Daily Prompt · Random Scribbles · writing

Daily Prompt: Showdown at Big Sky

Showdown at Big Sky

How do you handle conflict? Boldly and directly? Or, do you prefer a more subtle approach?


 

“I don’t want to discuss this anymore and I’m not going to fight with you” Roger said, “I’ve got to get ready for work.” He went into the bath and closed the door. She heard the shower start up and begin to run.

She sat on the edge of the bed. Roger was such an ass. This was his standard play when they quarreled. He simply would not argue. He would quit and assume that his will prevailed. She hated him for that. She knew he would come out of the bath all showered and shaved, smelling good; and pretend that nothing had happened. She hated him for that too. She would let him do it, she always did. She hated herself for that.

Not this time, she thought. You’re not getting off that easy this time. She stood, moved around the bed and opened Roger’s bedside table drawer. There it sat, Roger’s pistol. A 22 caliber handgun that was small and lightweight. It felt good in her hand. She checked it was loaded and flicked the safety off.

The curtain was drawn across the shower but she could see the shadow Roger cast as he washed his hair. That was another thing she hated. Roger had more lotions, pomades, and balms for his hair than any man had a right to. He was very vain about his hair. Slipping out of her nightdress she held the pistol behind her back and moved the curtain aside. She stepped into the shower. Roger saw her and smiled. He did not see the 22.

“You’re right Roger,” she said, “I don’t want to argue either. I’m sorry.” He reached for her as she pointed the pistol at his eye and squeezed the trigger. The bullet must have ricocheted around in his skull – no exit wound. He dropped. She looked at him and blinked. Not as noisy as she had anticipated. Not too messy either. She grabbed the shower head and rinsed the bit of gore off her right hand and forearm, placed it back and got out of the shower. She set the piece on the back of the toilet while she toweled off and put her nightclothes back on. She peeked behind the curtain into the shower. Roger lay still on the shower floor. The running shower sluiced what little blood there was down the drain. She would let it run for a while, easy cleanup.


 

 

Random Scribbles · Speakeasy · writing

Speakeasy #158 – The Preacher’s Wife

The preacher’s wife, Donna, came early that morning. The morning after Jimmy had died. Sharon had been surprised when she opened the door and saw her there. She was expecting a transport, a van to take Jimmy away. She was not expecting anyone from the church, let alone the preacher’s wife. She and Jimmy had seldom attended services, and then only on Christmas Eve.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sharon spat. She had eschewed sleep last night, choosing instead to sit by the fire, drowning her emotions with buckets and buckets of tea.

Donna blanched at the coarse language but smiled and shot her white gloves, “I’ve come to check on your Jimmy, my husband heard that he is poorly.”

“Your husband heard right,” Sharon said. “Jimmy hasn’t been well but, he’s gone now. I thought you were the van to take him to the undertaker’s.” She reached for the sill to steady herself and Donna, the preacher’s wife, caught her arm.

“Let’s get you inside.” Donna said, and she led Sharon in to the settee.

Donna went into the kitchen and got a cool damp cloth, brought it back and placed it on Sharon’s brow. She returned to the kitchen and put a fire under the kettle. Rummaging until she found the canister of tea she put some in the pot and when the water boiled she poured it in on top of the leafs, placed it on a tray, took two cups from the cupboard and carried the whole lot out to the front room where Sharon sat. “Let’s let it steep for a bit, shall we?” She sat across the table and began to fuss with the napkins. “I’m so sorry Sharon.”

“Don’t be, I never loved him and he never loved me – but we were married for almost 27 years. When I was young, love was an illusion that seemed to forever evade my grasp. My younger sisters and my friends all wed before me, for I was holding out for love, and I found it. I loved a boy once, but he went to the sea and I saw him not for 7 long years. By that time, I had been convinced and persuaded that the important thing about a marriage was not happiness but, stability.

“Jimmy and I had an arranged marriage, a stable marriage, a marriage of convenience. I had a husband before becoming a crone and, he had a wife. Having a wife is important to a merchant in this town. Keeps the tongues from waggin’, you know. And, believe you me, they could have wagged plenty.

“By the time my love returned to port; Jimmy and I were already wed. There was nothing to be done. He went back to sea and I settled in to make the best of it. Jimmy’s business was successful, we have this town house, we have a country house, and we have more money than we know what to do with. My regret was only that we had no children; I believe that it was Jimmy’s regret as well. Laughter was seldom heard around me and Jimmy.”

“You don’t have to tell me this,” Donna said.

“I want to. No, I need to.” Sharon dropped her face into her hands. “You see, not more than two weeks ago I was in town at the market and I saw my sea captain. The boy I had loved had come back. He had left the sea and come looking for me – for me! For two weeks we have been meeting secretly. We plotted and hatched a plan. I was to leave Jimmy and flee to the coast, where he has a fine home. We were going to give our lost love a second chance. But, now Jimmy is dead; struck down by a vengeful God; perhaps to punish me. Do you think that may be the case, Donna?”

“No,” said the preacher’s wife, “I’m sure it’s not like that.”

“But it is like that,” Sharon said looking fixedly at Donna, “it’s exactly like that. I have the money, I have the fine homes, I have found my lost love, and I am shed of my wicked husband. Don’t you see? It’s right. Everything about this is right.” she picked up her tea and sipped, “And the rightness eclipsed every mistake made along the way.”

Nobel Prize-winning Gabriel García Márquez passed away at the age of 87. He was an inspiration and yeah write will be paying tribute to him over the coming week. Here at the speakeasy, our media prompt is a video clip from the film Love in the Time of Cholera, which is based on Márquez’s novel of the same name.

Our sentence prompt this week, provided by last week’s winner, Janna, must be used as the LAST line in your piece.

“The rightness eclipsed every mistake made along the way.”

Our submissions must be 750 words or less.

Daily Prompt · Random Scribbles · writing

Because the Night

Because the Night

Are you a night owl or are you the early bird? What’s your most productive time of day? When do you do your best work?

Reno awoke and glanced around – dark, still, quiet, good. He did not need to wake slowly, he was wide awake the moment his eyes opened. The weight of the night told him that it was sometime between 0230 and 0300. The faint luminescence of the dial on his watch told him that it was exactly 0247. Rising to a crouch he took his bearings and listened. He listened for a full three minutes, nothing but the faint sounds of nocturnals reached him. Silently, he checked his weapons.  He touched the K-Bar strapped to his chest, like a talisman. He needed to know it was there.

Reno worked alone. He worked in the dark. He worked in the wee hours before the dawn. He worked when others were complacent and less alert. He moved calmly and silently towards the village. The General would be pleased today.

Random Scribbles · Speakeasy · writing

Spring

Winter seemed reluctant to release it’s hold.
Or was it Spring?
Reluctant to emerge into the world,
Like a breech birth; she will emerge eventually, it is unavoidable.
But, there is danger!
For both Mother and Child, there is danger.
Why can’t this be easier?
“Do we bud now?” ask the plants.
“Should we bloom now?” ask the buds.
A late freeze endangers everything.
Pray for a turn in the womb.
Pray for a smooth emergence of new life.

Daily Prompt · writing

Daily Prompt: Fight the Power

Daily Prompt: Fight the Power

Tell us about a time when you fought authority and took a stand against “the man.” Did you win?


 

Fifty-one years ago today the USS Thresher was lost at sea with all hands. There were 129 souls on board, including officers, enlisted men and civilians. The boat experienced problems, exceeded test depth and imploded. Speculation is that a leak onto an electrical panel caused the reactor to scram but, the boat should still have been able to blow main ballast tanks and return to the surface. That didn’t happen. Wreckage of the Thresher is spread across a mile of sea bed about 300 miles off the coast of Cape Cod. Covered by about 8400 feet of icy green Atlantic Ocean waters.

But we learned.

In the wake of this tragedy, the father of the nuclear Navy, Admiral Hyman Rickover, told the press, “…I believe the loss of the Thresher should not be viewed solely as the result of failure of a specific braze, weld, system or component, but rather should be considered a consequence of the philosophy of design, construction and inspection that has been permitted in our naval shipbuilding programs.

“I think it is important that we re-evaluate our present practices where, in the desire to make advancements, we may have forsaken the fundamentals of good engineering.”

In a way, Admiral Rickover was “The Man”. And, in a way, Admiral Rickover took on “The Man” and won. The Navy implemented a new program known as ‘SUBSAFE’ which tightened down the design review process and safety practices used during the construction phase of all new submarines. By improving safety, through more thorough design and build processes the overall efficacy of the mission was improved and a safer environment was created on all new boats.


 

  1. I should be so lucky | new2writing
  2. Daily Prompt: Fight The Power- History of How Small Things Changes The World | Journeyman
  3. The Match (Part 10) A Torn Photo | The Jittery Goat
  4. Daily Prompt: Fight the Power | The WordPress C(h)ronicle
  5. DP Daily Prompt: Fight the Power | Sabethville
  6. Fight the Power | The Nameless One
  7. the american dream | y
  8. Fighting for the Underdog! Daily Prompt | ALIEN AURA’S BLOG: IT’LL BLOW YOUR MIND!
  9. “Lost” One; Won One in The Battle Against Cruelty | Dragon Droppings
  10. Fated? | Kate Murray
  11. Dealing with Government Intrusion | Lisa’s Kansa Muse
  12. Eternity in vain | Perspectives on life, universe and everything
  13. Sinners and saints | Perspectives on life, universe and everything
  14. Daily Prompt: Fight the Power | PERSONAL LEARNING ENVIRONMENT
  15. of violence | Anawnimiss
  16. I didn’t get Jeffed*! | Purplesus’ Blog
  17. Fighting the man while still dancing with him « psychologistmimi
  18. Daily Prompt from WordPress: Taking a stand – That’s My Answer
  19. The Man « Averil Dean
  20. Internet Warfare! | Pippakin Talks Cats, Dogs, Teeth and Claws
  21. Daily prompt | Just Visiting This Planet
  22. Choose Your Fight; 1970 | I’m a Writer, Yes I Am
  23. Daily Prompt: Fight the Power | Blissful Pages
  24. What is Your Limit? | The Land Slide Photography
  25. Daily Prompt: Fight The Power | Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss
  26. Indignation | A-to-Z Day 9 | melissuhhsmiles
  27. No luck | Life is great
  28. Go Make A Stand | Flowers and Breezes
Daily Prompt · Random Scribbles · writing

Daily Prompt: Why Can’t We Be Friends?

Daily Prompt: Why Can’t We Be Friends?

Do you find it easy to make new friends? Tell us how you’ve mastered the art of befriending a new person.


 

“So, is this something that is really happening, or is she just being a bitch?” Paul asked.

“It’s really happening Paul,” Andrea answered, “I sold the container your stuff is in. You’re not going to be able to keep it here anymore and you gotta come pick it all up. Make other arrangements. The buyer is going to collect the container at the end of the month so you still have about three weeks. Come by anytime.”

“Humpf,” Paul mumbled something into the phone.

Andrea kept talking, “By the way Paul, you should be aware that I never asked her to let you know the container was sold. Honestly, I had forgotten you had stuff in there so, no; she’s not a bitch, she was actually looking out for you. You also oughta know that she’s here with me right now and you’re on speaker phone.”

As Andrea pressed the button to terminate the call she heard the sputtering of some serious backpedaling coming from the other end of the line. Neither of them paid any attention to his grumbling. “Sorry you had to hear that Steph. I guess I can scratch Paul off my Christmas card list now. You probably should too. Don’t expect to hear from him again either, bastard doesn’t know how to apologize.

“You know his shit has been in that container for more than 5 years.

“How much would a storage locker have cost him for all that time?

“I never even got a ‘thank you’ and, I had to pay him to take care of my yard when Frank was sick and I needed to spend all that time up in Dallas.

“What an ass.”

Stephanie smiled and so did Andrea.

“Hey Steph, I got a few extra oranges off the tree in my yard. Want some?”


  1. On Homophobia | AS I PLEASE
  2. DAMN GOOD FRIENDS: RYAN [STORY TIME #2] | She Writes
  3. My Friend the Sex Worker | AS I PLEASE
  4. Tune of the night | Perspectives on life, universe and everything
  5. Frozen | Perspectives on life, universe and everything
  6. Making New Friends Has Never Been Easy | Musings | The Wangsgard
  7. Daily Prompt: Why Can’t We Be Friends? | The WordPress C(h)ronicle
  8. Why can’t we be friends? | Purplesus’ Blog
  9. The Match (Part 9) Oh, Mother | The Jittery Goat
  10. To Be Or Not To Be…Friends ? | Knowledge Addiction
  11. ON BEFRIENDING | DANDELION’S DEN
  12. DP Daily Prompt: Why Can’t We Be Friends | Sabethville
  13. Daily Prompt: Why Can’t We Be Friends? | seikaiha’s blah-blah-blah
  14. Bridge Over Troubled Water | I’m a Writer, Yes I Am
  15. Friends can lift… – Bottle the Moments
  16. From Being A Loner To Being A Friend | Dragon Droppings
  17. Daily Prompt: Wanna be friends? | cockatooscreeching
  18. I’d Rather be Home | Overcoming to Becoming
  19. You’re My Friend | Flowers and Breezes
  20. Will You be my friend? Daily Prompt | ALIEN AURA’S BLOG: IT’LL BLOW YOUR MIND!
  21. You and I | The Colours of Life
  22. Daily Post; why can’t we be friends? | sixty, single and surviving
  23. Introversion and Friendship: Mutually Exclusive? | meanderedwanderings
  24. Why Can’t We Be Friends? | Pippakin Talks Cats, Dogs, Teeth and Claws
  25. The humor and indignation taste test: The art of friendship these days « psychologistmimi
  26. Rabbit’s Foot in Mouth | Charron’s Chatter
  27. DP – Why Can’t We Be Friends? | hometogo232
  28. Daily Prompt from WordPress: Making new friends – That’s My Answer
  29. House of Cards « Averil Dean
  30. Daily Prompt: Why Can’t We Be Friends? | Awl and Scribe
  31. Friendship | A picture is worth 1000 words
  32. Hello. | DMZ #721
  33. Make Friends? | wisskko’s blog
  34. Friends are Diamonds in the Rough | Lisa’s Kansa Muse
  35. It’s probably me… | Hope* the happy hugger
  36. Adult Friends | Lori’s Life and Other Stuff
  37. Daily Prompt: Being Friendly! | All Things Cute and Beautiful
  38. The Art and Science of Unmaking Friends
  39. No one is so rich as to throw away a friend | I Didn’t Just Wake Up This Morning with a Craving
  40. Daily Prompt: Making New Friends | A Day In The Life
  41. Daily Prompt: Why Can’t We Be Friends | Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss
  42. Why Can’t We Be Friends? | manmadeoceans
  43. Daily Prompt: Why Can’t We Be Friends? « cognitive reflection
  44. We Can’t Be Friends Because… | Random Writings by E

 

Daily Prompt · Random Scribbles · writing

Daily Prompt: Wasted Days and Wasted Nights

Daily Prompt: Wasted Days and Wasted Nights

Tell us your tried and true techniques for focusing when that deadline looms and you need to get work done. In other words, how do you avoid wasted days and wasted nights?


 

I sat hunched over the keyboard, typing furiously. I paused only long enough to tip the whiskey down my throat and refill my glass. Then, placing my hands back in the “home position” I hit it again, fast and furious.

I didn’t even hear the garage door. I didn’t hear Amy come in. I had no idea what time it was and never suspected it could be that late. Late enough for her to come home from work.

“How did you beat me home?” Amy sang when she came into the house. Then she spotted the half empty bottle. “Shit,” she said, “drinking again. What happened at work today?”

“I didn’t like that job anyway; it was a waste of time.”

“No, Richard. What you’re doing now is a waste of time. Are you trying to write the ‘Great American Novel”? Are you trying to keep the distilleries in business? Are you trying to drive me away?”

I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her, God she was beautiful. “I’m not writing a novel Amy, I’m writing songs. I’ve done this before; I’ve already got one hit song under my belt. I can do it again and I promise I won’t piss the money away this time.”

“You don’t even like that song.”

“I was drunk when I wrote that song and, you’re right I don’t like it now but I liked it when I wrote it. More importantly, the world liked it and they bought it. The money was good.”

“You should go back to the paper and beg for your job back. Song writers don’t make any money these days – the internet killed all that. Did you burn all your bridges with Mr. Sullivan? You’re a wreck. You can’t hold onto your money and you fritter away your life. I’m leaving. You’ve wasted enough of my time.” She picked up her keys and headed back towards the garage. I stared at her back.

“Don’t leave Amy. Who’ll feed the cat?”

She didn’t answer. The door slammed and I felt the rumble of the opener as it pulled up the double garage door. I heard her start her car and back down the driveway. I looked out the window and saw her pull away and accelerate up the street. I sat and listened to the silence for a long time then, picked up the whiskey and downed it. The warmth spread from my belly out.


 

  1. Why Bother | AS I PLEASE
  2. THE DEFINITION OF A WHORE | She Writes
  3. When Morning Breaks | The Mirror Obscura
  4. Daily Prompt: Wasted Days and Wasted Nights- Psychology, Why People Are Lazy | Journeyman
  5. Procrastination | Knowledge Addiction
  6. The Match (Part 8) The Ride To Mother’s | The Jittery Goat
  7. DP Daily Prompt: Wasted days and wasted nights | Sabethville
  8. Daily Prompt: Wasted Days and Wasted Nights | The WordPress C(h)ronicle
  9. Focus! | The Ambitious Drifter
  10. directions | yi-ching lin photography
  11. Just Do It Piece By Piece | Lisa’s Kansa Muse
  12. Forever Distracted | Musings | The Wangsgard
  13. Boredom! Wasted Time! If only… Daily Prompt | ALIEN AURA’S BLOG: IT’LL BLOW YOUR MIND!

 

Random Scribbles · Speakeasy · writing

Holidays with Dad

“Portishead? What part of Saskatchewan is that in?”

“Not in Saskatchewan. Not even close. Not far from Bristol though”

“So what about it then?”

“Holidays Dad. Holidays”

“When are ya goin’?”

“We”

“We what?”

“When are we goin’, Dad”

“I’m not goin’.”

“Sure ya are.”

“Nope, not me.”

“Ya can write there, Dad.”

“Write what?”

“Yer poems.”

“I don’t write. I specially don’t write poems.”

“They’re stuck up on post it notes all over the house.”

“Crap”

“I like this one, Dad”

“What’s it say?”

“’This is the beginning of forever and ever’”

“Sounds more like a fortune cookie, ya ask me.”
.
.
.
“Here’s a good start on another, ‘Two young hares, rump to rump like dueling pistols, crouched by the gate.’ Pretty deep that. Where ya goin’ with that one, Dad?”

“’Spose, I’m goin’ to fuckin’ Portishead with that one, eh.”

“Yep, ‘spose so.”

Third place in the SpeakEasy – No one is more surprised than I.  No one is more honored than I.  Too cool.  Too cool.

Rules:
• Your post must be dated April 6, 2013, or later.
• Submissions must be 750 words or fewer.
• Submissions must be fiction or poetry.
• You must include the following sentence ANYWHERE in your submission: “Two young hares, rump to rump like dueling pistols, crouched by the gate.”
• You must also include a reference to the media prompt

writing

I Don’t Have a Clue

“Well if you’re so smart? Who dunnit?” she asked.

“Professor Plum, in the conservatory, with a rope,” he replied.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Only fools are positive,” she quipped.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She shrugged, “I’m not sure of anything.”

 


Recipe for a proper gargleblaster

  • Entries must be 42 words exactly. We count.
  • Non-fiction, fiction, and poetry are all welcome.

This week’s question:

Who dunnit?