.000-07:00

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: expectations.

Pretty easy harvest this morning, as I only grabbed a couple of crates of potatoes out of the garden. Everything else - apples, squash, even a few peppers - were already ready and waiting to go into the back of the truck. Well, perhaps 'ready' is too strong a word, as it took a lot of rearranging and convincing to get it all in there.

Anyway, the truck is crammed full of goodies. Hopefully we don't have to bring very much of it back after the market.

Oh! Almost forgot. Kat and I found out late this afternoon that we'll both be working at the polls on election day. Quite pleased about that.

Mine:

"You look disappointed."

I look up from the classified ad at the back of the local paper and stare at the apartment it's meant to represent. I guess there is a mountain view, if you count the crayon drawing of the Alps (I'm being generous - it could just as easily be a teepee or a seagull) taped to the window.

"Well, I guess when I read fireplace I wasn't expecting to find a barrel fire in the living room."

Thursday October 27th, 2011

2011-10-27T23:59:00.000-07:00

The exercise:

Let's go with: the queen.

Had a quiet day around these parts. Tomorrow we prepare for our final market of the season; have to admit I'm really looking forward to it. So far the forecast is looking pretty reasonable for Saturday, so I'm just hoping it stays that way.

Mine:

She sat inside, warmed by the roaring fire in the hearth, and glared at the Grand Balcony. The wind swept, slick with pounding rain, miserable Grand Balcony. Her chief advisor lurked out of sight but not, unfortunately, out of mind. She was quite certain he was prepared to drag her out there if she didn't go willingly.

Another heavy sigh, one more longing look at the fire, and she rose gracefully to her full height. After briefly considering lighting the hem of her gown on fire for warmth, she made her way outside. Her chief advisor's sigh of relief could be heard throughout the castle.

"Good afternoon, my lovely subjects," she called down to the gathered bedraggled masses. They looked up in eager anticipation. "Terribly sorry to keep you waiting since dawn, but I was hoping the sun would find the strength to drive these clouds away."

She paused for a moment, trying to discover which one of her treasured subjects was allowing his or her teeth to chatter so loudly while she was speaking. But there were so many of them, and they all looked the same, really, and the rain crashing down all around her made it far too difficult. She would let it pass then, this one time.

"Obviously it has not," she continued on, already turning back toward the crackling fire, "so I shall reschedule my address until tomorrow morning. See you then!"

Wednesday October 26th, 2011

2011-10-26T23:53:00.000-07:00

The exercise:

Since I turned 33 today, let's go with: three.

Had a lovely day full of good food and many well wishes from friends and family. And I do believe I found my Halloween costume.

Nothing too original, but it did make me giggle when I first saw myself in the bathroom mirror, so I suspect I might share a picture with you guys at some point.

Mine:

When I was backpacking around Europe, I took a three week detour to Ireland after spending Christmas with family in Bristol. It wasn't part of the original plan but I'm extremely glad I made it over there and I would love to go back some day.

Anyway. I was staying at a small hostel on the west coast for a few days. It was, like almost every other place I stayed, extremely friendly and welcoming and it didn't take long to get to know the other guests.

One rainy evening (which, believe it or not, was actually a rarity during my time there - yes, even in January!) I was playing cards with a couple of fellow travelers. One of them happened to be an Irishman from another area of that beautiful country and he'd had me in stitches all evening. But I remember one particular incident with great clarity, even though almost eleven years have slipped past now.

I forget what game we were playing, but at some point we all had to show our cards. During one of these occasions the Irishman had three different suits of threes in his hand. With a giant grin, and a particularly heavy accent, he tossed them on the table and declared, "I'm a forest! Tree trees!"

It took me a moment, but once I got it I nearly fell off my chair laughing.

Tuesday October 25th, 2011

2011-10-25T23:34:00.000-07:00

The exercise:

Two haiku about: youth.

Spent some time chopping wood this afternoon as it's getting pretty frosty at night. I do enjoy the smell of freshly chopped wood.

Oh, hey. Want to see some pretty fall colours? Here you go:

Those are the trees directly behind Kat's parents house. Glad I managed to capture them before the wind tore all their leaves off.

Mine:

The scars of my youth

have healed, but I will never

forget their lessons

* * *

Silent reflection

on long ago days and nights

while the lights grow dim