Flash 500, Nicole Pyles, Carrie K Sorensen [have you read this book .TXT] 📗

staring out it; except for the shortening of the shadows. It hasn't changed much in the three months I've been working on my "break-out" novel. In fact, other than seasonal variations it hasn't changed that much since I moved here.

 

So then why do I continue focusing my attention through it rather than on my writing?

 

I tear myself away from the window under the pretense that I need to pull a file from the cabinet across the room. The micro-break from the view outside opens a crack in my creativity and the ideas begin to flow once again. Pirates. That's what every good book needs is a crew of scurvy pirates.

 

By the time I sit back down the ship of ill-mannered brutes has sailed away. My eyes creep towards the window view. I adjust my chair so that my back is directed toward the window as much as I can manage and still hope to write.

 

My fingers linger lightly on the keyboard. Then not so lightly. Within five minutes my arms are crossed over my chest and the faint sounds from outside beckon me. So I close my eyes.

 

The tree is there, on the back side of my eyelids; complete with last year's bird nest and the initials carved into its trunk. Just as I curse my decision to have selected a writing spot with a view the image changes. The tree takes on a ghostly aura. Shadows morph into menacing shapes that dance upon the ground contrary to the stillness of their owners. Through the window of my mind a story takes shape.

 

A broad smile spreads across my face. I have a winner.

 

 

About Randy Lindsay

 

Randy is a native of Arizona. In his spare time he likes to play games with his children, fish, and conduct family history research. His stories have been published in Gentle Strength Quarterly, The City of the Gods: Mythic Tales, and Penumbra. Two more have been purchased for publication this year; one for the second City of the Gods anthology and the other for the Once Upon An Apocalypse anthology by Chaosium.

 

http://randylindsay.blogspot.com/

Week of 6/6/2012

Week of 6/6/2012

 

Photo courtesy of QueenNaveen

 

 

Words Required

 

Manners

 

Pin

 

Chameleon

 

Thermometer

 

Birthday

 

 

 

 

Age is Just a Number by L.T. Dalin

 

I stared at the note in front of me, reading it twice. The pin he'd left on the letter was beautiful and felt smooth under my touch.

 

"It's worth the wait," he'd written, and added a poem below.

 

I was anxious to see him; this was my birthday and the only day I got my way with every decision. The one day we spent cuddled in bed all day, and all night.

 

This morning I'd woken up and he hadn't been there. I'd felt immediately disappointed, but his note had made me curious.

 

I got out of bed and into the shower. He'd placed a vase of fresh roses there. I inhaled their scent, marveling at the very thought of having such a man.

 

Once my hair was dry, I contemplated going back to bed. I wanted to rebel - I wanted it my way, but I had manners. He'd left me a note telling me to get dressed and meet him in the park. I would do that. It was fun. It was new.

 

The thermometer indicated it would be a very warm day, and rather than pants and blouse, I went for a dress. It had blue flowers on it, and I'd had it for years – but he loved it.

 

I turned and noticed a panty line. I smirked and removed them completely. He'd enjoy that.

 

I'd never felt my age, and as I entered the bus I blended in with the senior citizens just like a chameleon. I smiled again and remembered my secret naughty streak. The man with the sixpence in front of me would've had a heart attack had he known.

 

I got off the bus at the right stop and walked down the path into the park.

 

A pair of hands circled my waist as I walked past a tree, and a deep voice whispered into my ear. "Happy sixty-fifth birthday."

 

I smiled and leaned into his embrace.

 

"Happy fortieth anniversary," I replied.

 

It always fell on the same day, but this day was different.

 

He'd shown me I'd still gotten my way: I just hadn't known it was what I wanted.

 

That night when we got home, I had a new tan without any tan lines.

 

 

About L.T. Dalin

 

L.T. Dalin started writing at a young age. Her favorite thing to do when growing up was handing in essays. She learned a lot about writing, the art of writing and more importantly; how not to write, during her time studying Broadcast Journalism at University in England. She started writing seriously five years ago; four of those dedicated to her Fantasy Trilogy.

 

http://chessnysilth.blogspot.no/

 

 

 

 

I Hope it's Worth the Wait by Sydney Aaliyah

 

"I hope it's worth the wait." Emilynn said to John before he boarded the plane.

 

"It will be. Trust me." John gave her a kiss. It was an 'I am going out for milk' kiss, not an 'I will be in Africa for 6 months' kiss. This was all new for them.

 

When he first told her about his plan, she was supportive. She had to be. It was the first time he had actually had the courage to do what he wanted.

 

Emilynn and John had grown up together. They were elementary school sweethearts. As long as she had know John, he had always been concerned with what others thought.

 

His friends used to tease him because he was the first one to get serious about a girl. So, he would downplay their relationship in front of them. But, Emilynn knew the truth. John loved her since the second grade.

 

His mother thought he was too young to be so serious about a girl, so their plans to get married after high school were postponed. "What was the hurry anyway, right?" John said. "We will be together forever."

 

His dad wanted him be able to take care of himself before taking on a wife, so he enlisted in the army and the wedding was put off again.

 

It pained Emilynn to watch John change his own thoughts and beliefs much like a chameleon changed his colors to blend in with his environment. John just wanted to please everyone. He didn't want to stand out. He didn't want the people he cared most about to be disappointed in him.

 

That was why this news was such a shock to everyone. When he told his mom she went and got a thermometer to make sure he wasn't sick.

 

The pressure from his family and friends and probably a little from Emilynn had been building up for a while. The pressure finally forced John to take some time to decide what he really wanted for himself. Why that had to happen all the way in Africa, Emilynn wasn't quite sure. But, it was what John needed to do.

 

John had told Emilynn on her birthday. He was so excited. Emilynn couldn't help but be happy for him.

 

He had given her a pen. "What is this for?" Emilynn asked.

 

"Write me." He said. He thought he was being clever. They both loved the movie Say Anything, but John never did quite get the significance of why Diane gave Lloyd the pen.

 

She couldn't fault him, though. It would have been bad manners on her part. He was trying. And, she knew he needed this. So, she was going to be supportive and wait. Wait for him to come back as the man she knew he wanted to be and not the man that everyone expected him to be.

 

Emilynn had been waiting all her life for John. She was banking on the real him being worth the wait.

 

 

About Sydney Aaliyah

 

Sydney Aaliyah Michelle is a writer of fiction and a blogger of movie quotes, tattoo stories and stories about her life as a reformed ex pat trying to gain her traveling mojo back. She has lived and traveled to over 20 countries outside of the United States including a 5 1/2 year stint living in China. She has penned three novels, which range from New Adult to Women's Fiction.

 

Although, she has not been published, yet, as long as she is still pursuing her Happiness, Passion, Love and Faith, she will continue to enjoy the process.

 

Connect with Sydney on Twitter, Facebook and on her blog at sydneyaaliyah.com.

 

Twitter - https://twitter.com/sydliyah

Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/sydney.aaliyah

Blog - http://sydneyaaliyah.com

 

 

 

 

The Magic Pen by Yolanda Tong

 

It was the best birthday present she could have asked for, a seemingly magical pen from a great aunt from a rather curious shop in an old alleyway in the city. For the first time in her life she didn't have to write in code, mixing up letters and numbers in a form of jumbled nonsense that even she had difficulties interpreting later on.

 

All these years she had been frustrated at the lack of privacy she had endured, with each discovery of his secrets on her pages, a pillaging invasion of her inner world unfolded, the thermometer in the room would rise a couple of degrees as anger seethed heat from his pores. She would stand stark still in horror while he read each word out loud, then cornered her for more as he scrunched up the precious secrets with his calloused yellow fingers then cut up the crumpled pages with dirty scissors and threatened the same treatment to her wrists or neck next, anything to make it stop.

 

A volcano, that's what she felt like, all that hot lava swishing around inside, burning, spewing, bubbling, but she was never was the erupting type. She knew deep down anger was not the best way to deal with things, it was not the best approach, most especially with him. She had been taught manners, and how to be polite, like all good little girls are. So she folded her hands together, pressed her lips tight, fought back tears, and when he had exhausted himself in his cruel attempts at extracting more, she excused herself from the room.

 

The words flowed from the new pen, so fine, the letters entering the page as if she were writing from a pin. As the letters formed the ink turned as white as the page, the camouflaged words of a chameleon, that only she could see.

 

The pen flew faster and faster, the secret words had grown wings of a bluebird and moved with speed and grace across the lines in her notebook and melted into the white fluffy cloud coloured paper. She thought of flying and becoming one with those clouds, like the angels that she heard from above, but never actually saw, and only ever on cloudy days. She heard singing from above mixed with the gentle patter of rain, and knew that they were right, it was worth the wait.

 

 

About Yolanda Tong

 

Yolanda Tong is originally from Canada, but travelled extensively before finally settling in Melbourne, Australia at the base of the Dandenong mountains. She is inspired by nature, driven by emotion, and loves to write about all that is sensed but not seen.