On Writing, Topic 001 – A Method of Crafting an Effective Story

January 3, 2015June 22, 2017 / @jcm3rockstar / Leave a comment

On Writing (“Francis’s Party”),

Topic 001 – A Method of Crafting an Effective Short Story

Introduction

“On Writing” is a mini-blog, currently in the form of a quick and easy post, within my larger small blog for fiction creation. It is meant for those who would enjoy discussing ideas such as creative writing, literary devices, and publishing. If you have any thoughts, commentary, suggestions, or other type of feedback, I will more than welcome your comments. I will research your questions and lessons, and usually approve them for others to learn and benefit from. Please enjoy what I have to present to you; I welcome inspiration as well as lessons on creating intriguing fiction. Thank you for your time; again, enjoy.

A Method of Crafting an Effective Short Story

Classical methods of creating a short story are constantly rehashed in what we read. A short story, by its very definition, is a story of about 2000 words. With at least 500 words, but not usually over 9000, many a synopsis is good enough for the common reader to enjoy before bedtime. And who are we trying to impress? Ourselves. Our audience. The more intelligible our audience and the more impressed they are with our work, the more we have to be proud of.

Without having ever written it down, verbatim, I do have my own method of writing down a decent story. I will share my easiest technique with you, will most probably be part of the crowd that refers to the post before crafting a new story.

First, I think about what actually happens in the story, or what could. I also compare a good notion with many other ideas; I give them the attention I can to compare these ideas. I think of journalists, how they document real life – what people pay to know about besides the weather and photos entities such as the Associated Press may compensate for. What of setting? What of characters, beings, and occurrences? Am I thinking of a love story? What is my reason for the story? Is it for a competition, a certain genre? Is it to remember a fond memory of childhood or some factional psychological venting? Usually, I like a good bedtime-story for any age, unless I want some action more suitable for adult readers. I seek to edit and revise my stories for quality, as if any one of them were to be submitted to the most ruthless of editors or the most competitive of large-volume competitions.

I will explain my technique, as I design a new story, even if it is not my very next one to author. Why let the word “series” come into place here? Because, once we setup some dialogue, a setting, original characters, incidences and a conclusion, we can use the same ideas for new stories over and over. Once we have a good setting and characters, we can use the same building blocks over and over for many exciting stories.

Let us make a first and original story, though, for now. We will choose a setting, some main characters, come up with the dialogue as needed, and even begin the story with dialogue, as an audience-catching literary device. One story I never wrote had to do with Christmas and the name Francis. It is alluded to in a story in “A Collection of Tales”, my first book. I find it to be a quick and easy idea to give examples to classically defined devices. If you read this entire post, it should, at the minimum, be a fun reminder for any storycrafter’s technique. I was going to leave personification out of this lesson, however the brilliant hues of Christmas lights and little elves in my mind just seemed like too much fun to pass up. What were we going to endure for this reminder, anyway? A conversation between two people waiting for a bus ride with a camera? Two women having tea only to find their waiter faints at their table in the deadest, coldest time of winter? No, no; we are going with elves and can love each other and our art in the process.

We will not actually start the story, just yet; we will plan it out, however. I suppose I will go ahead and type it up, too. We, as I said, will start the story with dialogue. This involves the two main characters, a victim, an outstanding party, and shadow characters. In my book, there is a story about a young university student who analyzes water. It is titled “Forrest Hollow” and includes paranormal experiences in the woods. Before his travels, the main character reads a short story titled, “Francis’s Party”, because his name happened to be Francis and he came across it. I had yet to have composed the draft; we will do that within this post. I am happy to finally post to On Writing; the closest idea I ever had to starting a second blog. I love the study of literary devices. This post, alone, should suffice for our collective needs, for now.

“Francis’s Party” is set up to be a form of personification and some form of an approach to horror. Mostly like a cartoon, it attempts to use reality with characters that are fantastical beings. Is the idea completely original? Very close. It was inspired. While watching the Cartoon Network on New Years Eve of 1999, I saw the “Millunium” – a ten-hour showing of the most popular Warner Brother’s cartoons during the last 100 years. I was completely wired and enjoyed every cartoon. Between the old familiar classics, I saw these two Christmas ornaments speaking. They were elves who could talk with each other. One always asked, “You going to Francis’s Party?” That was close to all that occurred before the next show. So, we can now manufacture what these two elves were really up too – killing a mouse annually.

That is our premise of the story we are happily crafting. Once a year on Christmas Eve, two characters with original names carry on their tradition, skillfully. We will begin the story with one elf waking the other. This means we start with dialogue. Then they seek and attempt to find the mouse. A large cat creates a confusing situation, or conflict, because the old cat had never been aware of the elves’ wrongdoings, before. The shadow characters will remain sleeping; the presents have all been wrapped and the night will be dark and late. A series could easily be made of the story, because it involves an annual event, can re-occur much like a Road-Runner cartoon’s basic plot premise.

Before I type the story, I must include one last important notion. My way of writing a story is easy. Choose a good idea. Try to remember the main characters, what and where things happen, and write out the story. Make sure things that happen lead up to a main occurrence and then conclude with some form of a summary. This last part is not always necessary. A technique, of its own device, is to conclude completely with the main occurrence. I do not think we will incorporate that device, this time, however. Once you have written down or typed up the story, go back and revise it for diction and concision. This involves using carefully selected words for proper meanings while not writing in a verbose or wordy manner. While typos may cause you to do such a thing anyway, there are two more reasons. Peruse the first draft for once for typos and again for enjoyment; search for the use of purposely used devices and re-write the sentences as necessary; and re-write sentences for proper style in the world of masterful prose. Attempt including an emphatic construction somewhere, if at all seemingly possible.

Here are some questions to ask once you are done with your first draft and are ready to re-write it with competent intention. Where is your climax? What happened, series of events wise, to lead to it? What can you include around a fourth of the way into the story for foreshadowing? What devices are important to you, anyway, and will it change the story for the better or worse to include classic methods such as the utilization of symbols? If you have great symbols and reasons for using them and the time to do it well, do it. That is my advice. Symbols are great for teachers and people wanting to tell a story having little to do with what an unsuspecting reader may actually infer. If the reader identifies proper use of symbols without reading commentary of the author on the work, more power to the reader. I will type our story, and we can discuss some devices able to be used in other stories, afterwards, analyze what we will with our fun Christmas horror cartoon prose narrative. We can always learn together by your posting comments to this post; please, do. Remember, classic rules and techniques are great to know; they are not necessary always. Such is the art-form of a short story, to begin with. If we do not get back with your commentary, try again every two weeks or so. We do value commentary.

Francis’s Party

“You going to Francis’s party?” asked Frince, as the four-inch tall Christmas ornament elf shook his partner in crime, (1) Mince a little. “Am I alive?” asked Mince, as he jumped to his feet. Silver, gold, blue, green and red glitter shimmered from the cracks of light seeping into their ornament box as it fell from the small fellow waking.

It was Christmas Eve, once again. It was duty time. Historically, in this house, Frince and Mince came to life on the 24th of December, at midnight. The woman of the house and her husband (2) always erected a Christmas tree and decorated it with ornaments and lights of varied hue to shine in the late dark cold night. The woman, three years in a row, now, decided to go with a “theme” for the tree. While stunning to those who saw these Christmas trees, the older ornaments of nostalgic tradition were usually mostly left in their decorative, glittered and dusty, ornament box. This year she titled her Christmas tree’s theme “The Ice of Winter”, and their tree was adorned with mostly store-bought silver ornaments and blue and dark-blue lights and metallic silver stringed strands.

Frince and Mince made their way to see the tree; both found it to be baffling. “Back to business.” “Due course.” They scurried to the shadows of a near sofa, and discussed hunting options. The two elves were connected magically. It was unnecessary for them to speak aloud, many times, because they shared natural extrasensory perception. They could hear each other think loud and clear. This kept them safe from their one known danger other than living and walking-while-awake humans, their big fat lazy old cat (3).

Their duty? To find the mouse, Streak. They caught Streak, one year, eating cookies left out for Santa, and the cat caught and ate the mouse right in front of the elves. How did the elves see him again? Streak came back into physical form three days later, as the elves lay down to rest for another 362 days. They only come to life once a year. Why were they on a hunt for Streak? For one, to prevent confusion. If Streak was to eat more cookies, it could upset the woman. If the cat was to eat the mouse, it could mean another costly (4) trip to the vet. As the mouse was sure to come to life anyway for most of the year, the elves commonly only lived three magical days, themselves. So, it was up to them to find this mouse, and that is what they sought to do.

“I seen him.” “No you did not, you are still waking.” “We will see.” Mince thought he saw the mouse streak around a corner to his normal creviceway hideout in the corner of a back room. The two elves, sure the humans were asleep, ran to the opening in the corner. The mouse was, as guessed, nowhere to be found. “If not be him here, as you were accurate, why not frequent the cookies?” “I want this to be quick and easy, this year. I think your idea is supreme.”

The two elves traversed the normal shadows of the house to finally find a plate of cookies on a small book-table with a moodlamp lit on dim. “That is not a Christmas tree.” “You are correct, Mr. Natural Eggnog. It is still stunning, though.” The two elves shared a short-lived moment together appreciating the aesthetic value of the green and red sugar cookies and white and brown fudge cubes on the large crystal platter with shimmering golden trim.

Then, as if they were not even visible, as if no small cookie crumb could be thrown to them from the short table, Streak climbed unknowingly onto the high-class platter. Frince and Mince both saw the small mouse and made their way to the table. The tiny creature was exceptionally fast and would be nearly impossible to catch if the two elves were to mess this chance up. They positioned themselves behind a large mug of warm milk (5), as Streak was sure to extract one good crushed nut from a large chunk of fudge and scurry to some place of safety as soon as possible.

Frince noticed that the small scoundrel was not even paying attention. The mouse removed a large chunk of a walnut, and Frince motioned to Mince. Mince leaped a good four steps from the mouse and was on him, had him behind the ears by the neck. The tiny creature might have actually got away, however Frince was just behind Mince and hoisted the mouse into the air by his short hind legs. “We have him!” thought Frince, almost loud enough to wake the woman. “That we do” thought Mince, quietly enough to near the man into a supposed year-long length of slumber.

The happy elves held onto the small mouse and bounced and danced to the fire. A small faggot was only burned on one end. Mince held the mouse to the log and Frince went and found a small thread of sorts to tie the mouse down. Upon his return, he and Mince tied down the mouse, and Mince drew his “long-sword” – the four-inch tall elves’ ritualistic version of a Katana. Frince almost fell asleep – it was almost too easy, this year.

Just then, however, both elves saw the cat (6). The old, overweight feline monster was creeping up to them, one paw per inch, one noiseless step at a time. He was spotted, able to pounce, howbeit, at any time. Mince near shaded himself a new hue of white and glanced to Frince for some attempt of request for authority. Frince looked to the cat, calculated their possible escape, and said “Take him.” Mince quickly came down upon the small mouse, decapitating him (7), and the cat leaped into the air.

Both elves (8) jumped away from the slain mouse to escape the deadly cat. The cat caught Frince (9), Mince stayed within dangerous reach, moving. Soon to bite the head off the magical little elf, the cat looked to Mince to see if there was any last reason for not pursuing his natural wishes. Mince had to think quick, his sword would do him no good; he remembered the warm buttermilk by the cookies. Mince aimed his sword in that direction and the cat knew there was warm milk over there. The large fluffy animal lifted his paw off the terrified elf and strolled toward the buttermilk. Halfway to the moodlamp, the cat lay on his side and slept. The two elves were exhausted, too, and sat for a moment (10).

Their annual deed was done (11). They walked to the Christmas tree and watched the fading lights glow bright blue and dim to darkness repeatedly, decided to turn in. They made their way up the stairway-latter to their ornate ornament (12) box to conclude the Christmas night. As Frince was closing their lid for slumber, he noticed a large, shiny black boot (13) make the chimney floor’s ashes cloud into its surrounding air.

♦

So our story’s first draft is complete, and, without a single revision, we can discuss what I like to deem “natural device.” This is when we can consider the use of device as it occurs within the story without too much actual intention. I have included dialogue in color to show which elf is speaking or thinking, an idea I received from a fellow blogger with no current blog, maybe (Nonsense-and-Shenanigans on Word Press).

At any rate, I used numbers in parenthesis to denote the attempted use of literary device. I will include those; define some classic terms; include some words from Wikipedia; and we can engage into what commentary is possible for this mini-blog and a story that I have waited months and months to draft, “Francis’s Party”.

Numbered Device Reference Notes

(1) foreshadowing – the two elves may be up to a treacherous act of some sort with the inclusion of the word “criminal.”

(2) shadow-characters – the intentional use of therciary characters; they exist and do not speak.

(3) character, semi-personification – we intentionally introduce the third of five chars, the cat is nearly personified, does make a decision later in the story.

(4) reference-connection device – “costly” indicates some connection to familial economic reality, a dangerous tool to use in fiction.

(5) symbol – the milk symbolizes life for the cat, freedom for the elf, later on in the story; the idea that beings must do something to gain or consume something to exist can be loosely inferred in symbolic consideration.

(6) conflict and dilemma – the cat represents an antagonistic danger to the objective of the elves, as well as the well-being of the elves. Everything was fine; at this point, they are in danger.

(7) climax – the climax of the story is when Streak is slain.

(8) narrative hook – we, as readers, are encouraged to continue reading, because action in “up in the air.” We want to see what happens to the elves; for one small moment, the cat is in the air, and we do not know if the elves will be captured or eaten or both.

(9) protagonistic dilemma – one of the main character’s well-being is put into question, causing us to care for him.

(10) falling action – action is slowed as the characters are no longer in danger and the story’s conclusion is on the way.

(11) comprehensive denouement – a story’s summary of events, how the dilemmas of the characters are resolved, and their resolutions are explained during the story’s falling action is a story’s denouement. Not explaining much at this point, we at least know the two protagonists had a goal and found their success.

(12) (consonantal) alliteration – useful as poetic device, it is a favorite of mine in the rhythmic world of prose.

(13) symbolic conclusion – we know, indirectly, who is coming down the chimney. The conclusion leaves us to wonder if the elves heed to a conscious consideration of being good or bad, whether Santa can find them living or not. It would be largely up to the reader. One way or the other, it is fun to include a the visual image of a known and favored character without too much of a direct statement. What, on Earth, would he think of his missing cookie crumb walnut chunk?

Common Literary Device Terms for use in Short Stories

plot – the main scheme, plan or story-line of a story, play, or other composition

climax – a decisive moment during ongoing action in a story when plot changes; the most intense point in a story

setting – the surroundings or environment of where action takes place in a story, often briefly described

character development – description of main characteristics of a character, further explanations of a character’s persona, endurance shaping

personification – act of making something human-like that was not, i.e. a talking rock, tree, or animal

summary – explanation of basic incidences in a story, usually towards the end

denouement – post-climax explanation of what happened to the characters, normally including a story’s resolution during its falling action

conflict – opposing force of normal/natural action, many times, when a character is forced to choose

decision – a character’s time of choice or when they are presented with being forced to choose

character – person to be described in a story, being what the story is about

antagonist – main char’s opposing char in a story; adversary

rising action – events that lead to the climax

falling action/resolution – events occurring after the epiphany (climax) of a story

protagonist – main character in a story

dialogue – speech between characters in a story

scene – realm to be described that characters interact in

transition – literary device that changes from one sequence of events to another, usually by alluding to the change of incidences before they begin to happen

narrative hook – device used by writers to keep readers involved with an ongoing story

description – presenting details about a character, object, event, or scene

symbol – object, word, or concept within a story that represents a secondary idea

visualization – descriptions that can let us, the audience, visualize scene, setting, objects, or occurrences

clandestine visualization – device used to allow an audience to see a character, scene, object, or concept without describing said item/items in words/verbatim

[

The following information was extracted from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Short_story –

More Short Story Terms:

exposition – the introduction of setting, situation and main characters

complication – the event that introduces the conflict

crisis – the decisive moment for the protagonist and his commitment to a course of action

climax – the point of highest interest in terms of the conflict and the point with the most action

resolution – the point when the conflict is resolved

in medias res – when short stories have an exposition beginning in the middle of the action

]

Thank you for enjoying these literary reminders and ideas; remember, I patiently await your every comment. This first draft of “Francis’s Party” was 1173 words long; the entire post currently contains, 3598 words. 🙂

You Work A Day You Are Off A Day

December 16, 2014 / @jcm3rockstar / Leave a comment

You Work A Day You Are Off A Day.

An Artifact

June 12, 2014June 12, 2014 / @jcm3rockstar / Leave a comment

An Artifact

“This class blows,” said Henry. “Everything blows according to you – blondes blow but you do not dislike them, do you?” replied Ron. “No, I do not dislike blondes,” admitted Henry. He was the more intelligent of the two; Ron thought he had to try to know. He was forced to put forth at least a minimal amount of effort, where Henry sometimes did not even begin to need to. Henry, at times, took his various gifts of intelligence for granted. It was no big deal; it was his way of knowing more with less stress.

The class they happened to be early for was an Archaeology class. It was two weeks before spring break on a Friday; their instructor was from India. His hobby was training for half marathons. The professor arrived (finally), and all entered the class room. Professor Rauckbon said:

“For these few weeks I have been giving you various assignments on research and study. We have been the travelers of a digging study program, found small items for documentation and study. I am thinking today will be a more fun and a less arduous approach. I am thinking… today is movie day. It is a day for showing and telling, a surprise fun and easy day for us all. Why did you not know about this showing and telling? Because I am the one doing the showing, as well as the one doing the telling. So sit back and enjoy what we can do with one of our school’s newest projector mechanisms.”

The professor happily turned the lights off with a remote and operated the projector with yet another remote. He was originally born in India and spoke over seven languages. His video was an impressive collection of films documenting historical sites in India, both famous and rare. He displayed archaeological sites rarely mentioned to mainstream media, including a secret grave site for old religious leaders from thousands of years ago. His interesting story involved a handcrafted artifact.

The artifact was a sacred object of very old Indian religion. During those times, in that specific region, religion and the afterlife involved mostly the respect of items considered to be holy or magical. Only a blessed item could be used to cause intentional re-incarnation. Before known documented history, the region went to war with a neighboring community. An approximate two to three thousand men on each opposing side engaged in a bloody war. The death toll of the war numbered in the thousands. The sole leader of the region containing the burial site was said to have used the artifact in war to take the life of multiple enemies in one current situation, while reviving his deadliest war heroes.

What made the story interesting to the professor was the idea of modern progress and the notion of the artifact’s “new” location. A very large house of worship had been constructed during modern times; it contained a secret underground structure with catacombs, tombs, and protected structures for hiding national items sacred for historical or religious reasons or both. Common thieves had robbed the grave site in modern times; the government of India recovered these items and hid them under the more secure modern temple. Due to economic expansion, a large skyscraper was built on top of the old burial site.

Hard to explain for the professor, he related that, Geologically, the site was an excellent place for the eighty story building because of the prehistoric bedrock below it. A highly secret, rare organization could still, in theory, access the actual grave site of the war heroes of long ago beneath the skyscraper. The office building was an approximate 400 yards in perimeter before including any surrounding structures. It was very big.

The professor went into detail in regards to the magically religious artifact. It was a small white monkey, hand carved and polished from the tusk of a ceremoniously fattened elephant’s tusk. It was clothed in melted and cooled 24-carrot decorative gold. The artifact’s brow sported an uncut diamond; its eyes were identical rubies. The rubies were said to glow in various ways, showing powers, dangers, and or actions performed through the item. It was a surprise to the professor that the artifact was used in a war over territory. He thought the war would have been over the magical artifact, instead. It was said to have gained its eternal powers via a dark Indian priest – he died too give the precious little monkey its magical powers.

By this time, 80% of the class had fallen asleep, completely. Ron and Henry were both paying attention, intently, however. They would be sure to discuss the knew knowledge of an old Indian artifact after class. They were not the only students paying attention. Two students in the back row wrote down the names of certain cities; they exchanged looks. These two guys were not up to anything phenomenaly wonderful, that was for sure.

The class adjourned. “Those guys were up to something,” said Henry. “Of course they were,” said Ron, “What on Earth could it have been?” “They want that artifact,” said Henry. “I doubt they can get it,” said Ron, “It would be well worth their time, in this lifetime, to try, though. The item would have to be of great worth. I would guess that there is the chance that it is actually spiritually enhanced or magical.” “It would not surprise me,” said Henry, thinking. “What is on your mind?” asked Ron. “Spring break,” said Henry, “I bet if they try to go to India, it will be then.” “India?” asked Ron. “They are after that monkey,” said Henry, “I am sure of it.”

Days went by and Henry and Ron continued to do well in school. The artifact was on their minds; they saw and overheard the two other Archaeology students planning their spring break trip to go to India in the front study area of their school’s largest library. The two students planning had no suspicion of Ron and Henry’s thought. Ron and Henry followed the two other students to a travel agency that evening; they purchased tickets to fly to India as the other two students had.

“Mexico…” said Henry. “I agree,” said Ron, “India will be much more fun than a repeat trip to the infamous Cancun. I cannot wait. I am bringing my new digital camera for picture taking. I cannot wait to see what my fellow bloggers post in consideration of my attempts with the photography of distant lands.” Ron and Henry would fly on the same airplane, land in a big city in India, stay in the most inexpensive resort hotel there, and track/follow the two students attempting to partake in crime. That was their plan.

Ron and Henry thought their plan to be a long-shot. The other two classmates were definitely going to try to take the artifact. Whether they could even acquire it was more than half of the problem, the rest was stopping them or helping authorities in India catch the terrible college students during spring break.

Many things went as planned. The two questionable young men flew to India. So did Ron and Henry, with information on the other two students from the travel agency. All four rested through one night, Ron and Henry woke up before dawn to see a mind blowing sunrise. They found and followed the other two. The two questionable individuals had attained secret information on the modern religious structure. They assaulted and bound two guards, entered a door with an electronic key/pass-card. Once in the catacombs, the two had a small amount of time to find the stone storage structure which contained the ivory monkey.

The two bad-guys had attained a map; they found a large stone box. They used a nearby pry-tool to open the box; it contained a few skulls of old war heroes, some ancient religious texts, some old jewelry, and an artifact or two. One of these small items was a little bottle used to preserve a dead-person’s blood sample for religious reasons. This item frightened one of the thieves, the other one shook him by the shoulder so they could get the monkey and go. The scared one took the monkey and put it in his small backpack; they ran to escape.

It would not be easy for the two criminals to escape. They did so, however. They were chased by government officials and religious leaders. They made it to a popular part of the large city and were somewhat safe from the authorities there. They did not escape Ron and Henry, though. The criminals went to a large shopping mall to safely plan a nonchalant route back to their hotel. They planned to fly back to the states and sell the artifact for as much as possible.

Ron and Henry found the two in the shopping mall. The mall was near the criminals’ hotel. Henry snuck up behind the student with the backpack and opened it. Ron reached in and grabbed the monkey; they walked away. The criminals noticed the open backpack. Where was the artifact? They did not know. The criminals were in shambles, and they were surrounded by authorities and arrested on counts of violence and improper entry. No one knew where the artifact was other than Henry and Ron.

The two intelligible college students considered themselves to be the good guys. They flew back to the states with the spiritual item; they would know what was best for the artifact. Ron and Henry got the item back to the states safely. They gazed upon it in Henry’s living room. He split his rent with four other students. His housemates thought the monkey was cool; Henry kept it on a mantle.

Summer came and Henry’s housemates had all gone back to where they were from for work-related purposes. Ron, like Henry, stayed in college over the summer to take more courses. They had time in the evenings for study. One night, the artifact came up in conversation. “It has been sitting on your mantle there for weeks like a 5$ dust collector,” said Ron. “I have not thought much about it,” said Henry, looking at the monkey. Its gold was impressive; its eyes were mysterious. Henry stood and beheld the artifact. He sat it on a small table in the center of the room.

Ron gazed upon the item, as did Henry. “I think we can talk with it,” said Ron. “How?” asked Henry. “I will try a way,” said Ron. He gently pet the top of the ivory artifact’s head, and its eyes began to glow. Henry and Ron both immediately sat back in their seat on a sofa. They were not too scared. The two students were rather curious instead. A spirit floated up out of the monkey. It was a female elephant. “Who are you?” asked the elephant. Henry was speechless. Ron never really knew what he was talking about, anyway. He said, “I am Ron, and this is Henry. We are amazed with your history – we know little about you.” The nice elephant blushed, slightly, and said, “I have helped many a man in war. I have helped many a woman in love. My powers are rare and desired. I can fulfill untold desires.” Henry still did not really think he was experiencing anything real.

“We are more interested in what you want,” said Ron after thinking hard and fast with his attention focused on the female elephant spirit. He figured she would disappear if he lost concentration. It had happened before with other spiritual conversations. “If you must know,” replied the elephant, “I want to return to my original tomb. I was there to protect an old warrior from spiritual malevolency. I want to go there until certain resolutions from this side are resolved permanently.” “Then what will you do?” asked Ron. Henry was still gazing upon the elephant in awe. “I am not so sure,” said the elephant, “I am not very selfish, resolutions of these sorts can take a great deal of time. At least we have made progress over there.”

“Amazing,” said Henry. “You talk after all,” said the elephant, “Thank you for protecting me.” She was beginning to return to the monkey. “Wait!” said Ron, “What is your name?” “Imalia,” whispered the elephant, and she faded away.

“Well that does it,” said Ron, “We have to bring that back to the site under the big skyscraper.” “Maybe I should just keep it,” said Henry. “For what?” asked Ron, “The terrible war you have to wake up for in the morning? Cannot quite re-incarnate your soldiers without a bashful elephant spirit?” Henry was trying not to laugh. “What is so funny?” asked Ron. “Nice belt” said Henry, “Was that on sale?” Ron looked down to find that he had put on his girlfriend’s belt by accident, earlier. It was pink with little sparkling plastic gym-stones. “Very funny,” said Ron, “Mine now, ha ha.”

“We do not have the money to go to India, again,” said Henry, we already had to borrow to get there the first time.” “What if we borrow again?” suggested Ron, “When we graduate, we can borrow even more. We will call it ‘Grad School’.” “Very funny,” said Henry. “I guess we can figure something out,” said Henry, “We will have to formulate a plan for a trip before fall classes begin. Well will bring this magical elephant-monkey back to where it wants to be. We will visit a prehistoric tomb.” “Awesome,” said Ron, “I cannot wait to take more photos for blogging.”

The two planned it all out and made the trip to the giant skyscraper. It was their turn, this time, to have to bound a guard. They put a t-shirt over his head to keep him from being able to see them. They returned the artifact to its proper location and escaped unscathed. Once back in the United States, they finished their graduate studies and went to work for large corporate entities. Ron saved a photo of the artifact being placed beside the old warrior’s bones in India, showed the photo to his old Archaeology professor with a self deleting file. The professor was amazed. He could only guess as to whether the photo was actually what it highly resembled.

♦

daily prompt, antique antics

Her Loss, Part One of Three

June 6, 2014 / @jcm3rockstar / Leave a comment

Cecilia’s Loss, Part One of Three

One time there was a beautiful housewife named Cecilia Evans. She was a school teacher, married a wealthy stock broker named Christian Evans. He thought it was best that they buy a house together; they did. Cecilia loved to teach; she was a 4th grade teacher who endured complicated choices.

Cecilia’s teaching was her dream job; she worked hard in college to complete her degree. Once done with college, she was grateful to receive an offer to teach. This was her big loss – she married Christian. After having loved her job and doing well at it for four years in a row, she met him. Cecilia was making about 26-k a year and living with herself, her place, and an old Zenith.

Cecilia’s father was a member of a golfing resort group of retired professionals. She went there with him to eat lunch on Sundays once a month or so; that is where she met Christian. He also was eating with his older, yet frail, father. Christian himself was a larger man, 6′ 3”, and had big hands. Not a body builder, Christian was still large in the gut.

Why would Cecilia leave teaching young minds the beauty of creative development and learning? Christian’s stock broker job brought in over 250,000-k a year, and he promised her in front of her dad that they could get a big house together. He would be moving in a few months to a larger city for his job; she could look for a new job once there and tend to the new house.

Cecilia had her thoughts on not going through with this major decision; she went with Christian, nevertheless. Did she miss teaching? Cecilia did. Cecilia missed her students, their parents, surviving on her own – she missed it all. She liked the new house at first. It was huge, and the neighbors seemed nice enough when they were around. The Evans’ mansion contained eight similar guest rooms. Four of these rooms were on the second floor, and four were beneath them. There was another bedroom for guests that was larger than the eight similar rooms. The large house contained a front foyer, a ballroom, many bathrooms and closets, two kitchens, and a den. There was also the main bedroom for Christian and Cecilia. They both enjoyed the sex during their first year of marriage; it was no surprise.

Cecilia was not having good success with finding a job as a teacher. It was a big city; her credentials could not compete. She kept procrastinating the pursuit of a new career due to a two-fold situation. Her first problem was simply the big house – she spent all of her time keeping it clean and remodeling. It was a beautiful piece of artwork – she constantly received high praise for her interior photo-posts from her blog followers. She posted new digital pictures of her remodeling all of the time. Christian was impressed with her work from time to time, but usually only tentatively. Friends and family from all over came to visit, this too took up time and somehow kept Cecilia from returning to teaching. She cooked in a painstaking manner, became known among many.

Her second problem was the heavy hitter – Christian. He was such a nice man for so long. For the first fourteen months of their marriage, he only found more and more success. He was a genius in regards to market research; he and his men used their power to gain more and more clout. They became a dominant force in the market place. “Why do you still long to teach again?” asked Christian all of the time, “Do I not bring home enough ‘bacon’?” “I just thought I liked it,” said Cecilia. She eventually found a part-time summer volunteer position teaching art to children one hour a morning, four mornings a week, for the “Y”, a community gym in their city. This was a suggestion by one of her housewife neighbors, and it did bring some small amount of joy to Cecilia’s life.

Every night when Christian came home he exclaimed things like, “What is for dinner? Did you remember to get the things I asked you for?” and so on. He took up drinking alcohol before bedtime; Christian also drank during some business transactions. He was becoming less considerate of Cecilia; she was trying harder and harder to please her man. She only knew of their downward spiral subconsciously. Over the next two years Christian became more verbally confident; Cecilia saw time fly by with little to go along with it other than the physical pains of an aging housewife. Christian’s dominance was gaining, and so was his nightly consumption of aged whiskey. What would happen to their relationship if she could not work these things out? She tried and tried to be a nicer woman. What would happen to her? What would happen to Christian?

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On the Streams of Consciousness – The Death of a Guide, Writing 101, 6-14, link-post 1

June 3, 2014 / @jcm3rockstar / Leave a comment

On the Streams of Consciousness – The Death of a Guide

Once upon a time, there were four people on a boat. The boat was floating down an overgrown jungle canal. There was the captain, a native of the area, two grandparents, and a young girl – Malody. Interestingly enough, the boat was floating down a stream, a branch of the Amazon River. The boat was more or less like a large canoe. The captain used a huge pole to help guide the vessel’s floating path.

Malody’s grandparents were on a vacation. They took two or three trips every summer, and Malody actually got to come along this time. “How many books have you written, grand-ma?” asked Malody. “Over seventeen, now,” said her grandmother. Her grandmother wrote books about old ladies, their lives, and what they chose to do for fun. Many of her novels included natural tragedies, death from terminal illness, and handsome men.

“So, what was your motivation behind writing?” asked Malody. “Him,” said her grandmother, playing around. Malody’s grandfather was looking through his binoculars at the “jungle to come” from the front of the boat – there was really nothing to see other than large old trees with mosses and vines. He himself was in the spirit, nonetheless. The occasional wild bird could be seen, and the passengers saw what they thought to be an orange Macaw, at one point. The native was in the back, steering.

Malody’s grandfather, Baron was working on his first novel. A retired salesman who used to work for an oil company, Baron did his own reading and writing all of the time. His wife and Malody’s grandmother, Maurine, was an actual novelist. She wrote and sold three books upon retirement; found a nice young male agent; and even began writing her novels for a major publisher. Baron wrote a few articles for a hunting magazine; he decided that he, too wanted to write a book. He brought an empty notepad to journal with during this trip. “I will not stop writing my daily thoughts until I have 100,000 words to revise for additional commentary,” said Baron, one time.

The boat turned and held good speed as its motion was guided by the native captain, Julio. The three tourists asked Julio questions from time to time about things like the rain and his home village. Malody was happy to be enjoying the ride. She was a huge fan of her grandmother and thought it to be an impressive rarity that she knew a famous published author. Malody wanted to know more and appreciated her grandmother’s commentary.

“You wrote one or two books a year there for a while,” said Malody, “Why have you not written anything for over a year, now?” “Well, Malody,” said her grandmother, “I love to write, we both know that, I just have not been inspired, lately. I have written a bunch of long stories people must have enjoyed, however I have not endured any reason for writing in some time. I will again, just not too soon.” “Have you seen any good movies lately?” asked Malody, “Are those not some form of inspiration?” “Well,” said Maurine, “Some movies have inspired me, like ‘Gone with the Wind’ and ‘Fried Green Tomatoes’, however the last movie I saw was ‘Austin Powers’.”

Baron, at that time, decided to jot some prose in his journal. There was an amount of violent activity beneath the surface of the stream. Julio saw it. The others saw it, too. “What is that all about?” asked Malody. “Those are piranhas,” said Julio, “They swarmed up on something in a school – possibly a long snake.” The swarming school would be the most exciting thing Baron could describe so far.

Julio looked over to Baron. Malody saw Julio; he was “pitching a tent”. Julio said to Baron, “With all of your writing about the trees and your words on wildlife, I have something you can describe right here.” This infuriated Maurine. Malody took one look at her grandmother, who had blushed red in hatred. There was a docking rope behind Julio; Malody saw that Julio and Baron were about to fight.

Malody ran over to Julio; tied him up with the rope; and submerged his head underwater. He shook violently as Malody manhandled his bound body. The swarming piranhas devoured the natives’ wet flesh. Julio’s neck and jaw where showing, and by the time Baron could figure out what Malody was doing to the guide, the small carnivorous fish had eaten the brain of the native, entirely. Malody pulled the brainless body back up, and her grandparents were astonished. “Well,” said Malody, “That was at least on occurrence you guys can write about.”

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link to writing 101

a piranha picture

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