INTO THE HANDS OF GOD...

 

Stacey took a moment to study the tracks cutting through the fresh snow leading to the church. It stopped snowing overnight but even the bone chilling cold didn't prevent some kids from racing through the parking lot on their way to school.

Nobody in their right mind would be out in the cold like this. And maybe that was exactly what was wrong with her. She wasn't in her right mind. But what else could she do? Bad luck and bad decisions took what little hope she had left and now all she could think of was Toby's future.

Just thinking of her son seemed to waken the sleeping infant in her arms and Toby sleepily began to snuffle and nudge Stacey as he went in search of a meal. Not now, little one, Stacey thought as she murmured a soft lullaby and rocked him back into slumber.

Wrapping the thin blanket more tightly around her son, Stacey trudged the rest of the way to the church doors. What choice did she have? No money, no job, not even a family to turn to. Only the cold and hunger to keep her company and certainly not the life she envisioned for little Toby.

Pushing the heavy oak door open, a blast of warm air rushed out to meet her as she quickly stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her. Stacey knew Pastor Evans usually made his rounds at the hospital right about this time so no one would be there to watch her as she quickly made her way up the aisle. 

No time to wonder if she was doing the right thing. It was now or never and she was afraid her courage would leave her if she didn't do it right away. Salty tears mixed with sweet kisses as Stacy drank in the smell of freshly washed skin and baby powder. Would she ever be able to breath again once she left this place? She didn't think so, but Stacey gave Toby one last kiss before laying the still sleeping infant on the alter.

Into the hands of God. Into a life far richer in things than she could ever give him. 

 

Stacey stumbled through the doorway and out into the bitter cold, stuffing her worn scarf into her mouth to stifle the sound of deep sobs beginning to curl around in the pit of her stomach before melting onto the snow  beneath her thin slippers. Knowing what had to be done didn't make it any easier. People around town would think her heartless for abandoning her child and in a small way they would be right.

Her son wasn't the only thing she left at the alter. The aching hole in her chest would forever remind her of that...

PICTURE PROMPT: Beyond Ice & Snow

Dan wished he could think of a stronger word. The word cold just seemed so small to describe the bone-deep ache he felt from the icy blast of wind whipping across his face. Feeling had left his extremities long ago and only the desire to live kept him dragging one foot in front of the other through the deep drifts of snow. He could barely make out the entrance to the temple just ahead of him. 

Sanctuary.

The elders of the village told the legend of this place like it was heaven on earth. The end to all the misery one could find in this world and a chance at a new start in the next. It's what drove Dan to travel half way around the globe in search of this place. Weeks of hacking through jungle and now almost buried in snow. Nothing was going to stop him from reaching that door now. Not even the fact his guide succumbed to the cold last night. One final mumbled warning about some kind of price to pay for sitting at the feet of the gods and he was gone.

Dan had no idea what the guide was talking about but it didn't matter now. He finally reached the corridor leading to the temple door and peace waited for him on the other side. It took him three tries but he summoned the strength to bang on the door before slumping to the ground in exhaustion.

Warmth and light  raced out into the bitter cold as the door slowly creaked open. This is it, thought Dan, as he looked up into the face of his rescuer. The last thing he heard was the echoes of his screams as the creature reached out bloody claws towards him...

Flash Fiction Friday

The Visitor

by Donna L Martin

Sadie sighed as she grabbed the broom from the corner and began to sweep the hard-packed dirt floor.  Dust bunnies danced in the light peeking through the cabin's log wall.  Every so often she heard the soft chirping of the crickets from outside the open window.

Sadie sighed again.  Oh how she wanted to go to the fort with the others.  Molly hadn't been feeling well though and Ma told her to stay behind with the baby.  Why did she have to be the oldest?  Ma was always making her look after the younger ones ever since they moved to the new territory last summer.  If she was younger like Zeke or Abby she wouldn't be stuck in this stuffy cabin with nothing but chores and a fussy baby for company.

She had been lost in thought when a strange sound made her tense in surprise.  Pa had warned her about Indian attacks but he told her they were too close to the fort to worry about such a thing happening to them. No Indian was crazy enough to attack a settler this close to the soldiers.

Sadie glanced nervously at the cabin door and the wooden slat leaning on the wall beside it. Maybe I should lock the door, Sadie thought as she heard the strange sound again. This time it was much closer. Dropping the  broom, Sadie moved quickly to the door but it was too late.  Her eyes grew wide in fear as the door slowly creaked open...

***Okay, it's your turn!  Have the others come home?  Is it an Indian attack?  Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph.  Continue my story or start one of your own.  Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

Flash Fiction Friday

(I'm thinking about making this a short story.  What do you think?  Should I go for it? ;~)

The Box

by Donna L Martin

Fifteen steps north from old man Barner's shed is an almost unseen path leading into the woods.  I never would have noticed it if I hadn't seen the X on the map.  Patting my pocket to make sure the map was still there, I stepped onto the path and followed it deeper through the trees.  Before he died, the old man told me about a box buried deep in the woods.  "Keep it safe and guard its secret," he whispered and then he was gone.  

Why me?  I was just someone who stopped by every month for the past five years to deliver his medicine.  But it was this last visit when he decided to show me the tattered map.  I could tell he didn't have much time left.  Muttering, sometimes incoherently, old man Barner told me the tale of the Vespars.  An ancient tribe who used to live in these woods and guarded the magic they found there.  I had a hard time believing what the old man was saying.  But when he became agitated at the thought of this mysterious box being discovered by just anyone walking through the woods, I promised I would recover it.

Dried leaves crunched beneath my shoes and sunlight filtered through the tightly woven trees as I counted out the paces until I came across the large bolder shown on the map.  Barner said the box was three feet down and the smell of rotting vegetation filled my nostrils as my shovel bit into the dirt.  I wasn't even sure why I was here.  It's not like I believed the old man's story.  It's not like I believed in ancient tribes and magic.  And then all I could hear was the sound of the shovel hitting something hard. Could old man Barner be telling the truth?

***Okay, it's your turn!  What's in the box?  Are the Vespars real? Have they returned?  Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph.  Continue my story or start one of your own.  Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

Flash Fiction Friday

Stuck In A Tunnel

by Donna L Martin

Light was beginning to filter through the treetops  as Willie sniffed the ground by the old oak tree.  Standing strong for years, the decaying trunk now nestled into the dirt and was home for Willie's favorite early morning meal.  Turning his head to one side to stare at the tree, Willie thought about how he could get to the tasty larvae buried deep in the hollowed out tunnel.

"Just enough room for my head" said Willie. "Breakfast is almost here."

Scratching his tusks on the rough bark, Willie pushed his head further and further into the opening until he could almost reach the grubs.

"Just a little more," said Willie.

Stretching out his tongue, Willie wrapped it around a couple of grubs and began backing out of the tunnel.  Oh no! He was stuck! No matter how much he twisted and turned, poor Willie was stuck in the tunnel of the tree and couldn't get out!

"What am I going to do?" thought Willie. "How am I going to get out of here?"

Just then he felt a little tap, tap, tapping on his back.  Who could it be?

***Okay, it's your turn!  What happens next?  How does Willie get free?  And who is tap, tap, tapping?  Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph.  Continue my story or start one of your own.  Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

Don't Come Too Close

I'm sorry everyone...I really tried to pull together my Flash Fiction Friday post, but I have been fighting an ear infection, strep throat, and bronchitis since last week.  I'm on my second round of antibiotics and can't get my fever to break.  I'm not usually a whiner and even thought about trying to come up with a story about  someone getting sick but between the sneezing, Kleenex grabbing and hacking cough, I can barely see the screen...uuggghhh...

I ask your forgiveness and promise to do better next week.  For now...I'm grabbing a bottle of NyQuil, my teddy bear, and crawling into bed...here's hoping I can get some sleep...

Rolling Out The Red Carpet

I wanted to hop on the blog this morning and talk about all the lovely things I am working on in the upcoming year for my faithful readers.  I was eager to roll out the red carpet and run through the streets shouting "I'm back...I'm back...uhhhh...anyone still out there?  I'm BAAAACCCCKKK!!!"

I've missed my blogging friends.  I've missed working on my posts but I was forced to take an unexpected break from blogging during the month of November.  Fortunately the issues I was dealing with have been addressed with a new lifestyle initiated and thankfully I'm back to something I love doing.  My goal was to spend this first year in the blogosphere posting at least one message per day for a total of 365 blog posts.  My one year blog anniversary is coming up on Dec 6th and my Wednesday post will be shining a spotlight on how my first year ended up.  Some goals were met, others almost, and still more yet to be determined but all in all a wonderful start to my new writing career as you will see when hopefully you come back later this week to read all the juicy details.

Now for a teaser about what the new year has in store for my blog.  2013 will bring with it a new posting schedule, a new writers series, and a new invitation for my readers to join in the fun. 

In order to best  serve both this blog and my commitment to creating the best stories I can, I will settle into a Monday, Wednesday, Friday blogging schedule which will leave me time to also focus on polishing stories I have begun this past year.   I need time to complete my YA mystery, Lacey's Bridge, and my YA fantasy, Lunadar: Homeward Bound, while finishing the revisions to my chapter book, The Warriors Three, and a host of other picture book stories in various stages.

On Mondays my readers will find the types of motivational posts I have always tried to provide.  Wednesdays, starting in January, will showcase a new series called WRITERLY WISDOM where guest authors and established writers will address a number of topics covering the many different areas of the writing process.  My wish for this series is for it to become a type of "how-to" resource for newer writers, as well as readers who want to have a better understanding of the hard work and effort going into those wonderful stories we find on the bookshelves every day.  Fridays will be FLASH FICTION with a twist.   I will put up a picture prompt and begin a flash fiction story, but I'm hoping readers will join in the fun and add to the story...whether just a sentence or another paragraph.  I think it will be exciting to see just what we can create together!

There you have it...a look into the future of this blog and I hope you are as excited about the new year as I am!  I will be talking more about my WRITERLY WISDOM series in the coming weeks and will let you know the names of the guest bloggers as well as some of the topics that will be covered.  

Thank you to all my faithful followers who chose to stick around while I got my life back on track.  You will never know how much your love and support means to me.  I can only hope and pray that one day I will be able to somehow return the favor.  Until then, let's raise a glass and toast to another great blogging year...

In A Flash (Fiction) It Was Gone...

I had a really tasty short story to share with you today.  One to give you the shivers and get you ready for Halloween. But something happened on the way to this post.  What should have been a spooky, chilly holiday tale, suddenly morphed into this wonderful picture book story and in a flash, my flash fiction today was gone like a gourmet cookie and all that was left was a hint of what might have been...

That's one of the things I like about writing  The freedom to twist and turn your words into something different than what you originally envisioned.  A fleeting thought can become an idea which blossoms into a story which before you know it, becomes a five book series.  In real life, I'm an organized person who takes only calculated risks...never straying far from the path I planned out for my life.

In the world of my imagination...oh, that wonderfully twisty, turny, never-ending world in my mind...I am free to create whatever those unlimited boundaries will allow.  And so, when my flash fiction laughed at me, removed it's mask, and revealed it was a picture book manuscript I decided to go with it.  Instead of capturing one moment in time, I find I have stepped into yet another world of my own making and I will follow it wherever it might lead me.

But just in case you are wondering what you might be missing, here are the first couple of lines from what WAS going to be my flash fiction piece as well as the picture that inspired it...

Its dark and creepy, for just a little peeking,

As we sneak up to the gloomy ghoul hall.

While outside drooping, silently swooping,

Birds of the night will eerily call.

With eyes gleaming, glowing, and gnashing teeth showing

A scary scarecrow welcomes one and all.

A dark lumbering cloud drapes the moon like a shroud

Lightening our way to the gloomy ghoul ball.

Now, don't you wish it would have stayed a flash fiction piece so you know what happens next?  Just wait to you get the book...

On The Wrong Track

Stuart didn't know if it was the cold metal pressing against his back or the far off whistle of the train bringing him back to his senses.  His eyes were still closed against the light and he wanted to shake his head to clear the drugged cobwebs away, but it hurt too much to attempt it.  Was he near some train tracks?  Stuart opened his eyes just as another whistle echoed into the distance.  A sharp jolt of adrenaline shot through his body and Stuart's eyes widened as he realized he wasn't just near some railroad tracks but on them!

There wasn't time to wonder how he got there.  He could just make out the dark shape of the locomotive, it's headlight cutting through the early morning mist as he struggled against the ropes binding him to the steel tracks.  His eyes stung from sweat as corded muscles strained to break free.  Could that conductor see there was someone lying in the shadows on the tracks? Would he be able to stop the train in time?  Stuart wanted to scream but his throat constricted in terror.  Time seemed to slow down as he watched the oncoming train racing toward him.  

Another whistle pierced the air, much closer this time, and the tracks shook wildly beneath him as Stuart wondered if there would be pain or would he just suddenly cease to exist.  If only he had more time.  Time to hug his wife and young daughter once more.  Time to eat that juicy steak he wanted last night instead of settling for a salad.  Time to laugh and love and drink in all the life he can until he can hold no more.  If only he had more time.

What was the use of fighting the inevitable?  Stuart closed his eyes and said a prayer as the last screech of the train's whistle ran over him and then...nothing.  Nothing but the roaring clickety-clack of the cars rushing past him on the other track leading up the mountain.  It wasn't until the silence settled back into the valley that Stuart dared to open his eyes.  His body shook, not from the cool morning air, as his mind tried to grasp the fact he was still alive. Now if he could just figure out how to get free before the next whistle blew...

The Isles Of Avalon

I had seen her once before...the lady on the water...when I was but ten years old.  She came to me in a dream back then. I should have been afraid but her eyes were so kind and blue.  Blue like the water she walked on and with a warmth curling around my toes to move up my body until I was engulfed in it.  And when she whispered my name...Ariele...I knew she had known me from another place and time.  Oh, how I wanted to follow her back into that blue water but she said no...it wasn't my time yet.  She would return for me when I reached the age of reason.  She would come back and reveal to me the secrets I had long forgotten.

Now, eight years later, she had returned once more.  But this time she was as real to me as the water in which I stood. Spreading great white wings tipped with black, she rose above the water and beckoned me to follow her.  A great ship rose behind her and I could see the sails glowing as if on fire.  I turned to look once more into those warm blue eyes and as if she whispered into the wind, her voice echoed to me from across the water...

"Come to me, Ariele...it is time."

"But where are you taking me?"

"To the lands of your ancestors.  To the Isles of Avalon where you shall be reborn."

"Reborn?  But I...I don't understand..."

Her wings gently swooped down and folded snug against her body.  Glancing back at the ship before reaching for my hand, I found myself compelled to step deeper into the water as she replied, "Oh, but you will, my child...you will."

A Life Well Loved

She could still feel him in the air.  Sitting next to her on that worn out seat.  She could almost smell the sweet tobacco of his pipe.  How many years had they sat on that bench...holding hands, sharing a kiss, remembering the day he asked her to be his?  The bench was new then with a fresh coat of paint and nestled among the old oak trees in the corner of the back yard of a house they could finally call their own.  Oh how they had to scrimp and save those beginning years.  They would plan their future on that bench and it was there they figured out how to stretch those pennies to feed another mouth.

She drew her shawl across thin shoulders and smoothed the gnarled seat with a hand much the same.  So many plans, so many dreams over the years and so many secrets that bench was privy to.  Like the day she almost lost him to another.  She raced to the bench and let the tears soak into the wood.  How could she have missed the signs?  Oh how she hated those dark nights where voices raised in anger and tears fell like rain.  But somehow they made it through and their bond became stronger as they sat on that bench and watched their children grow.

Fifty years was a long time to share with that bench.  They even talked about replacing it once, but decided it would be like losing a member of the family.  And so they sat and grew old together.  Until one day they carried him away in the rain and her cries echoed through the home they had built together.  Now she sat on that bench just to catch a whiff of his pipe, to feel his spirit sitting next to her.  In those last months he kept reminding her that death is just another part of living.  She remembered him telling her just like that old bench, their love had followed the seasons and soon it would be time for another bench...and other lives...to take their place and dream the dreams to come.

To honor him, she sat on that bench and drank in the memories of a life well lived and a love shared with another.  He would wait for her, somewhere in the beyond, but these days it's just her and that bench.  And for now, that's enough...

The Box

Fifteen steps north from old man Barner's shed is an almost unseen path leading into the woods.  I never would have noticed it if I hadn't seen the X on the map.  Patting my pocket to make sure the map was still there, I stepped onto the path and followed it deeper through the trees.  Before he died, the old man told me about a box buried deep in the woods.  "Keep it safe and guard its secret," he whispered and then he was gone.  

Why me?  I was just someone who stopped by every month for the past five years to deliver his medicine.  But it was this last visit when he decided to show me the tattered map.  I could tell he didn't have much time left.  Muttering, sometimes incoherently, old man Barner told me the tale of the Vespars.  An ancient tribe who used to live in these woods and guarded the magic they found there.  I had a hard time believing what the old man was saying.  But when he became agitated at the thought of this mysterious box being discovered by just anyone walking through the woods, I promised I would recover it.

Dried leaves crunched beneath my shoes and sunlight filtered through the tightly woven trees as I counted out the paces until I came across the large bolder shown on the map.  Barner said the box was three feet down and the smell of rotting vegetation filled my nostrils as my shovel bit into the dirt.  I wasn't even sure why I was here.  It's not like I believed the old man's story.  It's not like I believed in ancient tribes and magic.  And then all I could hear was the sound of the shovel hitting something hard. Could old man Barner be telling the truth?

Beware The Gris Gris





Beware The Gris Gris

By:  Donna L Martin

Low hanging spanish moss made it difficult for the piroque to cut through the trees of the swamp.  The air is humid and smell of rotting vegetation.  Lee scratchs his arm where a mosquito bit him and he's glad he is up to date on his shots.  Swamp fever is a deadly thing to catch and can lay a man low for months even if he is lucky enough to survive the fevers.

The light is fading fast and there is just enough time to make it to the cabin before night.  Lee sure doesn't want to be on the water after dark.  He has heard the legends of the gris gris and he isn't taking any chances. 

Old man Boudreaux even saw it once; standing about seven feet tall and covered in grey moss.  A creature born of the swamps and known to tear a man limb from limb if he was dumb enough to be on the water after dark.  The old man was rushing to get home one hot summer night when he saw something move among the trees.  At first he thought it was just a gator; could even hear its deep croaking in the distance but this thing was too big to be a gator.  Rising out of the swamp, the creature quickly moved toward him and the old man almost had a heart attack when he realized he was looking into the evil eyes of the gris gris. 

Lee wipes the sweat from his brow and looks nervously around him.  He can almost make out the front porch of his cabin.  He just might make it home safely after all.  Old man Boudreaux was lucky that night he got caught in the swamp.  He made it out alive and days later was telling anyone who would listen about the swamp creature that almost got him. 

What is that?  A sound Lee has never heard before.  Almost like a low moan and getting louder.  The hair on the back of his neck rises as he realizes what is making that sound.  The last thing Lee remembers is the smell of death and the shock of the swamp water as the creature rises out of the deep and reaches for him...

This & That

LOVE AGAINST THE ODDS

(A Flash Fiction Challenge)

Labored breathing and the machine’s hum breaks the silence.  Breath for breath his matches hers as fingers entwine.  Lifetime of memories dance about the room; first kisses, that first secret touch, and a promise to love forever.  Then comes doubt, a misunderstanding and room for regret to linger between the then and now.  Years later, a chance meeting and a love reborn.  Now he wonders how he will live without her.  Can he live without her?  Breath for breath he matches hers, brushing hair from her eyes and breathes in her scent as he sits wrapped in her love. 

**********

There is no mistaking the dismay on the face of a writer who has just heard that his brain child is a deformed idiot.  - L. Sprague de Camp

I love being a writer. What I can't stand is the paperwork.  -Peter de Vries

Make everybody fall out of the plane first, and then explain who they were and why they were in the plane to begin with. - Nancy Ann Dibble

If it has horses and swords in it, it's a fantasy, unless it also has a rocketship in it, in which case it becomes science fiction. The only thing that'll turn a story with a rocketship in it back into fantasy is the Holy Grail. - Debra Doyle

If you start with a bang, you won't end with a whimper. - T. S. Eliot