As you know, we writers of Paddle Creek, are working on a round robin story. When it came time for me to write my installment however, I got sick and have been ill for several weeks and got behind on all things writerly. I am doing much better now and have finally written the last installment of our story. Enjoy!
(Here is part 3 — written by Susan Korich. Stick around for part 4!)
Perched on the stool behind the cash register, my eyes still wide with incredulity and my mouth following along with its own version of can-you-catch-flies, it took me moment to notice a man standing at the edge of my counter, clearing his throat.
“Ah-hem, excuse me, ah-hem, um, Miss?”
Hopping off my stool, I closed my mouth, and pasted on my most professional smile and look of laser concentration. It would be bad for business for word to get around that I ignored customers and hung around staring after others. Continue reading
Journaling daily is kind of a funny thing. Scribbling thoughts and emotions for no real purpose. Nothing more than simply acknowledging those thoughts and giving form to the emotions.
Maybe that’s not so bad. Continue reading
I read this quote the other day, it did not have a source:
There is no competition. No one else can be me.
Isn’t that awesome? I love it. Continue reading
The last two pieces to our postings of our No-Prompt Writing Prompt exercise:
Of course Bubba, the mechanic, had to specially rig the ol’ Zamboni to run that pace lap. Scraping up the Taldega asphalt would make us a NASCAR enemy for life. But there I was in my souped up version of an Icesurfacer 100 Zamboni waiting for the green flag. She was purring like a kitten and ready to run like a greyhound. Yep, a Greyhound Bus. Just about as big and not nearly as pretty, but she would get the job done.
Behind me the racers gunned their engines and my stomach started quivering. I could see people hollering in the stands, but the growl and screech of forty stock cars behind me drowned them out. The smell of burning oil and gas tickled my nose as I squarely set my racing goggles over my helmet. Continue reading
This is the final installment. Remember what we are doing? We are posting the work done one Saturday morning when we simply could not agree on a prompt. We each began writing with no pre-conceived starting point. We wrote for 10 minutes then moved our tablets to the left. Ten minutes each. Building on the story that was in the works. It was tricky! And fun.
Pat’s turn to begin:
It is interesting how one event, regardless of its magnitude, can completely alter the trajectory of your life.
For some it is getting married. For some it is having a child with an illness. For some it is winning a huge sum of money. For some it is a major invention.
Regardless of what else Alexander Graham Bell did with his life, one event is his legacy.
Was he kind? A good husband? A loving father? Was he witty or sarcastic or dull or rude? We have no idea. Continue reading
(Continued from 4/14/15)
Pat slogs onward
No, pearls and diamonds are not going to cut it. I lost myself there for a moment with thoughts of shopping. Even If I had an unlimited credit card, I still will be trapped on a very finite vessel. So, I go out for some air. You know, for a walk. Oops, there’s the end of the boat, so I take a left. Oops, there’s another side! Geez!! I’ll go up a deck. What? Did I think it would be bigger up here? It isn’t.
Perhaps a visit to the food buffet. Those are legendary on cruises.
Great-I’m trapped on a finite vessel, with infinite numbers of creatures swimming below and around me, gorging myself on an unlimited supply of rich fattening foods, with extremely limited area for walking.
What the heck is he thinking? Seriously?
I he suggesting this as a prank knowing I will freak out? Is he?
If I found out he has reserved a beach house on a golden shore within walking distance of a farmer’s market and some lovely cafes but told me this, I will be furious! Actually, I am furious now just thinking about him possessing that kind of diabolic humor.
I need to think of something to get him back. I’m sure it’s a prank.
Well, an eye for eye I’ve read in the Good Book. An eye for an eye…what would cause him trauma equal to what he has put me through? Hmmm.
Wait! I have it. I will… Continue reading
The No-Prompt which turns into a prompt
Susan kicks this one off:
The other day my husband mentioned he would like to go on a cruise because as he said “I like the idea of being out on the water.” The more I thought about it the more certain I became that I did not want to be on a boat with only water in sight. I saw Water World. I have seen All is Lost. I love the ocean, don’t get me wrong, but I love the ocean from the seashore. There are a lot of icky, creepy and scary things in the ocean, I also saw Finding Nemo. Things in the ocean have sharp teeth, prehistoric looking bodies , googly eyes and long slimy things with suction cups that can mire a submarine on the bottom of the ocean. I saw the series, I can’t think of the name, where the submarine has windows in front to watch the underwater creep show.
I truly can’t think of anything more terrifying than shopping in a ship’s mall while creatures are preying and eating under my feet. Should that boat… Continue reading
And now a few words from Michelle…
If she had used the silent hour glass no doubt their guests could still smell the aroma of the eggs cooking. But gosh darn it—they smelled delicious and it was her birthday. Why shouldn’t she get to celebrate it with one of her favorite dishes? And who could resist fresh baked bread? She was a baker for Pete’s sake! Was it her fault others in town didn’t save up and scrimp for the hard times coming? Why should she be fired for having forethought and being organized? Continue reading
The thing to remember about our untitled prompts is that there is no editing. No “I’ll go back and correct that later”—since there is no later. It’s fun, stimulating and embarrassing all at the same time. Hope you enjoy the second in our series….this time
Bev. goes first.
The little blue egg sat annoyingly nearby ticking. It was supposed to keep track of the timing for Eggs Benedict and home made bread. Yummy kitchen cooking when Sophie felt the nesting urge. But today, it was ominous and frightening. The numbers flashed by—8:10 – 8:06- 8:04 —and the fear Sophie felt was magnified with each tick. “Why, oh why, didn’t I listen to Lars? Why did I dig out this stupid egg? Why didn’t I use the hour glass instead? Continue reading