Moved

  Ok, so having eleventy-billion different places to write was stupid, so I've moved everything over to my personal website at http://www.thaydra.com/.    It just makes more sense there!    I'm still working on the overall design of the site, so bear with me through that.  However, any writing will be done over there.  My regular blogging will remain at my primary blog site.   Thanks!

Two Girls, One Cup and a Barn...

I posted on Facebook for a writing prompt.  I got two responses:

1.  ‎2 girls, 1 cup...and go
         and
2.  A hooker walks into a barn...

Gotta love my friends!  Anyways.. I took it, and this is what I came up with.   No, it will probably never be finished, or edited, or reworked, so take it for what it is!   hehehe.  


Two Girls, One Cup, and a Barn...

 Cindy walked down the side of the slick asphalt.  The road was old, and looked as though it hadn’t been maintained in quite some time.   Puddles filled the pockets of potholes and pits as the rain drenched down.  She swore loudly as she tripped over yet another branch in the soggy ditch that ran alongside the road.  It was dark and she was not familiar with this area of town.  She shivered and pulled the worthless shirt tighter around her.  At least she’d been able to get that from him.

Her latest trick had been sweet at first.  He had pulled up in his shoddy little sedan and rolled down the window.  He had seemed to almost reconsider as she sauntered up to the passenger door.  Just a boy, he couldn’t have been more than 18 or 19 years old.  His thin blonde hair hung down to his ears, partly covering his left eye.  She couldn’t make out the color of his eyes in the shadow.  His shy smile as she asked him if he wanted a “date” for the night, the blush in his cheeks when he nodded and she climbed inside.   She had asked him if he wanted to go park somewhere or maybe hit up a little hotel she knew.  She had an agreement with the manager there, and he turned a blind eye to her various roommates.   He had shook his head and told her he would be more comfortable if he could take her to his house.   She asked where it was, and he told her it was a ways out.   She told him it would be extra, and he would have to bring her back. 

“Well, but of course.” He had said, looking at her as if rejected that she thought he wouldn’t already know that.   He dug into his wallet and prepaid.

They had driven for a while, the windshield wipers screeching against the windowpane.   He hadn’t said a word, just kept looking over at her, staring more at her legs then he did the road.   She watched as the businesses turned to residential, and then even those petered out as he continued on into the outskirts of town.   She had asked his name, and he had shaken his head.  She reminded him he’d have to bring her back to the city if he took her too far out, and he just nodded.   Eventually she stopped trying to make small talk, taking him for an overly shy guy who was trying to get his first time out of the way.  She watched as the trees began to grow thicker together, and finding homes nestled among them was just about impossible. 

Just as she was starting to worry about the distance, he flipped on his blinker and took a right hand turn into an almost hidden road.  It was narrow, but it was paved.    Trees lined either side.   The headlights shone weakly ahead, but showed more of nothing.   

“You know, if this was a scary movie, I should be jumping out of the car by now.” She said to him, half-jokingly. 

He turned to her and laughed.  It lightened up his face, and put her at ease. 

“It isn’t much farther.” He said.  “I know it’s a ways out, but it’s a nice place. Don’t worry; I’ll take you back… afterwards.”  

A few minutes later he turned onto a wide dirt driveway.  It opened onto a big ranch style rambler with a large porch overlooking a vast front yard, complete with swing set and white picket fence.  Beyond, the trees had been cleared, and she could make out what appeared to be a very large yard in back.   Farming territory.

“A farm boy, eh?”   She raised an eyebrow at the swing set, and the cozy, yellow light coming from the front window.   “Am I meeting the family?”  She asked him.

Again, he chuckled.   “It’s just me here.” He told her.   She raised another questioning eyebrow, but didn’t push the issue.  As long as she got paid, she didn’t care.

Mr. Shy Boy wasn’t so shy once he got onto his turf, though.   After going inside, she had started to walk around, checking out the house.  It wasn’t often she got to peek inside of real homes like this.  Usually it was night after night of shoddy hotel rooms,  backseats, or the rancid apartments of dirty men.   This was a real house, with a real history.  Photos lined the walls- a cute family.  Dad, mom, two boys and a little girl.  She could see that her “date” was the middle boy.    The furniture suggested someone had an eye for interior design.   A large, stone fireplace stood center stage in the living room, adorned with more photos, vases, and trinket boxes.   She turned to compliment him on his house, when he grabbed her.  He shoved her down onto the couch.  She began to struggle, confused at the sudden turn in behavior.   He ripped her shirt open, the buttons bouncing off the hardwood floor beneath them. 

“Woah, dude!” she said, trying to push him off a bit.  “You can’t just rip my clothes!  I have to wear them again.” 

“Shut up.” He growled, pushing her back down.

He only got more violent afterwards.   He had used her for a few hours, doing everything  he’d ever heard about.   He had finally fallen gotten up, threw more money at her, and told her to get out. 

“You have to take me back!” she had cried.  Blood seeped from between her legs.  She ached inside.  She ached all over. 

“Just get out.” He said. 

“You tore all of my clothes.” She said, deflated.  

He went into a nearby room, and came back with a thin flannel shirt.  Red and black checked.  Farm boy cliché.  He threw it at her.   

“Get out.”

She slowly stood, angry but scared.  Something in his eyes told her to not fight, but just get the hell out before he decided to get rid of her himself.  There was a lot of land back there.  A lot of dirt to bury a body under.  She put the shirt on and showed herself out.  She looked back as she reached the driveway.  From here, it was still just a beautiful house.  The warm light still spilled out the front window, lighting the front porch.   The rain had started to fall then.  Lightly at first, but eventually coming down in big, heavy drops.  

“Of course.” She thought to herself, and began the trek back.

She tried to shake it all from her head as she trod down the small, paved road they had driven down a few hours earlier.  She turned left when she hit the main road, and hoped she’d be able to remember all the turns back into town when she got closer in.  More so, she hoped that maybe a car would drive by and pick her up.   She laughed at that thought... Realizing the silliness of it.  That is what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. 

But all the girls had a story like this, right?  She was due, and to be honest, she’d gotten off a lot easier than some of the other stories she’d heard.  

She let her thoughts wander to the beat of one foot following the other, trying to keep her mind of the biting cold and the numbness that was starting to spread throughout her body.   She had begun to tremble, and it was throwing her a bit off balance.    She kept hoping to hear the sound of tires on wet pavement, the sweet roar of an engine.  She wondered what she would do if Mr. Not-so-shy Boy were to be the one behind the wheel.  Would she take the ride? 

These and other various thoughts wandering through her head almost caused her to miss the driveway.   It wasn’t very obvious, just grasses that had been pressed down, and an obvious tire groove cut into it.  It hooked around a bend.   She stooped and stared at the driveway.  Perhaps there was a house back there.  Maybe she could use a phone and call a cab.  She had the money he had given her  (and the money he had thrown at her afterwards) wadded in the front pocket of the shirt.   She could even give them some for the trouble of helping her.

But they could also be worse than Mr. Not-So-Nice.   

She trembled violently, and her insides stabbed with fiery points.  She decided  to take a small look around the corner and see what she saw.   Pulling the shirt tighter, she followed the grooves in the matted grass around the corner.  Instead of a house, like she expected, she saw a barn.   A weak light flickered from the slats of the front.  She could see a truck parked along the side.   It looked like a newer model, though she couldn’t make out what kind.  She snuck slowly up to the front, glancing around to see if there was anyone outside.  The doors were shut, but the boards were placed wide, and she could peek inside.   She peered through, and was surprised by what she saw.  She had expected a man.  Another farm boy. 

Instead, kneeling in front of a small fire was a girl.  She wore jeans, and a worn black tank top.  Her honey brown hair was pulled back into a loose pony tail, a few wisps fallen free and down her cheek.  She was warming her hands in the heat of the flames.  Cindy pulled back, trying to see where the smoke from the flames was going.  Because of the wide placing of the wood, the smoke trickled out from all over, so it hadn’t been apparent.   Cindy put her eye back to the board.  She enviously eyed the fire.  She could almost feel the warmth from here.  The girl moved, and Cindy saw she had a thermos and a cup.  She poured a steaming liquid into the cup and sipped.  Cindy licked her lips.  She hadn’t noticed how thirsty she was until seeing that. 

The thirst clenched her decision.  She rapped upon the door and opened it.  The girl looked up quick, caught like a deer in the headlights.  She had paused mid- cup raise.  It sat halfway to her mouth, the steam causing ripples in front of her face.  Cindy came in and shut the door behind her.  She pulled the shirt closer to her and looked at the piles of straw that had been studiously moved to the sides of the barn.  She glanced at the fire, and the thermos, and then up at the girl.

“Hi.” She managed weakly.  Her legs gave out on her then.  She was exhausted, and she slid down the front of the door. 

The girl put the cup to the side and jumped up.  She came to Cindy’s side and helped her over to a pile of straw that had been worked into a makeshift seating area, a safe but comfortable distance from the fire.  She went around to the dark back part of the barn, and emerged with a blanket that looked to be a patchwork of other materials sewn together.  Cindy watched gratefully as the woman removed her wet shirt, and wrapped her in the blanket.  She held the blanket to her face, glorified in its comfort.  As she did so, she noticed that it was really a superb work of art. 

The girl brought over the cup of steaming liquid.  She helped Cindy support the cup to her lips, and she took small sips.  Some kind of tea deliciously burned her mouth, and warmed her down her chest and into her stomach.  She looked at the woman with wet eyes.  

“I’m Cindy.” She said to her.  “Thank you so much.”

The woman sat back on her heals and eyed her.  Cindy noticed that the woman had deep brown eyes. They reminded her of a deer.  Perhaps that is why she looked so much like the deer caught in headlights earlier. 

“I’m Rachel.” The woman said.  “What happened to you?”

Cindy and Rachel shared the one cup and drank the tea while Cindy shared her story of what the night had held for her.  Rachel told her that she had been homeless since her boyfriend had been murdered, and she couldn’t handle it.  She had the truck, and had been living out of it, until she had come across this old, unused barn.  Now she used it as a home until she could get back on her feet. 

A Constipated Turtle and Rainbow Colored Penguins

Dustin wrote:  "Constipated turtles dancing with Penguins with a rare skin condition that turns their feathers rainbow colors."   Per Dustin's request, here is my quick story:

      
 One afternoon,  Twiggy the Sea Turtle was swimming through the ocean, looking for some tasty  jelly fish to munch on.  He saw a particularly scrumptious looking specimen floating above him, and swam up, chomping down, waiting for the deliciousness to erupt in his mouth.  Instead, he got a mouthful of tasteless, chewy yuck.  It had been a plastic bag, haphazardly thrown into the ocean by some thoughtless human.  He choked it down, and continued on his way.   Some time passed, and poor little Twiggy felt some uncomfortable sensations in his little turtle tummy.  Eventually, it became apparent that even though Twiggy needed to go “Number Two”,  “Number Two” was not coming out. 

 Growing more and more uncomfortable, Twiggy decided to go up on land and see if he could find something to help.  He saw a land mass ahead and headed toward it.  He crawled up onto the shore and lay down, his bottom side cramping with the blockage.   He drifted towards unconsciousness, slipping into a sweet slumber.   His cramping worsened as the world drifted grey.   Vaguely, he felt something feathery brushing against him, and then a warm, very UN-tasty liquid was poured down his throat.   He shuddered as the liquid sloshed down into his tummy, and then he passed out.

More cramping woke Twiggy up some time later.  This time, though, he had to go!  He jumped up and rushed over to the nearest bush and let loose.  Stringy plastic came out along with, well, everything else.   Feeling much better, he plodded on down to the water to go along his way.  Suddenly, a rainbow colored head popped out of the water.  It was followed by a rounded body flapping its wings at its side.  The multi-colored bird waddled its way toward Twiggy.   Twiggy stood dumbfounded, having never seen a penguin that looked like a rainbow. 

Twiggy watched in fascination as the penguin walked toward him.   When it reached him, it stuck out a wing.  “Hi!  I’m Prism. What is your name?” she said.   Twiggy blinked a few times, and then answered.  “I’m Twiggy.” 

“Well, Twiggy... You had a close call there!  We were afraid you weren’t going to make it!” 

“We?” Twiggy asked, looking around.  Down the beach a ways, he saw a sea of rainbow color that was not the water.   Hundreds of rainbow colored penguins were wandering along the shore.   

“Oh , yes.   Vibrance is the one who saved you”, Prism said, leading him down the shoreline towards the others.  “She is our resident miracle worker. “  

“I’ve never seen penguins with so many colors.” Twiggy told her. 

“We have a rare skin condition.  You have heard of being struck by lightning?  Well, our ancestors were struck by rainbows.  Multiple rainbows all at one time.   I heard it temporarily blinded them, and when they could see again, they were all colorful.  And all of their offspring since then have been as well. “ 

“How strange…” mused Twiggy.  “Did it hurt?”

“No, not from what the stories say anyway.  Just that they couldn’t see.  Like if you look at the sun for too long.. “

“Wow.   That’s amazing.  It’s very pretty. “

“Yes, we are very proud of our different colors.   We do have to do a lot of moisturizing though.  Our feathers can get very dry and matted if we do not properly care for them, and the colors will start to dull.”

They reached the other penguins, and Twiggy noticed that they were all dancing.   Their colors swirled and twirled together, creating quite a hypnotic effect. 

“Is it a celebration?”  Twiggy asked Prism.   She smiled and nodded.

“Oh yes.  Once Vibrance gave you the cleansing tea, a rainbow appeared in the sky.  We celebrate rainbows here.   Come!  Dance with us now that you are all better!”

Twiggy let himself be led into the midst of the colorful dance,  caught up in the kaleidoscope steps.   He was so involved that he had lost all attention, just letting himself be carried by the dance, when Prism suddenly stopped and gasped loudly.  He opened his eyes, questioning what was happening, when she broke into laughter and started hollering to everyone. 

“Stop!  Look!  Look at Twiggy!” she said, laughing and clapping.  Twiggy looked back around at his shell, and saw that his shell had been transformed into a gorgeous mural of reds, greens, blues and purples, all milling together like watercolor.  He stood transfixed, a smile growing across his face as the rest of the penguins burst into applause, coming up to hug him.   Then they all began dancing again, and his spirit was lifted into the sky, merging with the rainbow that shown brightly above them. 

Sick-O-Writing

  I stayed home sick, today.  My throat is killing me, full of gunk, my head is swimmy, my stomach rolling, and my body achy and limp.  So, I curled up on the couch once the kids were off to school, thinking I would sleep my entire day away.  I had made myself a steaming cup of TheraFlu, in hopes that it would calm my angry throat enough for me to get some actual sleep.  Instead, the writing bug bit me.  So, I pulled out my notebooks, and , while I didn't necessarily get anything new done, I did get everything pulled together on Word, and then uploaded to my website.  I know there are still some tweaks I'll need to do on it, to make it run a little smoother in places, but all in all, I'm pretty happy with it. 

Right now I'm to the part in the story where nothing really big is happening.  So, I am trying to figure out where to go with this part.. what is going on, and how do I transfer to the next stage, which is a few years later, and then again to a few more years?  The time span, and having to jump years multiple times in the story is what has gotten my feathers all matted and bunched.  My brain feels like it's been dipped in tar.  I will figure it out eventually though. 

But, I just wanted you to know that while I may not have been writing here, I was writing!  Productively!

It's Surreal

This prompt was taken from the "Now Write!" book I mentioned on my Prompt page. It comes from Ms. Laurie Foos. This one is actually quite hilarious, and I encourage you to try it yourself, if only for poo and giggles.



Provide the following, as quickly as possible:

1. Any verb ending in -ing
2. A body part
3. An inanimate object

Write them down, or remember them. Ready?

DO NOT READ AHEAD UNTIL YOU HAVE YOUR WORDS!







Insert the words you chose into the following prompt:

"After a long day of (-ing word), he/she discovered that his/her (body part) had grown a/an (inanimate object)."

Begin your writing!




Mine were the following:

1. Driving
2. Arm
3. Fire Hydrant
Oh, my....


Laurie unlocked the door to her house, pushing the door in more with the weight of her slumping against it than with an actual push. She shuffled in, sighing with relief as she shut it behind her, welcoming the cool air that passed over her.Throwing her keys into the basket she kept on the small table in what passed for her foyer, she headed for the kitchen to get a glass of ice-water.

Laurie worked as a drug rep for a well-known pharmaceutical company. It was her job to drive from town to town, visiting all of the local doctors and pharmacies and talk to them about the wonderful benefits of the new and upcoming drugs the company produced. It wasn't a very lucrative job, but it paid the bills. And she was good at it. She was 32 years old, with long brown hair that fell in soft waves that people wanted to run their hands through. Her blue eyes held those of whomever she was talking to, and she was very persuasive. She knew how to use her sex appeal to her advantage. However, her job also had it's stresses. Today's stress had come from the traffic. Laurie was pretty sure she had spent more time in her car on the freeway today than actually talking to people. It didn't help that the temperatures outside were sweltering, the humidity something palpable. She had driven her small Honda Accord with the windows rolled all the way down. Her air conditioner had broken the previous Fall, and she had never gotten it fixed. That was the NUMBER ONE thing on her to-do list on her next day off now.

Traffic had been a nightmare. A log-hauling truck had overturned on the interstate, spilling it's load all over all lanes, both coming and going. As if that weren't enough, the logs had caused a total of sixteen vehicles to crash, ten of them being on her side of the road. Six people had died. Of course, it was one of the areas that had miles and miles between exits, so by the time she learned of it, it had been too late, and she was stuck. The radio in her car did not work, so she had not heard about it on any news reports. Replacing the radio was NUMBER TWO.

By the time she had reached the traffic backup, the accident had been mostly cleared, and traffic had been allowed to very slowly crawl through. What normally took her twenty minutes had taken three hours. Luckily, she had water and a granola bar in the car. She was pretty certain she would have died if otherwise. She had contemplated the money-making potential for someone just to walk up and down the road with a bunch of water.

She reached the kitchen, pulling her bra off along the way and tossing it onto the couch in the living room. Her nylons she had already tugged off while stopped in the traffic, bringing some very interested looks from the two young guys in the car next to her while she did. She had thrown the stockings into the back seat and winked at the boys.

She grabbed a glass down from the cupboard and got ice from the freezer. She filled the glass with water and downed it in three big gulps. As she filled the glass back up, she had an odd sensation from her arm. The upper part of her left arm tingled.. a cold sensation running through it. She drank the second glass more slowly, and the cold sensation got worse. She set down the glass and took a step back as she wiped at the cold arm. She noticed simultaneously that the floor was wet, and her shirt was wet, and not just with sweat. The sleeve  was soaked, and she seemed to have something lodged in her shirt. Water was all over the floor of the kitchen. Laurie did not remember spilling any water, but she had been so thirsty she could not be totally certain. She unbuttoned her shirt and removed it, and uttered a terrified scream as she revealed the source of her arm's discomfort.

Growing directly out of her arm sat what looked like a small fire hydrant. It was about two inches tall, but flexed, as a large skin tag or mole might. It was spewing water out of it's little top, like she had often seen on TV, usually accompanied by children frolicking. Laurie did not feel like frolicking. Instead, she fainted.

Writing Prompt #2: The Castle

Prompt taken from Prompt Generator

Today's Prompt:
"One morning you look out the window and discovers that a huge castle has appeared overnight. Write what happens next."

The sound of the phone ringing startled me from my sleep. It was still dark outside, and I glanced at the clock. It was 4:30 in the morning. Who could be calling that early? Concerned, I grabbed my robe from the hanger and pulled it on as I stumbled out to get the phone. My husband lie snoring beside me. He was a heavy sleeper- one of those people who you joke would sleep through a nuclear war. I almost believe he really would.

I got to the phone on it's fourth ring. The sound was shrill in the dark, sleeping house. I picked it up, worried about who was hurt. "Hello?" I said.

There was no answer, but whoever was on the other end had not hung up. I could hear a strange clanging sound, and a deep buzzing in the line. "Hello? Is there anyone there? I think we have a bad connection."

The sound on the other end shuffled, like someone was picking the phone up from a table and almost dropping it. A voice came over the line, a deep bass that almost sounded like a growl. "Is this Elena?" it said. The voice startled me.

"N..no.." I stammered out. The line on the other end went dead.

A wrong number. Probably some drugged out person by the sounds of it. In any event, I was awake, now. There was no way I'd be able to get back to sleep after that. I shuffled back to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Upstairs I could hear the dog whining, so I went upstairs and let him out of my son's room. Once downstairs, I grabbed a cup of coffee from the still gurgling coffeepot, slipped on my slippers, and ushered the dog outside for his morning potty.

Tah-Dah

I made a new blog. One designed simply for my simple writing. None of my projects will be done here. I have Thaydra.com for that, although, you can't read them there either, because I keep them hidden. Bwahahahaha! I'm mean that way, though I let a little out here and there. Of course, I need to actually write if I'm ever going to share any of it with anyone... but that is another blog post.