Friday, April 18, 2014

Celebrate the Small Things-April 18, 2014

For those of you who are here to check out my P post for the A to Z Challenge, you can find it HERE.


It's Friday!  Let's Celebrate the Small Things with VikLit!

This has been another fun week, thanks in part to the April A to Z Challenge. It's great connecting to bloggers that I hadn't previously had the opportunity to meet.

I'm also excited because, thanks to the lovely Krista McLaughlin and her BREATHLESS Release Party giveaway, I won an e-copy of the complete "13th Floor" series by Christine Rains.  So thank you Krista, and of course, thank you to Christine as well!  Winning awesome prizes like this always helps make your week extra special.

I'm also celebrating that I've gotten some work on my WIP done.  Not a lot, but some.  In the midst of A to Z, getting anything done on it seems like a major accomplishment.



P is for Purity

This is another drabble that turned into a poem instead.  Once again, it's still exactly 100 words.  It just came out as a poem.  I can't always control what results from my creative madness.

The inspiration for this came from frustration.  I've seen so many people who are judged harshly for their past, often unjustly, and the results can be devastating for some.  We are none of us perfect.  The experiences we have had may not win the approval of all, but for better or worse, they've made us who we are.



Purity

White dresses, flowers,
     golden
     childish dreaming.

Innocent you must
     remain,
     they all command.

As you grow, you
     learn,
     human needs prevail.

In a moment, it’s
     undone,
     childhood is over.

A burgeoning wisdom,
     unfolds,
     takes root within.

Life is not so
     simple
     as others pretend.

Yet others persist,
     learning
     of your knowledge.

Tainted, unclean,
     filthy,
     the insults fly.

Who would want you
     dirty
     as you now are?

The judgments come
     one
     by one, cutting.

Words fill your life,
     you
     cannot escape.

They taunt you, judge,
     define
     and it takes a toll.

Some will not rest until,
     broken,
     you agree with them.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

O is for Original

The inspiration for the following drabble clearly comes from the fact that my brain has been saturated with science fiction.  I am in no way claiming this is a bad thing.  It's a simple fact of life.

I hope you like it!


Original

The world places value on originality, all the while peddling knock-off clothing and accessories so people can all look the same.  It’s laughable just how deluded people can be.

People say originals are precious because they can never be replaced.  Original paint jobs, original parts, untarnished by time.

Of course, people try to replace the irreplaceable.  That’s why I exist.  A clone, a replication of a once-living original.  I came with a blank slate, though family members pretend not to notice.  They’d much rather embrace the delusion and ignore the fact that I’m not even the original me.


Wednesday, April 16, 2014

N is for Newcomer

Now it's on to my drabble for the letter N!  N-joy!  Get it?  It's "enjoy" except spelled . . .  Oh nevermind.  I find it increasingly difficult to defend my bad jokes.


Newcomer

Newcomers are treated with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.  I know this from my childhood.  Being an army brat, I was always the new kid in school.

Now, as a diplomat, I get to experience it again on a whole new level.  First contact with an alien species.  I’ve been living on a starship for the last three years just in case we encountered anyone.  I’d almost given up on the possibility of it happening.

It’s even more intimidating that we’re meeting on their home world.  I stroll into the room, the lone human.  I am the alien here.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

M is for Midnight

Here's another drabble.  I wanted to capture some of the excitement of young love and the anticipation that comes along with it.  Enjoy!



Midnight

Miles was shocked by the note in his locker.

Meet me at midnight under the oak tree in the park and say you’ll be mine.

The note wasn’t signed.  As he navigated the halls between classes, he observed everyone, hoping to catch a fleeting glance, searching for any clue as to who his admirer was.

Hours later, after his parents had gone to bed, Miles slipped out of the house and headed to the park.  The cool evening air couldn’t chill his heated skin.  His heart pounded in his ears as he spotted the silhouette leaning against the tree trunk.


Monday, April 14, 2014

L is for Loss

We're all the way up to L already?  Where has the time gone?

I was inspired to write this drabble after watching A League of Their Own.


Loss

From her seat on the porch, Anna saw the uniformed messenger climb out of the car.  Beside her, Sarah’s petite form tensed.  “No,” came the slightest of whimpers.  “No, no, no.”

The messenger could be going to a neighboring house, Anna thought.

The young man started up the sidewalk, and Sarah crumpled to the floor.  “No, no, NO!”  The volume and desperation increased with each repetition.

The news was clear.  Sarah’s husband had died in the war.  Like so many others.  Anna ached for her friend, but part of her also rejoiced that she wasn’t the one receiving such news.


Saturday, April 12, 2014

K is for Knockout

For this drabble, I drew upon my own terrifying memories of dodgeball.  Man oh man, that game never ended well for me.  Neither did red rover.  

Though funnily enough, the worst P.E. injury I ever sustained was while we were playing frisbee.  I had braces at the time, and getting hit in the cheek meant I had to spend the next several minutes prying the inside of my cheek off of the sharp metal.  There was plenty of blood and frustration to be had that day, let me tell you!

Anyway, on to the story!


Knockout

Sweat dripped into my eyes, but I couldn’t sweep it away.  If I took my eyes off the ball, it would’ve all been over.

Then disaster stuck.  Or kind fortune.  I can’t decide which.

I detected movement from the corner of my eye.  On the sidelines, Phoebe Wexler had bent over to tie her shoe, affording me a perfect view down her shirt.  I froze, distracted by the heavenly sight.

SMACK!

When I opened my eyes, Phoebe hovered over me.  “You were knocked out.  Are you going to be okay?”

As long as I don’t die of embarrassment, I thought.