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May 2017 Writers' Challenge

  • 14 May 2017 7:51 PM
    Reply # 4833167 on 4826713
    Rabbit
    E.M. What a wonderful piece. I loved the emotion, characters, the ending was superb. It was a wonderful read. Thanks for the opportunity to read such fine craftsmanship in the art of writing. Please continue to send more.
  • 14 May 2017 6:15 PM
    Reply # 4833109 on 4826713

    E.M. Satterley,

    Great pacing and good use of dialogue. BTW, the word is "barely" rather than "bearly". Enjoyed the twist in the plot.

    Wonderful,

    Michael


    Last modified: 14 May 2017 6:16 PM | Michael Worthington
  • 13 May 2017 10:16 AM
    Reply # 4831214 on 4789090

    VACATION FROM HELL

    Sue wondered if she dared take off her bikini top while her husband and kids were out on the lake. Lying on the elevated deck, she would have time to cover up once she heard the boat motor, unless she fell asleep. Then she had a vision of herself wearing a loose mumu to protect a painful sunburn of a most sensitive area, and decided against it.

    Soffie the poodle began furiously barking, so Sue got up to check on her. The vacation cottage was perched on stilts, half on land and half in the shallows with no nearby neighbors, but kids sometimes paddled canoes along the shore. Suddenly the barks morphed into frightened yips and Sue could hear a commotion on the landing. She walked swiftly towards the stairs, planning to give those kids a piece of her mind.

    Soffie reached the top of the stairs before Sue, trembling and whining in fear. It sounded like the kids were beating on the stair rails with their paddles, but Sue froze when she saw what was actually causing the commotion.

    A ten-foot alligator was making its slow way up the stairs after the dog. Its body contorted into curves, first one way and then the other, as its stubbly legs pushed against the uprights that supported the handrail. Some of the supports had splintered under the assault, but enough remained for the monster to pull its body fully up on the stairs, with only the tip of its tail still lying on the landing. Its gapping mouth displayed rows of sharp teeth as it relentless pursued its intended meal.

    Sue scooped up Soffie and ran to the sliding glass door. She locked the door behind her, wondering what good that did since the reptile couldn’t reach the latch anyway. Still she retreated from the door, expecting at any moment to see that maw of ivory through the glass. She hoped that the alligator would give up once it was thwarted by the door, and slide under the banisters at the edge of the deck to dive back into the dark water below.

    When the tip of the snout became visible through the door, she moved behind the counter, as if that flimsy barrier would offer more protection. Fascinated, she stared at the creature’s head swinging back and forth as it steadily forced its way up the steps; more and more of the gapping jaws came into sight as it relentlessly heaved its heavy body upward.

    With its front legs on the deck outside the door, the creature turned its head from side to side as if searching for its prey. Then it seemed to catch sight of the woman and dog through the door, and slammed its snout against the glass. Momentarily stymied, the alligator seemed to pause to think about the situation. Then it suddenly lunged forward, shattering the glass and forcing its way into the cottage.

    Frantically, Sue searched for some weapon to protect herself and her pet. She found a few long butcher knives and a meat cleaver, which all seemed pathetically useless when measured against the monster making its slow way through the door.

    As it got its front feet within the doorway, Sue ran down the hall to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She listened with growing dread to the sounds of mayhem in the main room. Then she heard the creature’s claws scraping against the narrow hallway walls.

    Her phone laid on the deck beside her lounge, but even if she had reached someone, they couldn’t have come fast enough to save her. She opened the window and screamed for help, knowing at the time that nobody was close enough to hear her. But the fear so strongly welled up inside her, that if she didn’t scream her chest would have burst.

    Sue could feel the dog’s pee running down her legs as she hugged it close. The poor dog whimpered in fear, whether because of its near brush with death, or just feeding off the fear of its mistress, or because Sue was squeezing the dog so hard that it had to struggle to breath.

    The scraping sounds grew louder as the beast made its way down the hall. Sue stood on her tiptoes and held the dog out the window. As she dropped Soffie, she hoped that the water would cushion the twelve-foot fall, and that no other alligators waited below for a snack to drop into the water.

    The noise seemed right outside the door as Sue pulled herself up into the window. She could just get her head and one arm out. Her top ripped, exposing her in a parody of her daydream of topless sunbathing. Blood trickled down her breasts as she struggled to pull her body through the tiny window. Finally she forced her upper body through the opening, hanging in an awkward position with her hips still inside.

    The door splintered, and with an adrenaline-fueled effort, she ripped the window frame out and found herself dangling upside down with one leg still caught in the opening. The noise inside grew louder as she heard the porcelain toilet shatter. The pain of her leg was excruciating; she felt the bone break as it bent in an unnatural angle; she plunged headfirst into the brown water.

    The water was just deep enough to cover her bare breasts as she stood on one leg. The dog was nearby, paddling to shore. Then she heard the outboard motor, which set off new alarms in her head. Would the children run into the cabin and encounter the monster?

    Frantically she swam around towards the front of the cottage to intercept her family. When they came into sight, she held her arms up and waved, sliding under the water in her effort. But she persisted until strong arms grabbed her and pulled her into the boat.

     


    Last modified: 13 May 2017 10:35 AM | Michael Worthington
  • 11 May 2017 9:13 PM
    Reply # 4827914 on 4789090
    Sherri Hollister (Administrator)

    Oh wow, Ed what a fabulous story. I have chills.


  • 11 May 2017 9:09 PM
    Reply # 4827912 on 4789090
    Sherri Hollister (Administrator)

    The sky was aflame with the glow of twilight. The amethyst and crimson exploded in a last burst of brilliance as the darkness crept closer eating the light. Pale, milky stars dotted the graying night like spots of cream in an ebony mug of java.

                Kira leaned on the railing, her weight on her forearms, her body sighed as the night closed around her like a cloak. She stared at the stars’ reflection in the murky water. Her tears added to the salinity of the brackish creek. The old fishing shanty had once been her haven, now it was her prison. Her self-inflicted prison. Pushing against the wooden rail she straightened. She would not die tonight but there was always tomorrow.

                Her legs trembled as she made her way into the lonely cabin. She didn’t bother with the generator, the darkness suited her. The furniture in the cabin was sparse there was little chance she’d do harm to herself. So much the pity. She felt along the counter until she found the cutting board and knife she’d left out. She pulled a block of cheese from the cooler, the ice was getting low. She would have to go to town tomorrow or risk food poison. She could stop eating and die slowly.

                Weighing the paring knife, she considered a quicker route. “Be careful with the knife, Mommy.”

                The knife fell from her fingers as she turned towards the voice she’d longed to hear for weeks. “Abby?”

                “You cut your finger.” The little girl glowed, illuminating the dark cabin.

                “How are you here?” Kira gasped.

                Abby offered her a dish towel. “Do you have any Band-Aids? I liked the Minion ones you bought me.”

                Kira retrieved the First-Aid kit and found a bandage. After cleaning the wound and wrapping it. She asked again, “Abby, how are you here?”

                “You needed me.” She picked up the knife and handed to her mother. “Say thank you.”

                Kira blinked back tears, they’d taught their daughter to say thank you when passing a knife or dangerous tool to ensure it was received safely. Her husband, an Eagle Scout was big on safety. Safety, they’d taught it over and over again and in the end, it hadn’t mattered. She swallowed and whispered, “Thank you, Abby.”

                “You need to eat, it’s not healthy for you or the baby.”

                Kira blinked. “The baby?”

                Abby giggled. “Daddy said you were going to have a baby. My little brother.”

                Kira grasped the counter to keep from falling. “You have seen your daddy?” She struggled to catch her breath.

                Abby bobbed her dark head. “We live together in the pretty place.”

                “I want to go to the pretty place.”

                Abby shook her head. “You can’t, you’ve got work to do and my little brother to raise.”

                Kira’s lips trembled. “What work?”

                Abby smiled. “Daddy said, you’ll have to wait and see.”

                “Can I see daddy?” Her heart pounded with hope. She missed her husband, losing her family was like losing the best part of herself. In the blink of an eye, her whole world changed. They’d been a happy family, mostly. Busy. She took a deep breath, the guilt heavy on her soul. It was her fault they were dead.

                “No Mommy, that’s not true. Daddy said it was an accident. The boy who ran into us had been drinking. Poor boy, he killed himself. That’s why I came. You can’t do that Mommy. The nice man in the pretty place wouldn’t like it. He was very sorry about the boy. He said it was a waste of life.”

                Kira put her hand over her mouth to stifle the sob. “I won’t. I’ll stay here but Abby it is so hard with you and your daddy. Can I see your daddy?”

                Abby shook her head. “The nice man only let me come because he heard you crying and could not bear to see you in such pain.” Abby took her hand and led her to the rocking chair. “Tell me a story Mommy, one last story before I have to go.”

                Kira pulled her baby into her arms and whispered her favorite story. The moon rose higher and for a brief moment in time she was at peace.

                “I have to go now Mommy but don’t worry, Daddy and I are watching over you.” Abby kissed her cheek and faded in the bright light of the moon.

                Kira fell to her knees, sobbing. “Thank you, God. Thank you.”

    Rising from the floor, she staggered to the kitchen counter. She reached for the matches, lighting a candle she watched as the flame flickered to life. One tiny flame in the darkness. I’ll do my best be the light, Kira vowed. With renewed determination, she chose life.

    Arranging a plate of cheese and fruit from her dwindling supply. Kira took her feast out to the deck and sat in the moonlight. The breeze whispered against her heated skin, I love you. She closed her eyes allowing the lap of the water to sing her a lullaby. The cycle of life, her husband and child were dead but she would soon have another child. Jerome’s son. She would have to be brave and strong for their son. 


  • 11 May 2017 12:13 PM
    Reply # 4827155 on 4789090
    Louis Edwards Moderator

    Ed 


    Thank you so much for posting your 1000 word challenge on our site. We strive to promote the literary arts and help writers like you.

    If you would like to become a member of the Pamlico Writer Group, and join a family of writers who love and care for the craft, you can join us by clicking the link: Pamlico Writers Group.

    By joining the group, you receive special discounts on events like the: PWG writers’ conference, workshops, access to our members’ only page, and much more.

    Keep an eye out for next month’s challenge and continue writing to inspire the minds of readers.

    We hope to see you then.



  • 11 May 2017 8:24 AM
    Reply # 4826713 on 4789090
    E.M. Satterley

    The Vacation

    By E.M. Satterley

                It took a few years to come together, but this summer Denise and Samuel were able to finally coordinate work schedules so that they could enjoy vacationing together. After running across a delightful article in Southern Living magazine and reading the many interesting attractions in Key West, they solidified their plans.

                “Denise, aren’t you ready yet? The car’s packed and we’re ready to go.”

                “Hold on, just a minute,” Denise pleaded, “I’ll be right there.”

                “I’ll be waiting in the car. Make sure you lock the door, Sweetie.”

                Denise looked at Samuel with a half-hearted scorn. You’d think during the five years we’ve been married, he would have realized that ladies take a bit longer to get ready,” she thought. 

                It took three and a half hours to drive from New Bern past South of the Border and into South Carolina. Samuel was quite pleased that the volume of traffic on I-95 was tolerable and they were making good time. After stopping for a quick lunch in Florence, the couple continued their long journey toward their end-of-day goal, Jacksonville, FL.

                “I’ve got to pee, Samuel,” Denise announced.  

                “Can you wait? We’ve only got an hour or two before we hit Florida.”

                “No. Can we Stop? Pleeeeese?”

                Samuel took a deep breath then slowly relinquished it through clenched lips. “There’s no rest stop around here. You sure you can’t wait, I hate to get off the interstate.”

                “Well, we haven’t stopped since lunch and I drank a Big Gulp and…well, no, I can’t wait,” Denise warned.

                “Okay, okay.” Samuel pulled off the interstate at the next exit. “This is the middle of nowhere. There’s no place to stop, he complained.”

                “Just stop on the side of the road, I’ll go behind the trees. Hurry.”

                Samuel came to an abrupt halt on the soft shoulder of the two-laned road. “There, do your thing!” Before Denise could open her door, a large, and noisy eighteen wheeler whizzed by the car nearly knocking the driver’s side rear view mirror off its mount. Then came the explosive whoosh of air that rocked the car where it stood. A bright flash lit the inside of the car  startling both Samuel and Denise.

                “Whew, that was close,” they both said simultaneously.

                Pausing for a moment, Denise climbed out of the car. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

                Samuel, looked at his watch and gazed out the window toward the dense treeline. It’s been over five minutes, I wonder what’s keeping her?

                With visions of a possible bear attack, Samuel decided to go look for her. His pace quickened and he started to pant as his worries mounted. It’s been almost fifteen minutes, just how far away did she go?  Then Samuel spotted her walking in the distance.

                “Where have you been, I was worried?” Samuel’s voice was scolding but soon turned empathetic as he approached closer and saw that she was sobbing.

                “Samuel!” Denise embraced Samuel and explained, “I was lost, I didn’t know which direction to go. I was afraid. I panicked.”

                “Okay, Sweetie, it's okay. Let’s go back to the car. We’ll stop at the first hotel and call it a day.”   They walked, a bit awkwardly through the leaves and twigs, toward the car.

                Samuel was the first to see that something was amiss. He could bearly see the obscured outline of their car. Then he saw several uniformed individuals pacing back and forth in front and behind the car. Emergency vehicles lined the roadway bouncing their bright colors through the woods. “What’s going on?” Samuel said aloud. His mind devised no scenario for what he saw.

                “I’m scared, Samuel.”

                “Yeah, me too.”

                As the two vacationers emerged from the woods, they clearly saw that the car was wrinkled and crushed like a wad of copy paper. “What happened,” Samuel asked one of the highway patrolmen. No answer. Turning to an ambulance attendant, he asked again, “What happened here? This is my car.” No answer. I guess they’re too busy to answer, Samuel surmised.   

                Seeing another patrolman walking toward them and before Samuel could say anything, the patrolman yelled ahead, “Hey, you two get the debris off the road, will ya?” Samuel opened his mouth to speak, but the patrolman approached the female trooper and shook his head. “It’s a shame, really. Young couple like that. Probably on vacation or something.”

                “Yeah, she said, I hate to come to accidents like this. I called it in so a wrecker will be here momentarily.”

                “Good. There are not many cars that use this road, but maybe you can help the other patrolman re-direct the traffic.”

                As the lady patrolman turned to walk away, Samuel looked the patrolman in the eye. “This is my car. My wife and I are okay. Really. She just had to use the bathroom and we stopped for just a minute. We’re both okay, see?” Samuel stretched out his hands to show the patrolman.

                The patrolman did not even acknowledge Samuel’s diatribe. He put his hands on his hips and turned around to view the wrecker coming toward the front of the demolished car. Samuel was puzzled, “What’s up with him?” Denise just shrugged her shoulders.

                The rescue team finally pried the passenger door open and peered in. “I think you’re right, it appears they are both dead,” the man said to no one in particular.

                “What? Someone was in our car?” Looking in Denise’s bewildered eyes, he said, “We were only gone for a few minutes. There wasn’t anyone around for miles.” Stepping closer to the car, Samuel looked in. Oh my God…oh my God…oh my God.“  His face turned white as he recognized the two inside.

                Samuel backed out with a blank stare on his face. “Oh my God.”

                Denise rushed ahead and pushed Samuel out of the way to see what had made her husband so sallow.  She, too, gazed upon an unbelievable sight. Both she and her husband lie lifeless in the seats, now bloodied by the tumult.

                Denise stared at her husband’s face; they embraced and faded away into nothingness.   


  • 10 May 2017 12:01 PM
    Reply # 4824485 on 4821882
    Sherri Hollister
    Bob Daw wrote:Grandfather's Cabin

    In the early fifties at age ten, I remembered my widowed sixty five year old grandfather telling my father and Uncle Mark that he wanted to build a cabin home on the big lake on our farm.  My family owned about a 4000-acre produce farm about 40 miles from Statesville GA.   Nestled in the middle of this farm acreage was a ninety acre lake surrounded by huge trees and abounding wildlife.  

    Grandfather had declared his full retirement a year earlier and had turned all the business management over to my father and Uncle Mark.  My grandfather certainly had the finances and wealth for his dream home and he had the blessing from my father to proceed with his plans.  Little did we know that when he stated he wanted to build a home on the lake that he literally meant over the water.  I remember the very day when father and Uncle Mark saw two truckloads of light pole pylons and large flat floating barges with big crane equipment passing by the fields we were working.  My father was scratching his head with a puzzled looks on his face.  My grandfather’s real visions for the cabin over the water were now in motion and it was too late to challenge it.  Just three short months later was a completed cabin resort built over the water with a two hundred foot dock walkway over the water to access entry.  There were decks and piers in the back to receive three boats for parking. There was running water from a deep well and pumps for a huge land septic system. Even though not many permits were required in the early fifties, the home would have passed even todays building codes.  My grandfather claimed strict ownership of his prized retreat.  Any use of it by our family, he scheduled.  Nobody could just leisurely drop by to hang out without giving him a shot over the bow.   Grandfather would entertain friends for duck hunts or fishing fun.  He spent a lot of time and overnights with his old time pals.  As the years went by, I found myself at age twenty accepted to many of his real men gatherings with his friends.  My grandfather was more of old cowboy than I had thought.  He actually had a mischievous side with lots of poker games played.  It would stager the imagination as to how much money was lost or won over the many years.  My father and Uncle Mark kept a tight lease on granddaddy in his later years but at his passing at age 90, he and I had many memories of fun in his cabin over the water. 

    My family has always kept this home well maintained and upgraded.  The home still stands proud and is 67 years old, looking as nice as it did when it was first built. This cabin continues to offer up fond memories for our family and friends and now my two daughters and grandkids. My daughter has spent many nights at our cabin, especially on full moon nights to watch the moon’s reflection on the water and listen to nature sounds of all the different types of outdoor animals that stir in the night hours.   Our family’s produce farm has been passed down to us through the generations but all of our family members give extra thanks and appreciation for my grandfather’s cabin over the water. The cabin is the go to family gathering place for all of us.  We will treasure and protect this cabin just as respectfully as we do our family farm business.                                              

    What a lovely story, Bob.
  • 09 May 2017 3:38 PM
    Reply # 4822900 on 4821882
    Louis Edwards PWG Moderator
    Bob Daw wrote:Grandfather's Cabin

    In the early fifties at age ten, I remembered my widowed sixty five year old grandfather telling my father and Uncle Mark that he wanted to build a cabin home on the big lake on our farm.  My family owned about a 4000-acre produce farm about 40 miles from Statesville GA.   Nestled in the middle of this farm acreage was a ninety acre lake surrounded by huge trees and abounding wildlife.  

    Grandfather had declared his full retirement a year earlier and had turned all the business management over to my father and Uncle Mark.  My grandfather certainly had the finances and wealth for his dream home and he had the blessing from my father to proceed with his plans.  Little did we know that when he stated he wanted to build a home on the lake that he literally meant over the water.  I remember the very day when father and Uncle Mark saw two truckloads of light pole pylons and large flat floating barges with big crane equipment passing by the fields we were working.  My father was scratching his head with a puzzled looks on his face.  My grandfather’s real visions for the cabin over the water were now in motion and it was too late to challenge it.  Just three short months later was a completed cabin resort built over the water with a two hundred foot dock walkway over the water to access entry.  There were decks and piers in the back to receive three boats for parking. There was running water from a deep well and pumps for a huge land septic system. Even though not many permits were required in the early fifties, the home would have passed even todays building codes.  My grandfather claimed strict ownership of his prized retreat.  Any use of it by our family, he scheduled.  Nobody could just leisurely drop by to hang out without giving him a shot over the bow.   Grandfather would entertain friends for duck hunts or fishing fun.  He spent a lot of time and overnights with his old time pals.  As the years went by, I found myself at age twenty accepted to many of his real men gatherings with his friends.  My grandfather was more of old cowboy than I had thought.  He actually had a mischievous side with lots of poker games played.  It would stager the imagination as to how much money was lost or won over the many years.  My father and Uncle Mark kept a tight lease on granddaddy in his later years but at his passing at age 90, he and I had many memories of fun in his cabin over the water. 

    My family has always kept this home well maintained and upgraded.  The home still stands proud and is 67 years old, looking as nice as it did when it was first built. This cabin continues to offer up fond memories for our family and friends and now my two daughters and grandkids. My daughter has spent many nights at our cabin, especially on full moon nights to watch the moon’s reflection on the water and listen to nature sounds of all the different types of outdoor animals that stir in the night hours.   Our family’s produce farm has been passed down to us through the generations but all of our family members give extra thanks and appreciation for my grandfather’s cabin over the water. The cabin is the go to family gathering place for all of us.  We will treasure and protect this cabin just as respectfully as we do our family farm business.                                              

    Thank you so much for posting your 1000 word challenge on our site. We strive to promote the literary arts and help writers like you.

    If you would like to become a member of the Pamlico Writer Group, and join a family of writers who love and care for the craft, you can join us by clicking the link: Pamlico Writers Group.

    By joining the group, you receive special discounts on events like the: PWG writers’ conference, workshops, access to our members’ only page, and much more.

    Keep an eye out for next month’s challenge and continue writing to inspire the minds of readers.

    We hope to see you then.


  • 09 May 2017 3:31 PM
    Reply # 4822895 on 4818328
    Louis Edwards PWG Moderator
    Jim Keen wrote:

    May 2017 Writers Challenge by Herta Abarr

    The Place Not There

    I could not shake the paper towel off my fingers, until I finally stepped on it, now my foot was caught. Humidity stringed my hair, and turned the floor into a swamp; My glass of water sweat profusely. It was unusual to have this level of humidity here on the Wisc.- Ill. border, the old Canada-United States booze trail.

    I banged the screen door with the heel of my hand, which screeched and then slapped in protest and then I tripped over skinny dog. I really wanted lemonade but these days, the sour acid makes me sour and my stomach burn. Sitting in my brown wicker chair, I detect a slight movement of air that smells of fish. The Lake! Of course, the lake, my brain was so saturated I hadn’t thought to go there for relief. Its just a short jaunt down my lane, I can’t skip anymore, but I can still amble with my stick. I picture the cutoff in my mind since I can barely find my car in the CVS parking lot anymore. I will have to be on high alert. I’m not sure if I have ennui or old age lassitude, as its been fifty years since sophomore English, but I do have persistence. “Come on skinny dog”, he’s a critter I’ve never named and he probably has worms. On the way home, we’ll follow the shoreline ankle deep in water, and cool off. I swallow the tepid water and take some with in an old scout cantine. After a long while, I realize I’ve lost my landmark, too many new weekend cottages. After a while I spot an obscured shortcut to the lake, though it seemed longer than I remembered; branches slap my face and leaves stick to the rest of me But persistence pays, I come out on a pebble strewn shore. I’m not exactly sure where I am, too much new undergrowth, but I know my left from my right and my north from my south filling myself with assurance and confidence and looked around.

    I became aware that dusk had fallen but lights from shoreline houses create flash lit paths. Lack of Oxygen in the water must be the cause of the overwhelming dead fish smell, and seeing tons of white bellies bobbing in the gentle water’s roll, I figure I’m right.

    A weathered, ribbed narrow planked pier leads to a strange boathouse at the deep end. Tall with rectangular windows stepping sideways across its upper level, glow in an oozing way. My intellect hits a speed bump in this unfamiliar, unremembered yet unidentifiable known. I plant my stick and lift my foot to the pier rougher than at first sight, and that skinny dog yelps, sticks his skinny tail under his skinny hind and takes off. I whistle, I call, yell, scream obscenities and questions of his paternity.; he pays me never no mind, kind of like marriage with my late departed. Its definitely cooler; the belly up fish rock in rhythm to some unknown player, the wall appears abruptly closer; there is no door, just a facsimile. I could have sworn when still ashore, but, never mind. The vertical slats are rough hewn silver grayed with ¼ “ spacing. I close one eye and with the other press my view into that space. Once visually inside I see with an odd View Master clarity. Loud, Honky Tonk music had the boards of the pier and building buzz, vibrating my entire body. Inside is a weird smoke strata, blue, that went from floor to where I figure the ceiling must be. The crowded interior was filled with cu-pie doll fuzzed hair, gum chewing trollops. Black Fishnet stockings were de reguier topped with 12” garters, crimson corsets that barely covered puckered titties. Bright red lips with slathering tongues washed over men with piggy faces as long fingered nails played with anatomy showing and unseen. Earlobes were also targeted withhello doll” come-ons. Some were dancing with sinuous movements that would throw hips out of joint, and lap dancers held cigarettes in long holders simulating more of the blue smoke.

    Wiping a polished bar that stood behind the dancers, the tender, wiped the same spot over and over. He had divided his shined pate with a triune arrangement pasting it in place with petroleum jell. In the corner of his mouth bobbed the shredded remains of a reused cigar full of spit. His attention was diverted by a verbose drunk demanding another bottle from the other sweating brown bottles on the bar. The bartender glared; in one full swoop he picked up a bottle by the neck, smashed it on the edge of the bar, aimed and whacked the sharpened edge on the drunk’s head, where beer and brains then poured forth.

    I vomited the noodles and tomato sauce I had had for lunch.


    Violence begets violence; now I saw the pool table erupt into a fencing match with their cues, one galant was jabbed in the eye, which promptly popped out, rolled on the slimy floor, coming to a stop directly in front of my centered vision. Frozen in place, I saw the same scenario repeat over and over again. That’s hell isn’t it, reliving the same horror over and over?

    My mind regained rhythm with my breath, it fled faster than my feet could move, but move I did using my stick for balance. I did look up and in the receding dark, shooting stars, harbingers of death, were aimed for the boathouse at cyberspeed. I ran in time with my heartbeat, which would never beat like that again. I heard a grunt, a squeal; with eyes at the back of my head, saw the boathouse slide into the lake.

    Once home I would ask skinny dog for forgiveness, would never eat noodles and tomato sauce and when skinny dog tucks his skinny tail and runs, I will tuck my ample tail and follow close behind.


    Thank you so much for posting your 1000 word challenge on our site. We strive to promote the literary arts and help writers like you.

    If you would like to become a member of the Pamlico Writer Group, and join a family of writers who love and care for the craft, you can join us by clicking the link: Pamlico Writers Group.

    By joining the group, you receive special discounts on events like the: PWG writers’ conference, workshops, access to our members’ only page, and much more.

    Keep an eye out for next month’s challenge and continue writing to inspire the minds of readers.

    We hope to see you then.


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