Month: September 2017

Thirteen

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Thirteen by Lyn Crain

Thirteen toads, lizards, and bats
Hear my spell unfold and obey
Into the smoke slither away
Rally all of your friends
The time we waited for is ours
Exhume the bodies of the dead
Exile has ended, we are free
Never a ghoul or goblin again

Thirteen witches in a circle
Hear my spell unfold and obey
In a flash fly to the four winds
Raise havoc on humankind
The time we waited for is ours
Exhilarating pleasures to be had
Evil glares no more
Never be a witch again

Thirteen vampires rise from your coffin
Hear my spell unfold and obey
Intrigue and conspiracy everywhere
Reconvene covenants from the past
The time we waited for is ours
Excitement and anticipation
Experience the daylight of your youth
Never be sentenced to darkness again

Thirteen spells set us free
Hear me now and obey
Illicit pleasures for us all
Raise havoc on civilization today
The time we waited for is ours
Each spell better than the last
Eternally from this Halloween night
Never be ignored again©

177 words, 32 lines

Prompt response

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Write a story about your favorite candy. Be sure to create a basic plot and simple conflict!

 

m&m

“I don’t want to be M&M anymore, everyone has the same initials in my family. I want to be my own candy, you know unique like snickers or musketeers or even that brat peppermint patty. She’s always bragging about special she is.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re always whining about something. Last year, you weren’t picked for the holiday bag and now this year it’s your name. I’m not going to listen to this for months again. M&M is short sweet, kind of like rap with its own beat.”

“Everyone recognizes Kanye West. He’s not just one of many in the same bag.”

“Well, then do something about it.”

I hopped off the counter and rolled myself out the door looking to find myself. There has got to be a name that suits me and isn’t like every other candy in the store. Watch out, I’m on a personal mission.

Insanity

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Yup, I’ve lost my mind.

October I’m doing the NaNo Prep challenge to get ready for November and NaNoWriMo and a minimum of 50,000 words. You’re probably thinking, writer’s write, so what’s the big deal. I’m a poet. I generally don’t write lengthy pieces. Brevity is my norm. Not anymore, I’m spreading my wings and then some. Wish me luck or join me in the insanity.

https://nanowrimo.org/dashboard

 

NaNo-2017-Participant-Facebook-Cover

Work in progress

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Sleep alluded me again, so I wandered aimlessly around the streets of my hometown until I heard the wrought iron gate creak. The scraping groan startled me but like so many other times I entered the graveyard. That’s when I noticed the weeping willow swaying, but oddly, there was no wind. I studied random names as I strolled along the dew covered path. Why was a pair of brocade slippers lying beside a tipped wine glass and a briar pipe on a crumbled gravestone? I glanced up at the harvest moon gleaming boldly against the twinkling night sky.  If only the moon could talk. He might know why this one stone is broken when all of the surrounding ones aren’t.  I’m sure I would have noticed it before. I’ve been here many times because so many of my friends are buried in this cemetery. The closing years of our lives are like the end of a masquerade party when everyone tosses their masks aside and then gets laid here. A lone cricket chirped breaking the eerie silence. I knelt closer examining the lovely pattern on the slippers before uprighting the fragile wine glass. A fruity aroma wafted into the air. I spun around, but there was no one there.

 

   

Weave a tale about a September sunset

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Sunset_in_CoquitlamI have a possible explanation
for this magical occurrence.
The romantic in me says
that sneaky Sun God
bestowed Mother Nature
with a fiery kiss
on this quiet September eve.
Her ruddy glow caressed
the majestic treetops
surrounding the lake.
before slipping away into
Autumn’s tempting darkness.
The corn moon sighed in despair
another stolen moment missed
with Mother Nature because
he was helping the natives
prepare for the winter ahead.©

 

This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.

Chad Teer from Coquitlam, Canada

The Skeletal Corpse

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DSC_0957 (2)_LI
The Skeletal Corpse

 

Eyes flare bold red inside the extended dark head
with a huge glistening white-toothed smile.
Wispy smoke swirls hide the body in front of the
pentagram etched in a brazen satanic style.
My neck hair stands up straight in protest to
the sound of nails raked across the granite.
Ew, a smell of rotted meat and cheap perfume
I can’t imagine what created this nasty cesspit.
The earth shudders as the moon briefly appears
from behind the dark sky. The brittle and decayed bones,
what’s left of a  body is so close
clearly in my view.
I try to back up, but my feet are frozen.
His bony fingers clench my left ankle painfully
I scream frantically, I hope someone hears me before my
throat gives out. I tug, twist and kick to no avail,
My ankle is firmly in his grasp, I sense my end is near.
A deep, gravelly growl suddenly breaks the eerie silence, I whisper
Help me. His painful grasp loosens as he contemplates his new prize.
 I tug myself free. I’m so exhausted I can’t move.
The low growls are so close, I step back, it’s hard to stand.
Gravelly voice whispers to me, run when I command thee.
Blood-curdling screams, a moan filled with annoyance, and loud thuds
made it so hard to hear the raspy voice as the battle ensued.
Run, Run, run fast and don’t look back
I stumble several times before I make it to the house
I lock the doors and wonder when it will end.
Tick, tick, tock, tick, tick, tock damn, I hate that clock
Knife in my hand, hidden in the darkness I wait
Tears trickle down my face, I am relieved to be free
but a sense of dread lingers as I await my fate.

Evolution of the Jack-o-Lantern

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Write a story or poem from the perspective of a pumpkin getting ready to be carved into a Jack-O-Lantern.

Evolution of the Jack-o-Lantern©Lyn Crain

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Big, or little, oh my, each a different one,
Pick me; pick me, I hope
From one to the next, the excited children run.
The unlucky ones left behind will surely mope.
Because I’m the pumpkin a child chose.
Oh, what will kind of a face will I be?
So much better than being left for the crows
Will it be happy or scary? I can’t wait to see,
what the children create with their knife.
Once a simple pumpkin in the field
One very special moment I will come to life.
A jack o lantern, my true glory will be revealed
as I shine boldly from my special place.
Creating the magic of Halloween night
I am radiant in my chosen state of grace,
happy to have a Jack o Lantern’s exclusive right.

Quote

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“When you make friends with fear, it cannot rule you.” ~ Anne Lamott

Poetry is something I feel very confident writing, it’s when I try to write something more … fear consumes me.

My muse and I know that terror all too well, unfortunately.

I’ve been working on my book now for ten weeks and I have a reasonably solid outline, awesome universal character trait lists for each of my characters. I have pictures of the settings, I even sketched some of them. I did my homework so why wasn’t I writing the story.

FEAR

That nasty four letter word held me hostage for the last couple weeks until yesterday. I stared at my computer and decided today was the day that demon wasn’t going to win anymore. I wrote for 4 hours straight and threw 1302 words onto 6 pages. I did it.

I turned it into Raz, the man teaching the writing class I’ve been taking. I waited for another email, one of quite a few that over the past ten weeks I’ve dreaded opening. Instead, I got a text message that simply said: “You nailed it.”  Three words I hadn’t expected because of that nemesis fear.

Life is too short to let fear make big decisions for you.

What I learned was fear can also be my friend and motivator if I simply change my perspective so I took Eleanor’s advice.

“Do one thing every day that scares you.” Eleanor Roosevelt

So instead of sitting on my laurels and embracing the confidence boost, I tossed my story out to my writing group for critique.

I loved hearing the voice of my character come alive with Pam reading. It’s one thing to read your own work but it’s another to hear it. It still needs a bit of tweaking, there were places where she stumbled reading but the overall consensus was they were invested and wanted more. My character was likable and sounded real. The pacing was good and when it stopped they wanted more.

I embraced my fear this evening and shared my story. I’m ready to do the edits and write more. Fear and I are going to become best buds because like Lamott said, it can’t rule me unless I let it.

 “ Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” – Winston Churchill.