Welcome back for week 20 of Finish That Thought! 20 weeks already! Where did the time go? I like nice, round, even numbers (sometimes), so HUZZAH! Thanks for participating! You all rock! Now go write!
NaNoers: By the end of this flash contest, you should have 31,666 words on your NaNoWriMo Novel to be 'on track'. (Ugh! I'm around 22,000! 10K behind?!?!?!) No matter where you are in relation to that number, KEEP GOING! Every word written is a word you didn't have before! Feel free to use this prompt in your WIP, or take a break and jot off a quick flash piece to rest your brain from the story...whatever will help most. Write on!
If you need to read the full version of the rules, go here. Otherwise, here's the short version:
Rules:
1. Up to 500 words
2. Keep it clean (nothing rated R or above)
3. Start with the given first sentence.
4. Optional Special Challenge
5. Include Twitter/email, word count, Special Challenge accepted
6. The challenge is open for 24 hours on Tuesday EST
Oh, and feel free to change pronouns, punctuation, tense, and anything in brackets to fit the story/pov/tone. I'm not going to be TOO picky... Our judge however...
Our Judge today is Mark Ethridge also known as @lurchmunster. Check out his blog here. Read his winning tale from last week here!
Your first sentence for FINISH THAT THOUGHT #20 is:
Daddy, why is the snow red?
Your SPECIAL CHALLENGE from the judge is:
Use the word: rust
AAAAAAAND WE'RE OFF!!!
Lack Of Direction, by Tinman
ReplyDelete67 words
eMail Tinman18@live.ie
Challenge accepted
“Daddy, why is the snow red?”
Her Daddy looked down at her, ruffled her rust-coloured hair, and put a comforting arm around her.
“Well, Honey,” he said gently, “A Sat Nav is great for telling you which turn to take off a roundabout, but it turns out that it’s not so good at telling a man on a sleigh that there’s a telegraph-pole in front of him.”
o,o There's no way I can top that. Hilarious! I love it. hehehehe
Deletehahahahaha!
ReplyDeleteA Study in Red
ReplyDelete@CharlesWShort (charleswshort.com)
496 Words
Special Challenge Accepted
“Daddy, why is the snow red.”
Tim glanced back to see his daughter unbuckled and standing on the car seat with her face plastered to the window. He pulled over, went around and started the giggly wrestling match of putting her back into her car seat.
“The snow is red because the snow plow also threw off a layer of the Colorado red clay when it cleared the road.” The rest of the wrestling match was filled with admonitions against unlatching the belt and a discussion of the difference between good girls and bad girls.
After they got moving again there was a brief period of silence before Gloria asked, “Daddy, why is the ground red in Colorado?”
Tim glanced back and was relieved to see she was still in her seat. “Because there is a lot of iron content in the soil, it turns everything red.”
“Why does iron turn everything red?” Gloria persisted, but Tim didn’t mind. The distraction would keep her in the all-important car seat.
“Iron turns to rust and the color of rust is red.” Tim could see her concentrating on this answer. Then she raised her head for another look. When she couldn’t see out she began unbuckling the harness to her car seat.
Again he stopped and Gloria back into her restraints. Just recently Gloria learned how to unbuckle herself. The very first time it happened she stood on the car seat, waving furiously at the Highway Patrolman behind them. Tim explained it had never happened before. He still got a ticket.
After they were moving Gloria asked, “So is there iron in a sunset?”
“No, the sun paints the sky red at night.” Tim double checked to see if Gloria was still in the car seat.
That first ticket was closely followed by a second. The same patrolman saw Gloria using the seat springs as a trampoline. Just yesterday Tim had appeared before the judge, who doubled the fines and gave stern warnings it must not happen again.
So Tim was watching Gloria in the rear view mirror as they approached town. Approaching the first stoplight he saw to his dismay he would be pulling in behind that same patrolmen. In the rearview mirror he saw Gloria fingering the first latch.
He began pleading with her and watching the mirror more closely. “Please Gloria” He knew he sounded desperate, but he didn’t care. He tried to reach back and move her hand away. Nothing was working.
Suddenly it occurred to him he was moving toward stopped traffic. He snapped his face forward, and jammed the brakes. He heard the rush of locked tires on the town pavement, then he heard the two cars bumping together.
The patrolmen only looked a little disheveled as the got out of the car, Tim figured he looked about the same. Before the patrolman spoke Gloria piped up from the back seat, “Daddy is he made of iron, ‘cause his face is red.”
First Snow
ReplyDelete497 Words, penname24@gmail.com
“Daddy, why is the snow red?”
“It's not, Kalie. Snow is white.”
“Oh, yeah. Why is it white?” She looked up at him through the rear view mirror from the backseat.
“Umm.” He didn't really know the answer, but he could probably fake his way through it. It had been a long car ride, though. He sighed. “I don't know. It just is.”
“Mommy, when we get there, are we going to sleep in a hotel room?”
“Yes,” her mother replied.
“In the same room?”
“Yes.”
“With the little soaps in the wrapping paper?”
“Yes, we'll let you unwrap them all yourself.”
Kalie settled back. Her five year old mind unwrapped package after package of white hotel soap and mentally stacked them in neat rows. A thought struck her.
“Mommy, can you shred soap?”
“What?”
“With our cheese shredder? Can you shred soap with it too?”
“Well, I guess. You COULD. But it probably isn't a good idea.”
Twirling her brown hair in her fingers, imaginary soap flakes floated from the mouth of an fanciful cheese grater, fancier than the one they had at home. Kalie changed her mind and switched to the smaller grade on the opposite side creating tiny soap dust particles that piled in bunches. She ran her fingers through their airy softness and tried stepping barefoot on them.
She knew it wouldn't be the same.
“Kalie, quick, look out the window,” her mother exclaimed. “Oh, it's just beautiful.”
Huge, fluffy, wet snowflakes were raining down and beginning to clump in evergreen boughs and along the road.
Her mother nearly swooned, “Bill, it's been so long since I've seen snow. Why have we waited to come back up here?”
Kalie sat transfixed, gazing at her first snowfall. It was heavy and picturesque, something from an Ansel Adams. She did not return to her fantasies for the rest of the car ride through the mountain valley.
“We're almost to the hotel,” Bill announced.
“Oh, let's stop first, here where the snow is so thick and beautiful in the pines. For Kalie's first snow.”
As the car ground the gravel on the side of the road, Kalie unloosed her seat belt. She pried her door handle as they stopped, and stepped outside.
It was cold, but not too cold, and the snow crunched and compacted beneath her feet, not at all what she had imagined. And it was silent. Even here, next to the road, it was so quiet.
But here, in the snow, small marks pocked the clean surface. “Dad?”
“I don't know, Kal. A deer's footprints, maybe?” So soon, on a freshly fallen bed, was odd.
Lan, thin-legged, tall and straight, listened behind the first line of trees. The snow slipped off his metal body and did not affect his senses. As Kalie walked toward the forest, Lan crouched, prepped and ready for his first human-snatch.
“Daddy, why is the snow red?” Lannie almost jerked my arm out of its socket when she stopped. I really hadn’t been paying much attention to her, other than making sure her hand didn’t slip out of mine. We were running late for the party at my boss’ house, and it had been one of those days where everything had taken twice as long as it should have. Four year olds were prone to those days. I’d been fairly dragging her through the snow – ankle-deep on me, it was nearly up to her knees, and she just wanted to play snow fairy. I hadn’t planned on bringing her to the party – it wasn’t that kind of event – but my wife had been called in for an extra shift at work, and I’d judged the awkwardness of bringing a child to an adult’s party would be less than that of missing the event, not when I was angling for a promotion.
ReplyDeleteI didn’t even turn my head in the direction she was pointing, but just tugged on her arm a bit harder, knocking her off balance. “It’s just a Christmas light shining through the snow, honey. Now, c’mon, we have to go. We’re already late.”
“No, daddy, it’s not. I know what that looks like!” Insulting a four-year-old’s intelligence was not a good idea, at least not this particular one. She didn’t know many things, but what she knew, she knew. I didn’t want to have to drag her the entire last block to the party. Bringing a toddler to this event would be one thing, bringing a snow-covered toddler screaming bloody murder would be another. I took a deep breath and tried to summon as much calm as I could into my voice.
“Show me, honey.”
“There, daddy! On that big house!” Lannie’s little mittens were aimed straight at my boss’ house, and when I finally looked, I felt a stab of fear in my gut. This wasn’t some tame glow through a coating of snow; all of the snow on his lawn was a deep red. And it wasn’t just the snow on the ground - the flakes falling from the sky were the same shade of scarlet, piling up in drifts that were already yards deep. His neighbor’s yards looked normal, but Mr. Thompson’s house was encircled by what looked like the spoor of Hell.
Tearing my eyes away from the sight in front of me, I looked down at Lannie, now as subdued as she’d been all night. But she was reacting more to the look on my face than the red snow itself. Kids look to adults to interpret the unknown, and at her age, there were lots of unknowns. Trying to steady my voice, I smiled down at her, hoping it didn’t look as creepy as I felt. “It’s a party, sweetie. Mr. Thompson has decorated the snow for the party. C’mon. Let’s go see what else he has in store!”
I really needed that promotion.
500 words
@drmagoo
“Daddy, why is the snow red?” Lannie almost jerked my arm out of its socket when she stopped. I really hadn’t been paying much attention to her, other than making sure her hand didn’t slip out of mine. We were running late for the party at my boss’ house, and it had been one of those days where everything had taken twice as long as it should have. Four year olds were prone to those days. I’d been fairly dragging her through the snow – ankle-deep on me, it was nearly up to her knees, and she just wanted to play snow fairy. I hadn’t planned on bringing her to the party – it wasn’t that kind of event – but my wife had been called in for an extra shift at work, and I’d judged the awkwardness of bringing a child to an adult’s party would be less than that of missing the event, not when I was angling for a promotion.
ReplyDeleteI didn’t even turn my head in the direction she was pointing, but just tugged on her arm a bit harder, knocking her off balance. “It’s just a Christmas light shining through the snow, honey. Now, c’mon, we have to go. We’re already late.”
“No, daddy, it’s not. I know what that looks like!” Insulting a four-year-old’s intelligence was not a good idea, at least not this particular one. She didn’t know many things, but what she knew, she knew. I didn’t want to have to drag her the entire last block to the party. Bringing a toddler to this event would be one thing, bringing a snow-covered toddler screaming bloody murder would be another. I took a deep breath and tried to summon as much calm as I could into my voice.
“Show me, honey.”
“There, daddy! On that big house!” Lannie’s little mittens were aimed straight at my boss’ house, and when I finally looked, I felt a stab of fear in my gut. This wasn’t some tame glow through a coating of snow; all of the snow on his lawn was a deep red. And it wasn’t just the snow on the ground - the flakes falling from the sky were the same shade of scarlet, piling up in drifts that were already yards deep. His neighbor’s yards looked normal, but Mr. Thompson’s house was encircled by what looked like the spoor of Hell.
Tearing my eyes away from the sight in front of me, I looked down at Lannie, now as subdued as she’d been all night. But she was reacting more to the look on my face than the red snow itself. Kids look to adults to interpret the unknown, and at her age, there were lots of unknowns. Trying to steady my voice, I smiled down at her, hoping it didn’t look as creepy as I felt. “It’s a party, sweetie. Mr. Thompson has decorated the snow for the party. C’mon. Let’s go see what else he has in store!”
I really needed that promotion.
500 words
@drmagoo
RED
ReplyDelete“‘Daddy, why is the snow red? Daddy, why is the rain red? Daddy, why do we always run inside when the clouds come?’ It never ends.”
“I know. I know. He asks me too. Especially about the snow. But come on. Even after five years, I’m not used to it myself. You can hardly blame him.”
“But why does *he* ask? Surely he doesn’t remember. He’s too young.”
“Babies notice things. He might remember, somewhere deep inside.”
“Huh. He can’t remember to tie his shoes. You think he’s going to remember a thing like that?”
“This is different, and you know it.”
“Not to a kid. One tragedy’s the same as another. A splinter, a math test, cleaning your room.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“Why not? The tears fall as easily. They’re gone as fast, too.”
“You don’t remember your own childhood that way.”
“My childhood was a picnic. The worst thing that ever happened to me was getting lost at the supermarket once. And I was, what, two? Three? Look at me—all roses now.”
“Thirty-five years ago, and you remember it clear as day.”
“My point was life goes on.”
“Thirty-five years, and you’re still marked by it. That proves MY point, not yours.”
“We’re supposed to be talking about our son and his obsession with the snow.”
“We are talking about him.”
“Are you going all literary on me again? Here in the real world you’d started to fixate on the Dark Ages of my past, when we’ve got a more pressing problem.”
“Fine. You want me to tell him? Is that what you’re saying?”
“He’s got to be told at some point, and you’re his mother. He might accept it better, coming from you.”
“Coward.”
“Take that back!”
“No. You are a coward, and I’ll keep saying it until you act like a man and talk to your son.”
“TAKE THAT BACK.”
“Or what? You think they can’t double the curse? Triple it?”
“DON’T YOU DARE—”
“No. Don’t *you* dare. Enough blood has flowed in our streets to last a thousand years. You don’t get to threaten me. And you don’t get to be a coward.”
“I—”
“Look, here he comes now. You go talk to him. You fling open those doors and you tell him, you miserable, accursed, murderous wretch, just why the gods make our snow red.”
395 words
@postupak