Halloween in December

Here is the other great Halloween piece that disappeared into my pc infinity file in October of this year. No one knows how the computer chooses which files to snatch, sending a scream into the night. In October's Stuff and Nonsense contest, Candice Conner got her weird on and created this little piece, nothing short of Tim Burton's fantasies. Candice also won a free edit of the first ten pages of her current WIP from yours truly, which, hopefully, makes up for the Fleeing Files of Fall.

Put down your chocolate flavored liqueurs and slip into a little macabre on this bright December day.

Mahala 

A Cemetery for Strangers

                                  Candice Marley Conner

  

Olive is by herself at night in this cold place, but she doesn’t mind. The caring sort of grown-ups think she’s too little to be out here alone, but that’s just because they don’t understand where she came from. Olive knows she’s safer here.

There hasn’t been a home since her daddy died in a fishing accident off Dauphin Island; her mama now who-knows-where with who-knows-who.

In her experience, knowing folks got you hurt—and worse, killed. Just look at Mr. Frost and Mr. Boyington!

Maybe townspeople didn’t think too highly of them because of their card-playing ways, but they showed Olive kindness when they’d come here to pick blackberries or read poetry. Olive’s favorites were the poems by Mr. Poe though Mr. Frost thought her tastes a bit macabre.

 

She’d been asleep when Mr. Frost was stabbed. She inspected the scene the next morning after everyone left and stuck her finger in the pooled blood that dotted the blades of grass like morning dew.

And poor Mr. Boyington, lost his best friend and then accused of his murder!

Olive was there when they tried to hang him. She gave him a timid wave as he jumped, wide-eyed from the wooden scaffold. Olive was nearly trampled as the law scrambled to catch him, then dragged him kicking and screaming out his innocence until it echoed off the oak trees, knocking birds from their perches.

Between her fingers, Olive worried an acorn as she watched him, quick as a polecat on fire, duck the hangman’s noose. She bit into it at the exact moment when the law, giving up, tossed him head first off the platform. The crack of his neck echoed in her own head as the shell burst in her mouth. She spit it out in horror.

Now, she counts her acorns as she huddles in the shadows of a sun-warmed sepulcher. She hears footsteps approach, and counting on the charity of strangers, peeks out from around the stone.

Church Street Cemetery is quiet until the loud, haunting scream rings out near midnight .

Please give Candice and Judy feedback on their short, short stories. Authors love feedback. You know you do!

A Scary December

 As anyone who uses a computer knows, there is a hole - similar to the one in Judy Davies story below - but this one holds thousands of lost files. No one knows how the computer chooses which files to snatch, files that will never see the light of day or appear on the computer to which they were sent. And that's what happened in October. Two entries were sent to the October Stuff and Nonsense contest. Two entries that Terry Rozum's prompt stimulated. Two entries that didn’t pass go but went to the dead files hole. Both writers, Judy Davies and Candice Connor, won a free edit of the first ten pages of their current WIP from yours truly, which, hopefully, makes up for the Fleeing Files of Fall.

Today, you can switch gears from candy canes, eggnog, and the scent of pine and return to gingerbread, pumpkins, and the scent of decaying spirits in the night.  Mahala

 

A Night to Remember

 Judy Davies

            "Church Street cemetery was quiet until the loud, haunting scream rang out near midnight.” Well, of course, it was All Hallow's Eve. One should expect strange sounds tonight—or maybe not. After all, aren't cemeteries supposed to be quiet? Nonetheless, maybe we should just have a look around to make sure. Perhaps the scream didn't come from the cemetery. Maybe it came from someone in a passing car or from that creepy house up on the hill. I shuddered at the thought. That house had always given me the creeps, but tonight it looked especially ominous. 

            "Let's check it out, Sue," I whispered to my friend.

            "Are you kidding? One more scream like that and I'm outta here--short cut to your house or not."

            "Aw, there's nothing here but a lot of dead people buried in their caskets. They're not going to jump out at you. Quit worrying."

            Weaving our way through the front section of the cemetery, nothing seemed amiss and the scream had not recurred. 

            "See, I told you this short cut would save us time."

            Sue was convinced until she spotted an unexpected hole. No dirt piled around it, just a hole about the size that would neatly fit a casket. 

            We peeked in as we started to walk by.

            "See, just a hole," I started to say. That was until I realized there was already a large casket in it, lid open and several claw-like marks at the edge of the lid and on the ground above. 

            "See, ya!" exclaimed Sue, as she took off running.

            "Hey, wait up! Let me catch my breath," I puffed. "Man girl, you can haul butt. You should be on the track team."

            "I am," replied Sue flatly. "Now let's get out of here."

            We continued toward the back gate of the cemetery. At least I'd gotten Sue to slow to a moderately fast walk. Maybe the gravedigger was just checking to see if he'd left enough room for an oversize casket to fit; it was an early morning funeral and he wanted to be certain everything was ready on time. 

            So much for logic.

            Beside our path lay a chain with some keys attached and a slightly soiled white sheet, similar to something in which a body might be wrapped. Probably planted as a Halloween prank, I reasoned.

            Too late. Sue saw the sheet and was gone. "Meet you at the back gate," she called over her shoulder.

            I looked at my watch. It was the bewitching hour all right. What was I thinking? The caretaker always locked the back gate at 10 p.m., and the front gate locked automatically at midnight. The fence and gates around the cemetery were easily ten feet high. I guessed I'd better go back and get those keys. Hopefully, they would open the back gate. If not, it would be a very long night in a very quiet cemetery.

            I was sure Sue would be thrilled.                        

           

D. W. Hartford, MS Author

At the same time that I was posting that no one entered the September Stuff and Nonsense Contest, D. W. was emailing me his entries. Given that he sent two, and both make their points well, and given that he is the only one who submitted for the month of September, we are posting both of his pieces. Today is the first and on Friday, the second will be posted. Welcome to D. W. Hartford, our guest blogger for the day. Thank you for reminding me that a contest isn't over until the 12:00 a.m. on the last day.

D.W. lives and works in Biloxi, MS.  A lifelong educator with a variety of academic publications to his credit, he taught Philosophy to college students for nearly a decade; for the past five years he has served as Education Consultant to a number of not-for-profit educational organizations.  In the same time, he has directed most of his creative energies towards the writing of short stories, plays, and dialogues— most with an undeniable educational bent.  His latest project is a book-length account of his recent travels through the U.S.A. with the working title, In and Out of Distance:  An Educator’s 6-month Journey through the ‘Real World. 

Labor Day:  Too Much Work

D.W. Hartford

     On Labor Day morning, 10:30 a.m. to be precise, it seemed a good time to have “the talk,” maybe even a grown-up time.
    For the first hour, everything went, well, it was hardly like working. The sun beamed, blue skies smiled, white clouds winked, surf chortled, winds caressed. With the hatch on the Jeep raised, sitting closely, we began our relationship work in shade-covered steps.
    And then? 
    Earlier that morning, I’d envisioned success. The cooler full of food and drink, the Frisbee, the towels and beach chairs, her favorite shirt; all of this attested to success. Putting vodka in the clever disguise of my travel-mug did so too; surely just as much as my confidently scribbled notes laying out a reformed understanding of Saturday night’s fight, along with several clever steps towards reconciliation.  It does take work to be a grown-up, after all.
    And then?
    The next hour brought sharp winds, merciless heat, sullen skies. The surf mocked, as did she. Still sitting, I protested. Now standing, she glared as hot as the sun.
    And then?
    Still more boats pulled up then pulled away. The minutes labored over each second. That sun, oh, that horrid sun!  I wiped the sweat from my forehead. She didn’t move an inch.
    And then?
    I protested and I pleaded. “But I’ve been honest!”  “No, I do not need to be in control!”  “You haven’t even let me finish!”  “My feelings go beyond all that!”
    And then?
   Two empty Tupperware containers, a book of poems, three wrinkled sheets of paper (each bearing a story I’d shared), three dvd cases (my favorite comedies), and me. In the front seat of the car. 
   And then?
   I resolved that doing work on Labor Day is way too much work, indeed—especially when it’s grown-up work.

It would really be helpful if you would send D. W. your comments about the work. As writers, we all welcome critiques so we can learn and grow. Let him know if you understood the theme of the story and what worked especially well in it.

And if you have any prompt ideas for November, send them along too.

Mahala

Stuff and Nonsense Writing Contest

September's Stuff and Nonsense Contest yielded not one entry, which is sad news for all of us who love to read a wonderful new creation from someone's imagination. But perhaps everyone was busy getting the kiddies back into school and perhaps into classes for the parents as well. And then there are all the ballgames and getting gardens ready for next spring. We all have a lot to do.

Ever the optimist, I will post another contest this week for October in the belief that one of you will shower us with a new piece of flash fiction (500 words or less), a new look at that orange month of spooks and goblins, beautiful fall leaves, and the first breath of cool air to remind us that the seasons have indeed changed as we depend on them to do.

I would like to hear from some of you with ideas for prompts to stir up writers' imaginations on the orange month of fall. To that end, I will wait a few days before I post the contest for October.  I wish I had thought of this sooner. Maybe the problem last month was with my prompt, so I'm counting on you to help me out with a bigger and better challenge for October.

Here's hoping.................

Mahala

Judy Davies April Contest Winnner

I'm always amazed at how we writers tend to hide our accomplishments. When April's winner sent me her bio, notice how far down Judy stashes a major achievement. Judy, stand and be proud. You are a writer to be reckoned with, and we are happy to have you once again as a winner on Lyrical Pens.

Residing in Gautier, MS since 1998, Judy Davies writes poetry and prose and manages the music publishing company for her composer husband, Ken Davies.  Ken has set some of her poetry to music as art songs and their first full-length CD of narrated poetry with custom crafted music, Poetic Soundscapes, has recently been released.  The couple is available to do live presentations of selections from their CD for groups or classrooms.  See her website at www.kendavies.net/judyswriting to purchase CDs.  Judy's book, Poetic Images, was released in 2011.  She is vice-president of the Mississippi Poetry Society, an active South Branch member and the 2012 Senior Poet Laureate for Mississippi (I see you found it.)  Judy holds degrees in English and Paralegal Studies.  She and her husband enjoy traveling to both music and poetry festivals and are usually accompanied by their cats Little Fluff and Darius Meow.

 

JUST A DAY AT THE OFFICE

            As soon as I opened the door I knew it wasn't a normal day.  Nothing was in its proper place.  Only a fool would assume it had been left like that.  Someone had searched my office and been in quite a hurry.  What had been the snoop's target?  I was just the secretary.  Why had my office been ransacked?  Quickly I backed out of the room without touching anything, wondering if the intruder had found what he wanted or if he would be back later.   Suddenly someone caught me by the shoulders. 

            "What's going on?"  Feeling the color drain from my face, I muffled a scream as I recognized my boss's voice. 

            "Good thing I don't have a heart condition," I muttered as I turned to face him.  "Someone has ransacked my office.  In fact, he may still be in there.  I was going to the next office to call the police," I whispered.

            "Good.  You do that," he ordered.  "I'm going in to check my office and the safe."

            With that he whipped out a handkerchief with one hand, pulled a small handgun from one of his boots and stepped through the door. 

            I hurried down the corridor to the adjacent office where my friend, Michelle, was busy at her computer. 

            "Good morning, Karen," she smiled sweetly.

            "Calling the police!" I answered as I grabbed her phone.

            "This is Karen Dunley at 345 Woolery Building, Suite 460.  We've been burglarized.  Please hurry."

            "What!  What in the world?"  Michelle exclaimed.

            "Someone has ransacked my office; I have no idea why.  Mr. Benson just arrived and is in there checking his office and the safe.  And, Michelle, he had a gun!"

            "Who had a gun?  Is the thief still in there?"

            "I don't know if he is or not.  And I certainly didn't know Mr. Benson carried a gun.  I didn't even know we had a safe.  Oh, good grief, I forgot to tell the police Mr. Benson and his gun were in there.  I hope they don't shoot him.  I'd better go down and warn Mr. Benson."

            "Karen, are you crazy?  You don't know who might be down there and the police are on their way.  You need to stay right here and I'm locking this door."

            "I guess you're right, but what could a thief possibly want?  We don't deal in anything  contraband or keep large sums of money?  Mr. Benson's safe must be in his desk because I've never seen it in the three years I've worked there."

            "I hear police sirens.  We should know something soon."

            Karen unlocked the door and peeked into the hall in time to see Mr. Benson in handcuffs.

            "He was just leaving with a briefcase full of diamonds," said the police detective.  "Apparently his brother was here earlier searching for them.  We've been looking for this pair for awhile.  He won't be coming back anytime soon.  I suggest you find a new job."             

 

by Judy Davies

 

 

 

 

 

Stuff and Nonsense Winner

Congratulations to Candice Marley Conner the February Stuff and Nonsense winner! Conner, a graduate from the University of South Alabama with honors in English and a concentration in Creative Writing has published articles in The Wiregrass Living Magazine, Good Taste Magazine, and Tanning Trends Magazine. Conner would love to scream "off with their heads!" especially in the Wal-Mart parking lot but has thus far refrained from hitting anyone with her car (think Fried Green Tomatoes). She is a work from home mom who caters to the needs of Marley, her two year old, and is busy baking a new bun in the oven. And if that isn't enough to keep her busy, she is getting ready to query her first YA novel.        mahala

The Unheard of Liza Hush

Most people fell down the rabbit hole with Alice; Liza Hush identified more with the Queen of Hearts. The Queen was forever shouting, “Off with their heads!” in response to slights she suffered, but then her husband came along and pardoned everyone behind her back. It wasn’t like Liza thought everyone needed beheading, or even where exactly she stood on the idea of corporal punishment. Instead, she felt that behind the Queen’s querulous command was, at heart, a person who just wanted to be heard. Liza thought perhaps circumstances had pushed her to be so demanding.

The Queen had her card guards who jumped to do her bidding—or pretended to— but Liza knew that as soon as they finished painting those roses or herding up all the croquet ball hedgehogs, they were laughing at the Queen behind her back. If a Queen couldn’t command respect, how could Liza expect to?

Liza felt pressure on her back and turned slightly to look. It was a purse, carelessly slung over a woman’s shoulder; one of those black leathered, multi-zippered monstrosities that made you wonder if the wearer was into bondage. But then, everyone had a purse like that, even the little cloud-haired lady whose daughter picked her up from the assisted living facility to buy flowers from the shop where Liza worked. Surely, that didn’t mean… no, ugh… just …No.

Another nudge, this time harder, made Liza jump, almost losing her balance. The owner of the bondage purse remained clueless as she shifted in her cheetah heels, speaking animatedly to a similarly clad woman next to her.

Should she just ignore it? If she pushed back to regain her place in line, she would be the rude one. What if the bondage woman pushed back or yelled at her and caused a scene? Liza’s cheeks flushed at the image. She spread her legs wider and dropped her stance ever so slightly.

“Who’s next?”

Liza reached the head of the line and stepped forward, a sign of relief escaping from between her thin, pale lips that she no longer had to contemplate battle. Unfortunately, Bondage Purse Woman and her friend also pranced forward, effectively pushing Liza completely out of line.

“Off with their heads!” Liza screamed, or rather, whispered, unheard. Then she thought about her car and that no matter how insignificant one might perceive her as, it’s really hard to ignore a car. Liza smirked wickedly at the image of Bondage Purse Woman stiff as a light-locked deer in her headlights. Liza would be noticed then.

She left her place, or really her un-place, in line and walked out to her car. She drove around the building and licked her dry lips in anticipation as she was finally asked to place her order.

 

 

The Time is Nigh

“The time has come,”the Walrus said, “to talk of many things...”

(Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass)

 

I. Happy New Year to you all! As you are aware I have been conspicuously absent from our blog for a time. It seems Santa had a special surprise for me and gave me a new hip. Surgery went well and I am sneaking back onto my computer a little more every day. I hope all of you had wonderful holidays and are off to productive and exciting new beginnings in 2013. Least you think I missed the New Year’s Eve festivities; I shared a can of squirt cheese, some crackers, and a glass of punch with the wonderful staff at CrowneHealth Care. I was the lucky one because I got to have a pain pill with mine.

II. Crowne Health Care on Navco took excellent care of me and got me back on my feet. A big shout out to all of you!

III. Congratulations to cj on her new book! The cover is perfect and the story is excellent. I had the privilege of being in her critique group and watched the development of Deadly Star. I saw how hard she worked to carve out the perfect sentences with the perfect words. Be sure and get your copy when they are hot off the presses and enjoy this contemporary thriller. It is truly a page turner.

 

IV. Barefoot Writing Academy was born last year and is the name of my creative writing school for adults and children over eight. I’m accepting registrations for spring classes. Here is a brief description of each.

Creative Writing in Fiction (Adults age 18 & up) Excellent class for beginners and those who want to learn more about the craft of writing. This creative writing class explores the genres of fiction and the conventions that define them. Students read a mix of classic and contemporary work. Key concepts addressed include characterization, point of view, setting, dialogue, and narrative to build a story arc. Saturday 2:00 – 4:00. Six weeks. March 9, 2013 – April 13, 2013. $150.00 includes registration fee, class fees, class materials, and textbook. Class size is not limited but requires at least five for the class to make. Shoes are optional.

Connect the Thoughts (5 – 8 grades) Can a lion share a cupcake with an astronaut? As an author, you have the power to decide. Students explore writing as it relates to entertainment. Storyboards are introduced to create stories for animated movies and television, situation comedies, and books. Through writing, students create characters, go on great adventures, and envision surprise story lines along the way. Classes work together to explore the functions of writing and build their writing skills. Wednesday. 3:30 –4:30. Begins March 6 2013 – April 24.

The Happy Dance (8 – 12 grades) This class strengthens writing skills to improve overall academic performance. Through word games, a review of the basic elements of the English language is completed. Students immediately put their knowledge to work building written reports and stories from nouns, verbs, adjectives, and adverbs of their choosing. Key concepts to create successful written projects help students express themselves clearly through strengthened writing skills and critical thinking. In a no-pressure environment, they work both independently and in collaborative projects to have fun and learn the functions of words leading to success in school. Wednesday 4:45 –5:45. Begins March 6, 2013 – April 24.

Explore the Possibilities (8– 12 grades). Flash fiction and other writing exercises stimulate writing maturity and appropriate word usage while developing team-building skills. Questions to stimulate critical thinking and creativity lead discussions: What superpowers would you like to have? Then what? What do you want to do after you graduate from high school? How? What qualities make a good friend? Why? Key concepts in creative writing are addressed: action, characterization, dialogue, and narrative. Wednesday 6:15 –7:15. Begins March 6 2013 – April 24.

Class size is limited to ten students and requires at least five for the class to make. Shoes are optional. Discounts for multiple classes and siblings. Contact me at mahalachurch@gmail.com to register.

V. Stuff and Nonsense Contest The MAC Contest was such a success in 2012 that I’ve decided to continue with a 2013 contest but with some changes. You can read the guidelines at the left of the screen, but the major changes are the new name – Stuff and Nonsense ( I love all things Anglophile), submissions up to 500 words every month, and prose only. I’m really not comfortable judging poetry. For you poets, this gives you the opportunity to test your prowess at prose. I will continue to give you required words or phrases to incorporate into your work. As you can see from my spring classes, I’m celebrating Dr. Seuss this year, so to that end, every month will celebrate some of his work.

VI. Thanks to cj for holding down the fort while I was busy learning to count leg lifts and popping wheelies on my walker!

Mahala