Thought I’d throw up a few Christmas-y/Winter-y type images for everyone, to get you in the spirit o’ the season. As always, if you find some inspiration here and post your creative genius on your blog, please come back and leave me a linky…I’d love to read what you come up with! Enjoy…and Happy Holidays!
Ornament
Red Bow
Snowy Scene
Angel
Ooh, shiny stuff!
I’m not sure what breed this beautiful, blue-eyed dog is, but he/she is your writing challenge this week. Is that a look of loyal love in those eyes? Or a warning of imminent attack? It it real? Or a Robodog?
I purchased this photo from an online photo store. If you use it on your own site, please credit me as the source. Also, if this lovely pup inspires you to a work of poetry or fiction, please make sure you come back here and let me know. I’d love to read your masterpiece.
Okay, folks… here is the new prompt this week. It’s a photo prompt of a rabbit in a cage.
Look at that eye! No wonder it’s in a cage.
It wants your soul.
Or at least your story.
I got the image from Fotolia, where I have an account. If you use the image on your own site, please credit Fotilia for it. And as always, if you write and post a story based on it, please come and leave me a link so I can read it.
Have fun!
Image Courtesy of Fotolia
"What is lovely never dies, But passes into other loveliness." Thomas Bailey Aldrich
My Twitter friend, Janet Lingel-Aldrich wrote an endearing story over at her blog, De Mon Esprit, about Missy and her cat Doodlebug. You can read “Homecoming” here: http://wp.me/p12iGi-7a
In our lives, we are blessed with the warmth and love we receive from family. When a family member passes away, our lives are disrupted. A hole forms in our hearts that memories try to fill, but never can. Sometimes our family members are four-legged and furry. I was blessed with just such a relationship with Missy, a gentle-hearted calico. This is our story.
The first time they saw each other, it was love.
Missy had been living with the family named Saucido: Star, Star’s boyfriend, her two rambunctious pre-adolescent girls, and the family dog, Spaz, a black labrador retriever who was just as mental as his name.
Mary had just returned to Florida in the wake of two disastrous relocation attempts: first to Massachusetts, then Ohio, during the emotionally numbing second year following the death of her husband. Most of her friends started avoiding her because they didn’t know how to deal with her continuing grief. Star, however, remained a close and comforting friend, and offered her a place to live if she came back, until she could get on her feet. Mary gratefully accepted the offer.
Mary, though friendly enough, did not care for close attachments. Her wounds ran too deep for that.
Missy, meanwhile, had never met a human (or other beast) that she liked. The kids were always pestering her, Star and the boyfriend were always yelling at her, and the dog was just a pain in the ass. She tore the fur on her hind legs and belly out in frustration.
Just a few weeks after Mary moved in, the calico cat began waiting by Mary’s bedroom door for her to come home from work. When Mary got home, Missy would follow her into the bedroom and stay with her until night-time when Star’s boyfriend would lock Missy in a spare room to keep her from fighting with the dog in the middle of the night.
Eventually, Mary moved into her own home, and Missy went with her.
Within a few months, all of her fur grew back; she became playful and more affectionate. Mary’s grief for her deceased husband grew less difficult to bear. In Missy, she’d found a friend and a healing balm to soothe her aching heart.
For years they were content, just the two of them.
Until old age and infection set in.
The night before their love story came to a close, Missy lay in Mary’s arms struggling for every breath. The antibiotic had not brought the prayed-for return to health and she was suffering. But the old cat did not want to leave her dear friend, and she fought hard against the heavy, dark tide that oppressed her.
The next day, tears streaming down her face, Mary held Missy for the last time and hoped that they would meet again someday.
“I’m going to miss you, my sweet girl,” Mary sobbed. “Goodbye.”
Mary left the vet hospital and went home to an empty house, an empty life, and an empty heart. She wondered if another friend would come along someday and fill the aching void. She wondered if she could allow herself to risk that terrible pain of parting. She wondered “Is there a balm to heal my soul again?”
Missy BratCat Necronomicat ? - 2/12/2011 Rest In Peace, baby.
I wanted to do this post sooner, but I’m still processing my grief from the recent passing of my long-time four-legged companion, Missy the BratCat.
I’m super, super psyched that the day of the book launch for “Nothing But Flowers” has finally arrived and I’m looking forward to my story being posted at 12 pm today.
I hope everyone enjoys reading “Sophie Solitaire: Confessions of an End Time Girl.” I’ve had a wonderful time reading everyone’s stories so far. There are some stellar stories in this collection, and I’m happy to see so many of my Friday Flash compadres in there.
You can read the stories (for a limited time) online at the website: Literary Mix Tapes.
The project is the brain-child of Jodi Cleghorn, and is based on the song by The Talking Heads. Proceeds from the sales of this book will go to the Grantham Flood Support in Australia, to help victims of the recent flooding there.
You can also “like” the Facebook page for a chance to win copies of the eBook and paperback.
Happy Valentines Day, everyone, and Happy “Nothing But Flowers” day!
Just a quickie little post to say: “I ‘aint dead.” Although I feel like it. Two Gordon classes this term, a sick cat, and two intense short story edits have just about worn me out!
More about that:
I just submitted the revised version of my story, Sophie Solitaire: Confessions of an End-Times Girl, to eMergent Publishing for their post-apocalyptic love story anthology Nothing But Flowers. Proceeds from the sale of this soon-to-be released collection will go to benefit the flood victims in Queensland, Australia.
My short story “Crunch Time” in which I explore the madness that is Twitter and teenage boys, has made it to the second round of the Zombie Survival Crew anthology contest.
Margie sighed and looked at her watch yet again.
The paperwork work was almost logged in, then she could leave for the Christmas break. She’d be spending the holiday alone again, just as she’d spent every Christmas for the past three years since the divorce. She’d thought she’d moved just to be in a different state than Brad, trouble was she was also in a different state than her parents and money was too tight to travel this year.
She looked at the last weekly visitation report and the name caught her eye. Buddy. Someone had come to see Buddy on Monday but they’d not been back. Poor Buddy. He’d been here so long. Always friends, never family. She wished someone would care enough to commit. If something didn’t happen for him soon…she pushed that thought away. It wasn’t her problem.
She logged in the last of the reports, the successful match-ups (it was always good to end the day on a positive note), then logged off her computer and stood up.
She went to grab her coat and looked at the door that would take her down that narrow hallway: the faces and eyes so solemn, sad, and longing. She couldn’t put herself through that. She put on her coat and exited out the back door and walked the distance around the building to her car.
She was halfway home to her rented house in the suburbs (she’d worked her behind off to be able to afford it and she was delighted with it, especially the big back yard) when she looked at the gas gauge and realized she needed to fuel up. She stopped at the next station she came to and climbed out to pump gas.
A sudden loud noise disturbed her and she jumped, looking over at the SUV gassing up next to her. The head and shoulders of a Boxer leaned forward out of a half-open backseat window, tongue lolling out of it’s mouth.
“There, Buddy-boy, good boy,” called his owner, strolling over to pat him on the head.
Margie finished pumping and got back in her car. Her hands were shaking and tears were running down her cheeks.
She put the car in drive and left the station, heading back in the direction she’d come.
She arrived at St. Francis’s still trembling, her fingers barely able to work the keys. She flung open the door of the shelter and ran inside. She ran all the way to the kennels. She ran down the kennel hallway to the sound of thirty or more barking dogs, and stopped at the cage of the only dog who wasn’t barking.
The Boxer-mix sat with his nose pressed up against the cage, looking at her as if to say “About time!’
Margie knelt and unlocked the door and the dog calmly walked out, tail wagging.
“Merry Christmas to both of us! You’re coming home with me,” Margie said.
Buddy placed his forepaws on Margie’s knees and licked the salty tears from her cheeks.
He was going home at last!
Please remember our littlest and loneliest friends. Animal shelters are always in need of the support of kind donors. And if you can, please consider adding a special “Buddy’” (canine or feline, bird or bunny) to your family. Happy Holidays!
