The Mob

A mob of snowmen, complete with black top hats and striped knit scarves, gathered outside the shopping mall.  They were furious that management would not turn  the heat down inside the building so that they could do their Christmas shopping too.

Icey, one particularly unruly snowman, known for his bad behavior, climbed on top the building and began tossing carrots on the customers as they entered the door.  He laughed uncontrollably as he jettisoned the carrots down.

The police were in a quandary.  They had no idea what to do.  They didn’t want to arrest the snowmen in front of the children. They spent the morning trying to figure out how to handle this icy situation.

The sun came out early that day and it grew unseasonably warm.  The temperature rose.  It was nearly 70 degrees by noon and the problem melted away.

(Author’s note:  As you can see these three words got the best of me–words:  mob, jettison, behave)

Avoiding Black Friday

Early Friday morning the sun was so bright that it nearly hid the Olympic Mountains as they stood majestically above town.    As I walked along Ediz Hook ducks paddled along the shallow water and seagulls circled overhead.  A heron settled on a log floating in the harbor. The tide crawled in quietly and caressed the sand, and then it retreated, only to crawl back in again.

  I watched a pilot-boat heading out and I watched  a ferry enter the harbor.  As I continued to walk the clouds grew darker.  A slight breeze rippled the water and the tall grasses swayed gracefully.  As I embraced the solitude, I was grateful that there are no major malls nearby. 

 

South Dakota Prairie–an excerpt

Sierra felt empty, a hollow feeling inside that left her wondering what to do next.    She knew it was time to move on.  She wasn’t a small town girl.  She didn’t know why she had stayed in this small South Dakota community so long.  It was time to dust off her resume and move on.  I wasn’t raised and educated to be a waitress in a small town or anything else in a small town, she thought.

She wandered around the hospital aimlessly.  She thought about Don, and Blake, and Gram.  Thank goodness Gram was going to be okay.    She knew she couldn’t leave until Gram was out of the hospital.  She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t. 

Gram isn’t even my grandmother she thought.  I’ve only known her for a couple of months.  Why do I feel such misery when I think about leaving here?  She continued to walk the corridors, smelling the antiseptic, hearing the clicks of the monitors, listening to telephones ring and watching the strained looks on visitors’ faces.  She finally returned to Gram’s room.

Gram’s face lit up when Sierra entered. Gram’s breath was no longer shallow, the color had returned to her cheeks and she was sitting up visiting as if she were entertaining guests at home.

Sierra sighed.  It was going to be hard to tell gram goodbye.

 

The Thanksgiving Guest–continued

Wayne continued to fidget while Abby located her cell phone, house keys and wallet and then dropped all three into her coat pocket.  “Ready,” she announced as she scooped up Fancy.  Then pushing Wayne aside, she walked out the door.

He knew it, he just knew it.  She was going to bring the stupid dog along. 

Fearing that Abby might fall, Wayne offered her his free arm.  She willingly slid her arm through his and smiled a totally innocent looking smile.

Slowly, very slowly, they maneuvered their way to the car.  Wayne opened the trunk, carefully placed the candy and the whiskey in the trunk and thought, if only I could put Abby and that dumb dog in here too.

Wayne settled Abby into the passenger’s seat and made sure that her seat belt was secure.  Then he finally began to relax.  That didn’t last long.

As they turned onto Main Street, Abby said, “Wayne, we have a police car following us.  Do you think he’ll give you a ticket since Fancy isn’t in a proper puppy restraining device?”  Abby didn’t hear well either so she tended to speak loudly.  This was one of those times when Wayne would have been happier if his companion didn’t speak up.

Wayne turned off of Main Street and onto 5^th.  The patrol car followed.  It wasn’t long before Wayne and Abby both started teasing about the patrol car.  “Maybe they just want that million dollars we stole,” laughed Wayne.

Then Abby said, “No, they know that you have kidnapped me.  They are coming after you.  You can’t get away with me.  They are going to catch you.”

Much to Wayne’s amazement, as he pulled into his drive way, the patrol car flipped on  its lights on and sounded its siren.   All Wayne could think was are they really going to cite me for not restraining that stupid dog?

Two patrolmen approached the car, guns raised.  “Get out,” barked the taller of the two.

“Ma’am,” asked the other one, “Do you need help?  Did you dial 911?”

“No,” exclaimed Abby.  “I am just coming to visit for Thanksgiving.”

“Is your cell phone 535-9999?”

“Yes.”

“Someone just dialed 911 from that number.”

Abby reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone and realized that she had accidentally hit the speed dial on her phone.  She had indeed called 911.

The emergency dispatch center had heard the conversation taking place between Wayne and Abby.  Abby was allowed to go inside, but Wayne had a lot of explaining to do.

More later today

I promised part two of the Thanksgiving guest today.  Some delays.  Hope to have it ready to post later today.  Have a good one.

The Thanksgiving Guest

Wayne checked the steps for ice as he made his way up the six steps from the street to the walkway.  Someone in the neighborhood must have cleared the snow from the entry to Abby’s house, he thought, as he climbed six more steps to her front door.

He had no idea what had been the impetus behind inviting a ninety-year-old woman for Thanksgiving dinner.   But he took solace in the fact that Susan was actually cooking a holiday dinner complete with pumpkin pie.

Wayne pushed the button and listened.  His hearing was failing and he wasn’t sure if he had heard the bell ring or not.  But then he heard Fancy, Abby’s American Eskimo, having a fit, so he knew the bell had rung.

Stupid dog Wayne thought, as he flipped his graying pony-tail  over the collar on his coat.  While he waited in the cold, he stared at the old wringer washing machine that stood on Abby’s front porch.  He wondered why anyone would consider an antique washing machine –even one with a wooden tub–a proper front porch ornament.

He waited.  It seemed like forever.  When Abby finally came to the door, it only added to Wayne’s frustration when he realized that she had taken time to put on her coat and to tie a scarf around her head.  But, as if for vindication, she handed him a bottle of Irish whiskey and a pan of fudge.

check back on Friday for the rest of the story–

3WW – impetus, solace, vindication

Is Winter on its Way?

Last night was one of those blustery fall nights that makes one wonder if they really want their bedroom window slightly open for fresh air.

The wind blew so hard that the drapes danced away from the window sill and a wooden plaque played a rhythmic tune as it vibrated against the wall.

The boughs on the evergreens tormented each other as they bumped about like three year-olds having a tantrum. 

This morning the tree across the street stands naked, a casualty of last nights wind.

The One Room School–

# 1– The One Room School

The old school-house sat empty on the South Dakota prairie.  The windows had been boarded up and no one knew what might still be inside. Grass grew under the windows and through the broken steps. Morning glory snaked up the side of the building and under the wooden sideboards.    It had housed the laughter of school children for more than fifty years when the community decided to bus kids into Bischon, rather than continue to maintain all of the one room school houses in the country.    At that time the Mid County School had only six remaining students; Don, Susan and the four Bochmann children. 

Twenty years later Don found himself standing in front of the school flooded with memories;  some good, others not so good.  Several weeks ago he had purchased the property as an investment.  He intended to salvage what he could of the building, if anything, and then demolish it.  Next spring he planned to lease the land, along with the other forty acres he had purchased, to one of the local farmers.

A heavy wooden door secured by a padlock had effectively kept vandals out.  The only hitch was that no one knew what had happened to the key.  Don walked around the building several times before he was able to muster the courage to remove the lock from the door.  He knew the door was salvageable if he didn’t damage it trying to get in.

Don tramped through the overgrown grass to his pick-up truck.  He removed a hacksaw and a pipe wrench from his tool box.  Before returning to the building he opened his cooler, pulled out his water bottle and drank until the bottle was nearly empty. 

Returning to the door he carefully stepped upon the broken steps to make sure they would hold his weight.  He placed the pipe wrench on the steps beside his feet.  He applied the edge of the saw to the shackle and drew it back and forth hoping to cut his way through.  He worked on the lock for a few minutes before he decided the saw was not going to work.  He dropped the saw on the ground beside the steps and picked up the pipe wrench.  He tightened the jaws of the wrench onto the body of the lock and twisted with as much force as he could muster.  The lock snapped off of the door so quickly that Don had to grab the door knob to keep from falling off the steps.  He removed the lock and opened the door.

An old wooden teacher’s desk still sat in front of the room.   Eight student desks lined up in two rows of four each still sat solidly bolted in place.  Don walked across the floor listening to it squeak.  He remembered how those squeaks had made it impossible for him to sneak in to class after the bell had been rung.

Two pull down maps still hung at the top of the black board.  Don pulled them down one at a time, first revealing the world map and then the United States map.  He looked up at the alphabet in brightly colored letters hanging on the wall above the maps.  An old globe remained in the corner under the window. 

Don walked back to the student desks and squeezed into the third desk in what had been Row A.   He was surprised to find two pencil stubs, as well as a long forgotten bag of marbles, still stored in a cigar box.   When he removed the bag it slipped from his fingers.  He watched as the marbles rolled down the aisle.  He couldn’t remember how many times he had gotten in trouble for disrupting class because he had allowed his marbles to roll out of his desk.

Don lowered himself to the floor, recovered the marbles and replaced them in the desk.

The bookcase under the east windows still held readers for grades one through six.  On top of the bookcase he found the flash cards he had used to learn multiplication.  He lifted an old baseball glove and found the baseball that he had once thrown so hard that it broke the school house window.  

As memories flooded through him from every corner of the room he said out loud, “Can I really tear this old building down?”

 

(The three words for this Wednesday are: muster, drank and hitch. Once again I have inserted the three words into the novel I am  writing for the National Novel Writing Month challenge.)

 

#2  When I mentioned the three words for this Wednesday to my husband he offered the following use of the three words—a thought from his Navy days during WWII.

He drank too much and had to hitch a ride back to the ship, but was late for morning muster.  He would have made it, but he was hanging onto the side of the bus when his cap fell off and he had to go fetch it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Autumn–

   # 1–Recently, I stood at the window on a cold autumn night, staring at the stars playing peak-a-boo with the clouds.  It reminded me of a similar evening shortly after my parents returned to Port Angeles.  My mother commented that she thought the stars looked closer here than they did in California.   And indeed, because the skies are clear, the stars seem closer than they do in the smoggy Los Angeles area.  I am grateful that I live where I can stand outside, smell fresh air in the autumn, smell the lavender in spring, see the sunshine clearly in the summer and hold clean white snow in my hand in the winter.  Fate brought me here and I still marvel at the wonder of it all.

 # 2–I woke up one morning thinking about how warm and cozy the bed felt.  I thought about the luxury of a long hot shower.  I knew there was oatmeal in the kitchen and I also knew that someone dear to me would probably fix it, if I asked.  I could almost smell the hot coffee that would soon  be brewing.  I realized that what we take for granted is what means the most.  I am thankful for the everyday, little things in my life.

Day 6 of NANOWRIMO

Thank goodness my family accepts me as I am.
I’ve exceeded the 10,000 word mark today. I keep writing because the story keeps saying write me. I’ll write until it speaks to me no more.