Two week’s ago I shared with you about the new Winchester Writers group, and the take home assignment I gave them at the end of that first meeting. Today they brought their stories back, and I have to say, I was blown away by how good they are. If you remember I gave them a tray with five items on it and their stories needed to include each item. The stories are unique, and the individual writer’s feelings come through clearly. Some are still in the beginning stage, but I am so impressed that I’m giving you a sample of each one as my Blog today. What you read below is unedited or changed in anyway by me. Enjoy!
Cinderella Doesn’t Live Here Anymore
She felt a little like Cinderella, but a whole lot more like Miss Hannibal from “Annie”. As she gradually woke from her stupor, fully-clothed, she squinted her heavy, hazel eyeballs to take stock of where she was. She noticed the fake candle with it’s flicker still on and her right foot with the shoe off. Her left foot was still encased with her pricey, emerald Jimmy Choo. Panicked, to be sure the other was nearby, she jerked herself up from the comfy divan. Her head throbbed badly, she collapsed backwards so fast she miss-judged the edge and fell on the floor.
As the Pump Pole Rolls
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP….As the alarm screamed I rolled over and growled, “Mindy…” Oh, that’s right she’s at the hospital with Joey. Well, I guess life doesn’t move unless I get up. Oh, that’s not true! J.J. the mighty seven-year-old doesn’t need me to move, my guess is he’s already up watching Pokémon. I slowly get out of bed and turn off the evil alarm clock that always ruins my day. As I walk out of the bedroom I hear, “Good morning, Daddy.” Yep there he is watching Pokémon snuggled in my chair with his blanket and Dog Dog. I head to the kitchen to start the day by looking at the calendar to see what the day holds for the ——- family. As soon as I look at the calendar my face turns white. I forgot that Abbey and J.J. have a doctor’s appointment at noon.
A Hated Name
Another Saturday afternoon and Mike, aka Bluto, was in his dingy office of the basement at work. His boss had once again intruded on his time.
The latest in a string of personal sleights and insults.
That name, Bluto, he hated it. He never got used to being called it, from the moment he heard it in kindergarten at Maple Elementary, 30 years ago on the very first day of school. His first lesson. The world was cruel.
The Party At The Thrasher House
The girls had gotten more or less moved into their new house after the drama with Jenny had subsided. Joy said “hey it’s Friday ifht, let’s have a party.” They loaded up into Madison’s Super Sport and headed into town. Madison’s protests fell on deaf ears. She was wanting to keep this thing small but the other two girls wanted at least a case of beer and a couple of fifths on top of what they normally drank. Madison had no idea what she normally drank. Throughout her teen year’s Madison’s highly religious mother had installed in the young lady the perils of alchohol.
The Jagged Nail
Picking at my ragged fingernail, I try to remember where we keep the keys. Such an easy thing has me baffled. I try to talk myself down and remind myself to count slowly, envisioning what it is I’m trying so desperately to find. I see them now, snuggled in between the Cabin in the Woods candle and the frame. That damn, menacing frame. The frame holds the Cleavers, white Pickett fence and all. A sham. A scam. Maybe even a conspiracy of sorts, I’m sure.
My friend Jesus is awesome. He is always teaching me Spanish words. He doesn’t go to church, though. I guess that’s normal; most people are leaving the church.
Today’s word was “pais”. It means country. The girls I work with call Jesus a dirty Mexican. He’s actually from Guatemala. I don’t know what city he’s from, or even the capital of Guatemala! He’ll teach me with time.
Every now and then at the diner we get a rich businessman as a customer. Emily is smart, I guess, and grabs their tables before any of the other servers do. She can make a day’s wages within an hour.
What you read above are snippets of the stories that were turned in to me today. If I had space for each story in its entirety, you would see that each one deals with the struggles of everyday life for someone. I’m extremely proud of this group of writers, and that’s exactly what they are. Writers’s, looking for their voice.
Use your voice for good this week! Spread some joy; it’s the best thing you can do!