Tag Archives: DPchallenge

Daily Prompt – No o’s?

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The Daily Prompt got me again!!  And I love the challenge of omitting a vowel.   I truly hope you won’t find an “o” in the below paragraph!

There are 26 letters in the English language, and we need every single one of them. Want proof? Choose a letter and write a blog post without using it. (Feeling really brave? Make it a vowel!)

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Every day we are ruled by nature.  Weather dictates activities and temperatures mandate apparel.  Climactic shifts are in the near future and spring is imminent.

Winter jackets will be put away, and in exchange, spring ensembles will appear.  Sandals will be the new sneakers.

The white blanket will melt and reveal the buds lying in wait.  Birds will sing their lyrical strains and creatures will saturate the nights with strained lullabies.

Cherished spring – we wait with prescience.

The aptly named Murphy

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The Daily Prompt has me intrigued, once again.  And knowing that this can be a fictitious post made me even happier.

claddagh

Murphy had always thought his parents had named him poorly.  He wasn’t Irish, he certainly didn’t have a cool accent nor did not own a Claddagh ring.  He was sure his name had once been Jonathan, but he had too many accidents as a child to remember anything with any clarity.  He laid in bed pondering this inane moniker and realized the morning sun shone much brighter than it normally did at 6:00 am.  He glanced at his alarm clock the numbers burned into his eyes.  It was 8:46 am and he was already late for work.  He reached for his cell phone to call his boss, but the battery was dead.

He jumped out of bed, tripping over haphazardly strewn clothing and shoes and planted his face into the window sill.  He heard the crack and immediately tasted the coppery tang of his own blood.  His tooth lay on the ground surrounded by drops of his life’s essence.  He picked it up, put the tooth on the nightstand and made his way to the bathroom.

While spending his usual time on the throne, he balled up some gauze and compacted the hole where his tooth used to be.  He wondered if he should leave it there for the company photos they were having taken later that afternoon.  After wasting countless minutes reading his ATV magazine on the john, Murphy finally got up and toggled the lever on the toilet.  It wouldn’t flush.  His mother was going to be disgusted, but he didn’t have time to fix it.

He cranked the shower on and while he waited for the water to warm up he rummaged through the closet for his suit and lay it on the bed.  Returning to the bathroom, he opened the glass door of the shower and it slipped from its hinges shattering into millions of tiny shards of glass.  He could feel the tiny pin pricks in his feet with each step he took to reach the shower.

Once he had crossed the threshold of the stall, he screamed in agony.  He had forgotten to turn on the cold faucet as well as the hot and had given himself second degree burns.  He adjusted the temperature and lathered his hair with shampoo.  The bubbles trickled down his forehead and directly into his eyes.  He was momentarily blinded and fell through the open door of the shower onto the glass covered floor.

Ten minutes later, when his vision had somewhat returned, Murphy picked the remaining pieces of glass from the soles of his feet and his extremities and covered his burns with Polysporin.  His suit was still where he had left it on the bed and was now being used as a cushion by his two long-haired cats.  He shooed them from his attire and stared at the hairball that was once his clothing.   He dressed anyway, did his best to brush the hair from the cloth and headed down the hallway.  He was still getting the last of the big clumps of hair when he missed the top stair and fell head first, tumbling down the stairs like a rag doll in a clothes dryer.

He didn’t hear the sirens or realize the searing pain of his dislocated elbow until he was in the ambulance and they were en route to the hospital.  The ride was bumpy and each time the ambulance met with a pothole, daggers of pain shot through Murphy’s arm.   The ambulance sped along the road approaching a train track.  The track was clear and no lights signaled the approach of any oncoming trains.  The ambulance driver never heard the sound of the train’s horn over their sirens.

Murphy’s funeral is on Friday.

Those elusive birds

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The Daily Prompt today truly got me thinking….and on a Monday that is slightly painful.  The challenge today is this – Clichés become clichés for a reason. Tell us about the last time a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush for you.

bird in the hand

(image courtesy of Google)

This may be a reverse approach to this challenge, but this is where my brain took my words.

Truly appreciating what you have without looking at what better things may come along may be easier said than done.  There is always the outward pressure of ‘what if’ that will make us ponder the value of what we have now versus the value of what may lay beyond.

We take the risk of upsetting the balance in our lives, that sure thing, to forage the unknown.  And perhaps the excitement of the mysterious is part of the allure.  Perhaps the elusive birds in the bush hold the key to something we have not been able to realize with the bird in hand.

It’s lofty to dream, but as long as we don’t let greed cloud our vision, each of us will always have that feeling of wanderlust.  It’s how we choose to act on that feeling that is important, and so far, I have never let that voracity interrupt the path that I have chosen.

Dead lines

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Today’s Daily Prompt – Write about anything you’d like. Somewhere in your post, include the sentence, “I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked at the clock.”

window

(image courtesy of Google)

The computer screen projected phosphorescent beams of light coating the room in an eerie glow.  It had a macabre essence to it but nothing helped to pique my keen sense of the unusual.  The walls in the tiny room inched closer to me with every passing second and the absence of any natural light in the small window signaled that the clock read 9:00 pm.  I could have sworn it was still morning.

The cursor continued to flash on the screen and only served to remind me that time was ticking.  Each flash represented another second gone by with no words to add to the 100,000 needed to finish the project.  Being a ghost writer was one thing, being a dead writer was the threat that gnawed on my consciousness.  The shackles around my ankles didn’t allow for the normal freedom of movement I needed to change my perspective and allow the creativity to flow.  It was a race against time and I was losing the race.

The only way I could keep track of my time spent in this tomb was to count the number of fast food bags that had been delivered to keep me nourished.  The remnants of congealed grease and faux-beef were piled in the corner and the stench was nauseating.  I had been here for six days.  Watching the cursor was hypnotic and the repetition lulled me into sleep.

I awoke in a panic and the clock on the wall slowly swam into focus.  It was 3:00 am.  I had a mere five hours to creatively articulate his vision and another 40,000 words to write to meet his deadline.  The computer woke much faster than I did and I feverishly began to type the words that had followed me from my dream into reality.  The word count rose at a rapid pace.  There was no time for editing, no time to read anything back to see how the story flowed.  I was writing for my life at this point, I don’t think a misplaced comma truly mattered in the grand scheme of my situation.  My bladder argued vehemently and I ignored it.  That was the least of my worries.

Light slowly filtered through the small window and I checked the word count – 85,400.  I was close.  I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked at the clock.  I had failed.  Somewhere at the beginning of this torture, I knew it wouldn’t end well.  Many times during my captivity I had wished for a self-destruct button on the computer, or that one little pill that would end it on my terms, but dreams and reality rarely ever meet.

The door opened and light stabbed the floor in jagged patterns.  The man responsible for my disgusting diet over the last week hovered over the computer screen to assess my progress.  I knew what was coming as he stepped back shaking his head.  I had been preparing myself for death for the last seven days.  I never even heard the shot.

Read these other entries:

  1. Daily Prompt: The Clock… digital awakenings | Fasting, Food and other musings by determined34
  2. The Clock Test | The Chatter Blog
  3. Tick Tock. | Hope* the happy hugger
  4. The Counting… | Yeahthtsme
  5. Ulysse « Spunky Wayfarer
  6. Daily Prompt: The Clock « Completely Disappear
  7. The Unbearable Burden of Beauty | Rolbos ©
  8. Time To Rewrite (Short story) | The Jittery Goat
  9. Daily Prompt: The Clock « Mama Bear Musings
  10. Daily Prompt: The Clock « JUkk
  11. The Clock | MC’s Whispers
  12. Daily Prompt: The Clock (Fiction Story) « DiaryCube
  13. Too Late | Chasing The Bubble
  14. Dead lines | polysyllabic profundities
  15. Slam – A Daily Prompt Post | Edward Hotspur
  16. Daily Prompt: The Clock « Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss
  17. Daily Prompt: The Clock « In Love With The Lord Poetry and Prose
  18. Daily Prompt: The Clock Was Ticking | My Blog
  19. Daily Prompt: The Clock 16th February 2013 « ittikorn1994
  20. DPChallenge: The Clock | stuffy tales
  21. I Will Be Gone…. « So You Think You Can Think
  22. The clock always ticks | The Nameless One
  23. Daily Prompt: The Clock | Daddy’s Naughty Little Girl
  24. Daily Prompt: The Clock « It is me, Claude. . .
  25. Daily Post Challenge, I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked at the clock. | notyethere
  26. Hope | Prayers and Promises
  27. Time up. | Multifarious meanderings
  28. daily prompt: the clock | dandelion punch
  29. Daily Prompt: The Clock | The Daily Post – waldina
  30. Daily Prompt: The Clock | Fish Of Gold
  31. My struggle with Time | بيسان
  32. Never Been Kissed « I’m Afraid Of The Dark
  33. Daily Prompt: The Clock | retiredruth – Life in the 50’s and beyond
  34. Daily Prompt – Random Post « My thoughts, My life

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

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Daily Prompt today is this – You need to make a major change in your life. Do you make it all at once, cold turkey style, or incrementally? 

I have had a great deal of change in the last two years of my life.  Because those changes deeply affected my life, they had to be well planned and contain a great deal of thought.

The first was the journey to lose weight.  I didn’t want a quick-fix fad diet that would guarantee losing 10 pounds in 3 days, I wanted a lifestyle change and I wanted to be healthy.  With a great deal of effort, I shifted my focus from ‘living to eat’ to ‘eating to live’ and it was worth doing it incrementally.  I lost 50 pounds and have kept it off.  Had I done the quick fix diet, I’m certain I not only would have gained the weight back, but increased my weight by a few more pounds.

The second major change was my divorce.  I had slowly become a person I was never meant to be.  I was drowning in a sea of bitterness and anger and those waves threatened to take any air that possibly remained in my lungs.  The decision to end my marriage was a monumental change in my existence, and after many failed attempts at fixing that relationship, I had to admit that it was beyond repair.  I left the broken pieces behind and slowly began rebuilding my life and rediscovering the happy person I once was.

Both of those changes deserved the time spent to follow through appropriately and go through the proper stages.  I may have over-thought both of them for a while, but in the end, I am where I need to be.

One Day – Weekly Challenge

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This story was written for the Weekly Challenge based on the photo below.

couple-embrace

Photo courtesy of Cheri Lucas.

One day someone will walk into your life and make you realize why it never worked out with anyone else.  The small plaque etched with those words seemed to burn the phrase into her hand.  She read the words repeatedly as if creating the mantra in her head.  Her thumb continually grazed over the profoundly meaningful sentence.

With her culinary degree in one hand and a collection of personal items she had kept at the school in her other hand, Audrey stepped into the street car for the last ride back to her flat.  She marveled at the warmth of the day as she watched the now familiar buildings pass by her window. Studying in a foreign country had been a daunting task, but one she threw herself into with great passion.

The street car wove its way along the tracks, stopping precisely on time at each stop.  He entered the car, lost in a sea of tourists, so she didn’t notice him immediately.  The group’s constant chatter seemed to rise and fall like a wave throughout the car, drowning all other sounds as they excitedly took in the sights.

Moments after the car had continued its journey, his voice rose above the tumult of the excited tour group and she caught brief strains of the song he was absent-mindedly singing aloud.  He was completely absorbed in his newspaper, his head phones drowning out the cacophony of the outside world, but she could decipher lines from the song Foolish Heart by Steve Perry. Although his song choice came as a surprise to her, the words fell gently on her ears and she leaned into his melody, closing her eyes to focus only on the sound of his voice.

The street car stopped and her eyes fluttered open.  Any noise in the street car had been extinguished and she felt his gaze on her before she looked up to meet his stare.  No words were spoken.  She smiled demurely and lowered her head slightly, embarrassed to be so caught up in his gaze.  The words of the song found her ears again and he continued to serenade her on the street car. She met his eyes once more and they remained locked on each other until he finished the song.

The feeling of floating was interrupted as the ride seemed to come to an abrupt stop and the tour group exited the car.  He looked longingly at her, smiled and left the street car, paper in hand and humming another tune.  The street car lurched forward, but she knew she couldn’t remain on the car and just let him walk away.

“Wait”, her voice penetrated the air and the street car stopped.  She gathered her bag and her diploma and jumped onto the street.  He had a head start, but she caught up to him and tapped his shoulder.  He turned with a startled expression that warmed without hesitation when he realized it was her.  Not a word was spoken as she fell into him.  His arms circled around her and they stood motionless.

As the street car finally gained momentum up the hill, the plaque remained on the seat where she had been only moments ago.  Someday, someone else would need to read those words, but her one day was today.

Daily Prompt: Ode to a cottage long gone

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The Daily Prompt has once again made me take a leisurely walk through my past.

It was the middle of three cottages, the anchor.  It stood on a point of land that encompassed three family cottages, but my fondest memories of childhood fun were created in that cottage in the middle – the one that belonged to my uncle.  Our family cottage flanked one end of the trio and my mom’s cousin’s cottage bordered the opposite side.

Tilley Cottage From Fords 1911

Our cottage was the last of the three built and was erected in 1911.  The two other cottages were built in 1907 and 1908.  Each of the cottages had rustic Muskoka charm and beautiful views of Lake Rosseau, but the thing I found most intriguing about my uncle’s cottage was the staircase that led from the kitchen to the maid’s quarters.  Although there had not been a maid occupying those quarters for decades, that passageway provided many years of childhood entertainment.

That staircase was the gateway to the best hide and seek games, it was perfect for sneaking into the kitchen for a midnight snack and it was the best spot to lay in wait for the true element of surprise, either upstairs or downstairs.

As time marched on, my parents sold our cottage.  Not long after that, my uncle sold his cottage and the structure that entombed some of my favorite childhood memories was obliterated.  It was replaced by a four-story monstrosity that has no place on Muskoka soil.  The new owner went so far as to rip out the century old trees to pave the driveway to his new eyesore. It honestly sickened me.

The remaining cottage of the three is still in the family and we gather there fairly regularly in the summer.  Thankfully the trees are in full summer foliage and our vision of the spaceship next door is limited.  It still amazes me how much a wooden structure could embed itself in my heart.

The start of my writing journey – thanks Mr. S.!!

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Today’s Daily Prompt is – Tell us about a teacher who had a real impact on your life, either for the better or the worse. How is your life different today because of him or her?

There are always teacher’s that will stand out in my mind for various reasons.  My Grade 9 Geography teacher spoke in such a monotone voice, I almost failed the class because I could not train my mind to pay attention.  But the one teacher that will always stand out as the person who helped to create the person I am today is my Grade 6 teacher, Mr. Stimson.  He truly loved his students and it showed in his teaching.  His lessons were not all taught in the classroom and did not entirely come from a syllabus.

We learned to be respectful, we learned how to survive outdoors during his Wednesday cookouts and we learned how to be decent human beings.  We learned that learning was fun.  His class was our first real introduction to creative writing and I never looked back.  Several years ago, after a very lengthy teaching career, he retired.  I know many people of all ages who had the pleasure of being in his class and every single one of them refer to him as their favorite teacher.   Upon his retirement, I wrote this poem for him.  Thanks Mr. S!!

 Inspiration

Words of Inspiration

He stood at the front of the classroom, a smile upon his lips,

A comical expression on his merry face, hands upon his hips.

He led us through his rhyming lesson, many not paying attention,

But something he said piqued my interest and I delved into a creation.

A whirlwind of thoughts flew through my mind, eager to be set free.

Nobody knew before this moment, that there lurked a poet in me.

Words and phrases I’d never known, spoke music in my ear,

Expressing my feelings in a rhyming prose, and this I did not fear.

He encouraged us to be individuals, to learn, to absorb, to think,

And when we achieved these remarkable heights, he’d always be “tickled pink”.

He is the epitome of teachers, a leader to some and a friend in many ways,

And for his attention and encouragement, I wish to give him praise.

His words of inspiration, helped me to reach inside my heart,

To find out what I hold inside, that tells me and others apart.

I have a special gift, a creative flair, that is very much my own,

But without his help, his caring words, it’s something I’d never have known.

Daily Prompt – The Light Beyond The Glass

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Daily Prompt – Take the first sentence from your favorite book and make it the first sentence of your post.  I took this line from Cold Fire, by Dean Koontz.

Even before the events in the supermarket, Jim Ironheart should have known trouble was coming.  The gloomy weather was an overwhelming indication that the confines of his small apartment would be his only safe haven, but he was never one to let the voice of reason be his guide.  He was a man, after all, and he would let no sinister feeling shape his mood or carve the path of his day.  He prepared himself for the barrage of wind and rain and locked the door behind him.

The Supermarket, oddly named since it stood on a small corner and was the only store for miles, seemed to cast an eerie glow through the mottled grey light of the morning and he  paused with his hand on the door.  Something was waiting for him inside that store.  He felt it as much as he felt his heart beginning to pick up the pace of its beat.  He surveyed as much of the store as he could see beyond the shelving units that were home to his precious fast food addiction.  After what seemed like an eternity, he couldn’t delay any longer without looking like he was casing the joint and as he pushed open the door the chimes signaled his entrance into the store.

The air was frigid.  Not just air-conditioned, but Arctic cold.  The exhalation of his breath hovered in front of his face and seemed to hang in the air long enough to form its own icicles.  The place was deserted.  Apart from the humming of the coolers, there was no sound.  With slight trepidation, Jim made his way deeper into the store.  It took several seconds before he realized his footsteps made no noise.  There was no squeak of wet rubber on the tile floor and no audible proof that he had even moved at all.  The incessant hum of the fridges seemed to increase in volume and pierced the silence like an arrow.  Jim was now drawn to the back of the store.  He needed to get to that fridge.

As he pulled open the door to the cooler, the world behind him went black.  The ethereal luminescence emitted from the refrigerated section of the store was the only thing that seemed to exist.   Jim turned slightly to look behind him and there was nothing.  The store seemed to have been pulled into a giant vacuum and the only thing that existed within those four walls were Jim and the door he still grasped in his hand.  The contents of the fridge no longer existed.  Jim seemed to be standing on the divide between the blackness behind him and the white light of the cooler.

Jim stared at the light.  He cautiously brought his free hand to the opening and found the courage to let his fingers be bathed in the warmth that the light was emitting.  His fingers tingled in the light and he felt a joy that he didn’t know he had within him.  He liked it.  He wanted more.  He stepped into the opening and the door closed behind him.  He was awash in such a blissful feeling.  He began to weep and as the saline from his tears saturated his cheeks he felt a sense of utter happiness.  All the pent-up anger and disappointment were sluiced away by his tears and for the first time in his life he felt blessed.

The alarm clock blared and Jim was startled awake.  The modest decor in his apartment swam into focus and Jim realized he had been dreaming.  He swung his feet out of bed and sat up, wiping the cobwebs of the dream from his head.  As he rubbed his eyes, he felt the dampness from his tears and noticed that his pillow was wet.  As he struggled to recall the fragments of his dream, he began to smile.  The smile became wider and, for the first time in a long time, he was happy to greet the morning.   Jim carried that feeling of joy with him for a long time after that experience and realized that the name “super market” was a gross understatement.

Thanks Dad!!

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This post is in response to the Daily Post Challenge – Quote Me.

My favorite quote is actually something my dad used to say and it never left me.  We, like 90% of families in the world, went through our hardships and during those undulating financial and emotional times, he would never let anything steal the smile from his face.  He would always say “where there’s a will, there’s a way” and somehow, we always found that way.  It really speaks volumes about the man he was and the lessons he taught us about perseverance and never giving up your dream.

I should have actually used this quote in my earlier post today, it would have been quite fitting!!