So last week I introduced you to a new story circle hosted by Cameron Garriepy and started off by our friend Shannon. Shannon got us off to a fast paced start and then left me to pick up with Part 2. Well, it is Wednesday again, so now you can have my addition. What appears below is just a taste; please head on over to Cameron’s site to read the full thing. And if you haven’t read the first part of Sully’s story, you can start here. Oh, and next week the third part will be published, and I am pleased to announce that it is by my friend, and fellow Doctor Who fan, Amanda Holling.
And now … Sully – Part II
The sound of the engine and the feel of the car moving again brought a bit of comfort, but not enough to allow Sully to relax. She wanted to go faster, to get away from whatever it was behind her, but she didn’t know what she would do if she saw a blue light. Would she stop? She didn’t think the highway patrol could be of any help to her, but wouldn’t she have to stop anyway? And if she did stop, what would she say? How could she explain what she was running from?
And with that the doubt started to creep in. What exactly was it that she was running from? And where was she running to? Sully felt the need to get help, but whom was she seeking out? When she had jumped in her Jaguar and sped away from the hotel she was frantic. She had to get away from that box. But now, although she wasn’t any where near calming down, she wasn’t so sure of what she was doing either. As her headlights pushed on down the road she thought about that box.
Read on ….
Back in June of this year I participated in a story circle on Cameron Garriepy’s web site. Go ahead and read that story at “A Line Run Rounds the World“. It was great fun, a good exercise, and now it is about to happen again. This time though I will be part two instead of the initial kick off. A fellow blogger and all around interesting person Shannon, aka MrSugarbears, has written part one and another friend of mine is writing part three. The four different parts are coming out on the successive Wednesdays in November.
I have put a bit of part one here, but to read the full thing and then continue on with the story you need to go to read “Sully” on Cameron’s site. And of course I will be giving you a taste and a link to my part two of this story a week from now.
Sully, Part One:
Sully could not remember the last time that she had slept or had anything to eat. She just kept driving. The interstate is the loneliest of places when you are scared and a dangerous place when you and your car are running on empty. The light had just come on and Sully knew she had to find a service station within the next 20 miles or she really was in trouble. She was stricken with panic. Was it following her? She needed to find a station fast and fill up.
Desperately trying to shake the whispered breaths that were chilling the back of her neck she reached for her trusty thermos. Why had she been tempted to open the box? If she had only left it alone, but of course her curiosity had gotten the best of her. Now she just prayed she could drive far enough away that it could not find her. Her intuition told her she had a long road ahead.
Continue Reading …
Jim woke on the third crow of the cock and lay there trying to open his eyes. Mary had pushed the move out to the country as a way to calm him down, to get him away from his work and what she thought was the pressure of the city. Maybe start a family. But things like that damned chicken howling to wake him up weren’t exactly relaxing.
Rolling to a sitting position he reached out for his meds on the bedside table and amazingly found the bottle without knocking anything over, but it was empty. He sighed and tried to keep his mind together – but that didn’t mean he had to crack his eyelids. Leaning back on the bed he reached out for Mary’s legs but instead stuck his hand in … what? Crap, the dog must have thrown up on the blanket again. Not so stress free this country living. Blinking sleep from his eyes he got up and walked to the bathroom to wash his hand.
The sun was starting to come up so there was a thin beam of light coming in the small window and illuminating the sink and toilet. With his one clean hand he turned the faucet and then glanced down as he washed. He stared at his hands, both covered in blood. That wasn’t dog vomit, it was blood. If his hands were covered in blood, then that must have been blood on the bed. He shook his hands quickly and turned back to the bedroom. He couldn’t see much, but he could see that there was a dark spot on the covers. He reached to the light switch on the wall and flipped it on. And he staggered back.
Continue reading “Breakdown”
It is the curse of those with writer’s minds that we invent possibilities. Alternative realities and back stories to all the events in our lives until it can be difficult to tell which is real and which is pure fairy tale. These stories weave in and out of everyday life and fork in both pleasant and unpleasant directions. These stories – these worlds, to the writer, and not just lands of make believe, but they exist. They are flesh and have feelings and emotions and voice and consequence. So how are our friends and family supposed to react when we exercise our nature based on these waking dreams? When we construct our own worlds upon the building blocks of our imagination instead of with the obvious materials they see before them?
This is constant problem. And I am glad to know that it doesn’t just happened to me. With any luck we are just labeled “eccentric”, given a pat on the shoulder and humored a bit. That is what I am hoping for anyway!
The other thing is, and I didn’t realize this until recently, is that those who are driven to write often do it to get something out of their heads. Honestly, I had thought this only applied to me. But, I have found that other too have no choice but to write because if they don’t then that scene or phrase or voice will stay in their heads forever. It will be in their just kicking, screaming, and banging on to the side of the skull. So the writer has to write. Has to get it out. But, and here is the odd part, once it is out the details can be forgotten. And they often are. So when later, a few days or a few years, they are asked about what they wrote, the writer will often stare blankly.
Continue reading “Writer's Words”
Note: This is the third part of a story circle that Cameron Garriepy helped me start. Please check here for Part I and here for Part II. Alternative versions can be found on Cameron’s site.
As I made my way through the world, following the line, I saw many people. The young and old were stretched out before me and I could see them all. People of all colors passed by and created no more stir for me than the trees and the rocks. Of course I saw the lame and the ill, the rich and the poor, but their plight was their own and I took no stock with them. If any one of them had seen me, even glimpsed me from the corner of their eye, there would have been no recognition for I was no long with them. I was on my path and as different to they as the stars to the streams.
But once, I stopped. I do not know why. As I stated before I had long since given up on noticing war and strife. Had ceased to even care about it or the self-induced famines and pestilence I passed. These were all man’s own doing, and I wanted no part of it. Had no part of it. But once, that once.
I was walking near mid-day in a valley of shade amidst leaves and oak when I saw a girl down by a creek. She was all alone and I could not remember how far back I had passed the last village or farm house. Although I was no expert on the area, I did not believe there were any roads or worn paths nearby. She was in my place – the quiet away from places, and her presence called out to me. To this day I don’t know why.
As I walked closer I could see that she was young and looking towards the water of the slow moving stream. Perhaps she was fishing I thought, or reading some book of romantic poetry away from the taunts of brothers and sisters. But even then, even still, I knew she was not. There was a stillness carried on the air as assuredly as the smoke and wind had carried the heat of battle. As markedly as the stench from cities carried far out into the virgin countryside.
I hastened my step to draw near her side. I knew there was no noise I could make, no sound I could utter that she would hear, no one noticed me any longer. But as I grew close, she lifted her head and stared at me with pale green eyes. I stopped. The feeling of no longer being in movement rushed over me and I grew light headed, but her eyes pulled me back down. She was pale skinned with long hair stringing down around her shoulders, but I could not lose sight of her eyes.
Continue reading “A Line Runs Round The World – Part III”