Ralph lived in a bungalow. “I’m a simple man; a true Epicurean,” Ralph (who pronounced his name “Rayfe”, like the composer) often said.
His sister gave him a birthday puppy. “You need company.”
“What kind is it.”
“Mutt. I saved her from the pound.”
Ralph studied the dog. “I suppose I’ll call you Sir Winston.”
He carried her around the block, then set her down inside the front door. Suddenly, a yellow puddle originated from Sir Winston, spreading across Ralph’s Epicurean hardwood floor, oozing into his Epicurean Persian rug.
“Oh my,” said Ralph. “We can’t go teetles in the house.”
NB: The gender isn’t a typo. My Ralph named his girl dog Sir Winston.
“You could go to hell.” But Charles’ arms were twigs in comparison to David’s.
“So I’ve got to finish it?” Charles was already stripping out of his jacket.
“This job’s gonna do itself.”
“We gotta be sure.”
“He’s already dead.”
“Why you gotta be such a rebel?”
At the bottom of the trench, their quarry stopped crawling and drank shallow breaths. If either of the goons could have seen in the dark, they would have watched him cross himself and so known his heart was still beating.
Of course, I’m always a rebel. But this week, Velvet Verbosity is, too, and I’m scheduling this so I can actually get myself linked up before the linky closes. (Kinda screwed that one up last week. Doh! This scheduling ahead messes with my wee brain.)
This week, Velvet Verbosity’s word is Hurrying!
“I’m hurrying!” Elsie ran past her Mama.
Mama turned around to shut the door, but Elsie pattered up the sidewalk. She didn’t pay any attention to the cracks that threatened to stub her toes. She arrived panting at the corner only moments before the yellow bus slouched into view. Finally, it hissed to a stop and the door screeched open.
Elsie screamed, “LISSA!” and then she threw herself at a bigger girl climbing down.
Lissa said, “You’d think I’d been gone weeks!” But she stroked Elsie’s brown head and smiled. “I’m back now duckface. Let’s go home. I’ll carry you.”
Darren creaked down the stairs. The murmur of his wife’s voice on the phone to his mother soothed his steps. She said, “Yes, we’ll be there in under twelve hours Sherry.” He saw her at the bottom, pacing just outside the kitchen.
He thought, “Tie, suit, wingtips, dress shirt, black socks.”
She said, “I’m touched. Of course he’ll deliver the eulogy.”
“What? I’ll do what?”
When he spoke, she looked up and put her finger to her lips. She walked back into the kitchen, away from him.
“How can I give a eulogy for someone who should still be alive?”
This week, Velvet Verbosity challenged us with ‘murmur’
Today was Caroline’s first volunteer day at the pound . We walked Mandy, who jumped on everything. With her, we practiced, “Off!” A wire terrier named Sammy hated being taken out. We couldn’t walk him. But we sat and held him, teaching him the big world might not be so bad. Then we walked Angelique who was anything but angelic. She practiced “No,” and “C’mere.” And also, she trained us on leash escape tactics. Finally, we went into the cat room, where we found out Booker hates to have his neck scratched. All in all, it was an invigorating afternoon.
This is my entry for Velvet Verbosity’s 100 word challenge this week. The word is invigorating! And holy HELL those pictures make my hands look larger than life!! Seriously. Those hands are twice as big as my real ones!!
Inside me lies a dinosaur in slumber, recumbent and half submerged. I try to keep her this way, because that terrible lizard roars destruction. But sometimes, no amount of medication can keep her from snorting to the surface, her enormous size swelling up through my skin and out my mouth. And on those days, I feel the boil. I thrash to free myself from the scalding heat. And my mania has teeth. She will seize you as gladly in her jaws as me. Or she’ll take us both down, hold us burning together until she ebbs back inside my skin.
This week, Velvet Verbosity is asking for 100 words on slumber. And I’m always up for a word game.
“I’ve never seen such a spectacle!”
Darcy stumped past her mother into the kitchen.
“You’re a teacher! You’re a role model now!.”
Darcy found a bowl, poured cereal and milk, then sat down opposite her father and took the top section of The City Star off the table between them. “Doesn’t seem like your business,” she finally said.
“What would your principal say if he found out?”
Darcy folded her newspaper back to the comics section. “OK, then. Let’s think about this another way, Mom. If you don’t want to see your daughter stripping, then don’t go in the club.”
This week, Velvet Verbosity wants to see a spectacle. E.B. White would be proud. Of Velvet V. Not Darcy.
Let me get a couple of administrative details out of the way first.
1) If you’d like to read my short story “End of the Line”, then you need to go buy a copy of Idea Gems Tough Lit VI. It costs a dollar to download (and you can download it to your PC if you don’t have a Kindle). (And if you’re really interested, you can buy it in physical touchy-feely format for $8.50.) Yes! I’m SO excited to have a piece in a publication that people actually have to pay MONEY to read! Please, go check it out.
2) The following is my entry for Velvet Verbosity’s 100 word challenge, where the word of the week is Fragile.
Butterflies get credit for grace thanks to their intricate, crystalline bodies. But whenever I try to photograph them, I realize how jagged their flight patterns are. They skirt and dodge and return to the same plant in a genetically imprinted dance of predator avoidance.
They protect those fragile wings with unceasing motion, rarely stopping to enjoy more than a sip at any one flower. Watching them is exhausting. But I can’t look away. Because in those flicks and flashes, they hide brilliant colors and extraordinary patterns. If I turn my head, I risk overlooking the most stunning beauty in nature.
“Three hundred dollars? But the chain is worth a thousand!” Mrs. Gordon tugged at her coat sleeves.
Donny said, “If you’ve got a buyer, go elsewhere.” He stood back from the counter.
Mrs. Gordon leaned in. “You’re offering me less than a third of its appraised value.”
“I’ll be able to sell it for barely half. This isn’t Tiffany’s.”
“That kind of casuistry is exactly what’s wrong with this country.”
“Take it or leave it.”
Mrs. Gordon laid her hand on the chain but didn’t pick it up. Finally, quietly, she said, “I don’t have much choice, you thriftless bastard.”
I’m SO HAPPY. I found out in January about this 100 word challenge posted by Velvet Verbosity. And also, I found out it was on hiatus as of a couple of weeks before I found it. I wanted to pound my head into something brick! (OK, not really, but hyperbole is an awesome form of communication.) It was another word based challenge like Trifecta. And I missed it.
I really enjoy Lance’s 100 Word Song, and I do not participate in it NEARLY often enough. I love spinning off stories from songs. It’s just that getting a story down to 100 words for me, when I’m trying to capture everything I feel about a song? Yeah. Hard. (Which is good for me. But I don’t get it done often.)
But the word challenges are my favorite. I remember in 8th grade, our teacher tried to have an advanced spelling group, because she had about fifteen of us who belonged in a gifted and talented program, but the best our school could manage was to send the high school Algebra teacher back once a week. Anyway, the spelling group tanked because she was picking random impossible words out of the dictionary, and I think maybe two other students besides me spelled them right ever, and it was screwing up some other straight A averages or some bullshit.
But while it lasted, I loved it. We had to use the words in sentences. I don’t think Fanfic had really gotten wheels yet, not the kind the internet would give it, and I was always paranoid about writing using other people’s characters anyway, so I probably would never have written it. But I cheerfully wrote Tolkien themed spelling sheets. Or Thomas Covenant. Or any number of things. I’m sure that’ s where this love of word challenges comes from and why I’m not so horrible at cutting them down to required lengths.
BUT! To return to my original point (And I’m now far beyond 100 words) Velvet Verbosity is back!! I didn’t miss out! I CAN SUBMIT. This week’s word is Thriftless, and I think we all have until Friday or Saturday to play.